#my boys have finally been recognized by the radio station and that makes me so proud and gives me so much joy

[hwanwooyoung]

THEY'RE PLAYING "ICE ON MY TEETH" ON MY LOCAL RADIO STATION???

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Being visited by Bucky Barnes

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them/Theirs

~~~

You listened to a mixture of the radio's music station, the news on the television, and the lively city outside your apartment where the honking of cars and overlapping sound of chatter created a song of its own. You spared the TV a glance before returning your attention to the clothes scattered around the bed, sorting through them and folding each article. It still felt odd, in some way, to return to a normal life after years of being kept busy with S.H.I.E.L.D. So many missions, so many close calls, so many enemies. You could hardly recall the distant, fuzzy memories of your life before becoming an agent. It'd all been so different back then. 

Your fingers curled around a small shirt and you raised it up, fondly gazing over the Captain America t-shirt your son had begged you to buy a few weeks prior. Your little reason for leaving the agent's life behind, to ensure he'd never become collateral damage or just another civilian casualty. Still, the news of his existence had been the only reason you left. If it'd been up to you, you would've continued working alongside Nick Fury and the Avengers team. But life forged another path for you. 

With a soft sigh, you folded up his shirt and set it atop his pile of clothes. You scooped them up into your arms and headed toward his bedroom, delicately setting the small tower of clothes on the bed. The sound of the dryer stopped and you hummed quietly to yourself, stepping out of his room and making your way through the apartment to the small laundry room, picking up the basket along the way. You set the basket down and popped open the dryer, crouching down and tugging the warm, dried clothes into the basket until the dryer was empty. You slipped your fingers around the handles and rose, only to flinch at the sight of the figure watching you. The basket slipped from your hands, landing on the ground with a soft thump as you instinctively backed up. Your mind flickered through the various spots where you'd hidden different guns and knives before finally recognizing the man.

"You need a better security system," Bucky murmured, his arms folded over his chest as his gaze trailed over the hallway he stood in. You inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest and feeling your heart thumping wildly, the beginning of a headache creeping in from the scare. 

"Christ, Barnes," You exhaled, rubbing your fingertips over your forehead. "I have a front door."

"Didn't want to start rumors that could get back to your boy." He responded with a light shrug, his vibrant blue eyes returning to your figure. "Cute kid, by the way. It's a good thing he takes after you." 

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes, noting the way the corner of his lips quirked up into a faint amused smile. "Yeah, whatever, Barnes. Why are you here, anyway? You couldn't have given me a call?" You asked him, picking the basket back up from the floor and stepping out into the hallway. 

"I don't have your number," Bucky said, following you to the living room and arching a brow when you dumped the clothes over the couch. He tore his attention away from the mess to focus on you again and cleared his throat. "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes, and you're part of my efforts to make amends. As per my pardon... and therapy sessions, I am to make amends with those I've hurt and fix the things I did as the Winter Soldier."

"You broke into my apartment-"

"The window by the fire escape was unlocked. I'd hardly call it breaking in. Like I said, you need a better security system." You squinted at him. Bucky sighed heavily. "Yes, I broke into your apartment."

"Uh-huh, so, you did that to... apologize? For what, exactly? Shooting at me? Dislocating my shoulder? Nearly breaking my leg? Trying to kill my boss and coworkers?" 

"All- All of that. I... I was in the neighborhood and you were on my list. I thought I'd stop by and apologize for the damage I caused or could've caused." Bucky explained, reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out a small notebook. He slipped the pen out from the spiral and flipped through the pages until he stopped on one and crossed something out. With that done, he tucked it back into his coat. "I was actually hoping I could make it up to you."

"Yeah?" You raised your brows at him and began sorting through your laundry, shaking your head lightly at the whole ordeal. "And how exactly are you planning to do that, Barnes?"

"This isn't exactly how I'd do this typically but... I thought I could take you out to dinner."

