#me texting my sister back like “I regret to inform you that I am rarely/ a little romantically attracted to men. sometimes.”

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

My sister, who is reading mistborn for the first time, texted me "Lord Elend Venture. If you were interested in men, he sounds perfect for you." and on the one hand I am so happy that she is very aware of my aroace-ness that she said "if you were interested in men" but on the other I am now compelled to correct her with "actually I'm greyromantic, and kind of interested in men." (I mean I've only got like one data point) "if you were interested in men" I am so happy to hear that opening to a sentence.

[shinysobi]

i came in from the outside, burnt out from the joyride (ii)

this was born out of a conversation with @akinosakiya, so all credits go to her >.<

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | coming soon

ao3

(A/N: so... i am extremely sorry for not updating,,, uni and life has been generally kicking my ass pretty horribly (im in my final semester lol) and while i am not generally very happy with this chapter, it is important because it sets up a lot of things in the future yeeet)

word count: 4955

Attorney Park wishes her good luck as she leaves for the courthouse the next day, and Sol can’t help but feel as though he was laughing at her for some reason, and frantically checks for food stuck in her teeth on the way to the courthouse. There isn’t any, so she’s left to wonder exactly what the hell he meant when he had sent her off with a very cryptic “see you soon, Kang Sol.”

“What did he even mean?” she mutters to herself, calling her sister, “Ah, Byeol, remember to go to your academy today, all right?”

“Okay, eonni,” her sister replies, “you’re at the courthouse, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, I have a case to win,” she replies, and Byeol wishes her good luck before the call goes silent, and she allows herself a rare moment of self-reflection, taking in the image of the Courthouse. It’s imposing, but she curiously feels at home here, in the middle of the city where the noise of the cars is so loud, she can’t hear the person next to her sometimes. There’s something magical about the courthouse, and she isn’t romanticising it, but the idea of fighting for justice, no matter how imperfect, it fills her with pride, even more so when she knows that what she is doing is for good.

Not to say that there aren’t any downsides to it, either. She gets threats almost on the daily, from disgruntled clients and from people who want her to take the case, even though she knows it would be an affront to her dignity. The Dean’s voice floats into her ear, reciting the Attorneys-at-act law that allows her to reject a case if she wants to. Right. It does not feel like an insult to her now like it had done then, the act, because she chose to take this case on, and yet, here she is, standing in front of the courthouse, wearing her nicest clothes (Yeseul had raised an eyebrow, but she was too tired to pay any attention to her) and dreading her turn to go inside.

“Eonni!” a voice calls out, and it’s Yeseul, dressed for a case, “how long do you have before you have to go in?” Sol doesn’t need to check her watch to tell the time that is left, ten minutes on the dot, and she’s waiting for her client to come through, still in police custody, something which she had failed to stop, “are you staring off into space again?”

She recovers quickly, “no, I was just waiting for the defendant to be brought here by the police.” She turns to Yeseul, who’s evidently not had much sleep, “why are you here in my case? Didn’t you wrap one up today?”

“Ah, I did,” Yeseul smiles, taking a hold of Sol’s arm, “but I’m here now, aren’t I? I thought you would need some support, you know, since you—”

She doesn’t complete the sentence. She doesn’t need to. Sol smiles at her, loops their arms together, and says, “do you want to have coffee?”

Yeseul grins, “I’d love to.”

—

No matter how many times she’s walked in here, and no matter how much the courthouse makes her feel at ease, there’s still a part of her that is anxious when she stands in front of it, hoping that she might be able to provide adequate justice to the person she was defending. It throws her off sometimes, the court of law. But she can always find her way back to it, and perhaps this is why she loves it, loves being able to defend people from being betrayed by the same system that they had put so much trust in, betrayed, just like she had been. It’s as though the law is apologising to her, albeit in its own, slightly twisted way.

The defendant, Je Sang-Hee, sits at her designated position, looking at her, and Sol draws herself up to her full height, careful to not catch anyone’s eye on the other side of the courthouse. Its oddly suffocating, the courthouse today, the air thick with a sort of anticipation that she doesn’t really want to address. Yeseul squeezes her arm, whispering, “you’ll do good, eonni,” and all of a sudden, she’s standing there, alone, with only her wits there for help. Shit. I wish I had had gotten drunk last night. At least this would have been hazier.

She approaches the bench, the defendant sitting silently, and tries to reassure her, “don’t worry, we’ll clear your name, all right?” she’s met with silence, as Sang-Hee only nods, her eyes welling with unshed tears. It’s heart-breaking, the way Sang-Hee has accepted her punishment, accepted that she would be going to prison anyway, so, nothing really matters. Sol doesn’t want that for her. She doesn’t want that for anyone, not even the worst of criminals. Sure, she may not be defending them in the court of law, but everyone should benefit from the assumption of innocence. She may not be the one speaking up for them, but she does wish that people have the opportunity to prove themselves innocent.

There aren’t many people in attendance in the courthouse today, which is a blessing, but she also has to deal with pesky reporters stationed outside, who seemed to have taken an interest in the woman accused of attempted murder, despite having really, no evidence against her. It was funny, how people jumped to conclusions, just because of the person’s backgrounds, or due to a particular defamatory article that may have been published about them online. Sang-Hee had had one published about her, filled with lies so vile that Sol couldn’t even read through it once.

“Sang-Hee ssi,” She says, approaching the defendant’s bench, “how are you feeling today?”

Je Sang-Hee looks at her, eyes still shining with tears, and lowers her gaze. She can’t even speak. Sol is angry, of course, but even more than the anger that simmers inside of her, is frustration, for not being able to protect her client, frustration at being unable to be the person there for the victim.

“Eonni,” Yeseul’s voice drags her out of her little reverie, “eonni, I think Joon-hwi oppa is here now.”

Sol squints at the younger girl, “who told you that?”

Yeseul holds up her phone, “Bok-gi is going to be here too, so he texted me. The two of them are going to come along, him and Jiho. Jiho should be here by now, but he hasn’t texted yet.”

Sol just—stares at Yeseul for a moment, trying to understand the volley of information that had just been thrown at her, in a manner not unlike that of Professor Yang, the man who, Sol recollects with regret, had heard about this whole mess from Sol B, but had not once offered to help. She didn’t need his help, though. It’s just that he could have offered to help her, and it would have been nice.

“Eonni,” Yeseul says, warning evident in her voice, “he’s here.”

What she doesn’t say, but Sol knows, is the sentence, don’t worry, I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you. She didn’t need it, per se, but it felt nice to know that at least one person had her back in this courthouse. Bok-gi was of course, on her side too, but she knew he wouldn’t sacrifice Joon-Hwi. Not now, anyway.

“You have your back to the Prosecutor’s bench,” Yeseul elbows her lightly, and she realises that yes, she has indeed been standing with her back towards the Prosecution’s bench all this while, and most importantly, there was someone behind her.

“Attorney Kang,” She knows that voice, has heard it in her head for years now, but Kang Sol finds herself unable to lift her gaze from the linoleum floor as she grasps the warm hand that was now being offered to her, “nice to meet you, finally.”

There’s a teasing lilt to the last word, a certain edge to the syllable that she knows all too well, having been subjected to it for hours on end, in classes, in the copy room, in the café, even in her mind. It’s from a voice she knows all too well, someone she had wronged.

Courage, Kang Sol.

“Hello, Prosecutor Han,” she looks up, extending one hand to the man in front of her, and—

She didn’t have any expectations of how she would meet Han Joon-Hwi after so many years, but in the deeper recesses of her mind, she had a thought; of his eyes widening at seeing her face for the first time in so many years, her falling in love with him all over again. She had thought of looking—no, not just looking, looking at him, for the first time in so many years, after that one fateful day when she ignored the words of her heat and went running far away from him, perhaps falling in love all over again.

Instead—she feels nothing. Perhaps a pang of guilt somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but when she looks into the eyes of Han Joon-Hwi, her best friend, the person she had fallen in love with, Kang Sol doesn’t see anyone but a weathered prosecutor, the boy who had called out her name on graduation day in Hankuk Law school long gone. Even though he looks not a day older, even though his eyes still crinkle in the same way when he smiles, and his hand still holds the same weight when he takes her hand for a handshake, but she can’t find the boy she was in love with anymore.

“Attorney Kang,” he grins, and his voice is the same, teasing when he looks at her, smiles at her, but he is her opponent, she has to defeat him today. This isn’t preparing for mock trials and judicial competitions, where they only played at being lawyers and prosecutors, this is real life. Je Sang-Hee’s life depends upon her, Kang Sol, winning this case. Against him, Han Joon-Hwi.

“Noona, nice to see you again,” Bok-gi pushes forward, giving her a warm hug, which does its job to dissipate all errant thoughts of a boy whose smile had haunted her in her dreams, “I’ll be watching today, my law firm asked me to—”

“Don’t worry about that,” she assures him, “you can take all the notes you want.” He’s still looking at her, she realises when she lets go of Bok-gi, Han Joon-Hwi is still staring at me. Do I have something in my teeth? “Good luck today, Prosecutor Han.”

He grins at her then, dimpled smile making her heart skip a beat, and says, “I don’t need luck, Attorney Kang,” before sauntering off to his seat.

Kang Sol clenches her jaw. Asshole.

--

He wasn’t sure how it would be—their meeting for the first time, but Joon isn’t going to say he’s dissatisfied with it. sure, she’s grown up now—she isn’t Kang Sol A anymore, she goes by just Kang Sol, and he doesn’t have the pesky tag of second-round judicial passer hanging around his neck anymore.

She had stared him down, and to no surprise, he still found her beautiful. Sure, he had always thought that there was a sort of magnetic aura around Sol, something that commanded the attention of an entire room when she walked in. She looked the same as she had looked, five years ago, when he had tried to confess to her, and she had rejected him. Sol hadn’t told him that she was rejecting him, at least not explicitly; Han Joon-Hwi was a man who could take a hint, especially if it ran away from him while he was in the middle of his confession. Really, Kang Sol. You made me chase you all the way to this courtroom.

A hand slams down on his desk, and Seo Jiho’s irritated voice tells him, “If you’re going to stare, at least do it properly.”

He sputters, suddenly thankful that his co-prosecutor was running late, as he stood up to stare at his ex-roommate, who was porting a very uncharacteristic grin, “what do you mean by that? I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure, you weren’t,” Jiho says, and even Bok-gi sniggers at him, “you were just looking in the general direction of Sol noona, so much so that everyone in the room thinks that the two of you are either dating, or that you want to kill her. Personally, I prefer the latter.”

He doesn’t say anything, just grumbles under his breath, and Jiho presses on, “did you prepare well for this case? You do realise that your evidence is weak, do you?”

“Ah, of course, hyung knows it,” Bok-gi steps in to intervene, and Joon-Hwi thinks for a moment that yes, Bok-gi was always one of the better ones, and then he opens his mouth again, “he’s just ignoring all the things he said before entering the courthouse, and proving to all of us how much of a hypocrite he is.”

Joon glares at Bok-gi, who is giggling at him now, and turns to look at the judge’s bench a pout on his face. Sure, he had proclaimed in the car that he would “not be looking at her, nope”, and the fact that it had taken him exactly three minutes to break that promise was bit laughable, but his friends didn’t have to rub it into his face.

“I don’t understand,” Bok-gi asks, “why are you still hung up on her? You basically took this case just so you could meet her again, and even though the two of you haven’t talked in years, you still talk about her, you still ask about her when you get the chance, so what is going on?”

Joon-Hwi doesn’t answer. He knows what is going on, why he has been so intent on meeting Kang Sol, even after so long, but he doesn’t want to—no, he can’t tell Bok-gi that. He feels a pang of guilt whenever he even thinks of telling Bok-gi the actual reason behind him running after Sol, even though she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He wonders, sometimes.

His co-prosecutor arrives in the courtroom, almost gliding over the floor to take their seat, and he can see Kang Sol shrink back a little, obviously intimidated. He doesn’t hide his smile anymore, not that he needs to either. She didn’t have to get flustered over his co-prosecutor entering the damn courtroom. She’s never done that, at least from what Bok-gi and Yebeom have told him; even Jiho had pitched in with his own comments sometimes, knowing exactly how much it pissed him off, but he still did it. Every time he met Bok-gi or he met Yeseul, he would ask about her, waiting for them to respond with “oh, she’s doing okay, oppa” and “I met her a few weeks ago, she was fine, hyung” and they move on after that, but he can’t.

They don’t possibly expect him to move on from her, do they?

“All rise,” the bailiff announces, and he dutifully stands up, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sol gently helps the defendant to rise up alongside her, before being seated again. She still did that little thing when she looked around the entire courtroom for people watching her, he thinks to herself. She’s still the same Sol. No, she’s different now. We both are. We both are different, but there’s still things about her that remind me of the times we spent in Hankuk.

“Prosecutor Han,” the judge tells him, and he stands up quickly to his feet, “begin.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” He says, walking out to the defendant’s bench, “defendant Je Sang-Hee, you were indicted on charges of attempted murder, following an attack on your fiancé, Seo Changmin, on the fourteenth of November, two weeks prior to your indictment.”

“Yes, I was,” she begins, “but I didn’t do anything to—”

“I’ll be the one asking questions here,” he cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sol draw an almost-imperceptible breath, shaking her head at him. She isn’t flustered. He’s very sure she isn’t flustered, because the two of them have been on opposite sides of each other, time and time again, “could you confirm that Seo Changmin suffered injuries because of you?”

She stares at him, defiant, and replies, “he did not suffer injuries because of me, I found him and I called the police, I’ve told you this.”

“Yes, you have,” Joon walks to the front of the witness’ bench, “but your whereabouts were also unknown that night, until that fateful moment when you actually found your fiancé, and proceeded to assault him. Is that right?”

She looks at him, scowling. He’s hit a nerve, apparently. They had been harping on that aspect for far too long than what was necessary, Joon had noticed when he had been preparing. He couldn’t go that way when he questioned her, because he knows Sol has prepared for it.

So, he changes his track of questioning, “Ms Sang-Hee, would I be wrong in assuming that Mr Changmin had visited you five times over the three days prior to the accident?”

She stares at him, “he is my fiancé. Or he was, before the accident happened. It wasn’t unusual for him to visit me multiple times in a single day.”

He stops, “and yet, when the police asked you about the reason of his visits, you chose to remain silent, evading the question—”

“Objection,” Sol says calmly, standing up from her seat, “the prosecution cannot ask leading questions.”

“Sustained,” the judge replies smoothly, even before Joon-Hwi has a chance to respond, “Prosecutor Han, you cannot possibly expect me to accept this in the courthouse.”

He nods his head, slightly irritated, now that she has taken his advantage away, “moving on, Ms. Sang-Hee, when you found Seo Changmin unconscious, why did you not call for an ambulance? You waited ten minutes to call an ambulance, which most people would argue, looks strange, does it not?”

She doesn’t back down an inch. Good. He hadn’t thought she would either. They didn’t have enough evidence to show that she was guilty, her indictment based primarily on circumstantial evidence that even the most punishment-happy of all judges would find difficulty agreeing with. But they had had her indicted, and now they were here, trying to get her a sentence that would be as heavy as possible. Sol had been right. He didn’t have to worry about the defendant, not as a prosecutor. He just had to punish people to the full extent of the law.

“I tried to wake him up multiple times, but he didn’t respond,” Sang-Hee responds, staring at the judge, “I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary, since he had always had a drinking problem, but when he didn’t respond to me calling his name in the morning, that was when I grew worried.”

She looks at him once, then back to her lawyer, Sol, who looked as though she wanted to strangle him. good. This means I’m winning, and turns back to him, “it was like him to come back drunk, so drunk that he could barely remember where he was, and his friends would drop him off at my house, with apologies, but he would repeat his behaviour. I wasn’t too worried when he didn’t respond to my calls at night, but by morning, he would usually be awake and demanding breakfast. That was when I started to get anxious.”

“Anxious? Not worried?” he asks, curiosity spiked by her peculiar choice of words, “were you anxious that he was actually dead? Or were you anxious that your—”

“he’s my fiancé, of course I would be anxious if he was not responding to my calls,” Sang-Hee stares at him, “you must not have dated a lot if you think I wouldn’t have been worried about my fiancé.”

A wave of laughter runs through the court, and he can feel the tips of his ears turn red. Even the judge cracks a smile, and he can see both Bok-gi and Jiho sniggering. They’re never going to let me live this one down, “so, you called the police then, who found your fiancé almost dead from a drug overdose.”

“Yes,” she looks at her hands, fingers intertwined, “they told me he had taken it about four hours before I called them.”

Ah, there it is. He knew it would come to this, he had known there was no way to win this case after all, even if he really did want to win. There were things he couldn’t do after all, despite being what they called a ‘star prosecutor’. “No more questions.”

The smile on Sol’s face is enough to tell him that he’s lost this case. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel disappointed, even as his partner shoots dirty looks at him, a clear violation of courtroom conduct, but he can’t bring himself to care, fixated on the way she looks while cross-examinating the defendant, the way she turns to the judge and says “no more questions, your Honour.” It’s a far cry from the Sol he remembers at law school, the one who would have him act as prosecutor whenever she went up in a mock trial, even if he had been assigned the role of prosecutor, going up against her. She always asked him to help her practise, and like the fool that he was, he always helped her. Even now, as he stands there, watching her, it’s almost as though he is back at Hankuk; almost, but not quite.

“Court adjourned for the day, and will convene for the next trial on—” Joon can feel himself growing more and more antsy, as the judge announces the date for the next trial, and that Sang-Hee can be released from Judicial custody, especially since her health had been failing due to the stress of the trial and asthma, from which she had suffered since she was young.

He hurries out of the courthouse, only to be cornered by Jiho and Bok-gi at the entrance, Bok-gi with a large grin on his face and Jiho with his trademark expressionless look, although he knows both of them were going to tease him about this, possibly till he died and perhaps even then, they would find a way to sneak it into his eulogy.

Strangely, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Hyung, where are you going?” Bok-gi asks, even as Joon desperately tries to catch a glimpse of Sol through the now-closing courtroom doors, “shouldn’t you be preparing for the next date?”

He looks at Bok-gi for a second, eyes widening, “what are you talking about?”

Bok-Gi’s smile gets wider, if that’s possible, “really? What were you thinking about, hyung? I was talking about the next court date.”

Joon-Hwi huffs, “I was thinking about the same thing, Min Bok-Gi; now, if you will—”

Jiho opens his mouth to say something, but Joon barrels past the two of them, running down the stone steps and to the driveway, where his car was parked, and, presumably, Sol’s too. She’s walking faster now, and he has to run to keep up with her. Her ponytail bobs as she takes quick steps, in a hurry to get away from the courthouse complex. He doesn’t blame her at all.

“Sunbae!” he calls out, loud enough to catch the attention of quite a few people, “Sunbae!”

That catches her attention all right, and she stops in her tracks, turning to him, an irritated expression on her face. It doesn’t stay for long, however, fading just as quickly as it came, “so, you’re still sticking with that name, Han Joon-Hwi?”

He grins, “of course. It wouldn’t be me and you, if I didn’t call you Sunbae, Sunbae.”

She stares at him, with an expression he can’t quite place. “I thought we didn’t have that sort of a relationship anymore, Prosecutor Han.”

And, there it is. He can’t deny it and say that it doesn’t hurt to be treated by Sol this way, but he’s nothing if not tenacious, so he pushes on, “you did good today, in there.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nods her head, before replying with a curt, “good job today, Prosecutor Han.” Of course, she would say that; he doesn’t want to admit it, but it sort of feels like she had slapped him full across the face. Who am I kidding, if she had done that, it would have perhaps hurt less. He feels like a fool, standing in the middle of the road, calling out her name, and a years-old nickname that she didn’t like, and one that he felt only held significance for him.

What they had not had was closure; or at least for him, it was that, the absence of a final answer to his unasked question, something between them still hanging in the air. She could ignore it, live on with her life, but he cannot. There should have been closure, he’s told himself time and time again, or was I just too unimportant for her to even give a damn. It isn’t true, he knows, Sol wouldn’t do that to him, or to anyone else for that matter, but on some nights, it becomes impossible. He doesn’t blame her either; he blames his own self for the loss of his closest friend. If only he hadn’t been stubborn enough to ask her out on the day of graduation. He should have waited a little bit more.

But then, should he have waited?

“Sol!” he calls out again, jogging lightly to keep up with her steps, “Sol! Wait up for a minute—”

He’s interrupted, Sol turning abruptly to meet him halfway, which results in him having to backtrack, “what do you want now?”

He smiles brightly, “how about Pyongyang naengmyeon? I know a place nearby that’s good.”

She stares at him, like she can’t really figure out his deal. He holds up his hands, “look, all I’m asking for is a meal. No strings attached.”

Surprisingly, she nods once, turning on her heel, “lead the way, Prosecutor Han.”

--

I should not be doing this.

Her phone buzzes, and it’s Yeseul. You should not be doing this, the text reads, and Sol has to gather all her willpower to not scream in the middle of the street, I know, I fucking know, I shouldn’t be doing this with him right now, going for lunch when there’s—no, I just cannot do it.

She thinks it would be good, for her to have one lunch with him, to get him out of her system, Yeseul’s wisdom about not having lunch with someone who is technically her opponent in the court be damned. She just needs to have lunch with him once, and then she can stop feeling this way.

The restaurant is small, but bright light filters in through the large windows as they take a seat at one of the empty tables. There are a lot of them, she thinks, looking around, just after the lunchtime rush, or the restaurant wasn’t a very good one. Either way, she was supposed to be having a meal with Han Joon-Hwi right now, and as Sol takes a seat, she realises she had been vastly unprepared for this meeting.

He doesn’t look like the Joon she knew back in Hankuk, that is certain, but he doesn’t look like what her imagination had unhelpfully supplied her with either. He looks every inch the prosecutor, with dark circles underneath his eyes and that slouching posture she supposes every prosecutor has, as though he had been carrying the weight of the whole world. It’s sad, somehow.

“Are you going to order?”

“Hm?” She turns her gaze, and sure enough, he’s looking at her just like he had done all those years ago, when she had a stupid letter attached to her name like a real-life suffix that followed one around, and he used to lean over tables and grin all up in her face and mock her by saying Sunbae. It’s—uncomfortable. She didn’t think she would revert to her university self so easily, but with him, it feels like second nature, “You said Pyongyang naengmyeon, so we should get Pyongyang naengmyeon.”

“All right,” he teases, but it’s light, the kind of tone one would use with a co-worker, which strikes her as somehow offensive (am I not more important than a co-worker?) and she spots a glint of something else in his eyes, but shakes her head free of the thought, just as he says, “so, how is work?”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t think you asked me to lunch after all these years just to talk to me about work, Han Joon-Hwi.”

He smiles, “right, I didn’t, two orders of beef bone soup, please.”

She stares at him, “it’s summer,” and turns back to the ahjumma, “two orders of Pyongyang naengmyeon, please.”

He just shakes his head, looking at her in that funny way, and asks, “so, do you remember, or do you not?”

What is he even asking me about? “No, I don’t,” she replies, pouring out water for the both of them, “what are you even talking about?”

He shakes his head at her again, “never mind. Let’s eat.”

She can’t help but feel as though she had just missed something important, at least by the look on his face. Or maybe that’s the naengmyeon talking.

[writerfae]

I have no excuse for this. I didn't even have a plan with this. I just wanted to write Sera and writing Sera always comes with her teasing Talon. And somehow it ended up to be this. Don't ask me where I was planning (I didn't) to go with this, I do not know it myself.

It's modern AU. And I typed it entirely on my phone, with no intend to upload it at first. But now I did anyway because I'm still impressed I got some writing done, even if it's just random. Hope you enjoy.

Talon yawned, hands clutching his coffee mug. He was at his and Aiden's favorite Café, having breakfast with his sister.

Aiden wasn't with them this time. He was at home, most likely still in bed, and honestly, Talon kinda wished he could be there too, cuddled up against his boyfriend.

"You look tired. Are you okay?" Sera asked, stealing a piece of watermelon from her brother's fruit salad. Another yawn was her answer.

"Yeah." Talon nodded. "Aiden came back from Canada yesterday. It was kind of a long night, that's all."

Sera wiggled her eyebrows. "Long night, huh?" She sounded amused. "I see."

Talon reached over the table to shove her shoulder. "Shut up. Not what you think," he scolded. Sometimes he really wondered who exactly was the mature one here.

"I picked him up from the airport in the middle of the night. It took us nearly two hours to get home. Aiden was completely gone once his head hit the pillow."

"Is it just me or do you sound disappointed?"

He gave his sister another shove. "Shut up, I'm not," he muttered, but his cheeks and ears colored a light red. A clear sign that he felt embarrassed.

"I'm happy he's back. I missed him."

Talon's older sister chuckled. "Yes, I know. You've been moping about it the entire time while he was gone."

"No, I didn't."

"You totally did."

"No."

"Yes"

"No."

Sera laughed at the way Talon's face got even more red from her teasing.

"Aw, no need to be embarrassed about it. I think it's cute." She smiled.

"Never thought I would ever see my baby brother being so attached to someone. You grew so much. I'm proud of you."

Sera wiped away an imaginary tear in mock emotion. But deep down, she really meant what she said. She was glad Talon had learned to open up and let someone in. She was glad it was Aiden, too. He was good for her brother.

Talon hid his face in his hands. "God Sera, can you stop being embarrassing? It's too early for that."

She grinned. "Never. Embarrassing you is basically my job. I'm your big sister."

"You're annoying is what you are," Talon muttered.

"Hey," Sera pointed at him with her fork. "Respect your elder."

Talon snorted. "What are you, sixty?"

"It sure as hell feels like it sometimes." Sera grimaced. "My back is killing me lately."

They laughed. Suddenly Talon's phone display lit up, showing a new message.

It was from Aiden.

Sera leaned forward to try and sneak a look at the message, as usual lacking any sense of privacy (much to her brother's dismay) and smiled to herself as she saw that Talon had a picture of his boyfriend set as his lockscreen.

Talon snatched the phone away from the table and his sister's curious gaze to read the text. Sera watched as he smiled to himself, typing out an answer.

Ah, young love, she couldn't help but think. Cute.

Talon would probably kill her with his fork if she would've said it out loud, or scold her for sounding like a grandma again.

So Sera kept quiet, taking a bite of her scrambled eggs instead.

"He just woke up," Talon said, still looking down on his phone and Sera wasn't sure if he talked to her or to himself. "Asked me where I am. Idiot, didn't he read the note I left him?"

He shook his head, pretending to be annoyed, but Sera noticed the fondness in her brother's voice. (She didn't know one could call someone an idiot so affectionately.)

She smiled. "Seems like someone misses you, huh?"

Talon answered to her teasing by flipping her off, not even bothering to look up from his phone. But he smiled, too. Sera leaned back in her seat, chuckling.

"Why are you here anyway? I half expected you to not show up at all, given the fact Aiden just came home. You haven't seen each other in what, a month? I thought you'd be all over him now that he's back, given how much you were pining after him while he was gone."

"I was not pining," Talon stated, throwing a grape at his sister. Sera successfully dodged it.

"And I came because I didn't want to stand you up. We meet every second Saturday. Aiden was still sleeping, he's tired from the flight and needs some rest, otherwise I would've asked him to join."

He took a sip from his coffee. "I was trying to be polite here."

"Since when have you ever been polite?" Sera laughed.

Her brother only scoffed as an answer.

He could have breakfast with Aiden in his warm bed right now, thank you very much. Instead, he sat here and let his older sister make fun of him.

"The way you keep teasing me, I start to regret it. I should've dumped you after all."

Sera pouted. "Aw, don't be like that."

Another message from Aiden popped up on Talon's screen, catching the attention of both siblings.

Oh, I see, till later then. Have fun. And greet Sera from me. I love you.

A soft smile spread on Talon's face as he stared at the message. A rare one, Sera noted. (Rare to everyone that wasn't Aiden, that is.)

It surprised Sera every time how Aiden managed to get her brother to react like this. He's really gone for this boy, isn't he?

"Oh my God." She rolled her eyes. It was a playful gesture. "Hurry up and go home to him already. I start to feel guilty about keeping you from him."

"What?" Talon asked, confused, only now looking up from his phone.

His sister crossed her arms.

"I said go to your boyfriend and spend some long overdue time with him, goddammit."

She grinned and made a gesture as if to shoo Talon away.

"We can meet up next time. Do us all a favor and go to your Aiden now. I think you two need it."

Talon warned to protest at first, but Sera fixed him with a glare that said not to argue with her and he really wanted to go see his boyfriend, so he nodded, grabbed his jacket and stood up.

"Okay. I'll go. Thanks, Sera." Hurriedly he put on his coat and kissed his sister's cheek. "I'll text you later. Bye."

"Goodbye, Tal. Tell my favorite in-law I said hi," she joked.

Talon stuck out his tongue to her and Sera replied by doing the same, laughing.

Then he went to the counter to pay for his and Sera's breakfast, getting apple pie for Aiden along the way because he knew how much his boyfriend loved the cake here, and made his way outside, waving goodbye to his sister.

Sera chuckled, waving back. As she watched him leave, she took a sip from her orange juice, thinking about how glad she was to see her brother finally be so happy again.

*

just some background information: I imagine this takes place when Talon and Aiden are in their last year of college, a good while after their relationship break, mind you, where they finally got their shit together again (it's also like, a year before their engagement I think). as you might (or not) know, Aiden went abroad for a year during the relationship break, working for a wolf center in Canada. He grew pretty fond of the place, the animals and people there so from time to him he visits the center for a month or so if given the opportunity. that's where he returned from in this short, too.

modern au masterpost

general tag list: @deadlycupid @writing-is-a-martial-art @writingamongther0ses @blueinkblot @wildswrites @abiandwriting @theroyalcoven @7devills @myhusbandsasemni @authortango @sleepy-night-child @charleeyy @formulatingfiction @shiishki @gr3y-heron

[themissingmarvel]

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 8]

(I am going to prompt this with first, an apology for how long it’s been. I blame Animal Crossing as well as the apocalypse. That said, and this is a TW/CW there is a major death. So be advised.)

CATCH UP: [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Drabble] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Drabble 2] // [Part 5] // [Part 6] // [Part 7]

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language, descriptions of violence, major character death

They didn’t fall asleep right away. Which made sense on many levels. She was still shaken and he was still quite taken with the woman in his arms, who he had dreamed of namelessly for so long. She was already a dream. But that was dangerous, and he knew it.

She told him stories of training in the bureau, and what she had encountered. Being a woman and an agent was never easy. He told her stories about when he started off as a beat cop and his first time arresting someone back when he worked in Philadelphia. He talked about having seen so much and knowing what he did, he wanted to bring his work to an area that didn’t always get attention. That needed good cops. Conyers had been that place.

Her words were shaky when she discussed the loss of her sister, and that was what the CD had been in reference to. David had lost so much in his life so young he supposed he didn’t really understand that kind of pain the way he wanted to. He hadn’t ever loved something like that before. He had felt adrift, a ship without an anchor. Love was a memory to him and he dreamed of it sometimes so hard he could taste it. 

When they did finally fall asleep, David had buried himself against her and they had managed to look disgustingly adorable in a way neither would ever admit to, even in a court of law. Y/N had prided herself on her ability to keep work separate. It helped that at least once a month she’d spend a couple days out of town. Sometimes longer. Meant she had good excuses for staying settled. David had no such excuse save for his own emotional damage as a child and teen. 

Her phone was what stirred her from sleep, sleep that rarely came so deeply. The phone was by her bed, the issued FBI one she was sure was being tracked but didn’t much care. Breaking away from the warm embrace of the man who had no business being as wonderful as he was, she fumbled for it before answering, not registering the emergency ring, “Agent Y/L/N. Yes, that’s what I said. Wait, what?” 

Loki had stirred when she woke, though more so as he watched her suddenly sit up, pushing back her hair that had become quite a mess. He was almost hurt he didn’t get a chance to see her as she woke. A soft waking. Not this.

Already she was on her feet, “No. That’s incorrect. I’m still in New York, the drive was a nightmare so I decided to stay at a hotel and- it doesn’t matter. Check my phone records, I never-!”

She was silent, David sitting up as he watched her, a frantic look suddenly dissipating from her delicate features, her skin pale, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights. So far he had found that answering the phone was not ending well for either of them.

He was adjusting his own hair, standing and going for his shirt and belt, watching as she pulled the phone away to look at the screen. 

By now she had adjusted to this sort of new normal. Henry Best was not a shy man and she suspected that for a long time he had been killing people. For whatever reason, it had escalated the past few months and she was certain when they looked at patterns statewide, they would find a broader, less direct pattern. No roses, but perhaps notes. Ones discarded. A disappearance and a body found days or weeks later would be easily dismissed by an overworked department. 

Closing her eyes tightly, she took a breath before lifting the phone back to her ear, “When was he found? Yeah, check the hotel records I don’t give a fuck. You think I seriously killed my own coworker?! Tell Kendrick to call me himself, then!” She pulled the phone back and hung it up.

It was six in the morning, and she supposed the few hours of sleep they had gotten was a blessing, but one she would regret. She would speak at the funeral later and try not to loudly blame herself, but it would be hard not to. She hadn’t pulled the trigger but she had left a loaded gun on the table just the same. She had let David in and in turn let other parts of herself go.

David was quiet before he spoke, “What happened?”

What a stupid question. It was met by a look of anger he didn’t recognize immediately but knew as rage. It was a powerful kind of rage that clouded judgment and made people do stupid things. He hoped it was the kind of rage Y/N could reign in and use as fuel but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know enough. He knew fragments and pieces and he hoped she could keep herself together. Keller Dover had let that rage nearly destroy him and almost got himself killed. It was personal.

“Adrian is dead. They found his body in the parking lot of an empty office building, two shots to the chest. They found texts on his phone from me, though we both know it wasn’t. It was ‘me’, asking to meet him with important information I was ‘too scared’ to speak over the phone. Adrian died alone, bleeding to death in a parking lot because of me.” 

Her face was stoic, eyes cold and echoing of something akin to heartbreak. She didn’t love Adrian. Not really. But she liked him. She liked how he flirted and made her feel cute, how he called her ‘ladybug’ and would grin even through the phone. Even when he was such a fucking asshole, blowing off her requests for meeting up or talking about his dates… she knew. He wasn’t a bad man, he was kind of a dick, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve to die. But she had killed him, hadn’t she? Maybe she didn’t pull the trigger but she left the gun on the table.

When her sister died, long ago, rage had taken the place of sadness and grief. She had felt anger like no other that the world would have reached out and taken her sister from her. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Sadness was so hard to manage but rage and anger was always so much more reasonable, in an odd way. Sadness you had to cope with but rage you could channel elsewhere. It also made you stupid as hell. 

Loki was walking to where Y/N was, reaching for her arm before she snatched it away, “Hey, this isn’t your fault, we both know-”

“But it is!” She stared at him, eyes wide and deadly cool, “It is my fault, David. I thought that this,” she gestured between the two of them, “was a good idea. And it wasn’t. Henry got my phone credentials somehow and he got to Adrian.”

David stepped back, absorbing the blow that hit him right in the chest. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but when a wounded cat is cornered and injured it will always lash out, even at what it loves the most. She was defending herself. Somewhere he knew that, in the same way he knew he would be doing the same, were he in her position. But he allowed it to sink, instead stepping away and getting himself dressed.

He was cautious as he watched her solemnly get dressed, do her hair as best she could before silently stepping into the bathroom to use the crappy-but-acceptable toothbrush and toothpaste provided. Her brain was trying to process what just happened, but so was David’s. He was reeling from the pain of being told he was a mistake, and because he knew that she didn’t mean it. He hoped she didn’t. He felt responsible as well, that he had distracted her from the case. Perhaps, he thought, it might give him clarity to have the step back that she didn’t. 

If Henry had reached out to Adrian, it was because he knew a few things. First, he knew that Adrian provided Y/N with information frequently enough that he had access to quite a bit of data. He probably knew more than he even realized he knew, and he was a risk. Also, Henry knew that Adrian trusted Y/N completely. Enough that he’d simply drive in the middle of the night to meet up with her over a simple text. But doesn’t the FBI train better?

Suddenly it was David working like a profiler, and perhaps it was the brain of the woman he had slept next to that was rubbing off on him. 

It didn’t make sense that Adrian would just trust a text message from Y/N, did it? 

Looking down at his own phone, he scanned through a few missed calls and voicemails, a text or two from guys at the precinct. Opening his work mail, he noted a few important forensic items and tabbed them for later. One that stood out was the email that the PAM shots had come in.

When Y/N came out she was silent, her words feeling like pain, should she utter them. Instead, she grabbed her things, hardly looking at David as she felt the weight of the boulder she had decided to shoulder pressing down on her before breathing out the words, “Let’s go.”

___

The drive itself hadn’t taken long, all things considered. Y/N had insisted she drive her own car, the reliable car that felt reliably foreign, making her feel like an alien in a world she was supposed to be part of. Adrian didn’t deserve to die. Arguably, most folks didn’t, really. He was a good guy, though. He did the stuff you were supposed to do. Being an asshole wasn’t a reason to off someone and yet Henry (and she was sure it was Henry) had chosen him specifically. Whether or not it was because he ‘knew’ something, it was calculated. Gunshots, however, meant this was not as planned as he had wanted it to be. Something had been off. Emotions had been involved. This had been a crime of passion and not a single note was left behind. Not a single rose.

He wasn’t the pattern, though. So it made sense.

Pulling up to the precinct, she got out and made her way to the door, aware of Detective Loki only steps behind her, protective in a way he didn’t like, even for himself. Henry was bold, however. Further forensics on the phone had shown Y/N’s phone had been cloned, of course. She supposed handing the man her jacket in his office where he had defense level technology hadn’t been her smartest move. 

She had to play chess and make him think she was still playing checkers.

“Agent? This was delivered about an hour ago, one of the DC Agents dropped it himself. Credentials checked out. It’s for you.” A young man was behind the precinct desk, looking a little tired but otherwise unbothered, handing her a small package. She was curious, though not concerned this time, able to spot the small sticker on the bottom left of a glittering ladybug. 

Taking the box she glanced at David and nodded her head towards the long hallway that led towards the interrogation rooms. She was silent, moving like a whisper over the ugly rug in the dingy department that desperately needed an upgrade. Opening the door to the other side of the one-way mirror, she removed her jacket and her phone, David following suit. It was eerie, how silent she was, even her movements noiseless as she fiddled with the microphone settings and turned off all recording devices. She went so far as to power them off entirely, making the room dark. 

Shutting the door, the young woman gently opened the box and withdrew a sleek, silver Samsung Galaxy, definitely not government issue. Squinting, she pressed the power button and turned it on, the phone booting up with no problem, the background a picture of a ladybug. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smirk through the pain, “Subtle, as always.”

Sitting down, David took a seat by her, watching as the phone appeared to begin on its own, the woman taking the cue to prop it up and sit back, the two close by once more as they watched a video begin.

“I know. This isn’t subtle, right? I mean, if you’re watching it then it’s not supposed to be. After what Henry did, I didn’t want you getting another package and being scared again.” 

It was Adrian, his face, brown scruff over his handsome features, sharp jawline and broad shoulders visible, stunning hazel eyes that were arguably more green than hazel visible. His hair was dark brown as well, normally gelled down and styled, though a bit more tussled now. He was sitting in his apartment, what looked to be his apartment. Pictures of his family were behind him and he was sitting on his couch, beige… funny the things we choose to see.

“He texted me tonight. I mean, you did, from what police records will show, but it’s him. He’s gotta think I’m some next-level idiot, you know? He tried to get your tone down but he can’t get that icy exterior quite right,” he smirked, looking into the camera, Y/N’s eyes softened as she knew she was watching the final moments of a man’s life. You don’t turn away from something like that.

“It’s my fault… I’m sorry.” She whispered as she watched the video, her body caving in on itself as she felt herself tense.

“And before you apologize, don’t! Hey, for all I know, things turned out just fine and you’re gonna make fun of me for this video and I’ll get the credit for catching The Black Rose! I won’t let you live it down,” he smirked.

Tears burned at her eyes, holding a hand over her mouth to stop herself from speaking again, almost wounded by how eerie it was how well he knew her. It fucking hurt.

“I can’t call you on your phone because it’ll route to his. He has authority over it by now, so don’t trust it, whatever you read on it. It’s useless. I used this because I knew I could jailbreak it and install the firmware to keep him out. But yeah, this’ll be pretty useless too if he gets wind of it.

“Anyway. He wants to meet me. I figure if I can get some recordings of him in the parking lot, maybe clone his phone myself without him knowing, maybe I can get something off him for you. If not, if you’re watching this and feeling like shit… it means it’s a good thing I sent the phone. Because if you’re watching this, much like those tropes I know you hate, then I’m dead, Ladybug. And I’m sorry for that one. But it sure as hell isn’t your responsibility and you need to know I’m doing this because I chose to. You’ve always been the brave one, Y/N. I’ve watched you take hits from assholes, get threatened, travel across the country, work yourself through hell on earth… you’re brave. You’re good at your job. And you always deserved better than me. Doesn’t make much sense to tell you I always loved you, so I won’t. But I’m doing this not for you, but because of you. Catch the asshole.”

The video closed, another taking its place, this one far grainier and from within a spot on the dash of Adrian’s car. It was a shitty camera, one that would be found, quite obviously, and that was broadcasting a recording. Later they’d find out not even Henry could trace the broadcast, but Y/N knew. David knew. Both knew as they sat in the dark interview room in the Conyers precinct.

The audio was muffled and quiet, which made sense. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. But it showed Adrian getting out of the car, jacket on, walking over with his hands up. He was speaking, softly, and staying still as another man entered view.

Henry.

He had his hands in his pockets, though he was visible. His head. Face. Hair. Unmistakably Henry Best. It was like watching a horror movie, though, and she hadn’t even realized that David had wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled himself to her, ready to stop the video at any moment. 

Shouts were exchanged suddenly, Henry barking at Adrian who stepped back, his hands still up, shaking his head and looking almost quizzical as he tilted his head to the side, “-her…-?” It was barely audible, though Henry’s face contorted into anger, rage, pulling a gun out of his pocket suddenly and screaming, “You could never understand my love for her!”  

One shot. Two shots. Three shots. 

Each made Y/N jump, tears in her eyes as she watched her friend, one of her closest friends, the man she trusted, shot dead in front of her, the feed suddenly cutting out. 

The video closed, leaving only the phone with its basic desktop icons before them, Y/N reaching out and gently picking up the phone, “You fucking idiot, Adrian.” Tears were falling down her cheeks, not that she cared. And even Adrian’s promise that his death was not on her was not enough. The guilt was tremendous and suddenly she felt like she was the one speeding down the highway and popping a tire. She felt everything spinning out of control and she wondered if this was the same kind of end her sister had met. Chaos. Loss. Helplessness. Blame. 

It was the icon in the bottom of the screen, however, that snapped her back, looking down at the icon that was only black but was titled all she needed:

“EVIDENCE”. 

His last gift was not a video of his death, but rather, Adrian had ensured, was a gift of life and a promise of revenge against the man who had done so much. And, perhaps, a warning of something more sinister.

(Tagging: @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @is-it-madness​ @detecellie​ @doritosandavocados​ @oscarflysaac​ @peccobagnaia​ @miss-missing-patd​ @hockeyandheroes​ )

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Five

Summary: College is kicking Nesta’s ass, so she goes to her T.A., Tomas, for some extra help. Note: Read it on AO3 here! Bittersweet Masterlist  Warnings: N/A

October

It was only a couple weeks into the fall semester, and it was already hell.

Nesta was drowning in schoolwork, whether it be essays or presentations or hour-long projects. She had exams every damn week, so she was at the campus library nearly every day – typically until the sun set and the stars emerged. But even then, her night was far from over. Nesta returned home only to catch up on the work she’d put off for her paid internship. Elain got in the habit of making Nesta tea and cookies when she returned from the library on those ruthless nights. And every damn time, Nesta would wrap her arms around her sister with thanks.

This was her routine for at least four days of the week. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Needless to say, she was fucking exhausted.

The worst part, though? Nesta’s grades were precariously low despite the countless hours she’d been putting in. And she knew exactly what was causing it.

It had been a month since her father’s death, yet Nesta was still waking up in her own sweat every morning after a nightmare involving him. Of him hanging on the edge of a cliff, begging Nesta to save him. Of her dad screaming at her to kill herself. Of her mother dragging Nesta into the other room as he watches idly by.  

Nesta had cursed herself for letting her father’s death affect her in this way. She’d never been one to grieve, especially not for so long. She preferred leaving it in the past. It was easier that way.

Thanks to her merciless professors, Nesta was forced to dedicate nearly all of her time to school, which forced her to neglect her internship. They required she edit ten pieces of work every week, whether it be self-published books, college publications, or online articles. Even though the internship was entirely online – a convenient bonus – she still didn’t have enough time to fulfill the weekly goals. Instead of editing ten works, she was barely scrapping by with five. She’d already received several angry emails from her boss threatening to fire her if she didn’t get her shit together.

And, well… Nesta didn’t get her shit together. On the last day of September, she received that fateful email.

Nesta Archeron,

I regret to inform you that we’ve made the difficult decision of letting you go from Scribner Editorial. While I understand you’re in the midst of earning your Master’s degree, we are looking for editors who can reach – or exceed – the necessary requirements. Unfortunately, you have been lacking in the past few weeks. It has caused other editors to pick up your slack and do more than what we ask for. We are sorry to see you go.

Sincerely,

Ressina Laurent Scribner Editorial

Nesta read and reread the email dozens of times before closing her laptop. Her head fell in her hands, her shoulders trembling with the weight she carried.

She stared out the window, the world a flurry of red, orange, and yellow. Nesta had worked so hard for this, and all for nothing. She couldn’t believe she’d fucked up such a prestigious internship. It’d paid surprisingly well, and that had been the only income she was receiving. Even with the paychecks from Scribner Editorial, Nesta’s financial situation was holding on by a thread. She had used the money her father had passed down to her to pay off the remaining student loans she owned. Her family never had much money and when it was split in three, it didn’t make much of a difference.

Just like that, Nesta no longer had a job.

Fuck.

Within ten minutes of receiving that email, she was already browsing online for job opportunities. Nesta didn’t care what it was, as long as it put steady income in her pocket. There was no way she would be able to finish school without a job.

But unfortunately, after an hour of job hunting, Nesta came up empty handed. The only person who was hiring was the large grocery store downtown. They were looking for a cashier. And there was no way in hell Nesta would even consider working there. She’d seen the crowds they got on weekends. The work were incessantly forced to talk with rude, invasive customers. Nesta was far from the realm of customer service.

Nesta was down to her last resort. She didn't give herself another second to overthink it as she picked up her phone from her desk and texted Feyre.

I was just fired. You know of any job openings in the area?

Nesta sat by her phone for a couple minutes until Feyre deigned to respond.

The only one I know if is Rita’s, the local bar. They’re looking for a bartender, have been for months.

Nesta nearly snorted out her coffee when she read the text. Feyre had to be kidding. Nesta, bartending? There was no way in hell she could be a halfway decent bartender – anyone who’s ever met Nesta knew that. She didn’t possess the charm nor the patience, and she certainly couldn’t deal with drunken men who leered at her all night. In Massachusetts, she'd had her fair share of hook-ups, men and women alike. It was night after night of mindless, drunken sex. But then she'd grown up.

Nesta looked back at the soft glow of her computer screen. There had to be something, right?

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

Wrong.

After scrolling through hundreds of websites with job opportunities (or lack thereof), Nesta collapsed on her bed. She checked the time to find that it was nearly one in the morning. Rubbing her face, she let out a low groan. Tomorrow was Monday. Gods, why did tomorrow have to be Monday? She was so exhausted that she was feeling physically ill: sore throat, cough, stuffy nose. The urge to skip classes tomorrow was tempting.

But Nesta knew she wouldn't skip. What would she do? A whole day to herself and a head full of intrusive thoughts. The perfect ingredients for a panic attack or two.

Her gaze fell to the small stack of bills she had yet to pay – that she couldn’t pay. Bills that would only grow.

With that thought in mind, Nesta cursed Scribner Editorial as she grabbed her laptop and searched ‘Rita’s’ on an open browser.

Then, she composed an email.

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

The next day, Nesta finally got around to contacting her Fictional Techniques teaching assistant. It was by far her most challenging class, and she despised the professor. A big chunk of her studying was dedicated to that course alone. And since she no longer had a job – for now – she finally had the time to meet with him for extra help.

His name was Tomas. He was notoriously known as the “Hardass T.A.” Nesta had heard her peers complaining about his grading on more than one occasion. It was common knowledge that he rarely gave students any feedback on their essays but when he did, it was brutal. It was practically unheard of to receive higher than a C from Tomas.

Nesta never got below a B+, though. And though she’d never spoken with him, Tomas always gave her detailed feedback on her papers, more so than any student.

So that afternoon, she emailed him.

Tomas –

           My name is Nesta Archeron and I am a student in a class you T.A. in, ENG-403 Section 003. I have a couple questions regarding the paper that was assigned on September 28th. Are you available to meet after class? It would be much appreciated.

Nesta –

           Thank you for contacting me. I would love to help you one-on-one. I’ve noticed the work you hand in, and it is spectacular. Your writing is sophisticated, and you have such potential. Coming from someone who has been in the publishing business for years now, I know several companies who would publish your work. Perhaps I can mention your name the next time I meet with them. How does tomorrow work? We can walk to the library together, maybe grab a cup of coffee (on me). Let me know.

Tomas –

           Thank you. That works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.

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

“Don’t forget to finish up those essays! They’re due on October sixth, and I won’t be accepting anything that’s turned in late. Yes, Mr. Vanserra, I’m looking at you.”

Students snickered as they filed out of the lecture hall. Nesta grabbed her backpack and made her way down the stairs to the front of the room. Tomas had his own desk in the corner where he chimed in during class discussions.

He was already smiling at her when she approached.

“Hi, Nesta,” he greeted her. He was in the midst of packing his things. “Are you ready to head out?” She nodded.