[mrscoulter5ever]

Truth Requires Bravery (Ch2)

Chapter 2:

I tried my best to put on a brave face while walking to my desk, but Candor are notoriously good at seeing through bullshit. James, one of the Candor security guards, asked me if I was alright. Shit. How was I going to get around this? I could lie, but he'd spot in a second. While most of Candor probably knew I was divergent, I also wasn't exactly keen to remind them, especially considering the timing. I needed to tell him enough of the truth to sound convincing, but not so much that I put myself in danger.

"Just a bit nervous, James. Saw something on TV that really scared me," I replied. As much as Candor were honest, I was also part Erudite, and I was generally cautious in what information I chose to share with others. My TV habits, thankfully, were not one of them, so James had no idea that I usually watched the evening news broadcast.

"Ah, yeah, those scary movies'll get to ya! Least you weren't watching one right before bed, ya might not've slept for a week!"

"Yeah, that's true."

James nodded and returned to his post. I finished setting myself up at my desk. Six hours passed fairly uneventfully, and I began to find myself calming down.

Suddenly, just past midnight, the Candor guards started making a commotion, running around and communicating on their radios. Some even left the main hall and went outside. Since James was the closest guard to my desk, I managed to grab his shoulder and hastily get his attention.

"James, what's going on?!"

"Some Dauntless soldiers were spotted at the entrance to Candor. We're sending some guards out to meet them, while some of us are staying here just in case. You shouldn't need to worry about it, we have enough guards stationed tonight. Just stay put at your desk here and you should be fine. If anything happens, just follow my lead" Fuck. Well then. Unlike the security guards, I had absolutely zero self defense training, so I instead shakily returned to my desk, feeling much like a sitting duck.

I sat there, wide eyed, watching the commotion. Part of me was terrified, and the small Dauntless part of me hated myself for being so terrified, and for doing nothing. That part was tempered by the Erudite part, which recognized that I had no real training that would be of any use, but the internal Dauntless rage grew regardless. I resolved myself that I couldn't physically fight back, sure, but that didn't mean I had to make it easy for the Dauntless. I still had my Erudite smarts and Candor tongue. Surely I could at least piss them off a little bit. Maybe that was a dumb idea, but my Dauntless rage was quickly overcoming my Erudite rationality.

Finally, with a loud crash, a large wave of Dauntless soldiers stormed in through the glass entryway to Candor, cuffing or shooting down many of the guards stationed in the main hall. I noticed that James had been shot in his side, and I quickly felt my ire begin to reach a boiling point.

Now red hot with anger, I focused my eyes on the two men at the head of the Dauntless soldiers. Both were, admittedly, fucking hot. I almost felt a brief pinch of regret at myself for transferring to Candor and not Dauntless. But of course, if I had done that, I would have been dead the minute anyone found out I was Divergent. Instead, I took a minute to inspect the two men. One was younger, with brown hair and narrow green eyes. His face held a cocky smirk that made me want to punch him so badly. Trying to remain calm, I turned my attention to the other man. Now here was a specimen of masculinity. His blonde hair was neatly shaven, and his face looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't but my finger on it. He carried himself with an air of authority that, in full Candor honesty, was starting to turn me on a little bit. He was the most ripped man I have ever seen - just muscles upon muscles upon muscles. And I thought the Candor security guards were in shape. He made them look like prepubescent boys. Still breathing heavily from his dramatic entrance, the blonde man's chiseled torso (as if sculpted by Zeus himself!) heaved up and down. I couldn't help but find myself staring at a bead of sweat that trickled down his chest and underneath his black tank top. Thankfully I don't think he noticed, or else that would have been incredibly embarrassing. Fixing myself with a neutral yet haughty gaze, a remnant of my Erudite upbringing, I waited calmly for his approach, doing my best to keep my own arousal in check.

Moments later, I was face to face with perhaps one of the finest men I have ever seen - that is, until he opened his mouth. "Who are your Divergents," he barked at me, in a tone that left no room for argument. His dismissive brusqueness rubbed me the wrong way.

"Last I checked, I don't answer to you." I replied cooly, while raising an eyebrow.