Tomas had the charm of the boy next door. His dirty blonde hair was cropped short, eyes crystal blue, and he wore an easy smile. It was hard to imagine that this was the guy who gave students Fs for not having a cover page for their essay.

"Did you want to grab a cup of coffee?" Tomas asked her as they made their way out of the classroom. He shot her a smirk "Like I said, I'll pay."

Is he flirting with me?

Nesta prayed to the gods he wasn't. Sure, he was cute and all, but she had no interest in a relationship of any kind. Including a one night stand.

Perhaps I can use that to my advantage...

Nesta dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way in hell she would flirt with her T.A. to ensure a high GPA. She wasn't going to sleep her way to the top. That's not how Nesta did things.

A little flirting never hurt anyone.

She groaned inwardly and shut out that train of thoughts.

Tomas and Nesta chatted while they trudged to the library, backpacks full of textbooks in tow. Much to Nesta’s dismay, he fired question after question at her. Tomas asked about her family to which she miraculously deflected, about her journey to become a writer, and her ambitions. Luckily, Nesta was a pro at this sort of thing, so she simply responded to every question with a question of her own. Not the most subtle approach, but it worked.

The library was teeming with students when they pushed through the doors. Pryth U’s library was a sight to behold. Its foyer was ornate with hand-painted murals, the ceiling stretching far above them. They hopped on the elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, Nesta inhaled the sweet scent of old books. The bookcases reached the ceiling, thus requiring a rolling ladder in every stack. When Nesta and Elain had toured the campus before the semester began, Elain was quick to jump on the ladder and sing “Be Our Guest.” Her voice was horribly off key. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs until the librarian found and scolded them.

Nesta was pretty sure Elain hadn't stepped foot in the library since.

“Okay,” Tomas said, setting his belongings on a corner desk. He grinned at her. “Ready to be tortured?”

Nesta offered a less than enthusiastic smile. “Let’s do it.”

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

After a couple hours of grueling studying, Nesta hurried to the coffee shop on campus. It was five o’clock and she hadn’t had a cup of coffee since the morning. If she didn’t get caffeine in the next ten minutes, Nesta wouldn’t function properly.

The meeting with Tomas went well; he was certainly a helpful resource to have. He'd even offered to meet with Nesta again to prepare for the next big assignment, to which she graciously accepted. There may have been batting of the lashes involved.

Nesta pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Even with a peacoat and a hat, she was still freezing. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the coffee shop, grateful for the inviting warmth.

That gratefulness disappeared when she looked at the line.

It was at least a dozen people long. Nesta let out a frustrated groan, managing to put a tamper on her anger and hauled her ass to the back of the line.

After a couple minutes of drooling over the scent of fresh coffee beans, she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

“Nesta?” a sultry voice asked. The familiar husk in her words had Nesta turning around to see Amren standing behind her. She was staring up at Nesta through her long lashes, a smirk playing on her face. Nesta couldn’t help but admire her feral beauty: chin length hair, angular face, dark and smooth skin, and exquisite makeup.

“Hi, Amren,” Nesta said blandly. “I didn’t know you attended Pryth U.”

“I don’t,” she snorted. “I wouldn’t last one week in college. This is the best coffee around, and I don’t mind driving twenty minutes out of my way.”

Another coffee snob. Interesting.

“I’m impressed that you even remember my name. I thought you always zoned out during the dinners.”

Nesta huffed out a laugh, and a hint of surprise flashed on Amren’s face. It was gone a second later.

“It’s tempting whenever Rhysand opens his mouth, trust me,” Nesta replied dryly. “But I have my ways.”

Amren’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

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

That evening, Nesta strolled back to her apartment with a steaming cup of coffee and Amren’s phone number.

It was quiet when she unlocked the door, but the living room light was on. As Nesta dropped her heaving backpack and padded to the kitchen, she noticed Elain sprawled out on the couch, her nose buried in her phone.

“Did you eat already?” Nesta called out as she rummaged through the cabinets. She dug through a shelf for pasta, which was buried under Elain’s many baking ingredients.

When Elain didn’t answer after a couple seconds, Nesta poked her head into the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone, the faintest smile on her rosy face.

“Hello? Earth to Elain?”

Silence. Nesta groaned in frustration. Rounding the overstuffed sofa, she assaulted Elain’s feet with her hands.

Elain’s entire body jerked as Nesta tickled her, pained laughs escaping her mouth. Elain was easily the most ticklish person Nesta had ever met. It made it easy to get information out of her.

“Stop!” Elain gasped breathlessly, laughing all the same. “Please!”

Nesta ceded and raised her hands up in surrender. Elain scrambled off the couch and narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell, Nesta?”

“I was calling your name for a good five minutes,” Nesta crossed her arms. She nodded her head at Elain’s phone. “Anything interesting?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and Nesta gasped.

“Is it a guy?” Her voice was threatening. Nesta had always been protective over Elain.

“A guy? No! That’s… that’s just ludicrous. Why would a guy… I mean -"

Nesta let her sister stumble over her words with amusement. She raised a brow. “Show me what you were looking at then.”

“That’s none of your business!”

Nesta gave her no warning as she leaped at Elain.

Elain squealed in surprise, trying her best to deflect Nesta's tickling. They wrestled on the couch, Elain trying desperately to get her phone out of Nesta's reach. But Nesta was taller and stronger.

“Gerroffme -"

“Just gimme -"

“Argh!”

"Ha!" Nesta stood up and held Elain’s phone in her hand triumphantly. Elain was glaring at her from the couch, her hair sticking every which way.

Nesta looked down at the screen to see the Instagram app open. Then, she read the name of the account.

“You’re stalking Azriel?”

“No! I was just following him.”

All Nesta had to do was give her a stern look.

“Okay, fine," Elain threw her hands up. "I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“No,” Nesta glowered, “I’m not happy. He’s basically Rhysand’s brother. I'm not letting another one of those boys seduce my sister.”

“Seduce?!" Elain choked. She shook her head. "They’re best friends! And what does it matter anyway?”

Nesta shot her a leveled stare. “Rhysand’s an asshole.”

“He’s just protective over Feyre,” Elain explained incredulously. “Like you are of me.”

Nesta considered that for a moment. “Touché. But if Azriel hurts you -"

“Nesta!” Elain exclaimed, an exasperated laugh leaving her lips. “We’ve barely talked. I just think he’s handsome.”

“Does Feyre know?”

That got Elain's attention.

“You can’t tell Feyre.” Elain broke out her puppy face: wide eyes, pouty lips, knitted brows. No one in history had been able to resist her puppy face. Including Nesta.

She huffed out a laugh. “I may be a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.”

Elain threw herself at her sister and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you!"

After promising Elain she wouldn't tell Feyre about her crush for the tenth time, Nesta retreated to her room. She was just about to pull out her notes when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

I’m supposed to go on a date with this guy tonight, but I just met a hotter guy on my way home. Will you judge me if I ditch the first one?

Nesta looked at the phone number.

Amren.

She could help but let out a small laugh.                              

When in doubt, pick both.

Both?                                                                                        

Both.

Damn, Nesta, I didn’t realize how savage you are.

A couple moments later, another text came in.

Both is good.

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

tag list (let me know if you want to be tagged):

@sjmships @sleeping-and-books @sirgwaines @books-for-sure @blowing-mikey @b00kworm @wineywitch202 @drielecarla @liquifyme @gisellefigue08 @iammissstark @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @loysydark @superspiritfestival @stardelia​ @sayosdreams​ @maastrash​ 

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 5

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing and drinking.

Word Count: 5,200

A/N: See note at the end of the chapter. Italics are internal thoughts.

Catch up with Chapter 4

The Minneapolis-St. Paul International airport was packed for your five o’clock flight on the twenty seventh. Apparently, everyone else was also saying goodbye to the Christmas holiday besides yourself. Vacation time is always great, but you had a story due on December twenty ninth that really needed to be finished. Technically, the article could have been written while staying in the frozen tundra that you once called home. The assignment is a piece covering various places to celebrate New Year’s Eve. All the information for the story could be found online and any questions could easily be answered via phone call, but after a week with your family, you needed the peace and quiet. You had grown accustomed to living alone. Home centered you, even if it was just a rental. You also thrived in an office setting; the beat of the busy newsroom also matching the beat of your heart.

Y/N: Getting ready to board. Just wanted to say goodnight in case I crash when I get home.

Grabbing your purse and duffle bag off the floor, you joined the massive crowd waiting to board the plane. This was the part of travel that gave you anxiety. The takeoff, landing, and overall length of a flight never bothered you. Nope, it was the crowd that stood directly in front of the gate. As if being on the plane longer than need be and stuffed next to two other people was enjoyable. But because everyone else stood around the gate, your anxiety made you join them.

After twenty minutes of waiting for boarding sections to be called, why they even had family boarding on a flight to Orlando was beyond you, you were seated somewhat comfortably in your window seat. The flight was full, so you did have two seat mates. Sisters from what you could tell with the bickering. The one in the middle seat explained they retired to Florida but made the trip home to see their brother for Christmas. So, you were right, sisters.

Chris didn’t send a text back, so you quickly typed one out before shutting it off for the flight.

Y/N: There are rumors that the flight has a wealthy oil baron on it. I’m pretty sure I am seated next to him. If you don’t hear from me, you know why.

You made it through the flight easy enough. All the seats were equipped with monitors loaded with various movies and television shows. Plugging in your earbuds, you settled on Toy Story 4 since you hadn’t seen it yet. After that finished, you mindlessly watched a couple of episodes of the Big Bang Theory.

As much fun as you had with your family, it was good to be home. Between the time spent at your mom’s house and then at your dad’s, plus your brother dragging you out nightly, to quote Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon, you were “getting too old for this shit.”

Walking in your house around ten that night, you were a little disappointed to see Chris hadn’t texted back. Knowing that him and Scott where in Boston to spend time with family and friends, you tried not to let it bother you too much. You were exhausted anyway. A long hot shower and your bed sounded like the ultimate plan. Emptying your suitcase into the washer could wait until tomorrow.

 With a one load of clothes in the washer, a second in the dryer, and your article half done, you were feeling pretty proud of yourself. You even woke up before your alarm this morning. Maybe a trip back home was all you needed for a boost. Usually post vacation, you needed another vacation to cope with life.

Your phone vibrated on your desk indicating you had a message. Picking it up, you saw it was Chris, so you swiped the message open.

Chris: Oil barons are so overrated. You better be home in Orlando.

You smirked at his response.

Chris: I was out late last night. Hope you had a good trip home sweetheart.

Y/N: I’m sorry, me and Spencer (the oil baron) are picking out rings. Can I call you later?

Chris: OK smartass. Don’t make me fly out there.

Oh boy, did you wish he would deliver on that threat. In actuality, you had only spent five, maybe ten minutes at the most with Chris. And even though you’ve spent hours upon hours over the last couple of months talking to him on the phone and through text messaging, you were really hoping for some in person time.

Y/N: Oh no, the baron wouldn’t like that. I might though.

You bit your lip as soon as you hit send. While Chris flirted with you often, it was rare for you to come back with a comment of your own. When a few minutes had passed without a response, you got back to work on your article. Hours later and he still hadn’t responded, you worried that maybe you had taken the game to far. You knew your comment was totally innocent, but you couldn’t help but worry. You overthink everything, that’s just who you are.

Ugh! Why am I like this?

 It wasn’t until the next day when you received a response from Chris where he completely ignored what you said.

Chris: Can you tell Scott that purple pants is not a good look.

Yep, you were not going to attempt to flirt again. You would leave all the flirting to him.

Y/N: I need context here.

Chris: For New Years Eve. He’s wearing purple pants.

Y/N: I stan Scott Evans. You can’t change my mind.

Chris: 😂

Chris: You do you sweetheart

 The end of 2019 was here and it was a year you were happy with. You didn’t make any bad haircut decisions. All your potted plants were still alive. You had written a few articles you were very proud of. You spent time with family. You made some new friends. Overall, it was a year that you had no regrets in. You only hoped 2020 would be the same.

After finishing up at the office a little earlier than usual, you joined a group of your co-workers for a long dinner, opting not to join them bar hoping as the night went on. You were keeping your word on that whole not drinking for quite some time promise you made to yourself. Well, at least not hard alcohol. Wine doesn’t count.

By eight you were home and already in your pajamas. Brooks and Jana always went to Brooks’ brother’s house on New Year’s Eve. It was their tradition. The last few years they had invited you to come along, but you had always declined. It was their family thing and even though you loved Brooks like a brother, it felt like an intrusion to join them.

Even though Christmas was over last week, you had a pile of Hallmark Christmas movies you had stored on your DVR that you needed to get through. Write Before Christmas was the first on your list. The movie starred Chad Michael Murray who you had a crush on since his One Tree Hill days. DVR was really the way to go. Being able to fast forward through commercials meant you could get in almost three movies before midnight.

After you had thoroughly swooned over Chad, you moved on to Holiday Date. It was the whole fake dating plot with a predictable outcome, but it was cute so far nonetheless.

You hit pause because your phone was buzzing out of control. You could see from the preview screen that you had six messages from Scott.

Scott: Happy New Year!

Scott: Hope you’re out finding someone to kiss at midnight

Scott: You better be out

Followed by a picture of Scott and his boyfriend embracing. A picture of a few women standing on top of a bar pouring shots directly from bottles into the mouths of who you assumed were some of Scott’s friends. And a group shot of about ten that included Chris. The were all sitting in in chairs in front of a few tables, a few people crouched down in front and a pretty blonde sitting on Chris’ lap. So, there’s that.

“You can’t get jealous about someone who isn’t yours,” you said to yourself.

It was the truth. And you had no idea who she was. How many sisters did the boys have? You looked at the picture again, deciding for sure she wasn’t a sister. Not in the way she was sitting nor the way he was holding her.

Sighing out loud, you set the phone down on the cushion next to you. You moved from your comfy place on the couch, stomping your feet until you noticed you were doing so. You steady yourself and then walked calmly into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of rosé from your refrigerator, you uncorked it and filled your large wine glass to the rim.

It’s New Year’s, I’m allowed a glass of wine. A large glass of wine.

You made your way back to your couch, inhaling a couple of large gulps before hitting the play button on the remote. Deciding you needed to formulate an appropriate response to Scott rather than saying something stupid, you delved back into the romance on the screen. Or at least you tried to.

When a half hour had passed, you picked up your phone, typing out a normal response to Scott. Normal meaning how a person who was not in any sort of relationship with Chris Evans should respond. Because you weren’t. In fact, you hoped he got laid. Well, maybe not that.

Y/N: Happy New Year!

Y/N: You and Zach look so cute! Have a great night.

There. That’s how a normal person who wasn’t living in a fantasy land would respond.

Your second movie ended but you honestly weren’t paying all that much attention. Rather than starting up a third movie, you switched it to cable, finding Ryan Seacrest hosting the annual countdown show.

Finishing your wine shortly before midnight, you washed out the glass and set it in the rack to dry. You found your way back to your couch, laying down to watch the ball drop. You fired off a text to Jana to tell her you loved her as that was your traditional greeting to each other. She sent one back almost right away asking for the two of you to get lunch on Friday. The ball dropped to a chorus of cheers followed by a rendition of Auld Lang Syne by the New York City crowd. The after show played on and you fell asleep while a band you hadn’t heard of played in the background.

In the too early hours of the morning, you woke from your place on the couch, neck aching from the odd angle you slept in. Deciding to leave your phone where it was, you crawled in to bed with no plans of waking any time soon.

Of course, you couldn’t sleep forever. You had to eat at some point as evident from your stomach loudly growling around eleven in the morning.

After eating, then showering, and getting dressed for the day, you finally took a peek at your phone. Nothing from Chris. Which is whatever because you didn’t reach out to him either. But of course, there was a message from Scott from around three in the morning.

Scott: How you doin’?

You could totally hear him saying it in a Joey Tribbiani accent.

Scott: Earth to Sassy

You typed out a reply, but you doubted he was out of bed if he was texting you so late.

Y/N: Sassy was sleeping, you late night partier you

Deciding that you didn’t want to be rude, you sent Chris a text. It was New Years after all, so it was only polite. Hopefully he was awake. And alone. No. That was none of your business. Keeping it simple was the way to go.

Y/N: Happy New Year

Almost immediately, Chris responded back.

Chris: Happy New Year

And that was it. He was probably hungover...or occupied.

 Friday found you at Champs for lunch with Jana. The two of you chatting about New Year’s Eve. Brooks’ brother and wife had a little boy almost a year ago, so the party was a little different than it had been in previous years. This apparently ignited a fatherhood desire for Brooks over the last couple of days.

“And I want to have a little one too, but I’m so close to making partner. It’s just not the right time,” Jana sighed out.

You reached across the table grabbing her hand, rubbing it soothingly. “When it’s right, it’s right,” you replied.

She nodded her head, giving your hand a squeeze before pulling it away. “The thing is, I don’t know if I’ll be any less busy after I make partner. I kind of wish we would have started a family right after we got married. Coulda, shoulda, I guess.”

“Is there ever a right time though?” you asked. “Then there’s me who hasn’t dated in how long?” You let out a chuckle, quickly sticking a chicken finger in your mouth. You really didn’t want the sympathy, you’re not even sure why you said it.

“Whose fault is that? I don’t see you putting yourself out there. Oh! Maybe you should ask Chris out,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Dude. No,” you replied. “Number one, we don’t live in the same state. The same region even. Number two, he’s so not interested. If he were, he probably would have made something happen. Number three, he barely knows me. Number four, he’s him and I’m me.”

Jana put her hand over your mouth, giving you a warning glare. When she didn’t immediately remove it, you licked it, causing her to cringe and grab a napkin to wipe the spot you licked. You chuckled quietly to yourself.

“You’re a brat. Do you know that?” she questioned. “But you’re also amazing and I don’t want to hear anything different. If not Chris, just put yourself out there. It’s a start of a brand new year. Make some changes.”

Numbly, you nodded your head. Maybe you had been hiding away, in a way. It wasn’t like you were staying home all the time. You went out. Sometimes. Okay fine. When you weren’t working or out with your married couple friends, you mostly kept to the office and your house. You’d think about adding something more social to your schedule.

 January dragged on as it usually did. You definitely were enjoying the cooler and sometimes cold temperatures, making use of the new sweaters you purchased around Christmas. Your relationship with Chris had started to fizzle. It was subtle at first. Texts not being responded to for hours. Phone calls not being answered from time to time. Okay, that one wasn’t a big deal. But most of those phone calls weren’t being returned. A lot less sweethearts being tossed your way. It was different. And because you had developed feelings or the at the very least, a crush on Chris, you were feeling down about it. Scott was still in your life and it felt like he would always be. Maybe it was safer that way. Maybe being close with both of the brothers would ruin the other friendship in the end. Especially if feelings weren’t returned.

It was near the end of January when you brought it up to Scott. You weren’t looking for drama or attention, so you just casually mentioned over the phone when he brought up Chris that you hadn’t been hearing from Chris quite as often.

“Did Chris tell you what he bought Shanna?” Scott chuckles out.

“No, he didn’t,” you said and then took a breath. “Actually, I haven’t really been hearing from Chris a whole lot lately.”

You hear Scott blow out a breath and then you hear him groan. “He does that sometimes. I’m sorry,” Scott sighs.

“Why are you sorry? Don’t be sorry. It’s fine. It’s totally fine. As long as we’re good,” you stifled out.

“Of course, you and I are good. Not even a question Sassy.”

The nickname instantly putting you at ease.

“Good.” You bit at your lip, wondering if you should push further. Why not, might as well make this a one and done conversation. “What did you mean by, he does this sometimes?” you asked.

“When he’s with someone, he kind of just gets wrapped up in that person. He’ll eventually gets better at talking to the outside world, it just takes him awhile.”

Welp. There it is. So, at least you can give up on this little crush. Definitely not feelings. Just a crush and you would be over it by tomorrow.

“Oh!” you exclaimed.

Get. It. Together.

“I didn’t know he was seeing anyone,” you said in a much calmer voice.

“Yeah…It’s with Courtney. And you have no idea who Courtney is, sorry. They’ve dated a bunch of times of the years. Just can never seem to make it work. She’s great and everyone loves her, they just never seem to work. And you better not tell him I told you that,” he warned.

“Geez, calm down Grumpy. Like I said, we aren’t exactly talking these days and I’m not exactly going to bring up a girlfriend I don’t know,” you replied.

Scott chuckled. “There’s the Sassy I know. Anyway, it’s still new again. They started to hangout right around Christmas.”

“Oh, is she that girl on his lap from the pictures you sent me on New Year’s?” you asked.

“Yeah, she was there that night. Long blonde hair?”

“Yep,” you replied.

“That would be Courtney. I wouldn’t worry, it won’t last. I mean, I want the best for him and if it’s her, the more power to them.”

Now you were confused.

“Wh-why would I worry?” you said and then promptly cleared your throat.

“Come on Y/N, it’s not hard to tell that you maybe have teeny-tiny crush on my brother. A little bit. Come on. Tell me I’m wrong,” he teased.

He couldn’t see you, but you were giving him the best bitch face you could muster. “Shuddup.”

 It was a week a way from Valentines Day. Even though you were single for it again this year, you were never one of those people who hated the holiday. If you were with someone and the two of you decided to make the day special, great. If not, that was fine too. When your co-workers got flowers delivered to their desk, you always thought it was sweet. Brooks always went over the top for all holidays and you loved hearing about the special thing he did for Jana. What you didn’t love was your father calling you to wish you a happy Valentines Day that was really just a phone call prying into your relationship status. You loved your dad, you really did, you just wished he wouldn’t get on your case as much as he did.

You were up earlier than normal. Being the great friend that you were, you were bringing Jana breakfast since she was apparently going into the office earlier and earlier, surviving only on coffee. You stopped at your favorite coffee house, picking up two coffees, two apple cinnamon muffins, and a small bowl of oatmeal for Jana. You figured she could have the oatmeal now and snack on the muffin later.

Because she wasn’t pissed at you for any reason, she was already in the lobby, ready to sign you in.

“Good morning princess. I come baring gifts of a nutritional breakfast,” you greeted her after saying hello to Phil at the security desk.

“Why, thank you, bestie. Where would I be without you?” She puts her hand over her heart. The two of you were both smartasses and you often felt bad for Brooks.

You pass her the tray of coffees and wave your goodbye to Phil with your now free hand.

Jana’s apparently hungry as she scarfs down the oatmeal, only stopping to thank you for adding cinnamon for her. You’re still picking at your muffin because you ate a bowl of cereal before leaving your house. If you’re up early, your body wants to eat right away. Waiting was not an option.

“So, what does Brooks have planned for next week?” you asked.

“You know he doesn’t tell me. I’d bet money that you know and are just messing with me.” She smirks at you before picking up her own muffin, peeling back the wrapper.

Honestly, you don’t know. Brooks knows you well enough to know that you will squeal, especially if it’s something good.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you tease.

She sits up straight in her seat. “You know?! Tell me!”

You start to chuckle and shake your head. “I swear on your Chanel bag I don’t know. Just messing with you.”

After your short chat, Jana kicks you out of her office. The firm’s decision on who was making partner was going to be announced in a matter of days, so everyone was putting more time in. You checked your phone for any e-mails from the paper while you waited for the elevator. There were only two so far, just a couple of assignments for the week.

“Good morning, Y/N. What brings you here so early?” Ethan asks, bumping your shoulder slightly as he comes to stand next to you at the elevator. He’s dressed in another impeccable suit. Hair styled perfectly.

“Brought Jana a little breakfast. How are you Ethan?” you asked.

The elevator opens and a few people shuffle out. Ethan holds the elevator door for you to enter, and surprisingly he gets in. You press the button for the lobby, but he doesn’t push a button for any floor.

“I’m great. It’s going to be going to be a great week.”

He’s so sure of himself, but you can’t even fault him because he’s always so nice with a smile always present on his face. Jana’s said that he’s a bit of a know it all, but he’s a hard worker too.  

The elevator doors open, the two of you walking out with Ethan walking next to you. He walks a little ahead, grabbing the door for you.

“Thank you,” you muttered as the two of you start to make your way across the parking lot.

“So, Y/N, are you seeing anyone?” he asked.

You stop in your tracks, right in the path of cars circling the lot. Deciding that’s not safe, you walk to an empty parking spot, Ethan trailing behind. The fact that he’d ask such a question surprises, but at the same time, it’s Ethan, you’re surprised he hasn’t asked sooner.

“I put the siiiiing in single,” you kind of speak and sing at the same time. Ethan in turn stares at you blankly. Apparently, he’s not a fan of Lizzo. “Ethan, we need to get you listening to popular music. I’m single.”

He gets the biggest grin on his face. Your cross your arms across your chest and lean on one leg, slightly amused. You know what’s coming, but you don’t want him to be so sure of your answer.

“Can I take you out sometime?” he asks, forest green eyes looking directly into yours.

You let him wait for your answer. Ethan is nice enough, he’s also easy on the eyes, and your dating life has also been lacking for quite some time. You’re actually slightly surprised it’s taken him this long to ask. Chewing on your bottom lip to really sell your indecision, he finally starts to squirm. He starts to brush his fingers through his perfectly jelled hair and you almost feel bad. A smile starts to form on your face and he instantly drops his hand, realizing what he was doing.

“I’d like that. Just not on Valentines Day. Not for a first date,” you tell him.

“Okay. Not on Valentines Day. Great. Okay,” he replies.

He’s such a dork, but it’s sweet. Ethan just stands there grinning at you and you’re really itching to get in your car rather than standing in a parking lot of a law firm.

“Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in it so you can call me,” you tell him.

Ethan passes you his phone, smile still bright on his face. You shake your head slightly but smile back, entering your number and passing him back the phone.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

“I look forward to it,” you reply, instantly cringing at your words.

I look forward to it? Who’s the dork now?

You offer him a slight wave before turning around and walking to your car. You’re kind of excited for the first time in a while. Getting in your car, you fire off a text to Jana.

Y/N: Ethan finally asked me out.

Jana: Oh, great. I’m going to have to see him even more now?

You chuckle at her response. You know she’s half teasing, but what a brat.

Y/N: You assume I said yes?

Y/N: OK, I said yes. But calm down, it’s one date. No one said anything about double dating.

 Ethan waited two days before texting you.  He asked to take you to dinner on Wednesday, which was two days before Valentines Day, so you said yes. The restaurant he chose was on the higher end, so wearing jeans was out of the question. Jana called you before you had the chance to call her. She was screaming in your ear and you could barely make out what she was saying.

“What? But say it slower with less yelling,” you said to her screeching.

“She made partner,” you hear Brooks shouting from the background.

“I made partner!” she yells, in a much lower tone than before.

“Oh my god, this is amazing! I knew you’d get it!”

“I can finally get some sleep,” she sighs out.

You know she’s exhausted, but all you want to do is go out and celebrate.

“Drinks tomorrow then?” you ask.

“Yeah. Yeah. But like, let’s go early,” she replied.

You chuckle at her response. “Early it is. I have news for your too. Ethan’s taking me to The Capital Grille on Wednesday.”

“Oh, fancy. Makes sense though since the two of us made partner,” she said.

“What?! I didn’t know that was even a thing.”

“Yeah, it happens. Rarely though. They couldn’t decide, so we both got it,” she said.

“Well, you get some rest, and call me tomorrow, love.”

“I will. Bye Y/N.”

 You texted Scott a day later to tell him about your date. He told you he was excited for you and glad you had said yes. You laughed at the excited part because while you had been in a dry spell, it hadn’t been that long. Maybe six months. Maybe you should be more excited. Once you assigned a number to it, it sounded bad.

Scott asked if you’d heard from Chris. You had, but it was four days earlier. It was just a text saying hi, asking how I’ve been, but then the conversation fizzled out. That seemed to be the new norm in your relationship. A text every four days or five days. He had a girlfriend; he probably shouldn’t be talking to another girl daily and calling her sweetheart. You wouldn’t like that if it were the other way around.

Two days before your date, you sent Scott three pictures of dresses you were deciding between for your date with Ethan. He called you a few minutes later, wanting to go over your options.

“So, what kind of place is this?”

“It’s an expensive steakhouse in Orlando,” you replied.

“Okay, then option two is out. That’s way too casual. You should probably just throw it away. I don’t want to see that dress again.”

“Scott! Jerk. Leave my dress alone. It’s not that bad,” you complain.

“Want my help or not?”

“Fine. But I’m not throwing it out. I wear that to work a lot,” you replied.

“My point exactly. You don’t wear a work dress on a date Sassy.” Scott said.

“You takin’ to Sassy?” Chris says in the background.

Shit. He’s with Chris?

You’re not sure why you don’t want Chris to know about your date. You feel weird about him being there while this conversation is taking place.

“What about the first dress. The black one?”

It’s your attempt to move the conversation along. The sooner you get off the phone, the better.

“How slutty do you want to be on this date?” Scott asks.

Instantly you cringe, slapping your free hand against your forehead.

“Scoooott,” you whine.

“Slutty?” you hear Chris ask.

Jesus.

“It’s an honest question. Like a little slutty or a lot slutty?” Scott asked.

“Give me the phone,” Chris said. You hear Scott object in the background, but it’s too late, Chris has the phone. “What is Scott goin’ on about? You got a date or somethin’ sweetheart?”

There’s that nickname again and damnit if you stomach doesn’t flip. You really hoped you were over that.

“Yeah. Yeah, I have a date,” you practically whisper out.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he asked.

A part of you thinks he’s joking or teasing, but his tone isn’t coming off that way and it’s rubbing you the wrong way.

“Tell you?” you question.

“Well, yeah. You tell Scott all about it, but don’t mention it to me,” he replied.

“Chris, you and I haven’t been exactly talking a whole lot lately. When would I have told you?”

He scoffs at your response. “We talk.”

You’re shaking your head but he can’t see you which is annoying.

“Besides, you didn’t tell me you were seeing someone, let a lone had a girlfriend,” you replied.

There. You said it. It was none of your business, but you didn’t like this whole conversation and the attitude that was coming with it.

You hear breathing from his end but apparently the cat had caught his tongue because he wasn’t responding.

“I gotta go,” you said.

“Y/N, wait,” you hear him say, but your pushing the end call button before you can even stop yourself.

This was not a conversation you wanted to have. You were simply seeking a guy’s opinion on what to wear for a date. Your first in six freaking months and Chris who barely speaks to you needs to complain about not knowing about said date. You groaned out loud, picking up the work dress and sticking it back in your closest. Sending pictures of the two remaining dresses to Jana to make the final decision, you walked into your kitchen, opting for tea rather than wine.

You phone buzzed while the water simmered in the pot.

Scott: Hey, it’s Scott. I’ll call you later.

Scott was your friend. You just hoped that if your friendship with Chris was over, it wouldn’t cause any drama or stress for Scott.

Chapter 6

A/N: If you’ve read any of my past stories, you will know that I love a happy ending. Please don’t worry. I will fix this. I want this to be as realistic as it can be, so I don’t believe that Chris would put his life on hold for someone he has a phone relationship with. But have faith and know I love you all.

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[h2omyeon]

You Were Beautiful (KJM x Reader)

Summary: You had been in love with your classmate Kim Junmyeon for the last year and a half. You finally find the guts to tell him the truth about how you feel, but at the wrong time. (PS: Chanyeol makes a cameo in this story and Junmyeon is an Art History major!)

Pairing: Junmyeon x Female Reader

Tags: College Student Junmyeon, Art Hoe Junmyeon, bittersweet stuff

Warnings: Mentions of suicide towards the end of this chapter

Word Count (in total): 8.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my first ever story I wrote and published on here. Feel free to leave comments and I will try to publish each chapter weekly! This story is based off of a combination of dreams that I had which included people who weren’t Junmyeon and Junmyeon himself during the beginning of this whole COVID pandemic (AKA: when things began to fall apart). Like the world that I was living in at that time, this story/dream is just as (I hope to believe) chaotic. I also apologize if there are a ton of plot holes in the story because it was based on a dream and I could not think of any filler parts. Enjoy!- PS

PPS: Thank you so much for reading up to this point; I really appreciate all the likes, reblogs and comments by you all and the overall support. I am also honored to tell you all that I will be publishing a story called “Cocoon” (which will pair the reader with Jaehyun from NCT) within the next few weeks, so keep an eye out for that. 

PPPS: Before you read this chapter, I apologize for the way the story ends and feel free to ask, comment or message me about it. I felt like it was the best way to end it. I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far as much as I have enjoyed writing and sharing it. Thank you again!- h2omyeon <3

Read the previous parts here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Epilogue: Universe 

Three days after the accident, the press had confirmed that there were more than 20 survivors; there were 40 altogether, although the names were not stated. Most of the people who had passed on the flight were older people or young children. You had no idea if Junmyeon had survived the crash after the on-site investigation was completed as rescue workers and police officers were still going around to friends and family members of those who may have been on the flight. 

That same week, your family decided to go visit the Kims on Saturday afternoon to keep them company. While you all were enjoying some of Mrs Kim’s comforting homemade food on their patio that day, the doorbell began to ring. Mr Kim immediately got up from his seat and ran to the door; you saw through the net that there were two rescue workers and a tall male police officer talking to him about something; Mrs Kim walked to the door while the rest of you followed. 

You watched a conversation unfold in the front door and the Kims were handed a letter World War 2 style; Mrs Kim opened the letter and read it out loud; her voice had begun to break.

“Good day, we regret to inform you that your family member passed away in the crash that occurred to Flight 496 last Saturday.”

Your heart dropped; the love of your life really was gone. All the memories he had of you were gone, forever. You went into your mother’s arms and began to weep. She sobbed too, as your father consoled the crying women in front of him.

Mr Kim consoled his wife, who asked in Korean, “How will I tell his mother?” Natasha and Molly, not knowing how to react because they were both watching TV, both turned pale after hearing the news and turned off the TV. After a few moments, you and your father walked to the front door. You skimmed through the letter, realizing that there was a mistake; the address and the name were wrong. 

The rescue worker, who you recognized as a guy from your history class, spoke. “Wait, I think I got the letters mixed up,” he admitted, taking the letter from you. He looked at the front and the back to check the name; “Yeah, I got it mixed up.” He went to retape the letter, while the other worker handed you a letter with the right address. 

“How the hell do you get addresses mixed up?!?!?!” Mr Kim snapped at the young man; the young man had a look of confusion. “Y/N, please read the letter.” Mr and Mrs Kim held one another’s hands; your parents held one another tightly and silently prayed as they watched you read the fate of your first love in your hands. 

Your hands shook as you tried to open the letter: “Dear Mr and Mrs Kim, your family member Kim Junmyeon, survived the crash of Flight 496 and is doing well at the hospital; he will be coming home soon.” Along with the brief letter, there was the address of the hospital that he was staying at; it was located in Long Island. Everyone began to happily embrace one another; you couldn’t help but hug your sisters and parents. He was alive; it was a sigh of relief for all of you. You were unable to sleep in fear that he died without wanting to and now for the first time in a week, you could sleep in peace. Mr Kim and your father, two people who initially despised one another, hugged one another for the first time. 

“Thank you,” you thanked the rescue workers and the police officer. The workers watched the brief sadness turn into a sigh of relief and happiness . 

“I apologize for my colleague’s mistake. Have a good day,” the police officer stated and the three of them went off to the next family. You had a smile on your face; “We will visit him first thing tomorrow,” Mr Kim declared. That night, they went to buy ingredients to make some of their nephew’s favorite foods, both Korean and American. 

Later that night, you told Angela the good news; “He’s a brave and very resilient man. I knew he would come out of it alive,” she stated. You two proceeded to talk about how you all were going to meet to go to the hospital the next morning. 

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The next morning, you heard loud banging from the front door, while you were asleep. You could hear your father leave the bedroom he shared with your mother to open the door. You woke up immediately and the rest of your family followed suit and walked to the front door. 

Mr Kim hurriedly entered the house and rapidly spoke as he walked in. Your mother walked to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You were unable to understand what had happened. 

“What happened?” Natasha and Molly asked; you did not know what was going on either. You didn’t want to bother your parents, so you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth. The young girls walked down the stairs to the living room by the time you came out of the bathroom. You walked down the stairs and to the living room; you saw that everyone was crying. Junmyeon was alive, you thought. Why are they crying?

“That letter was a lie,” Mr Kim consoled you. He wiped his tears, took a sip of his water and began to explain that he had received a call from the hospital that Junmyeon had suffered a seizure in his sleep as a result of his head trauma and passed away earlier that morning. Your father looked at you; your heart dropped. You got up to feel if the world you were living in was stimulation; you felt the room spin, then go black and produced a loud thud as your body fell on the floor. 

Fifteen minutes later, you woke up on the sofa, having no recollection of being there. There was a wet towel on your forehead; Angela and Chanyeol had arrived by that time. Angela’s face was red and puffy from crying, while Chanyeol consoled her. He had tried not to cry, but the tears in his eyes were about to come out and he finally cried. Your mother and sisters were all crying, but at that moment, you were confused as to why they were so sad. By this time, Mr Kim and your father had gone to the hospital to collect Junmyeon’s remaining belongings. 

It had suddenly hit you that Junmyeon had passed away; that was the reason you fell on the ground. You hoped to reunite with the love of your life that same day at the hospital but all hopes of reunion died along with your hopes in life.  You didn’t know how to process what had been going on; he wasn’t dead, he was just away for a long period of time, you claimed in your head. You couldn’t eat and refused to move from the sofa for the rest of the day. Your mother sang songs as a way to console you and your sisters sat with you, holding your hand. 

“I know how much you loved him,” your mother consoled. “He’s in a better place now.”

Later that evening, your parents were watching the news when the reporters had confirmed he was the passenger who had died of his injuries. You stared blankly at the television screen; Junmyeon was now a memory embedded in a voicemail, a text message conversation and many pictures taken during your time together. Another thing passed away that day, which was your ability to feel love. It would take a while for you to grow that ability back.

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The funeral was a week after the news broke. It was small and quick, since Junmyeon’s body was flown to Korea that same night. Your sister Natasha and Chanyeol had sung his favorite song, “Universe” by EXO as a way to say goodbye with Molly playing the piano. Along with Angela and Chanyeol and a few of your other friends, your father spoke about how much he saw Junmyeon as the Glue that held two families together. Mr and Mrs Kim spoke, sharing their experiences with him as their beloved nephew, while your mother spoke about how he possessed a rare quality to love unconditionally and spread that love to everyone around him. 

It was your turn to speak. You didn’t prepare a speech and were naturally awkward when it came with words, despite being an English major. You took a breath and finally, after formulating somewhat of a hasty eulogy, began to speak:

“Junmyeon was like glue; he stuck by you no matter what you were going through. Whenever I felt upset, I knew I could always go to him to talk to him about it. He brought two families who initially did not know one another together and formed a trust that will last a lifetime,” you began.

“Most of all, he made me the happiest I had been in a long time. I remember the night before he left, he told me that I made him happy. I never thought I could be the source of someone’s happiness, let alone be happy myself. Happiness is something I don’t think I will ever find in a long time and for most of you, Junmyeon may be just a memory. I know that for you  all, he is memorialized in physical items such as pictures, voicemails and text messages, but for me he is memorialized both in my heart and in my life. I’m glad I got to know Junmyeon; he was the light in everyone’s life that has now extinguished. I will miss him deeply. The sad thing is, I never even got to say goodbye to him at the hospital and tell him how much I really loved him. Now I can finally tell him that I will always love him.”

The attendees clapped as you walked back and sat next to your mother. The rest of the funeral went by like a breeze; you began to wonder how you were going to live your life now that Junmyeon was gone. You could have been able to contact him had he flown to Korea safely, but now you were never going to hear him tell the stories of his life in the military, his admiration for paintings, his stupidly corny jokes and his singing voice; he was gone forever. 

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Stuck like glue no more, your father and Mr Kim got into spats over small things once again. They went back to Korea to live with Junmyeon’s parents after a month. Your family went on to live their lives, but you felt out of place in their happiness and normality. Since the funeral, dark thoughts appeared in your mind that had never appeared before. You had thoughts of joining him above in ways unimaginable; one way was covering your aired out body parts in plastic bags (such as your arms and head), then jumping from the top of the George Washington Bridge into the Hudson River, while another included knives, although thankfully you never acted on these thoughts. You occupied yourself with listening to music, writing, cooking, talking with family and friends, going to museums and walking around the park whenever the weather was nice to get rid of the thoughts; the thoughts were not frequent, but they lasted for days at a time. 

One year after his death, you went to visit Mr and Mrs Kim’s now empty house that was about to be filled with new neighbors and sat on the empty bench at their front porch. You reminisced about the confessions you made to him and he did to you; the liveliness and spark were no longer there. The laughs shared, the kisses shared, the stories told were memories you could no longer experience again. You sat for an hour and stared up at the sky deeply immersed in your thoughts about life as some bass music from your neighbor’s house played in the background. Suddenly, the lyrics to “Rough” by GFriend began to ring in your head: 

If I could run through time and become an adult

I will hold your hand in this cruel world

Grieving is different for everyone; for you, it took a year to accept Junmyeon’s untimely death. You knew that you could not spend your life being sad forever and had to look at the future ahead of you instead of dwelling in the past. No amount of songs, dreams, fantasies, voicemail replays, nostalgia talks with Angela and Chanyeol about him, and re-wearing the sweater he had left in your room after a theater rehearsal could ever bring him back. 

For three years, you held each other’s hands and guided each other through this world in unusual ways and that bond was abruptly broken by his sudden departure. However, you still held it out in hopes that you would reunite with him in the future and now that was no more. You remembered that you had to help your mother cook beef Stroganoff and got off the bench. For one last time, you took a glance at it before the new people were to move into the house and it would be gone forever. 

“Bye,” you whispered, then walked back out into the strange world you were living in, seeking for a new hand to hold and cherish forever.

The End

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Twelve

Previous chapter HERE

Tags: (I can’t believe I have tags!! Thank you both so much) @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, strong language

CHAPTER TWELVE

Three Weeks Later

“OK, so what is the point of all this again?” Scott leaned in towards Sarah as they started arranging themselves around the coffee table. An assortment of plates and napkins were stacked high in front of them in anticipation of what was currently happening in the kitchen. Alongside sat and open bottle of wine and various pieces of plastic cutlery. Sarah was already dreading the tidying-up.

Shanna had demanded that everyone cancel their plans that Friday so they could devote the evening to testing out the various cakes and desserts she would spend a few days crafting. Sarah had been glad she had worked constantly throughout and had managed to swap a couple of late shifts so she could avoid the battleground and constant swearing emanating from their kitchen. It was almost unrecognisable to her now, a dusting of flour covered pretty much every surface and everything smelled faintly of gingerbread. There were brand new utensils appearing in the dishwasher that she had never seen before. Who knew you could ice cupcakes in so many extravagant ways?

Baking and cooking in general rarely came easy to Shanna, less so without the guidance of a proficient baker such as Lisa who had of course been banned from assisting her that week. Shan just didn’t have the patience for measuring things out so baking would require an almost complete change of personality. Even a late-night call to discuss the basic recipe for a genoise sponge cake wasn’t enough to allow help through the front door.

“It’s for a charity drive, I think? Their regional offices do it every year but I don’t remember it being this taxing.” Sarah shrugged, equally as confused. Usually for Shanna when effort was involved, it meant only one thing: there was a guy she wanted to impress. Sarah couldn’t remember her mentioning anyone in particular of late, though. Then again, they hadn’t been in the same space for too long these days and that thought made her feel sad and uncomfortable.

“Fuck, I ate lunch later today as well. Am I gonna regret this?” Scott asked, sympathising with his full stomach.

“It’s a good job I’m not on a training plan anymore.” Chris walked into the lounge bringing with him a couple of beers, handing them to Sarah and Scott before taking a seat beside her on the couch. “It’s like fuckin’ MasterChef in there.”

“I might trying drinking some more water. Maybe if I pee more it might create extra space.”

“The fuck?” questioned Chris after him as he darted out of the room one last time before Shanna was finished. “I swear sometimes I can’t believe we’re related.”

“I think he thinks the same thing.” replied Sarah, jokingly as she took a swig from her bottle. “Oh wait beer’s filling, isn’t it?”

“Dunno. Probably. So am I gonna see you at all this week or am I gonna have to stalk your Facebook page?”

“Sorry, I’ll...wait, you stalk my Facebook?!”

“No,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Only sometimes. It helps me remember what you look like.”

“Oh my god...I thought you were gonna be patient?” she asked, softening her stance so as to avoid it coming across as a dispute.

“This is me being patient, Sarah.” He protected. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me by the way. Always thought that.”

Sarah teasingly rolled her eyes at him. “I finish at two tomorrow. I guess I could come by after?”

It mystified him why she felt the need to ask. If he had it his way, he would give her a key and tell her he once fantasised about her sneaking into his apartment late at night and fucking him senseless. 

He didn’t get the chance to verbally agree as Lisa appeared in the doorway looking slightly shell-shocked and carrying a long white tray in both hands, a tea-towel  thrown over one shoulder. At first, they appeared to chocolate brownies until closer inspection showed it to be a slightly burnt sheet cake with rainbow-coloured icing and decorations. Chris gave her a look of concern not dissimilar to a face he pulls when he wants her help in getting out of something or when he tries to claim Scott is bullying him, but Lisa merely widened her eyes in response. He soon understood why as Shanna followed closely behind with two other plates piled high with cakes and treats. Noticing her struggle, Sarah got up to assist Lisa in placing the tray down on the glass table in front of her and Chris took the sly opportunity to pinch the back of her arm. As she sat back down, she caught him nod once in acceptance of her suggestion.

“Is there any chocolate in this or is it all in your hair?” Chris joshed his sister who clearly had no energy left to scold him with.

“Just...shush, OK? She’s worked very hard and it all smells rather delicious, wouldn’t you say?” asked Lisa trying to rouse some support.

“Oh absolutely!!” replied Sarah, taking the bait and nodding profusely much to Chris’ amusement. “Can we start anywhere or is there a preferred order we have to try out?”

“Which we absolutely can do with this rocky road!” Chris said as he held up a sizeable slab of dark chocolate rocky road and pretended to analyse it, comically squinting his eyes. Regrettable, Shanna hadn’t realised she was supposed to chop the macadamia nuts into smaller pieces so eating a piece of it would likely risk a chipped tooth that evening.

“Chris!” shouted Lisa.

“What?!” he objected. “It’s constructive criticism.”

Shanna simply called him a jackass and tossed a handful of napkins at his face. Chris managed to deflect them before absent-mindedly handing one to Sarah.

Recently, Sarah had thought it odd how they had managed to avoid anyone catching on with that had been happening between them. She thought it so obvious. There were little exchanges here and there that seemed so noticeable such as making her a coffee without asking first, or texting her first to inform them he was coming over instead of Shanna. On one occasion the week previous, Chris had asked her about a work issue but Shanna hadn’t clocked anything. It’s possible it had all just been heightened in Sarah’s own consciousness. Most likely it appeared to be natural, friendly behaviour and there was in fact nothing to worry about. Still, she felt the need to remain vigilant.

Truthfully, they had been together maybe...three times? And one of those was just afternoon drinking after she finished work. He hadn’t pushed her into anything more and she was grateful. He had made it pretty obvious how he was feeling though not necessarily with words per se but with affectations here and there. He had taken to texting her late at night knowing she’d be curled up and getting ready to go to sleep, and then again in the morning to wish her a good day. Sometimes, she wondered if he just generally liked talking to her about nothing in particular. He once snuck a bag of Hershey’s Kisses into the apartment when Shanna wasn’t around and hid them under her bed so she could find them later on. Even thought she cautioned him for taking the risk, she had to admit it was nice. Really nice. He would make a good boyfriend, she thought. He had a big heart and a massive capacity for affection.

She had not stayed over and the benefits of shift changes with little notice meant she could avoid the deplorable concept of lying to her best friend about where she was. For the time being at least. Frankly, Sarah thought she would have given the game away by now such was her ability to resonate blame with physical ease. She figured there would be an accidental comment here or there or perhaps she would leave her phone open on text with Shanna stumbling across it. They had agreed to be as cautious as possible, which was the most obvious decision, but the seamless nature in which their relationship had changed over just the last couple of weeks had been scarily swift and, dare she say it, even easy at times. Chris once joked they must not have been great friends to begin with which didn’t sit well within her so he quickly changed the subject. So, in acknowledgement of her anxiety, he calmed down his seductive looks reaching her across the room, refrained from tucking har out of her face no matter how much he might want to do so, and stopped playfully pinching her on parts of her body when he thought no one was looking. They weren’t looking, why would they, but regardless, it helped make her feel less antsy in his presence and that was what he wanted.

She sat watching the family interact while eating cakes and cookies and the feared rocky road which, unexpectedly, was not as much of a disaster as they had been warned. Scott even asked to take some home for Zach which Shanna took as the biggest compliment of the evening so far, that and Chris managing to keep quiet for a whole ten minutes while enjoying a ginger-flavoured cake-pop. She had followed some recipes carefully, others not so much, but on the whole, it was seriously impressive.

“These are my favourite, I think. You should absolutely make more of these.” Sarah enthused, pointing to the white chocolate and lemon cookies, or what was left of them. “I didn’t think they’d work but they really do!”

“God I’m so glad you said that. They only take minutes to bake and I could make dozens of them for the sale.” Shanna grabbed her iPad and made yet another note. She had perked up in the last hour or so having been faced with some rather reassuring feedback and set about deciding a plan for her contribution towards the sale. Whatever the reason for this sudden burst of creativity, she wasn’t strictly letting on, but it was nice to see her excited about something work-related for a change.

*

There were definite benefits to hanging out at Chris’ apartment. For one, it was peaceful and secluded even when they chose to sit outside on his terrace and bask in the afternoon sunshine. There was no one else to look over the trestle fencing and you’d be forgiven for forgetting he lived in the centre of a busy town. He also owned the most incredible sound system money could buy, that was built into the very fabric of the whole property. No matter where you chose to hang out, it was always felt like there was an enjoyable gentle thrum of music coming every single angle, every single corner of the place, enveloping you and calming you down in equal measure. Oftentimes, the only two places Sarah spent any meaningful time was either in her bedroom or at the hospital so a change of scenery at the very least could only be a positive thing.

His breath had been ghosting over the skin on her neck for a little while and it was making her tingle. “Can I tell you something? But you might think it’s weird...”

“Mmmm?”

“i feel like I’m a teenager again.”

Sarah opened one eye and peered up at him as he leaned on his elbow beside her. “Yeh that is weird.”

He playfully jabbed her side causing her to flinch. “I just mean that it’s like we’re at school and trying to go undetected. Like, hiding out from our friends. It’s kinda fun, right?”

She thought about it for a second, smiling back up at him and his glorious face that was managing to display a look of joy in spite of his busier facial hair. Now wasn’t the time to confess her anxieties about their situation when she had promised herself and him that she would just enjoy the moment for what it was. “Yeh, I know. It’s cute.”

“i just don’t want you feeling like you can’t unwind here. When we are here, when we do get to be alone, I think we should make the most of it.” He implored her again, hoping to hear her agree but he settled for a smile and the back of her hand reaching up to graze the side of his face. “It’s not like we’re here all the time or anything.” He brought her hand round to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingertips before lying back down beside her.

They had been lying on his sofa for nearly an hour now, in no particular rush to do anything, just enjoying the peace and quiet. It was warm and sunny outside, the first nice day they’d had in a while, and the windows were open to allow the room to stay pleasantly cool. He ran his hand over her lower tummy and played with the drawstring bow that was currently separating him from where he wanted to be. As much as he liked to make fun of her scrubs from time to time, and that was one thing that had not changed, he was starting to grow accustomed to them in a fond yet strangely sexual way. He wasn’t normally bothered by women in a uniform but there was a first time for everything. He nuzzled in against her neck and left a biting kiss on her earlobe.

“I wanna take you while you’re wearing these.” he murmured, impishly letting go of the elastic waistband so it snapped back onto her skin.

Sarah’s eyes pinged open. She couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not. As he moved his body to rest over her, she felt his fingers deftly pull on the bow to loosen the waistband and laughed when she saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I cannot believe you just said that,” she giggled, wiping at one of her eyes in embarrassment while he inched her pants down off her hips and made himself comfortable again between her legs. “Are you serious?”

“Well, unless we’re gonna do it in a hospital supply closet, yes.”

“You know that doesn’t happen in real life, right? You’ve watched too much ‘Nurse Jackie’.” She moved her weight onto her shoulders, lifting her ass up to help him remove her trousers completely.

“First, it was ER, and second, why would they say it happens if it didn’t happen? They have medical consultants, right? They have people who advise on these things. It is obviously based on fact.” He smirked at her while helping himself to a smooth caress back up her legs. She couldn’t trust that he wasn’t genuinely upset at the prospect that he might not eventually get to have sex in the hospital. He was hard to read when sex was involved and small ministrations he had made with her suggested she was nowhere near as experienced or confident as he was in that department. This must be like the pillow fight fantasy men have and how it’s just easier to allow them to assume it happens on a regular basis lest the truth invoke spontaneous combustion or something.

He finally rested over her body, propping himself up by his arms either side of her head. He moved strands of hair out of her face and kissed her once and then again. His playful tone clearly belied the thoughts running through his mind and she felt him stiffen between her legs, causing her arousal to grow.

“Look, just think about it, OK? he kissed her neck and then again just above her collarbone causing a shiver to run through her body. “Just think about me-” he kissed the swell of her breast through her t-shirt “-about what we could do-” he shifted up the hem leaving her midriff exposed to the cool air before he continued to kiss his way further down “-about what I could do to you-” he grazed his fingers over her panties causing her breath to hitch “-fuck it’s be so hot-” her eyes closed in anticipation as he left wet kisses further down her stomach, his tongue caressing her skin as he moved “-and it’d feel so good-” further still “-so good, honey-” his fingernails deliberately scratched down her sides to catch up causing another shiver to twist her insides “-and it’d be so worth it-” he pulled down the sides of her panties as he went “-and we’ll call it even, yes?”

He teasingly bit her causing her to cry out and her eyes to surge open. She soon met the devil in his own as he looked back up at her coquettishly through his eyelashes, his grin disappearing as he moved down to see her open to him. He was a bad man and, in that moment, she knew he had her. He kissed her slowly, deliberately, little butterfly kisses she could barely feel but knew were there from his warm breath and the delicious sounds his lips made. Just as her hands reached out for him, his tongue entered the game gently massaging her, spreading her lips a little more to glide deeper inside her. He looked up again to find her grabbing at the armrest above her, the familiar blush covering her skin. His hands reached under her thighs, steadying them both, silently proud of his work.

He fought hard to keep himself under control at first, her involuntary reactions proving irresistible as he continued to work her over. Her hands stayed grasping at the armrest, her eyes tightly shut now, as he switched between firmer nudges and gentler, longer strokes. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t instigated this sooner, she looked so enticing above him and it was all he could do not to ravish her there and then. Just as he moved his right hand from outside her thigh, he felt her hands cover his own. Smoothing over his hair, he felt a shiver envelope his skin as her fingernails scratched over his scalp forcing his eyes to close in pleasure and his mouth to falter ever so slightly.

“Come here...” she whispered.

Their eyes reconnected and he crawled back over her to join their lips in a passionate kiss. She helped him pull his sweater over the back of his head and he tossed it onto the floor beside them, his jeans quickly joining it before he awkwardly shifted his boxers down his legs eager to pounce back onto her. She giggled before meeting his kiss again. This was all he really wanted; her hands on him, one delicately toying with his hair, maybe pulling slightly when he hits her at the right spot.

He found her shyness vanishing little by little after their first time. Well, second time, technically. He was increasingly comforted by her kisses and the way she would nervously reach for him when they were together. Her own way of letting him know, without words, that she wanted to be there.

“You OK?” he whispered, nipping at her bottom lip causing a smile to flash across her face as she looked up at him. They hadn’t yet got to the point where they felt they could safely assume what the other was thinking so he felt the need to keep asking the question of her, once for reassurance and twice because he just really wanted to hear her whimper as he teasingly rubbed himself against her.

Her breathing grew shallower and her fingers grabbed at his back when she felt him thrust faster, harder, hitting her where she wanted it, over and over again. He never missed a beat. Her hands gripped at him harder than he’d felt before and he got excited at the thought of seeing the marks she would leave on him later on. As he moved his mouth back over hers, their breaths mixing together, she shuddered and after another second or two, finally came hard around him. It didn’t take him long to follow, watching her up close could do that to a man, and they remained in this spot, him lying on top of her, for a few more minutes.

Her back arched as she guided him to her. He felt her grab his shoulders as he pushed inside and she allowed herself finally for the first time that day to block out the rest of the world, leaving only him. He just wanted her to focus solely on him. Just for now.

She wraps her arms around him again as he rested his on either side of her head, allowing him to control their movement as he slowly, confidently, slides in and out of her. She feels warm and soft and...comforting all at once. He relished the tightness, tugging a little on her earlobe when he feels her pulse around him. It was all he had thought about thst day and there would be other times they could slow things down.

Her breathing grew shallower and her fingers grabbed at his back when she felt him thrust a little faster, harder, hitting her where she wanted it, over and over again. He never missed a beat. Her hands gripped at him harder than he’d felt before and he got excited at the thought of seeing the marks she would leave on him later on. As he moved his mouth back over hers, their breaths mixing together, she shuddered and after another second or two, finally came hard around him. It didn’t take him long to follow, watching her up close could do that to a man, and they remained in this spot, him lying on top of her, for a few more minutes.

“Oh fuck...” he panted over her neck, her hair sticking to his forehead when he moved back to kiss her. 

“Yeh...” she agreed, unable to muster much energy to add anything else. Her hand returned to caress the back of his head and she felt him relax into her touch until he got a little too heavy and she had to shift out from underneath him.

He took the opportunity to pull his boxers back up as she corrected her own underwear. They smiled at each other and laughed a little bit at the state they were in. He reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear before leaning in to kiss her again, retaining some of the passion from just moments ago but not wanting to push his luck.

“Where are you going?” he asked as she bent down to grab one shoe and then the other after spying it underneath his coffee table.

“Home.”

He straightened up on the sofa, eying her as she slipped on her canvas sneaker having not bothered to untie them from when she had kicked them off earlier. “Stay here for a bit. I could make us something and we can hang out. We’re allowed to do that, surely?”

“That might look a bit weird, no?”

“Why? You’ve stayed here loads of times before.”

“Only when the apartment flooded or when you’ve had a party. It’ll look strange.” She turned to look at him, a sorrowful glance telling him all he needed to know. “Sorry. It’s just I promised Shan we’d have a night in with a pizza. I think I owe her.”

“Owe her?’

“Yeh, just...some time, maybe? I’ve barely spoken to her lately and I think something is going on with a guy or possible with work.”

“She’s a big girl, Sarah, she can take care of herself.” He attempted a protest but knew he was fighting a losing battle as she reached for her hoodie off the armchair. “And you have a life, too. You’ve been working loads. You’ve got a stressful job, and...”

“...and among other things.” she pointedly suggested. “It just feels like we’re ships passing in the night at the moment. Has she said anything to you?’

“Why would she tell me about some loser she may or may not like?” He spoke in a clipper tone but regretted it as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. He rolled back onto the couch, sighing in defeat and unable to think of a decent come-back. She leaned down to fix her shoes again and avoided his eye contact when she got up to leave. The sad puppy expression that he’d skilfully mastered over the years had failed on this occasion but he wouldn’t be discouraged from using it again.

“Soooo...I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow, then?” he called out as she began to leave.

She turned back to find him lying on his couch like Kate Winslet in ‘Titanic’, one leg dangling off the side and his stomach perfectly displaying his hard-fought-for abs. His skin looked unfairly smooth even from this distance, and she bristled at the thoughts of having been under him just minutes ago.

“Don’t forget me...” he pouted and she would have blessed him with a quick peck on the lips by way of an apology before he smiled at her. She playfully rolled her eyes at him, made a point of remembering him laid out this way, and walked out.

*

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! || kol mikaelson - chapter seven

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to bring revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, things don’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,543

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

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❝ when you're in the half light, it's not you i see, and you live a half life. you only show half to me ❞

"THIS IS USELESS AND IN FRENCH," ANIYA GRUMBLED, TOSSING ONE OF THE GRIMOIRES TO THE SIDE. Kol glanced up to notice the teenage girl's face buried in her hands, and let out a chuckle. He set down the book in his hands and took the grimoire in his arms, looking through a few of the pages. She had been right on one thing: the spells were, in fact, useless. The only issue is that they'd been written in Portuguese.

    Kol raised his eyebrow at Aniya, as if questioning her intelligence. "You're aware that French, Spanish, Portuguese and Italian are not the same languages?"

    "I was birthed and killed in the New World, where the common language was English. My parents taught me the common and mother tongue. Pardon me if I was never taught the importance of Portuguese," Aniya huffed. The action had blown a thick section of hair out of her face, but it had fallen back into place almost immediately.

    The corner of Kol's lips twitched as he saw the girl frustratedly bury her face in her hands. For a witch that was frozen at eighteen years old, she'd carried the mannerisms of someone much younger. It pulled at his heartstrings to see her like this, though he would never admit it. He watched as she begrudgingly lifted her head and began looking through another one of the grimoires, the afternoon sunlight reflecting off her dark waves. Kol looked at her, and he felt as though he could kill God himself.

    "Would you like some assistance?" Kol asked, almost amused as Aniya struggled to push her hair out of her face. In the two weeks since she'd been resurrected, it had grown past her hips, so Rebekah would have to braid all of it into one large braid behind her head. Unfortunately, Kol had taken her out of the compound before the rest of the Mikaelsons could so much as wake up.

    Aniya narrowed her eyes at him. "It isn't funny. You would experience the same issues if you were a girl."

    "It's the twenty-first century now, darling. Men can grow their hair as long as they like," Kol waved her off, turning his attention back to the grimoire in his hands. He turned away from Aniya then, stating, "But if you insist you don't need help--"

    The young witch narrowed her eyes at him, grabbing hold of the nearest object -- a bracelet -- and tossing it at his head. It hadn't hurt, of course, but she'd felt the need to inconvenience him.

    "That is a priceless dark object," Kol hissed, immediately turning around to pick the bracelet off the floor. He set it down on the desk between them, glaring daggers at Aniya.

    "On the contrary, I am a priceless dark object. That is a wristlet," Aniya clarified, a smug look painted over her features. She ignored the irritation radiating off Kol, and began to read the Latin words written in the book in front of her. Kol had spent hundreds of years practicing with witches across the globe, learning new spells and collecting grimoires. Aniya supposed it had been his compensation for no longer being able to practice magic himself, and she wondered what she would do with her immortal life.

    Henry would only live the rest of his human life, though she hoped Rebekah would turn him. Perhaps he would agree, and spend the rest of his life painting in Paris or Rome. He hadn't mentioned ever wanting to travel, though he'd said his paintings had sold rather quickly in European countries. It was no wonder. He was talented, after all. But then, he was a good person; there was no telling how long he would live so long as he carried strong morals and a good heart.

    She winced, blinking rapidly as she reread the same paragraph over again in the grimoire. It dawned on her that she'd gone through an entire page without soaking in the least bit of information. She groaned, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. The bastard hadn't even let her rest before choosing to drag her into French Quarter -- though, in truth, she had no right to complain. Kol had sworn that he'd have the grimoires to help her control her magic. Aniya was most concerned about her brother's life.

    Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, unconsciously twisting at her ring as she read. Kol noticed the movement immediately. He moved to sit across from her, and looked up at her through messy strands of caramel hair. "How much of it do you remember? Your old life?"

    "I like to think I can remember everything," She said with a shrug. She looked up from her book, eyes wandering to the attic ceiling as she tried to recall all the details of her old life. "I was born to Sagara and Anusaya. My mother nearly died giving birth to my brother and I, and my father was so afraid that he began to pray to the gods. He swore that so long as my mother, brother and I survived, he would dedicate his life to them."

    The magic she practiced now required sacrifice. Her sacrifice and resurrection had only brought her a substantial amount of offensive magic, but larger spells would require more. 'An eye for an eye,' essentially. She would never be able to have plants grow beneath her feet again, or watch relief wash over an injured loved one's face as she healed their wounds. Her life would be tainted with blood and storms now, and with no one at her side, she wasn't even sure it had been worth the trouble.

    Kol frowned as he watched the girl recall her backstory. It had made sense that his father had been afraid. Mothers rarely survived giving birth to two children, especially in the New World. Often, no amount of magic could save a mothers giving birth. Esther Mikaelson had been lucky to birth six children -- though, he supposed he would have to thank her deranged sister on that end.

    The young witch began to pick at the skin on her fingers, the feeling of her nails against her hand grounding her to reality. She recalled the way her father had clung to his old grimoire as if it were the Bible. All of the rituals she and Vihaan had been forced to learn had been pulled from its texts, and internally, she wondered what he must have done with it when she and Vihaan hadn't woken up.

    "I'm sorry I asked," Kol murmured, regretful. "My mother and father weren't exactly role models either. After our younger brother, Henrik, was attacked by wolves, they decided to use black magic to create the spell that turned us into vampires."

    "The one that stripped you of your magic?" Aniya questioned.

    He nodded, a humorless laugh escaping his throat. "That would be the one."

    Aniya chuckled dryly, running her fingers over the hundred-year-old grimoire -- the useless hundred-year-old grimoire. "Yes. Well, I understand why you're brooding all the time now."

    "I am not brooding."

    "I can tell when you're lying, remember?" She reminded him, her pale pink lips widening into a playful smile. "Even when you're lying to yourself."

    Kol narrowed his eyes at the girl, and quickly tried to snatch the grimoire from her reach. Predicting his actions, she slid it off the table into held it tightly to her chest, a triumphant look on her face. "Have you always been this unbearable?"

    "Have you always been this mean?" Aniya mocked, causing Kol to smile and look down at his lap.

    If there was one thing he had to admit about her, it was that she was sweet. Sweet enough that for a moment, he was glad that he was immortal, and that supernatural creatures existed. So long as there was such thing as resurrections and immortality, he would have the chance to learn more about her. This strange girl with a sharp tongue and doe eyes -- it was no wonder he'd fallen in love with her all those centuries ago.

    "I'm joking, the answer's 'yes.' You're the meanest boy I've ever met," She exaggerated, a grin on her face as she set the grimoire down on the table. Aniya felt her eyelids growing heavy, and the aching pain she felt at the right side of her head. She wasn't used to staying up very long, and she could already feel the toll it was taking on her body. Still, she did her best to fight it. How long would it be until she was able to have a nice conversation with Kol again? Four weeks? Two months?

    In an effort to distract herself, her eyes fell to the bracelet she'd thrown and she picked it up, examining the little piece. "What's this for?"

    Kol's eyes fell on the small silver wristlet, and his smile faded. It had originally belonged to his mother, but over the years, it had landed in the hands of Kieran and Cami O'Connell. Several years ago, Davina Claire had used the object to resurrect his father, Mikael, in an effort to use him against Niklaus. It had failed, of course, and she later used it to bring Kol back to life. It was then that he promptly slaughtered her and struggled to bring her back to life.

    He had absolutely no idea why he chose to keep it around.

    "Nothing that concerns you, " He responded, quickly taking the wristlet from Aniya's grasp and shoving it into his back pocket. Aniya shrunk back, and he regretted his tone immediately. "It belonged to a girl I once loved. She's dead."

    'Davina,' Aniya thought to herself, pulling at her ring as she slid it up and down her finger. She knew it would sting to hear him talk about another girl. The girl that he called out for in the dark, and the late hours of the night. Still, she couldn't stop herself from asking, "What was she like?"

    "Powerful, stubborn, and very short-tempered," He said with a chuckle, swallowing the traces of guilt that stained his tongue. "She was a New Orleans witch, actually. A Harvest Girl."

    It dawned upon Aniya that Davina Claire was all but perfect for Kol Mikaelson. A strong, powerful witch with the likes of Kol Mikaelson. Davina Claire, though dead, would have all of the values Aniya would never carry. Own all of the things that Aniya could never have. She'd been born in this century, and she'd been able to love Kol Mikaelson because of it. She had witnessed the tempests of the ocean, while Aniya would see storms of another kind. And she envied her for it.

    She would envy her for the distant look on Kol's face when he spoke of her. Even in death, Davina had never truly died. She wouldn't, so long as people remembered her name. Aniya and Vihaan had died immediately, with no one to remember the names or faces. She wasn't even sure her parents had remembered their deaths, or where their bodies had been stashed once they were shoved into the Void. Regardless of whether she walked the earth, Davina had been immortalized, and Aniya wasn't even sure that Rebekah would remember her face if she died again.

    One thing was certain though: Kol belonged to Davina Claire. He was no longer hers; at least, not in this lifetime. And her longing, heavy heart would have to admit it.

    "Forgive me, but I'm feeling rather fatigued," Aniya said, clearing her throat. She stood from the wooden stool in front of the window and asked, "Could we go home now, please?"

    "We haven't found anything," Kol argued, "We have hundreds of spells to look through. We've gone through maybe twenty."

    "We have hundreds of spells that I can't read," She corrected. "I haven't slept in hours, Kol. Find me all of the Latin or mother tongue spells and I will read them, I promise, but I don't speak French, or Portuguese, or Spanish, or whatever other languages this world has to offer, and I certainly can't read them; so, please, I would like to rest."

    The Original watched the reserved look on the witch's face shift to helplessness, and he shut his grimoire in defeat. He nodded and stood up. "All right; I suppose it's your choice. I'll walk you back to the compound."

    "I can walk on my own--"

    "No."

    "And why not?" She questioned, folding her arms over her chest.

    "Because there is a crowd of people in the street, and my siblings would put a dagger in my chest if they knew that I let you walk around alone," Kol quickly made up an excuse before ushering her out of the attic. He swallowed, ignoring the yearning feeling in his chest when it occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to speak with her again until much later. She was just a girl; and yet, he wondered if he was tempting fate with each second he stood by her side.

    When they arrived at the Abattoir, he watched her go into her room, and ignored the angry rants of Rebekah, Elijah, and Niklaus. He'd cut them off after about ten minutes, stating that she was more than capable of handling herself, before he headed toward the attic once more.

    It was several hours after the sun had set when it finally occurred to him how late it had gotten. A burning sensation took over his throat, dark veins beneath his eyes beginning to make their way through his skin.

    The worst part about becoming a vampire had been in his inability to practice magic; though, the bloodlust did come at a close second. He snarled and shoved the notepad away, walking towards the window that hung over Bourbon Street. It was directly across from the Abattoir, a sort of cruel joke he had decided to play on his siblings in case they ever needed to find him. As clever as his brother was, he never would have thought to look in plain sight for his dear younger brother.

    As Kol searched for his victim, as though he were a vulture stationed above a dying carrion, he caught a glimpse of a familiar girl exiting the Abattoir wearing a white scarf and long sleeves. Aniya was visiting her little human again.

    The Mikaelson boy took a step away from the window, his eyes falling on the stacks of grimoires he'd made throughout the attic. Each sorted for a different language and alphabet, two-hundred of which he'd already gone through and made notes of. He nodded to himself, and shut the Arabic spell book he'd had open on his desk, setting his notebook down on top of it.

    Jealousy creeped from his stomach to his throat, and he refused to fight his instincts as he sped out of the attic and into the streets of the French Quarter.

[t0ngue-tech]

Sideline

“There were sparks in your eyes whenever you talked about flowers and how certain ones grow in different seasons. You were a force of nature; fearless, strong, and capable. There were so many things to love about you and Hoseok didn’t know where to start.”

↠ pure a n g s t ↞

word count: 2.9k

↠ oneshot ↞

A/N: happy early birthday to our sunshine, jung hoseok! i know angst may not be the best way to go, but i decided to write something different for him huhu. enjoy my loves!

-

-

-

Yellow. Pink. Hues of orange.

Warmth. The rich taste of hot chocolate on a cold night. Thick blankets. Freshly washed sheets.

There was no color in the world—no feeling that could ever describe the way Hoseok felt being around you. Fireworks were always present and the stars seemed to shine brighter every time you walked outside.

Hoseok was blessed to have known you since middle school. He had been by your side through many horrible haircuts and long nights of complaining about school work. 

You weren’t a valedictorian type of student, more like a cum laude student however, you didn’t take the effort to do the work for the honors acknowledgement. 

Hoseok was the opposite, so he knew he drove you crazy with the constant nagging of reminding you about certain pieces of homework or constantly going over your book reports. It was probably exhausting for you, but the way you beamed at Hoseok every time you had a high grade meant you still appreciated his efforts.

It was always an adventure being by your side. You loved to drink milkshakes at eleven in the evening; according to you, it tasted better late at night. Hoseok hated the rain, but on the contrary, you were extremely fond of it. You took every chance you had to go running out in the rain and Hoseok never hesitated to follow in suit. He also hated horror movies, pickles, and pizza crust, but because of you, he slowly learned how to tolerate all of those because they were all of your favorites.

You had an alluring luminescence about you that easily reeled people into your circle. You had a big heart; a large soft spot for everyone because you believed that everyone was a good person deep down. Hoseok loved how you smiled at everyone, how you break out into song mid-sentence, and he loved how you smelt like lavender every time you walked by.

There were sparks in your eyes whenever you talked about flowers and how certain ones grow in different seasons. You were a force of nature; fearless, strong, and capable. There were so many things to love about you and Hoseok didn’t know where to start.

Even with all of your beautiful qualities, Hoseok had to admit that there were things about you that he didn’t like.

Throughout the early years of knowing you, Hoseok watched you get your heartbroken over boys who never appreciated you. You’d question every single aspect about you when you were heartbroken and as much as he cared for you, it pissed him off.

You cared deeply for others and this meant you get hurt easily; Hoseok hated that. He hated the way your face looked when you were disappointed. When your eyes would glisten with tears, he could feel his chest cave in. He hated the way you doubt yourself, the sound of your squeaky laugh, and the way you’d hook your arm with his or how you would lean on his shoulders when you were tired. Most of all, he hated the way you say his name.

“Hoseokie!”

“Seokie.”

“Hobi, Hobi!”

“Hoseok..”

The sound of his name coming from your lips was like honey, sweet and rich. His parents, his sister, his friends, they all called on his name on a regular basis but nothing compared to the beautiful tone of your name.

But how can something so beautiful hurt so much?

↠↞

Summer break.

How could Hoseok forget the time you visited during summer break? It was impossible to forget.

Hoseok picked you up at the airport at one in the morning and the first thing you wanted was his mother’s steamed eggs and rice cake soup. By the time you both arrived, she was asleep (obviously), so you took his bed while he slept on the floor. It was a random cold summer night, but you were bundled up in warm blankets and that’s all that mattered to him.

Since summer school was in the works, Hoseok took the liberty to give you a campus tour of his university. He saved the literature wing for last because it was your major and the library on the upper floor would be your sanctuary.

What he didn’t account for was seeing a certain “shorter” friend with raven hair skimming along the tall shelves.

He didn’t want to regret walking up to his friend with you.

“Hey, Yoongi. It’s a rare sight seeing you with your head in the books.”

He didn’t want to regret introducing you to Yoongi.

“This is my friend, y/n. She’s visiting for the summer.”

He didn’t want to hear it.

“Hi Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you.”

And there it was. Honey dripping from your lips at the way Yoongi’s name rolled off your tongue.

Running into Yoongi didn’t happen that one time. Yoongi ran into both you and Hoseok at a cafe near Hoseok’s university, Hoseok introduced you to more of his friends and Yoongi was also there, and you also mentioned to Hoseok that you ran into him at the supermarket.

It’s not like Hoseok had the power to stop you from meeting Yoongi over and over again. He also couldn’t politely ask you to do such a thing because he had no authority over your social circle. 

Hoseok had to stand by and watch your friendship with Yoongi slowly bloom into something new. It was torture to watch you laugh and lean against Yoongi’s shoulders when there were get togethers. You would bat your eyelashes, play with the ends of your hair, and you even invested in a new bottle of perfume that smells like toasted marshmallows; now his clothes and blanket smelt a little sweeter. All of these little things you did were a bit reminiscent of your behavior back in high school and he wished he could have forgotten about all of those things.

But how could he forget the late night conversation he had with you on his porch? It sealed the deal.

“Hoseok. I think I really like Yoongi.”

The dimness of the nearby street light shone on your face, revealing a noticeable blush.

“Really? Well, he’s a decent guy.”

The truth.

“He is, isn’t he? I’ve been hanging out with him a lot since I’ve been back. Thank you so much for introducing us by the way.”

“Of course. You two look great together.”

Lies.

Not to be selfish but, Hoseok had hoped he could spend the majority of summer break with you and that maybe within the time you spend with him you could feel something a little more than friendship.

It was a hopeless dream. It always has been.

A week before you left for the new spring semester, Yoongi had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. 

It’s not that Hoseok wasn’t happy for you—of course he was happy. Maybe it was just his childish side getting to him; being a bit jealous and shit. He was in love with you for years, how else was he supposed to feel?

He was used to being in this position anyway.

All that was left was for you to send him a text or call him one day with an empty tone of voice explaining that long distance wasn’t working out anymore.

Hoseok got no such notification.

Instead, he received texts and calls from you gushing about how things were sailing smoothly with Yoongi and how he made the trip to visit you during spring break and on a random weekend. Yoongi was putting in a lot of effort for you and Hoseok was genuinely happy that there was a guy out there who was treating you like a queen.

It wasn’t long before he heard the painful words he didn’t want to hear.

“I’m so in love with him, Hoseok.”

Love. 

In love with Yoongi.

You loved your exes in the past and broke up, so there had to be some “hope” for him, right?

Slowly, texts and calls from you became rare. Sometimes you’d take a few days to reply to a text and a simple how have you been conversation could take an entire week just to say I’ve been doing well, how about you.

Eventually the only way Hoseok could get updates on you was through your social media posts and according to those, you were still in a happy relationship with Yoongi.

This was for the best. It had to be. Hoseok had to let go of his first love at some point, so why was he feeling disappointed?

There was probably no hope left anymore.

↠↞

Years down the road, Hoseok found himself in love. It was a breathtaking, pinch-me-am-I-dreaming kind of love. He never thought he would ever feel this way about someone else, but Chaerin was that someone. She entered his life like a hurricane and Hoseok allowed himself to get swept away.

The sky was always a vibrant shade of blue, flowers were always in bloom, and birds only sang love songs. Oh how he wished he could have felt this a lot sooner in his life, but Chaerin was worth the wait.

Everything was going perfect for Hoseok, until one day he came home after a long day at the office. He opened the door of the apartment he shared with his lovely girlfriend and found her going through that day’s clutter of mail.

“Junkmail, junkmail, home catalog… oh, baby you have something addressed to you. It looks like an invitation? Or maybe a thank you card?”

There was a slight drop in Hoseok’s stomach and he hesitated to move closer to Chaerin because he had a good feeling as to what the contents of the envelope was. He swallowed the lump in his throat and proceeded to open the white fold of the envelope.

There it was.

“Kindly join us for the wedding of y/n and Min Yoongi--y/n? Oh my God, babe isn’t that your friend from high school?”

Chaerin knew who you were, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her anything beyond the basic information. All Hoseok could do was nod slowly and continued to read the invitation to himself. The card was printed with baby pink and gold details and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your name. He knew you were engaged because of your social media and he paid no mind to it, but because the two of you don’t talk anymore, he didn’t expect to receive an invitation. 

This was completely unexpected and it stirred everything inside of him, enticing chaos. He hasn’t seen you in years and his biggest fear was that every single thing he felt for you would come rushing back, ruining the happiness he finally had.

There was a plus one option on the reservation card and because Chaerin had no idea about Hoseok’s past feelings, she continued to encourage him to go to support you on your special day.

“Come on, honey. I’m sure y/n would be delighted to see you. Plus, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten all dressed up.”

Hoseok always imagined shaking hands with his old high school friends on his wedding day, but instead, he was doing it on your wedding day. It wasn’t just your wedding day, you were getting married to someone who wasn’t Hoseok. 

Tears brimmed the eyes of guests as both you and Yoongi said your wedding vows; Hoseok’s eyes welled for a different reason.

“They’re beautiful together.” Chaerin whispered.

Hoseok held tightly onto his girlfriend’s hand and prepared for the next two words that were going to slip past your lips.

“I do.”

And that was that.

Now here he was, standing on the outside of the dance floor with his hands in his pockets. Hoseok smiled fondly at Chaerin who had a surprising reunion with a friend from college who was Yoongi’s cousin. 

Just like everyday, Chaerin was as gorgeous as ever. No one in the entire room could compare to his girlfriend, but… 

“Hoseokie!”

There it was.

Just like that, his entire world crumbled at his feet. After not hearing your voice call for him for what felt like an eternity, Hoseok melted into a puddle but just like how he used to, he sucked in a breath and smiled.

“Hey, congratulations.” Hoseok tried to go for a hand shake, but you hastily ran up to him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you and thank you so much for coming.” You smiled up at him with your eyes still sparkling even under the dim lights.

Please stop. Please don’t smile at me.

“Hobi, dance with me?”

The agonizing pain in his chest grew worse at the touch of your hand on his forearm. He turned to search for Chaerin who was still speaking with her friend. She met his eyes and gestured her hands in encouragement as if she knew what you asked him.

“Of course.” Hoseok breathed. “I’d love to.”

The next slow dance song played right on cue and all Hoseok could focus on was the way his shaky hands gently held onto your waist and the warmth of your hands sat at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours, feeling the intensity within his soul.

Time had done you well, you were still so beautiful. Your eyes still glistened the way it used to and it still had the same effect on him. Truly, Yoongi was a lucky guy. Incredibly lucky.

“So, tell me, who’s the lucky girl?”

Hoseok’s breath was caught in his throat for a moment.

“Her name is Chaerin.”

You tiptoed to take a peek over his shoulder. “She’s really beautiful, Hoseok. I’m happy for you.” You then leaned your head against his chest and swayed silently to the music.

Hoseok was sure he wasn’t in love with you anymore, but why was he feeling this way? It wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” you spoke over the music. “I really can’t thank you enough. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you introducing me to Yoongi and these days we don’t even see each other anymore. I’m so sorry.”

Please don’t thank me.

“No need to thank me, y/n and don’t apologize at all. Life got in the way too. I’m happy to see you now.” It hurt to say those words, but this was the closest Hoseok could ever be to you and he had to bear with it.

“Why don’t the four of us get together sometime for a double date?” You had the brightest smile on your face and it made Hoseok’s heartache. Did he have the heart to sit across from you with a ring on your finger and watch the love you have for Yoongi bleed out into his breathing space?

“I would love that.” He was sure his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Why did it feel like this was the last time he would ever see you?

The song was beginning to fade out and you crept your arms around Hoseok’s neck to pull him into a warm embrace. He shut his eyes breathing in your faint lavender perfume. You were held so close to him that he could feel the slow rhythm of your heartbeat against him. Time had to stop. He wanted it to stop. Why hasn’t it stopped?

“You’ve been a great friend to me all these years, Hoseokie.” You breathed into his ear before releasing him. “I hope you know how much I love you.”

Love? No.

It wasn’t the love he wanted, but he had to accept. 

“I love you too, y/n. “

You began to step away from him and Hoseok could feel the grip on your waist loosening. He wanted to hold you longer. He wanted to feel your heartbeat once more, afraid he’d forget what it sounded like when you were near him. He wanted your breath to tickle his skin and to feel the tips of your nails graze steadily against the back of his neck. The desire to be your center of attention even for a few more minutes was strong, but you were slipping at his fingertips.

With just a few more steps, you were at a foot’s distance from Hoseok and you smiled at him, fleeting away to your husband who was standing at the front of the dance floor.

Hoseok backed up, watching you throw your arms around Yoongi and rock side to side. You looked at Yoongi as if he held the entire universe in his eyes and he looked at you with just as much admiration if not more.

Now completely out of the dance floor, Hoseok still couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you guided Yoongi towards the middle. Even with the music playing, Hoseok could hear the squeak you make every time you let out a hearty laugh. He soaked in the shape of your slim shoulders and the curve of your waist. He caught a glimpse of your perfect side profile as you turned and the twinkle in your eyes wasn’t hard to miss.

The dance floor started to fill up and just like that, Hoseok lost you in the crowd.

Standing on your sideline was where he belonged.

Hoseok was a secondary character in your life, the second lead, and the second lead never gets the main girl in the movies. 

There was never room for him in your heart that way.

It was probably written in the stars from the beginning; friends from the start. His friendship with you was written with a pen and the story ended just as it started.

-

-

-

♡ rae jagi

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Clover and Lace, Epilogue

Well, well, well. Here we are. And I didn’t kill anyone! Thank @winterisakiller for that, I assure you somehow she probably is responsible for the lack of deaths along the way. At the end of this, after the tag list you’ll find a summary for “The things you find in the rain” My next series, a Tom Hiddleston x Ofc RPF mini series.

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Epilogue: Three months later

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“Whoa, we got a knife block now? Fancy.” Bucky’s voice carried easily enough from the kitchen where he was doctoring his first cup of coffee for the morning.

“Rose brought it last night. Said she refused to use combat knives to make dinner anymore.” Their hearty laughs filled the apartment as Bucky came to sit on the coffee table with two mugs, offering one to Steve.

“Where is Rosemary anyway? Heard her last night and assumed she was staying the night?”

“Early morning meeting. She should be done in another two hours or so.”

“No wonder she crashed here last night. I’m surprised she hasn’t moved into the city yet. That drive’s gotta be killer.”

“Not too bad or so she says. But yeah, sucks for early meetings.”

“You know, we get along pretty well- me and your Little Spider.” Bucky was looking intently down at his coffee, small smile on his face. Steve was thankful every time he saw Bucky act so close to who he was before.

“I know you do. She like’s you a lot, Bucky. I’m glad you two are friends.” Something was coming, Steve could feel it. Bucky had been hinting at something for the last week. Steve was sure that Bucky was worried that he would be left behind, that Steve would move out and leave him behind. That simply was not going to happen.

“I’m just saying- don’t wait too long to move forward with her.” Bucky didn’t look up as he spoke.

“What do you mean? It’s only been a handful of months.” Steve was well and properly confused.

“I’m just saying, we eat best when she’s around feeding us.” Bucky joked and when their laughter died down he returned to his more serious mood.

With a careful smile, Bucky explained his thoughts slowly, watching Steve’s reactions to his words. Steve had to admit that his friend had valid points. His friend was right though, both their mothers would be turning over in their graves with Steve’s current arrangement and if he shared a home with her both. Again, Steve had to remind himself that it was a new time with new rules. Bucky’s idea at the very least was something to think about and as lunch approached, the idea grew on Steve.

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

Standing outside the glass walls of the conference room, Steve watched her with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he tried to school his face. Fury was able to work out an impressive deal for them. Both of the Ramsey twins were cleared of their crimes and Julian was in the process of transitioning his business to strictly legal avenues. Rosemary however had gone on to become a vital part of the operations quickly.

He was immensely proud of her. Even now, standing outside the room, watching her feed the agents information that they wouldn’t have had access to before. He knew she kept her web close and without her Shield would not be able to make it sing. They needed her and her ability to obtain information without raising any suspicions at all. Still her web wasn’t strictly legal and they all turned a blind eye to it. To require every transaction be detailed and explained would raise red flags and kill the web.

Steve didn’t know what the future held for them but he did know that he wanted to find out. Every moment he spent with her was a breath of fresh air. With her he found a joy and thirst for life he hadn’t had in a very long time.

Still he often worried about her. She was a target. As she became more and more valuable to Shield, the more people would consider eliminating her. Two hours away was too far. It would be better if she was closer. He could better protect her if she was closer. They could spend so much more time together if she was closer.

Again Bucky’s suggestion came to mind. Was it really alright?

The ping of his phone drew his attention from the redhead commanding a room full of agents. He was reluctant to look away from her. She was a vision with her messy red hair pulled back into a bun that did nothing to contain the curls and waves that framed her face.

The phone pinged again and he tore his eyes away from her. Two text messages came in from Agent Hill, likely at the direction of Director Fury. They were simple messages.

“Detective Mary O’Kelley has been apprehended.” The first message reads. “We’ve taken a hair sample. Please inform Rosemary that we can run a DNA test if she would like to determine relation at any time if she wishes.”

“Will do, thank you.” Steve responded only to have his phone chime again in his hand.

“Stop standing outside of conference rooms like a worried father.” Steve laughed. Of course Agent Hill and Fury would know he was here. Not much escaped them.

With the meeting finished, agents filed out of the room. Some made snide comments- someone always did. In a way, he couldn’t blame them. They had no reason to trust her. It wasn’t their lives she saved. Still, these newer agents should be thankful for the information she was able to provide them.

Somehow, the talk never seemed to bother her. She looked up from the file in her hands and when their eyes locked a radiant smile blossomed across her face. Wearing a simple black skirt, white blouse and black heels- she would look at place at any office in the city. Steve counted himself lucky that got to see her when she was in the offices but wished he could see more of her working in the middle of the night wearing an over sized shirt and comfortable shorts, legs folded under her as she sat on his bed.

“Hey.” Steve smiled as she made her way out of the room.

“I thought you were off today?” Rosemary asked as she leaned back against the glass wall.

“I am. I came to check on the team- make sure there wasn’t anything needing my immediate attention. Figured it was close enough to lunch time- maybe you’d like to get lunch?” It was cute how she still blushed talking to him.

“Steve, are you asking me on a lunch date?” She teased.

“Of course I am.”

“Lucky me.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Oh my god! Do you have to be so damn cheesy?” Sam barked from down the hall, wide smile on his face just the same. “How the hell did you find the one damn woman in the world that cheesy ass shit works on?”

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

Steve’s hand held hers tightly as they walked down the hall toward the elevator. He was more subtended than she typically saw him and it was worrying. Was this the moment everything would finally crash down around around her?

These past three months had been as close to perfect as she had dared to dream. Sure, they didn’t get along every moment they were together. Often when they would bicker it would be over one of them taking unnecessary risks. Still what they had was more than she had ever dared to dream for. This life she had now, it was something she never thought she could have.

“Is everything okay?” Steve almost didn’t hear the her words, soft spoken as they were while the elevator doors closed behind them.

“Why wouldn’t it be? I get to have lunch with the most beautiful girl in New York.”

“You just seem… off, I guess.” Rosemary looked down at her feet, unsure if she was opening a can of worms that she would regret.

“Hey?” Firmly, he squeezed her hand in an attempt to draw her eyes to him. When that didn’t work he turned and stepped in front of her. The sheer size of him blocked her in the small space. Reaching out, he hooked a finger under her chin and pulled her gaze up to him even as he ducked down slightly, bringing himself closer to her level. “Look at me.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, not sure what she was apologizing for.

“I’m good. You’re good. We’re good, aren’t we?” Only when she nods does he continue. “I’m happy- happier than I have been in a very long time. It’s because of you, Rosemary.”

It was rare that he called her Rosemary and she smiled every time he did. It was a soft reminder that he saw her, he knew her for who she was. “I am too, Steve. I really am.”

“Good. Then we have nothing to worry about.” Steve didn’t let her protest or give her a chance to worry as he closed the little distance between them with a tender kiss. The elevator came to a halt as they reached the second floor.

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her out into the large room. The best way to feed agents was with a cafeteria and Shield had their own. Most days the food was decent enough. Mondays were questionable however. The running theory was that the staff resenting having to start another week of work and thus was trying to poison everyone every Monday.

By the taste of the food, Steve couldn’t say for sure that they were wrong.

While they waited their turn for the food- both thankful that it was not Monday- Steve held her hand. It was surprising for Rosemary. He wasn’t one for public affection often and even more so within the confines of Shield Headquarters.

The trend continued as they ate. Somehow, he was always touching her. Impossibly long legs had his foot brushing up against her calf under the table, his hand sought hers out repeatedly. With plates empty, Steve decided now was the time.

“Rosemary.” When she smiled up at him, he chickened out. “They caught Mary. Fury’s going to see to it she’s put away for the rest of her life. You’re safe now.” Coward. Coward. Coward.

“Safe from her at least.” Yet there was still warmth in her smile as she reminded him of the truth. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember that she still had many enemies.

“They took DNA samples as they processed her into custody.” Both his hands came to cover hers in a show of support that she really didn’t need. “If you wanted to know, to find out for sure…”

“If she’s really my sister?” The idea was something she and Julian had grappled with. If it was true, she was the reason their father killed their mother and their admittedly already poor home life spiraled into something so dark. “I want to know. I think I need to know.”

“I’ll let Tony know to run the test.” One of Steve’s hands left hers as he pulled his phone out and typed the message.

“Not Shield?” With her head cocked, Rosemary tried to understand why Shield wouldn’t be the one to run the test.

“I would feel better if Tony did it himself.” Steve shrugged and Rosemary had to admit that if she had to hear she was related to yet another monster she would rather it came from someone who had quickly become a friend.

The phone on the table chirped and Steve informed her that Tony would text her with the results within the hour.

“Regardless of what the results say, you’re still the same person.” It always amazed her how well Steve could read her. It was like for him, she was an open book. Someone saw her. Finally, someone would remember her.

After killing as much time as they could, Steve cleared the table. She Smiled as he put up their trays. It was one of the many small things he insisted on doing for her.

She had been so very lucky to have him stumble into the art show that Mrs. Jones had forced her to put on all those months ago. Now she was even more lucky that after everything, after all her secrets had come to light this amazing man was still smiling at her from across rooms room.

“You don’t have anymore meetings today, right?” Weaving his fingers between hers, Steve brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back.

“Free and clear.” Standing, she allowed him to lead her toward the elevator again.

“Let’s get out of here. Go home. Bucky got a new movie he wanted to watch.”

“He won’t mind me tagging along?” It was a question she asked him often. It was never her intention to come between the friends or to force her presence on Bucky, though she liked him and even considered him a friend. Still, it was hard to tell how he felt about her.

“He likes you.” Steve laughed. They’d been over this before. “He adores you.”

In the privacy of the elevator once again, Steve wasted no time in pulling her into his chest. Strong arms wrapped around her waist while she rested her head against his chest. With her arms around his back, Rosemary listened to the steady thump of his heart. She only moved when the sound of a hammer striking metal filled the small space signalizing a text received from Tony.

“Well?” Steve asked as she gazed down at the screen.

“Not related.” The news was shocking to her.

“Are you happy?” The lack of a response worried him.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “I guess? I don’t feel any sort of way about it. I didn’t expect that.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay to not care.” Steve wrapped her tighter in his arms. “She doesn’t matter. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I’m relieved.” Rosemary admitted, leaning into his chest until the elevator doors slid opened on the basement carport. “I think… I think if it came back and said she was really my sister I would have felt… I don’t know.”

“Obligated to help her?”/ Steve offered as he gave her hand a squeeze again. She smiled at what had become his way of reminding her that he was there, right there with her.

“Yeah. That’s dumb, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so. It would make her family- at least by blood. That’s all you’ve had for so long. It makes sense that you would feel like you had to. But she’s not and you don’t owe her anything.”

“You’re too good to me.” A smile graced her face and Steve thought of how lucky he was to find a small art show four months ago in a tiny town outside of the city.

“I’ll meet you at your apartment, then?” Leaning against the side of her blue car, Rosemary fiddled with her keys.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something first.” Steve took a deep breath and suddenly looked everywhere but at her. When the ground and ceiling grew dull, he examined his hands.

“This isn’t how I dreamed of getting proposed to.” Rosemary laughed forcefully, trying to lighten the air with a joke about what clearly wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t do that. Not in a carport at work. Not after four months. Would he?

“Oh! No! No, that’s not what- I mean, I care for you a lot. I love you but that’s just- that’s a big thing and-”

“Steve.” Rosemary tried to school the worry in her voice as she leaned forward, resting a hand on Steve’s arm. “I’m only teasing you. You’re worrying me.”

“I’m sorry. Forget it. Let’s go home?” Steve still wouldn’t look at her.

“No.” That made him look at her, finally.

“No?”

“No. Whatever it is, if you’re in knots over it you need to tell me. We said no more secrets, remember?” Guilt washed over him.

It always amazed her how hard he was, how well he schooled his expressions when working. That wasn’t the Steve she knew. Her Steve was this man in front of her, this man she had grown to love so quickly was expressive and easy to read.

Steve closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. His whole body seemed to inflate and deflate with each deep breath he took as he tried to calm himself. Whatever he was preparing himself for, Rosemary hoped it wasn’t something that would hurt her.

“Rosemary…” When he opened his eyes, he saw worry swimming in her own. She had her lip trapped between her teeth and this time he knew he was the cause of it without any doubt.

“What?” There was a whimper in her voice and he would have given anything to turn back time and start this conversation over again. He really managed to muck this up and yet he knew absolutely no one would be surprised about it.

“Move in with me.” The words came fast, each running over the other.

“Move in with you?” Surely she had heard him wrong but he nodded. “What about Bucky? I don’t want to displace him or make him uncomfortable. I’d hate for him to think I was taking over or-”

“It was his idea.”

“Oh. You didn’t have to ask just because he-”

“No!” Steve almost barked the word, it came so rushed and loud. His hands raked through his hair as he turned from her, taking a step away only to turn back and fiercely kiss her. The force pushed her back and he had her pinned against the side of her car, not that she was complaining. The kiss ended just as suddenly as it began however he didn’t move away.

“I was scared to even think about it. I was scared I couldn’t have that.” He admitted and she understood that feeling all too well. It was one she often had herself, even now. Everything she had right now felt far too good to be true. “Bucky had to remind me that we’re not still in the 40’s. He also made a point to remind me that we both eat best when you’re over.”

“So he wants me to move in and feed him?” A small giggle slipped out of her as her hands relaxed against his chest, taking in the feeling of the worn white tee shirt and warmth that radiated off him. That did sound just like Bucky.

“Maybe.” Steve seemed to relax as his own laugh joined hers. “But it got me thinking. I stood there, watching you command the agent’s attention and I was so proud of you. Proud that you’re mine. I love waking up next to you every single morning I’m blessed to. I love coming in from my runs and seeing you. I love falling asleep with you in my arms. I love you.”

“I love you too, Steve.” The warmth in his smile could make anyone forget the flustered mess the man had just been.

“I want to have that every day. And Bucky thinks it would be great to have you with us. So, will you?”

“Steve-”

“Shit. I know, you probably need time to think. I shouldn’t- Sorry. I shouldn’t put you on the spot like this. You don’t have to answer right now. Take time, think about it, okay? The offer is always open.”

“Steve.” His jaw slammed shut. He was rambling and he knew it.  

Both arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled herself flush against him. Instinctively, his hands fell to her waist as she rose up onto her toes. Softly she pressed her lips against his. With a sigh, the tension seemed to melt off of him.

“Okay. If you sure- okay. I’ll do it. I’ll move in.” Steve lifted her off her feet and spun her around. When he set her on her feet again, his lips met hers in a kiss that left her light headed and gasping for air.

Rosemary couldn’t say that the life she had was a dream come true. It was something she had never dared to dream of. It had been such a large risk when she decided against blocking his number that first night. It took her going against everything she had ever known to give him a chance and now she was so very thankful that some some small part of her refused to let him go.

Finally, she had a taste of love. It was fierce and passionate. It was warm and comforting. It was the light in the darkness. She didn’t know it at the time but love was Steve Rogers smiling at her from across a crowded cafe in a small town.

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Tag List: @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @dangertoozmanykids101, @missaphrodite23, @j-u-s-t-4, @bambamwolf87, @princess76179, @fairlightswiftly, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl

 The Things You Find in the Rain

Maggie and Evan had just married and were honeymooning in London. He was a difficult man but Maggie was a kind and forgiving soul. She loved him with all she was and when that is thrown away, not even 72 hours after they said their ‘I Do’s, what’s a girl to do? Except perhaps hit up ever bar her feet can take her to while the night sky opens up above her. 

When Tom’s out walking Bobby in the rain, he’s thankful. It’s true that beast will come into the house muddy and wet. He’ll even likely make a mess. But in the rain, even fewer were out this time of night and he was allowed the simple peace of walking around the park like any other man. In the rain no one expected him to take pictures with them. No one expected him to sign anything. In the rain, no one expected anything of him. 

This story has a long lead up to Tom’s involvement. Like most of my stories, it is the OC’s story and sometimes it takes us a bit to make it to our muse. I hope you fall in love with Maggie while she’s on her journey to meet Tom. Let me know if you want tagged in this or any other future works <3

[lively-lizard]

Bnha Light Novel Volume 1 Translations Chapter 3 Part 3

Soo, it’s been a long time, but I finally have the motivation to continue. Hope ya’ll had a wonderful Christmas this year or just holiday, cause I didn’t celebrate shit, expect for shopping with a good friend.

Well, without wasting any room, let’s continue

“Hello, U.A. High School.”

“Hello? I am Todoroki Shouto’s family from Class 1A, I’m looking for Class A’s supervisor Aizawa- sensei.”

The voice from the receiver sound’s like a young woman, Aizawa keeps searching for Todoroki’s family members in his mind.

(Family...... I remember in Todoroki’s residence......)

“Hello, I am Aizawa, please to meet you. I beg your pardon, but you are......”

“Ah, sorry, I’m his sister.I’m the one who should thanking you for taking care of our Shouto.”(precious Fuyumi)

“This call came in the right time, I just contacted your home.”

“Really? Sorry, I just came home. The teachers meeting was really prolonged ......”

Those familiar words made Aizawa slightly shock.

“Teachers meeting?...... Aah, I remember that you seems to be an elementary school teacher right?”

“Ah, yes...... two teachers having a conversation like this seems weird.”

Even though they’re from the same family, but the sister was different than Todoroki, her voice coming from the phone has a  caring and talkative aura.

(But, for a hard to get along and cold type of person probably wouldn’t be an elementary school teacher.) (like you Aizawa)

“What did you call for...... did anything happened to Shouto......?”

“As she thought of what Aizawa just said, her voice became worried.

“No, I’m just informing you about parents day.”

“Is that so.”

Hearing Aizawa’s simplistic answer, she lets out a sigh of relief.

Aizawa thinks back to Todoroki’s first appearance when he first entered high school. Even though he’s strong, but he refuses to involve with anyone. From his looks, when Todoroki was in middle school and elementary school, the school must’ve reported some bad news. (poor boy)

“May I ask who is going to the event on that day?”

“Ah, that would be me. I wanted to actually ask you something about parents day.......”

“Sure.”

“Can I record on that day? I definitely won’t interfere the teacher’s class.”

(Recording? To keep as a memento? That’s pretty caring.)

That rare request made Aizawa puzzled a bit.

“Really sorry, for safety purposes, the school prohibits bringing any recording devices.”

“Is that so......”

Her voice originally sounded regretful, but as Aizawa started to concisely explain, her voice then changes back to her usual voice.

“——and that is all, please to meet you.”

“It’s okay, I’m the one who should be saying that.”

When Aizawa was hanging up the phone, and ticking the name on the list that’s on his hand, he suddenly thought of something.

(What is it’s not for memento——)

Present Mic’s smug voice reached to Aizawa as he was thinking that thought.

“If it was me, I’ll seize the TV station!! Sending my voice as a signal to all the people’s ears on their evening time! And during that time when they’re unconscious, I’ll steal all the jewels and women’s heart~! How’s is it, just like a pro right?”

“Why do want to be a jewel thief, it’s not a comic, and the jewel store’s security is pretty strong wouldn’t it?”

“Under the attack of my voice, even if it’s reinforced glass can break you know? It’ll shatter!” (earrape)

“Sigh, that’s not important, you guys want to hear my bad idea? If you wanna hear it, kneel down and lick my shoe!” (i already felt uncomfortable typing it down, but they seem to be used to it)

“No need, thanks.”

Midnight is showing a coquettish smile, Cementoss then uses a flat answer just his body to answer.

“Cementoss, don’t be so stiff. All right, I’ll make this as an exception and tell you guys! Precisely, I’ll make everyone fall asleep first, then I’ll take that chance to use their weakness to threaten them.” (happy new year to the people that’s at my time zone, cause the fireworks just got launched) (it was already over cause i’m hecking late)

“That’s pretty despicable.”

“Even though it’s not eye- catching, but it feels like the authentic ones are pretty bad too.”

Thirteen shaking his head with antipathy.

“But, what will you do if you can’t find any weakness?”

“If it’s under that kind of condition then....... just make one up is fine! I’ll do something to them while they’re sleeping.”

Hearing Cementoss’s doubt, Midnight then shamelessly throws amorous glances.

“That’s a pretty careless plan.”

“It’s so realistic that it’s scary!”

“Vicious and sexy...... just like a bitch.” (I made this up cause I couldn’t really translate the word)

Looking at the time that Aizawa’s busy calling, the teachers’ conversation turned into a boasting about their quirks to do bad things.

(What the hell are they doing......)

Specially retort is pretty idiotic, Aizawa decides to call finish the rest of the calls. He first uses his eyedrop on his dry eyes, gather back his thoughts and takes up the receiver again.

And yet the heroes doesn’t know his thoughts, as they keep chatting on.

“But, why do you guys feel so happy when you’re talking about bad stuff? I feel like I’ve done something that I shouldn’t have, I feel painful deep inside my body.

“Human’s vile spawn.”

“Can’t do, we’re heroes you know!”

“Thirteen, don’t think about it, it’s just a conversation after all! It’s just a delusion of 100% fresh orange juice!”

“Present Mic pats Thirteen’s shoulder with a frivolous tone, Cementoss at his side was a bit curious and opened his mouth:

“Now that we think about it, we wanted to be heroes since we were young, and that’s pretty upright, hard to say that we naturally suppressed ourselves inside, warning ourselves to never do bad things.”

“Unsatisfied wishes is the perfect spices for achieving happiness, but accumulating too much is a no no! Letting yourself breathe out once for a while is needed. If you want, I can help you to relax. It’s really easy? Just throw away that heavy burden that is your self- esteem, and become my slave!”

“No need.”

Cementoss indifferently continues to smile.

“People like us thinking how to do bad things, doesn’t really count as a bad thing, it helps us to know villain’s thoughts.

“That makes sense.”

Present Mic suddenly says “Oh yeah!” Then say:

“If we’re talking about letting ourselves to breathe, you guys used your quirks to do pranks before right? Most people do that alright!”

“I never did any pranks.”

Thirteen shakes his head.

(That’s not possible right?)

The conversation slips in by accident, and it made Aizawa thinks, while still calling. At that time, Present Mic yells in surprise:

“That can’t be!! You go as far as be methodical since you were born! That’s just the embodiment of buddha!” (the original meaning of the word is theory of the original goodness of human nature, but i don’t know how to put it in)

(I surprisingly had the same thought as that guy......)

“......Ah, sorry, so that day——”

Even though Aizawa is having a straight face, he still uses the same tone as usual to continue explaining.

“Then did Present Mic- sensei did any pranks before?”

As Thirteen asked, Present Mic slightly thought for a while, then pridefully answers:

“When it was recess time, I did a rap contest beside my sleepy friend’s ear or something like that!” (earrape x2)

“Suddenly woke up Present Mic’s voice, feels like it’s not good for the heart.”

“And while that guy is sleeping, I’ll use 100% effect of a live and send over a hundred songs non- stop something like that!” (earrape x3)

“Being your friend sure is pitiful~”

“That guy must be me right.”

Hearing those past events that couldn’t slip through, Aizawa can’t help but put down the receiver, and dejectedly speaks in a low voice.

“Oh——yeah, MY FRIEND! Sorry sorry, just flushed those past events down to the drain!”

“Are the things you did were shit?” (the original one didn’t sound mean enough, so i added a bit of flavor text)

Aizawa was thinking that if it’s like that, then just let the memories go down the drain as well. He ignores his class,ate who’s having sympathy in his eyes, his voice sounded not caring at all again, as he continues to contact the students’ parents.

“......Hello, Miss Midoriya, pardon me. The signal was cut off a bit...... as I was saying......”

Present Mic who is faster than Aizawa to flush down his faults down continues to say:

“Oh yeah, did Midnight ever did some pranks before? It’s not possible for you to do 18+ stuff since back then right!?

“If it’s obscene stories then there’s no need.”

“Don’t be so mean, I’m was a cute little girl back then! But, if we’re talking about pranks, when me and my first boyfriend played house together, we played a doctor’s game”

“Ooh, using the examine tool to hear different places like that!?”

Seeing that Present Mic obviously got hooked by it and got exited, Midnight gave him a coquettish smile.

“Feel free to imagine! However, the doctor’s play got more realistic, it turn into a surgery play afterwards.......”

“Eh? Where did you did that surgery......?”

The expressive male heroes turned more stiff.

“Uhhehe, I’ll let everybody Imagine. It. By. Yourself. Maybe because of the surgery? That guy really hate girls after that, and walks down another path......” (oof, press f for that guy)

“What did you do to there!? What the heck did you do!”

Present Mic yells as he guards the thing that’s between his legs. As Midnight flashes back to the distant memory, she chuckles a bit, as she smiles.“Maybe the stimulation was a bit too much......”

“Don’t you show such a happy face while thinking back that memory! Thirteen also feels the same way right!?”

“......this doesn’t even relate to quirks, that’s just purely a prank right?”

“Oh my, it seems so! Don’t need to linger on me, tell me what kind of pranks you guys did before! Ectoplasm did too right?”

Being asked by Midnight like that, Ectoplasm opens his mouth to answer:

“I never used my quirk to do pranks...... but I just regret that one thing I did in my whole life......”

The heroes were all attracted by Ectoplasm’s extremely heavy atmosphere.“A confession on sins!? This makes it even more exciting——! If you want, I can diligently help you to censor it!”

“The celibacy Ectoplasm did something wrong, It’s hard to imagine!” (celibacy’s meaning is state of living unmarried, especially for religious reasons)

“That’s right, I want to hear it!”

“.......”

Ectoplasm uses his own rights to keep silent about it.

“Hey hey, you said it yourself, you can’t do that! Don’t just leave the audience be! HOLD ON ME!”

“I hope you guys can forget about it.”

Seeing as the teachers won’t let him off the hook that easily, Ectoplasm can’t help but regrets slipping those words out. Cementoss said to Ectoplasm  who is full of regrets:

“Don’t need to force yourself, but saying things out sometimes, maybe you’ll feel better? As teachers, we just want to help you.

”Seeing Cementoss’s small eyes full of concern, Ectoplasm was moved by it.

“——that happened when I was in elementary school.”

As Ectoplasm was talking about his past, Present Mic and the the others’ eyes began to light up, holding their breathe in excitement.

(Never thought it was that easy that easy to make him talk about it......)

“......Ah, hello, is this Mineta’s residence? I’m Minoru- san’s teacher Aizawa...... yes, thank you for your care. I’m calling today is to tell you about parents day——”

Aizawa disses them during the space between two calls, as he makes sure to finish his job. Ectoplasm completely doesn’t know that Aizawa was dissing him internally, as he opens that seems to be tight, but dishonest mouth to say:

“One morning, my body was constantly on my bedding for a long time, as time moves fast as light......”

“Eh? What does that mean?”

Cementoss answers the confused Present Mic:“He seems to be talking about being overslept.”

“I felt despair. But I haven’t gave up, I ran at full speed to the school...... However, the bell ruthlessly rings in front of me, I then used my clone to appear at the classroom......”

“...... So you’re saying, you used your clone to go to school because you were late right?”“Aah, even though it was for the perfect attendance award, but, but I feel like my sins are too deep......”

Ectoplasm’s confession made the heroes look at each other, as they disappointingly let out their sighs.

“That’s just disappointing! You go as far as to exploit that, isn’t that just shameless! And it’s the perfect attendance award too!”

“Because you said this was sin, it made me imagine things that are a lot more worse. Like a life and death situation, some emotional ties mingling love and hate or something like that.”

“It’s because everybody was having their own expectations, I only narrated the truth.”

Maybe because it was everybody’s reaction affected their mood, Ectoplasm seems slightly snubbed and sips his tea. Hearing Ectoplasm’s story, Thirteen seems to be thinking back something and say:

“If it’s this kind of story, I did it before too. Even though it’s a bit embarrassing, but I once used my black hole to suck up my wet futon, to get rid of evidence .......”

“You sure do know how to use your quirk! I wish to have that kind of power too——!”

“Nah, I still got caught in the end, got scolded a lot afterwards.”

Thirteen shyly scratches his helmet, Cementoss then say to him:“Wetting the bed huh? That’ really makes people smile when they think about it.”

“What about Cementoss? Ever did any pranks before?”

“Me? Let me think...... mostly when I was nearly caught during hide and seek, I made a wall, and did some modifications to it—— I can only say it until here.”

Cementoss’s calm smile made the other heroes stiffen.

“...... are there parts you can’t say.....?”

“Don’t ask, it’s scary! My grandfather once said, the worst persons are usually the most normal ones!!”

“But you wanted me to confess my secret first, and you didn’t truthfully say it, that’s just mean.”

“I want to hear it too. Knowing other’s secrets, that’s just makes me want to expose it.”

Thirteen and Present Mic were so scared that they started to overelaborate, while Ectoplasmm and Midnight got closer to Cementoss.

Cementoss then smiled to the teachers.

“Don’t take it seriously, I’m just joking.”

“......Eh, it’s just a joke~ Don’t scare us~”

“A joke that doesn’t make people laugh, doesn’t count as a joke.”

“Cementoss’s jokes doesn’t seems like it’s good for the heart——!“

“Sorry about that, say hi to your grandfather for me.”

“Ah, you’re holding a grudge!”

“Let it flow, let it flow! And flush it down the drain——!”

(This guy’s drain get’s clogged pretty fast won’t it?)

“—— Well then, that is all. Please to meet you.”

As Aizawa hangs up the phone, he ticks yaoyoruzu’s name on the paper that’s on his hand. As a result, the job of contacting the parents is done.

Maybe it was the fatigue and the accomplishment of the job done, Aizawa let’s out his breathe. The others didn’t even batted an eyelash at him, as they continue their chit- chat.

(But, they sure are pretty talkative, they can talk until there’s no end on this boring kind of subject......)

Aizawa stares at bewilderment at the teachers’ as they discuss.

“However, if we use our quirks together, perhaps we can become a strong villain in a certain degree, wouldn’t it!? We can do whatever bad things whenever , wherever we want!”

At the same time that Present Mic yells loudly, a sound came from a low place.

Well, that is done, took quite some time to actually finish typing it, it’s really interesting to see the heroes old self but it seems pretty enjoyable, but new year is over it seems and school is already starting for me. So there will be no translations until October or November, or just in the holidays I hope, if I have the motivation. Nonetheless, Happy New Year anyway!Check out my art if you guys are interested!

this is part 3.

please tell me if there are any errors, i’ll correct them if i have time

[folightening]

I swear we've briefly met before

Summary: This Loqi Tummelt Lunafreya had set him up with looked awfully familiar, but Ravus couldn't quite figure out where he'd seen him before.

Ravus/Loqi - Final Fantasy XV 

Characters: Ravus, Lunafreya, Loqi, mentions others

Rated Teen

Words: 2278

*****

A week ago, Lunafreya had set him up on a date. Ravus had no intention of going; he'd told her as much. Yet here he was, riding with her to meet some Loqi Tummelt she swore would be a good match for him. After her previous failures at finding him a date he was astounded she was trying again. Even if two of those failures were now a friends of his. One of which also thought Loqi would be a good match.

"Lunafreya," Ravus said. "You said this Loqi Tummelt is a friend of Prompto's, and Aranea knows him as well. How did you come to the conclusion that we ought to date?"

"Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"That is what you said the previous five times."

"This time, I definitely know."

Against his better judgement, he'd trust hers again this time.

"If this does not work out, no more setting up dates for me."

"Promise me you'll try." Lunafreya glanced at him. "Aranea worked out fine."

"Aranea worked out fine because we established that I am a homosexual before the date was half over."

It had never occurred to him that he might be until he'd met her. She had helped him figure out something important about himself and now two years later, they were close friends. Aranea was arguably the closest friend he had.

"Ravus."

"I will try. You didn't find this one through that app I regret downloading."

That hadn't stopped one of the others from being a failure, but it was still preferable. Four times, he'd met someone off that accursed app. Three of those times had been utter failure due to being incompatible with those men. Obviously, the app did not work as it claimed to.

A few minutes later they pulled in to the restaurant. Luna parked and pulled out her phone, quickly sending a text. A few moments later she giggled.

"'Traffic's being a bitch, so I might be late.'" Luna turned and looked at Ravus. "You want to wait inside or out here?"

"Unless you plan to show me a picture, I'm waiting right here. You may introduce us."

"Fine," she sighed and started typing again.

Lunafreya had forbidden him from doing any research and Aranea was on her side, refusing to tell him anything helpful about Loqi. He had been told on numerous occasions that he was too quick to judge people, but that hardly seemed a good reason to keep him in the dark with this one.

"Couldn't you give me some information about him? You knowing him is not enough."

"He's a cute, extroverted, dirty blond Niff from a rich family. Early twenties, five-seven, and you're not getting anything more from me." Lunafreya smiled. "Talk to him and get to know him."

She seemed awfully determined with this one. Aside from Aranea, the previous five hadn't gotten quite the same amount of pushing for it from her. Thinking about it, Aranea had seemed a little eager for it as well. Perhaps this set up date wasn't just for him?

"You really think Loqi is the one for me."

"Perhaps. Though I was wrong about Ignis."

"He and I could have worked had he not been an uptight analytical psychologist with a tendency of judging people and- We're too similar for a romance to work out."

Ignis had agreed, though they remained friends.

"I still think it could have if either of you had been willing to give it some time."

She was probably right. Given time, they could have formed something akin to romance. Maybe.

"He isn't my type."

Lunafreya snorted and Ravus scowled.

"You know what your type is?" The doubtful look she gave him stung slightly. "Why didn't you ever tell me? That would have made this much easier."

"I have only a vague idea- nothing definite enough to tell you about."

Some hard thinking and a late night spent scrolling a site he'd never visited again had shown him what sort of man he found attractive, as well as reinforced the conclusion that he is indeed homosexual. That hardly helped him know what he was looking for personality-wise. Which was far more important and why he hadn't bothered telling her any of his findings.

The rest of the wait was in silence. It wasn't a long wait, just ten minutes before a young man with dirty blond hair was walking over. He was pretty cute: youth clung to his cheeks, full pink lips were curved into a slight frown, and his side-swept styled hair only added to his attractiveness. There was also something familiar about him, like Ravus had briefly interacted with him before at a store or something.

"There he is," Lunafreya confirmed Ravus' suspicions.

They both got out of the car, Loqi and Lunafreya greeting each other with wide smiles. Then Loqi turned to Ravus and extended a hand.

"My name is Loqi Tummelt."

Ravus shook the extended hand but didn't match the smile.

"Ravus Nox Fleuret."

"Let's go."

Loqi turned and Ravus followed, telling himself he wasn't nervous. He'd been on enough dates to not be nervous. So what if this young man was familiar? If he was undeniably attractive? Ravus was not the sort to allow things like that to affect him.

Fortunately they were soon sitting by a window. He much preferred sitting by a window when eating out. It helped him feel less crowded even with all the noise reminding him how many other people were in the restaurant.

Also fortunately, Loqi was happy to fill the space between them with chatter. Mostly about himself, perhaps too eagerly. Ravus looked over the menu as he listened to Loqi's 'here's why you should be interested in me' speech.

"What do you do?"

Ravus raised a brow at Loqi's abrupt change in subject. The man knew Lunafreya, surely he knew what her brother did.

"I assist Lunafreya with running our family's company."

These days, he might as well be the CEO but until Lunafreya fully settled on her new path in life, that title would remain hers.

"Hobbies?"

None that he would tell a stranger about.

"What I do with my free time is irrelevant."

Loqi laughed, a nice sound that had Ravus almost smiling in response.

"What you do with your free time is very relevant."

He leaned forward over the table and Ravus was certain he'd seen that expression before. Though with the small smirk and half-lidded eyes he couldn't think of a single moment such an expression had been directed at him.

"If your free time is as busy as your work, how are we to spend time together?"

"Aren't you the confident one." Ravus leaned forward as well, a small smirk of his own tugging at his lips. "I can yet decide you are not worth any more of my time."

Usually his personality was one of the things people cited as a reason they didn't want to be near him. Arrogant, cold, closed-off, judgemental, just plain mean... all words people had used to describe him. So it came as a pleasant surprise when Loqi didn't pull back and leave.

"Oh, I promise I'm worth it. Just give me the chance to show you."

Truth be told, he was already liking Loqi.

"Are you ready to place your order?"

Ravus broke eye contact first to look at the waiter and place his order. For Ravus, a medium rare steak with a salad on the side. Loqi decided on a cheeseburger with fries.

"Earlier," Ravus said, "you said you were taking classes for engineering."

"It's something I've always had an interest in. If I make a career out of it, I can do something I enjoy and help people. Everyone benefits."

That dedication was admirable. Ravus had never had any particular interests to follow and make a career out of. Just make Mother proud and don't fail. ...Maybe Lunafreya had a point.

"How are the classes going?"

"They're going fine, 'Daddy'."

Loqi chuckled and reached across the table to tap him on the nose. Something about the action flustered Ravus but Loqi continued before he could express any of it.

"We're on a date here. Shouldn't you be asking about things other than my classes?"

Expressing an interest in his date's academics didn't strike Ravus as an odd thing to do.

"If our relationship continues after this first date, your academics will be of interest to me."

"I've a GPA of 3.7 and pulled more all-nighters than I can remember. That satisfactory?"

It was better than what Lunafreya's current boyfriend had. Not that Lunafreya's boyfriend had stayed in college, but... that comparison wasn't important now. Ravus nodded, unsure how to continue the conversation.

"What about you?"

"4.0, recently graduated."

Loqi whistled and once again Ravus was almost certain they had briefly met before. Something about his mouth... Or maybe that was just Ravus being interested in him.

"Perfect honor student, huh? A degree in business?"

"What makes you assume that?"

"You are one of the CEOs of the Oracle Company. If you're anything like your sister, you don't have that position just by blood."

Technically, he did. He just didn't want that to be the only reason he held the postion. He wanted to prove he was good enough. That his mother hadn't been wrong in naming him as the joint heir of the company with Lunafreya.

"Enough of that, though. How do you plan on this date going?"

"I hadn't considered anything beyond dinner," Ravus said.

If over the course of dinner they decided they weren't interested in each other, there would be no point in doing anything else together. Even something simple could ruin it for them.

"Did you have any hopes for this?"

Loqi leaned back in his seat and appraised Ravus.

"Maybe. If dinner goes well."

Technically, they didn't need to do anything after even if they were getting along well. They could easily just decide on a second date and part ways. But what little remained of Ravus' day was open, and if Loqi had the time he wouldn't deny him.

"How open are you to sex on the first date?"

"Not terribly, I'm afraid. It would beg the question of whether or not you are actually interested in me, or if it's merely a sexual attraction."

Sex rarely crossed his mind as it was. Starting a relationship with it sounded ludicrous, and yet a part of him disagreed with his statement about not being interested. Loqi was exactly his type, as far as looks went. In fact, he looked so much like that young man who'd-

As the thought crossed his mind Ravus set his cup back down. He couldn't be.

"Well that's a shame," Loqi said. "It's probably for the best."

The hair curved the same way at the ends. On his cheek was the same beauty mark. Eyes the same shade of gray-blue. The more Ravus stared, the more Loqi's face looked like him.

What were the odds?

"Something on my face?"

"You look like..." Ravus fell silent, unsure how to go about bringing it up. Did he even need to? If he was wrong Loqi was sure to be offended.

If he was the same man, that meant... Ravus's cheeks flushed as he remembered clearly what had happened when he watched that video. Specifically that man in particular had- Oh dear gods above this was embarrassing.

Loqi's lips curved into a grin as his eyes grew understanding and once again he leaned forward over the table.

"I look like what, Ravus?"

That was a tone Ravus certainly did not appreciate his name being said in. Not in public- No, not at all. Even if it did come from Loqi and- Ravus scowled in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He hardly knew Loqi enough to be attracted to him. Much less act like this. So what if he knows what Loqi looks like naked and the sounds he makes during sex? So what if he wanted to take this chance to experience it himself?

"How many have you watched?"

"Just one."

He really didn't want to talk about the fact that his sister had managed to set him up on a date with one of the men from the single porn video he'd ever watched. Specifically the man he found appealing.

"Which-"

"I do not wish to talk about it," Ravus snapped.

Loqi's laugh was a mean little sound this time, but before either of them could say anything the waiter was back with their food.

Eating in relative silence didn't stop Ravus from remembering that video. Or the fantasy he'd indulged in after hastily shutting his laptop. Which would only be worse now that he'd actually met the man and- Ravus frowned at his food. That was a rather unfair situation between the two of them.

"Loqi," he said. "I believe I shall take you up on your offer. If it still interests you."

He didn't dare look at Loqi to see his expression. He kept his focus on his food instead, feeling how hot his face and ears were. As much as he wanted the suggestion to be a matter of evening out something that didn't really matter all that much, there was no denying that was an excuse. He couldn't remember a time he'd been this stupidly interested in having sex with someone.

"Oh, I'm interested," Loqi said. "Now tell me, have you ever been to Accordo?"

As Ravus informed Loqi that no, he had never been to the island nation, he felt himself relaxing again. Maybe this could work.

[rosebudmendes]

La vie Est Belle (Shawn AU)

Part 2

Description: She has to take care of her ill father. He has to provide for his younger sister. Just when they think their lives couldn’t get busier, fate intervenes. 

Warnings: alcoholic tendencies, anxiety, anger management issues, terminal illness

Word count: 2,483

Reblog & send me your thoughts! I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

———

A loud crash startled you out of deep sleep. The room was mostly dark. There was the smallest amount of sunlight beaming in through the curtains. Following the shattering of glass was a loud groan and anger filled stomps, the clock on the wall reading 5:30 am. It was far too early for your dad to be out of bed. You wrestled with the thought of going to investigate but stopped at the fear of running into a highly intoxicated version of your mother.

You tried to stay clear from her path if it was clear she had been drinking. This meant that you hardly were around her. She always seemed to have a drink in her hand or a migraine that made her irritated at the slightest sound. It used to bother you. In the past, you couldn’t control your anger and your mom was the perfect outlet for irrational yelling. Even hearing her pour herself a drink would send you into a fit of passionate hate. It took a few years of counseling for you to have a grasp on those furious thoughts.

As much as you tried to ignore the sounds coming from the kitchen, you were now wide awake. You still knew it was better off to let time take its course and let her find her way to the bed herself. To fill the time you pulled out your phone. You weren’t expecting to have any messages as you aren’t very close with any of your friends back home. Actually, for the last 6 months, you had kind of been a loner. There was too much pressure on you to take care of your father and be there for your friends. Eventually, everyone stopped inviting you out. Even when you did go out it was rare that you felt alive and appreciated.

This morning, though, you had a message from Shawn. You tried to ignore the tingly feeling the notification gave you, but it was too difficult. Your cheeks rushed with blood and your toes curled slightly.

“I enjoyed talking with you, (y/n). Thanks for returning my wallet xx”

You wanted to reply in a heartbeat, but you stopped when you heard another loud bang come from the kitchen. This time you couldn’t help but rush out to see what was the matter. You opened the bedroom door and what you saw left you in a feeling of despair and shame. It wasn’t your mother at all. She was still passed out on the couch with a drink still in her hand. That meant it had to be your father, and that meant there was something wrong. You scanned the room frantically. He wasn’t in the living room and there was a wet substance on the kitchen tile. Not worrying about the mess, you ran to the bathroom. The door was locked but you could see the light shining brightly through the crack.

“Pops? Are you alright?” It felt like a redundant question; he was probably throwing up. You have learned that as a grown man, he wants to feel in control. He hated when people treated him like a sick puppy. Few people knew what to ask him and when to stand their ground and do what was best for him.

That’s what it all came down to; his health. It didn’t matter what the time was, what day of the week it was, or even what country he was in. This illness was deadly and it had no sense of boundaries, it was relentless. You didn’t bother waiting for an answer, you ran to your phone and instantly called for an emergency vehicle. This may have just been a reaction to the changes in the altitude from traveling, but you didn’t want to take any chances. You were your father's everything, he was all you had. Your mom was probably going to drink herself to death, and your relationship’s all fizzled out. Without your father, you’d be on your own.

Quickly and swiftly, you wiped away the tears that appeared and you started packing bags. The last time your father was admitted to the emergency room, you guys ended up staying for a week without a way back home for clothes. You threw in clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, and an envelope that included all the insurance information and a credit card that had never been used and was the last possible resource.

Just then an aggressive knock on your door alarmed you and woke your mother up. You let the kind doctors in while also updating your mother on what was happening. She only nodded and frantically brushed her hair, shoving a piece of gum in her mouth and putting eye drops in her eyes. You just scoffed and walked away from her.

Now was not the time to worry about appearances. Until now you weren’t aware of what clothes you had on. Pajamas, appropriate enough to wear in public on occasion but obviously sleepwear. You didn’t mind though. You knew about zero people in the city and didn’t feel the need to make a proper first impression.

The emergency vehicle was parked right outside of the resort lobby, the overstimulating lights and sirens making you feel uncomfortable. Although the severity of the illness, there had been only one other time an ambulance was needed for your father.

It was before you were the main caregiver and you had just walked home from school. No one informed you that your dad was even home from work, let alone not feeling well. You remember what it felt like to hear those sirens, watch him be pushed out of the house on a stretcher and not know if he was going to come back. That same feeling was with you now, and you felt as small and helpless as you did back then.

You couldn’t focus on the pain and grief now. He was still alive, he was still breathing. You needed to move forward and prepare yourself for what was next. The hospital was a place of sadness and sorrow. You hated it with all your heart. The only happy memories that anyone ever experiences at a hospital is a birth, and the rest was all too depressing.

The smell of latex and hand sanitizer stung your nose, mixed with the sound of small sniffles and light whispers from one family member to another. It was all so miserable. You knew it was going to be a long day.

You and your mom waited in the waiting room for what felt like days but was only an hour. The doctors finally came out and said some medical stuff that basically meant your father was getting worse. Your mother broke down into hysterical tears, and you remained calm and thanked the doctor.

You hadn’t checked your phone at all and didn’t realize Shawn had texted you again. Even though you were in a state of high emotions, you somehow felt a quick sense of calmness seeing his text.

He sent a picture of him and his younger sister, baking something in the kitchen. The photo was followed with “Sheila wanted to thank you with some homemade bread. Anywhere we can deliver this heavenly loaf? xx”

You smiled internally at the thought of them baking something for you. There was something about his presence that made you feel like life was worth living. Even a simple text message from him, a small token of appreciation for your existence. It almost made you believe that life is beautiful.

You finally replied to both messages from him. “I had a great time at the Diner, too. You can hand deliver any packages to your royal highness at this address…” You tried to come off cheerful as flirtatious as you could. There was no need for him to know what was going on, or that you would be spending the day in a hospital with your terminally ill father. You tried to ignore the idea of his existence so you could focus on the stability and health of your father.

You were allowed to see him after he had been fully examined and the insurance was processed. He looked pale and grey. He was wearing one of those stereotypical hospital gowns and IV cords as unwanted accessories. The tears pricked at your eyes, but you did whatever you could to push them back. You had to be strong for him, you couldn’t let him know to see him like this hurt you. He desperately wanted to be the strong and sufficient father figure that every man aspires to be, but now that he physically couldn't you had to pretend you didn’t need any fatherly help. Even if you did, you never let it show.

“Hey Sweets, how do I look?” He joked. No matter the situation, he always made a humorous comment.

“I think you’ve looked better, Pops.” You sat at the chair close by his bed, and you grabbed his hand that was resting on his side.

“Oh, come on now I think I look pretty darn fabulous” He was resilient, nonetheless.

“Pops, you should know-“

“I’m not getting better am I?” His voice cracked, and he squeezed your hand gently. You nodded, and let the tears fall. His eyes were filled with tears as well.

Neither one of you acknowledged the hurt that found its way between your bodies. You both felt it, knew its presence had never truly gone away. It was stronger now. The hurt was more powerful every day your father lived. The longer this illness was dragged out for, the stronger the pain, the harsher the hurt.

It was going to take a miracle for your family to remain. It would take more than a miracle to keep yourself sane. You brought your lips to his hand and pressed your cheek against him. He was still warm, that was a sign of hope.

You ended up falling asleep next to your father. When you woke up you realized it was almost dark already. You didn’t know if you were so exhausted from jet lag, or from the tiring events of the day. Either way, you needed energy. You went to the coffee station in the hospital cafeteria and sat down at a comfortable lounge chair. On your way over you grabbed a sandwich and a water. Might as well try and eat something, even though you weren’t that hungry.

You were minding your own business when a doctor approached you. “(Y/n)?” He asked, continuing when you nodded. “I regret to inform you that we have strict guests policies in this part of the hospital…” You didn’t have any idea where he was going with this statement. “Unfortunately, only parents and spouses are legally allowed to stay overnight.” He was swaying side to side with his hand glued in his long white jacket. You were confused, tired, and now angry. You didn’t want to lash out at him, you were really trying not to say anything.

“Ok, thank you.” Your response was short and choppy on purpose. He asked if there was anything he could do for you, and you ignored him. You slammed the coffee and food onto the counter table and stormed away.

Sometimes the anger you felt was stronger than any meditation guide and breathing technique. You wanted to scream. You felt like you needed to scream. You ran out of the hospital and sprinted to the resort. As angry as you were that you couldn’t spend the night next to your father, you were relieved that you would be able to sleep in your own bed.

When you arrived outside the resort you felt calmer. Not completely calm, but enough to have a civil conversation with the doorman in passing. You were standing outside the elevator when you felt someone’s presence behind you, Shawn.

“Oh, hi.” You pushed the loose strands of hair behind your ear and fidgeted with the ends of your stained t-shirt. You were not expecting to be seeing him at all today.

“I was just delivering a thank you gift, flowers, and banana bread.” He nervously chuckled. You nodded and awkwardly stood near, waiting for him to say something else.

“Gosh, (y/n) did you get any sleep last night? You don’t look so good.”

“Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” You would rather make a joke out of his comment than tell him the truth. You could tell by his expression he was not on the same page. “My father, he is in the hospital.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know the surprised look in his eyes. Everyone was stunned when they first hear about his illness, over time you just know better than to watch them process such information.

“(Y/n), I had no idea. I-“ He hardly finished his sentence before setting down the small gifts, and pulling you into a tight hug. One arm was wrapped around your waist, the other was holding your head to his chest. He was so much taller than you, so much stronger than you. Instead of fighting against his act of affection you leaned into it. You wrapped your arms around his muscular waist and inhaled. He smelt of vanilla and cologne again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like to talk about it.” You mumbled, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks.

“Hey, no need to apologize. You just need to get some rest.” His voice was deep and soft. He somehow managed to show that he was not judging you in the way he spoke and held you. Without letting you go he pressed the elevator button again, and the doors immediately opened.

He was about to pull away, about to leave you alone. Something about the idea of him leaving you made you feel unsettled. You squeezed him harder, hoping he would get the hint.

“You could stay if you want.”

“Is that what you want?” He was swaying gently now, the warmth between you becoming thick and excessive.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Shawn kissed the top of your head and you practically fell, becoming weak in the knees. He swiftly turned you around and laced his fingers between yours. This feeling was incredible. More intense than anyone you had ever touched before. It was almost as if you had met in a past life and were being reconnected. The universe has a funny way of making things happen, and for once you were able to understand the beauty in all of this pain.

Taglist: [thanks to @stockholmshawn for helping edit this, go give her a follow!] @lou-and-me @yellowitsmendes

[girlglassestheotherone]

2030

“I like to think it was character building,” Leslie Perkins Traeger said while unbuckling her seat belt. Her brother Oliver had just parked his car in one of the student spots in the Pawnee High School parking lot. Oliver shook his head, thinking about a good response. Their entire ride had been a long nostalgia tinged fight, a discussion about their childhood had spiraled out since they got into the car twenty minutes earlier.

“You bullied me, pretty much my entire life, Leslie” Oliver said, following his sister up the sidewalk to the school’s entrance. He and his parents called her Leslie, but most people they knew had their own nickname for her or just called her by her initials, LC. Right now Oliver was tempted to throw another, much worse name at her, but he didn’t want to give LC the ammo again. “And you think it was character building?”

“You’re right,” LC said, stopping and turning around to face him. “It was more like a lab experiment and you were a guinea pig.”

“That’s even worse!” LC didn’t respond, instead waved to one of her friends off in the distance. Oliver peered to see who she was waving to. “I should tell Sonia. I can’t believe I’ve never told Sonia. My own, girl, friend, type person.”

“Girlfriend? Are you guys Gryzzl official now?” LC asked, gesturing for Sonia to join them. Oliver shrugged and muttered something. He did like Sonia, and technically, they had been out on a few dates, but the idea of saying “my girlfriend” made his feel queasy for some reason. Sonia reached them and kissed Oliver on the cheek, then ran over and hugged LC.

“Lele!” Sonia squealed, using her Leslie nickname of choice.

“Soso!” LC replied. Oliver rolled his eyes at his sister, who mid hug had glared at him, the look that Oliver interpreted as go away. The Knope Wyatt triplets had spent the past week before school started visiting their aunt in Minnesota, and Sonia was catching LC up on what had been going on. Oliver was glad his sister was taking all of Sonia’s attention right now as they walked together into the school’s entrance. He thought about how he would break the news that Sonia’s bestie was actually the worst person ever.

“Hey, Sonia, speaking of PC,” Oliver started to say, sensing an opportunity when Sonia mentioned her pet guinea pig Paper Clip. It was one of the animals the Knope Wyatt’s adopted when Stephen was on a very odd naming kick. Paper Clip joined the family the same day they adopted a hamster named Stapler and their rabbit Three Hole Punch.

“Don’t you have class on the second floor, Ollie?” LC asked, pointing for her brother to go in the opposite direction. She and Sonia were headed towards the door of the school’s computer lab, where Sonia had her coding class.

“Actually, we both have study hall, and I was hoping to spend it in the computer lab with my,” Oliver hesitated and lowered his voice, “girlfriend. If that’s alright.” Sonia nodded and unhooked her elbow from LC, taking Oliver’s hand.

“I have to show you this hilarious new website,” Sonia said, leading Oliver into the lab, “actually, it’s not new, but they made a lot of changes to whitehouse.gov after Trump was in office.” LC peered through the clear door of the computer lab, Oliver having flipped the bird behind himself in her direction.

“Real mature, Ollie,” LC muttered as she started to walk in the direction of her own first period class. “Just because I called you a chunkatron. Like once. Or a bunch of times.”

She didn’t want to think about it, but she did regret the guinea pig science experiment comment. It was her own attempt at defending herself. The car ride had reminded her of so many instances in which LC had hurt Oliver with her name calling about his weight. She had thought it was a compliment to point out he had lost a lot of weight since joining the swim team earlier in the year.

“And maybe I made a lot of oink sounds when you ate. But Sonia was my best friend before she was best friend and girlfriend,” LC said with air quotes around girlfriend and best friend. She hated that Oliver and Sonia were a thing, almost as much as she hated that Sonia considered Oliver also a best friend. 

More students ambled into the hallway and LC tried to keep most of her thoughts in her head. LC could still see Sonia and Oliver through the transparent wall of the computer lab. Both of them were chatting and neither looked particularly upset. And, “oh gross,” LC thought, noticing Sonia and Oliver had snuck in a quick kiss. “I’ll just text him and apologize and ask him to let me explain to Sonia myself and then I can,” she stopped, realizing she was talking out loud again and someone had noticed.

“Explain what to Sonia?” Westley asked, shutting the door to his locker. Or maybe it was Stephen. LC spent so much time with only Sonia since both families had moved to Indiana that she was the only one who wasn’t able to tell them apart. Westley wore glasses, but she knew from her conversation with Sonia earlier that Westley was stuck wearing contacts while waiting for his new pair to arrive. 

She kicked herself for not being able to tell them apart. She was Leslie Perkins Traeger, the all A getter who skipped two grades. The triplets had only skipped one grade. Regardless of who it was, LC was not about to tell him anything about her history with Oliver. If Sonia hadn’t been informed by Oliver, Sonia’s brother, whoever he was, would let her know.  

“The plot of Jane Eyre,” LC blurted out. “We have a test on it and Sonia was asking me questions.”

“Oh, of course,” Westley or Stephen said, “Ok, I would never tell her this but like, for years I wondered, can she read?” LC tried to suppress a giggle, though she was insulted on Sonia’s behalf, this was oddly making her feel more normal. That was seriously bitchy of him to say about his sister and it was ok to think that about him because he wasn’t a girl. 

Oliver had used that word once, after an especially mean comment from her about him overeating. Both of them got grounded for weeks. Oliver had actually apologized for what he said and not months after the fact. She only stopped calling him names after he lost weight. And she hadn’t yet said sorry.

“Am I a bitch?” LC asked.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I would never call you or any woman that word and no one should,” Westley or Stephen said. “Who said that?” He looked around the hallway, ready to take on someone. He almost looked as if he could punch someone. LC still didn’t know which of her best friend’s brothers he was, but he was definitely someone she wanted to be Gryzzl official with. The only person he saw was John Swanson, at which point his expression changed. Stephen, it was definitely Stephen, LC now realized, ran over and the two boys hugged and then did a stupid handshake.

“I am totally shipping those two,” a girl behind LC remarked. LC turned around to see Catherine de Forest, who had second period geometry with LC. “I mean, I don’t know if they’re gay, but you never know.”

“Crap, don’t be gay,” LC muttered, looking at Stephen, who based on everything she’d seen and Sonia had said about him, seemed, she now realized like he was very gay. Even if she was mostly thinking how into theater and baking he was. But on the other hand, Oliver loved baking and musicals too and he was straight.

“Rude,” Catherine said, opening the door of their math class.

“Not, you, Cat,” LC said, walking into class behind her. “Not lady gay. This is the one rare instance where I am not ok with someone being into dudes.”

“Rude,” their geometry teacher Mr. Walker said.

“No, what I meant was, this one particular guy, not you, you and your husband are so cute together, and that’s fine with me. Not that I need to be fine with it. Love is love,” LC said in a rush. Catherine apologized for her, adding a quick lie that LC was just back from getting her wisdom teeth out and was still groggy and dragged her friend to the two seats in the back row. Mr. Walker seemed to take that as a fair explanation and started class.

“Quick thinking, thanks Cat,” LC said in a whisper.

“No problem, I have to cover for my sister a lot,” Catherine said, referring to her own sister Penelope’s bad habits, including the elder de Forest’s rumored drug dealing. “Although that all stops if I go into the police academy after graduation. Boy, I hope we don’t eventually have a showdown that pits family against justice.”

“Yep, definitely feel better about how my brother and I interact,” LC thought. She didn’t know how she would make things up to Oliver, but she was determined to.

[hotcocosharing]

Lose To Win Chapter 23: All The Help She'd Get

Title: Lose To Win Chapter 23 Fandom: Kiss By The Baddest Bidder & Her Love In The Force Rated: Drama, Thriller, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mystery? MPD’s OC: Mika HIJIKATA KBTBB’s OC: Mia SAKATA Characters: Goto, Kaga, Shuichi, Eisuke, Soryu, Mamoru, Baba, Ota

Summary: 1. Soryu, Mika & Kaga had threesome, (here) 2. Soryu got shot, Kaga left him to bleed (to death, sort of) 3. Soryu was operated by Dr. Edwards (suspicious Dr working for mysterious boss) and Luke in Eiuke’s suite 4. Esiuke got invited to the cruise’s exclusive auction & Mia decides to STOP him

Tagging: adrienneloves so you’d know what happens to Soryu and Mika.  111archravenue , silver-red-rose , lxvescramble & hifftn who’ve always been here for me :’( Thank you! I know this series is taking forever and if you’ve missed my feeds or simply want to know what happens next, let me know and I’ll tag you. Background: Mika went to the Tres Spades Hotel under Eisuke’s request. (Order) and led to seeing her ex- Hyogo Kaga. With Jin Namba’s persuasion, Eisuke agrees to work with Public Safety, going on an eight days cruise trip with Kaga, Goto and Mika. What kind of mystery and danger await? You have no idea!

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ Chapter 1: The Reunion Chapter 2: RSVP Chapter 3: Recharge Chapter 4: Welcome Back Chapter 5: Decision Of A Lifetime Chapter 6: Our Story Chapter 7: Stress Release Chapter 8: Play Thing Chapter 9: What The Three Words Mean Chapter 10: A Real Man Chapter 11: The CEO Chapter 12: Boarding Chapter 13: What Did You Wish For? Chapter 14: Don’t Tease Me Chapter 15: One Hell Of A Night Chapter 16: Feeling Lucky? Chapter 17: Left In The Past Chapter 18: Poker Face Chapter 19: To Victory Chapter 20: Wish Comes True Chapter 21: Last Apology Chapter 22:  Can You Handle It?

Chapter 23:  All The Help She’d Get

Mia’s & Eisuke’s World “I think this is a mistake.” Mia stares at the reflection of Eisuke as his back is facing her.

“I rarely make any mistake.” He says coldly, “And your opinion isn’t required on this matter.”

It never is! Mia internally screams her remarks, no one ever values her opinion, they never bother asking because her thoughts don’t matter. She has no say- not in the matter of getting caged and sold in a black market auction, or taking her time to digest the shock and confusion before choosing her NEW OWNER and most definitely never has the choice of being involved in so many troubles. 

She hasn’t asked for any of it, she always bites her lips and accepts her fate because she believes everything happens for a reason and each painful experience is just as precious as the rest. Being an unexpected highlight of that auction has miraculously led her to Eisuke, the one man who’s misunderstood by many yet she sees right through him at critical times. 

“Let the others find him!” She clings to him from behind, begging him not to go because this is one of those times. Something is not right and if she’d feel this is a trap, so does Eisuke.

His hands rest on hers, squeezing them for a few seconds before pulling them away. “He’s my father.”

“You don’t even know if he will be there or if they have actual information on him.”

“Yes, they do.” His hands back on his tie while his eyes stay on her. “I need to know the truth. He’s my father. Aren’t you the one who goes on all the time about how important family is?”

“I am your family, Eisuke. And I’m your…….” Her argument trails off, who is she to him? His woman, his girlfriend, his fiancée? They haven’t exactly put a tag on it and Eisuke hasn’t even once mentioned about their future, does he intend to make her Mrs. Ichinomiya or she’ll see someone else takes her place over some business deals while Eisuke makes her stay? It is very possible, Mia knows that deep in her heart, she simply chooses not to think about it. But right now, she’s not exactly convincing. 

“He’s my family.” He clears his throat then draws a long, shaky breath. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But this could get you killed, Eisuke. Just listen to me for once, please!” Her plea makes no difference, as expected. She has lost again, she could never win against him. Not with her concern, morals and certainly not with her love. “I’m your family too.” She murmurs once again, mostly to herself.

All these years of care, tolerance, and understanding, persuading herself that he always has a good reason for whatever he does because the ends justify his means. With that, the bathroom door closes behind her. She needs some space, anywhere free from Eisuke. 

“I’ll see you at the party,” he stands by the door frame, “though I prefer to show up together." 

Mia sighs, nearly laughing at herself. This is his way of telling her that he’s being understanding, he has changed his preferences for her mood swing.

Standing in front of the mirror with her hands gripping onto the marble sink, she thinks hard. What can she do to stop him? She pulls her hair back into a high ponytail then holds an eye makeup pen up close to her lash line. Who would help her to make it happen? She presses her finger on the outside corner of her eyelid and draws a thin line. Next, she picks up a makeup brush and swirls it in a small container of blushes before dabbing it onto her cheeks. What is Eisuke most afraid of? Picking up a lipstick she carefully applies a deep, glossy red, one that matches her dress perfectly. Eisuke does like her to stand out regardless of the efforts she has spent on staying away from spotlights. It’s simply not possible, not when she’s with Eisuke Ichinomiya.

That’s it!

An idea strike, a brilliant one she would think but perhaps not to others or at least it could only be brilliant with their help. She needs to be careful with her choice of help though, someone who has the knowledge to make it happen and the ability to keep it under everyone’s radar.

Continue from Mika’s World

"Why can’t you be a supportive sister like you should for once?!”

The room is left with dead silence again, honestly, you hate Eisuke’s suite so much! Glaring at your twins with your fists clenched, you don’t even know where to begin. With so much going on and now being accused of a lousy sister really should be the least of your worry. You exhale deeply and huff out in frustration, “Soryu hasn’t waked up yet.” Eying Luke on the side, he nods as confirmation. “I need to find the shooter." 

"And I need to stop Eisuke from dying.”

You have to bite your tongue before slipping out something you’d regret. Mia worries a lot and normally you wouldn’t blame her, with the deals and underground businesses of Eisuke’s, she would be insane not to think so. But, death? When Soryu is the actual one lying in bed, the only truth you want to tell your sister is to stop being dramatic but her teary eyes meet yours, whispering out a request you couldn’t ignore. “Please, help me.”

Whatever reasons Mia has, she has persuaded Luke to take part and now you are her only hope.

“Fine,” you mutter, “just text me the essentials, skip me for the planning.” You quickly add then excuse yourself for a conversation you have neither the time nor the energy to engage.

You still need to meet Goto for another dinner party, just how many more of these damn parties do you have to attend before anyone of you are even close to finding who the heck is manipulating this whole orchestra!?

NOTES: NEXT- Takao from MFW again :) Eisuke at auction while the rest try to find the shooter/assassin waitress in the party, oh it’s a masquerade party