Clearly, that was not the answer he wanted to hear. He growled, leaning in until he was inches from my face, his ice blue eyes staring directly into my soul. "I'm going to say this again. Who. Are. Your. Divergents."

"I can see why you're not Erudite," I answered smugly, "nevertheless, I'll repeat it again for your Neanderthalic brain. I. Don't. Answer. To. You." I accentuated this last word by pointing my finger into his chest.

His stormy blue eyes filled with rage and he threw me up against the wall, his hands wrapped around my neck as if to choke me. My eyes widened with shock, but then quickly returned to their rage-filled glare. I faintly heard someone laughing in the background. Keeping my eyes firmly fixated on the blonde man in front of me, I quickly scoped out of my peripheral vision that it was the green eyed man who was laughing.

"Let her go, Eric. If you kill her we won't get to have any fun with her. And she is pretty feisty," he said with a wink, then looking me up and down salaciously. I couldn't help my nose curling up in disgust. I'm very glad I didn't transfer to Dauntless if this is what their men are like.

"Shut up, Peter," (so that was his name) the blonde man said, albeit dropping his hold on me. I tried to thinly breathe, wanting to catch my breath but not make it obvious the effect his hold had had on me.

Next thing I knew, the blonde man - Eric - was pointing a loaded gun at my forehead. "Now, since you won't do this the easy way, we're going to do this the hard way. You're going to come with us, and we would appreciate your Candor honesty," he said, with a pointed look at me.

I saw no way out of this situation but to comply, but I sure as hell wasn't about to comply so easily. I grabbed the gun and pulled the butt of it so that it was resting directly against my forehead. I saw a bit of shock and - was that respect? - flash in his eyes at my bold move.

"I'll come with you," I said, "but let me clear, I don't have to answer to you." I glared firmly at him.

His lips pursed and he returned my glare. I continued to stare him down for what felt like hours. I felt like I couldn't breathe, the way his smoldering blue eyes gazed at me.

"Fine," he muttered grumpily, looking at me one last time with a look that, if I didn't know any better, could have been classified as admiration, or even - desire? Fuck, my attraction to this man was clearly getting to me. He averted his eyes and I couldn't help but smirk at having won our little staring contest.

I turned around and he shoved the gun into my back. I threw my chin up in a display of false confidence, thankful that I was surrounded by Dauntless who were not trained to see through such facades, and began to walk forward.

[puppy-steve]

the magic that we'll feel is worth the lifetime

AKA EDDIE'S BDAY FIC!!!! @corrodedcoughin @potentialheartofdarkness IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!! if you enjoy my writing, please consider tipping me <3

Steve’s panicking. It's the second of October and Eddie’s birthday is at the end of the month and he has no idea what to get him. He’s pacing in front of the counter at work as Robin passively offers her input from where she’s leaning her elbows on the counter and flipping through a magazine.

“It’s the first birthday we’re spending together, Robs, it can’t be something put together at the last minute and thrown into a box.”

Gareth and Jeff weren’t any help when he asked. For the entire time they’ve known him, they’ve never so much as heard Eddie say he wanted any material thing. Jeff suggested something handmade but Steve’s not the creative type and Will and El already have that department covered. He knows this gift can’t just be a simple card and a kiss on the cheek.

His boy deserves something big, and by God is Steve going to make sure he gets it.

“You know you can always just put a bow on your head and say you’re the present,” Robin says, not lifting her eyes from the page she's reading.

Steve rolls his eyes and sprawls his top half over the counter. Maybe Eddie's tendencies for the dramatics have rubbed off on him. "C'mon, Buckley," he groans. "You go to school with him, you hang out between classes, he's got to have hinted at something." He gives her the best impression of Eddie's puppy eyes he can.

"And you're his boyfriend. You're supposed to know these things by proxy." Robin closes the magazine and sighs, taking his hands in hers. "Look, dingus, he's going to love whatever you choose to give him, because it'll be from you. ”

Steve feels his heart clench. They haven’t even been dating a full year yet. He opens his mouth to tell her that now isn't the time for sappy romantics, that this is crunch time, when whatever song on the radio fades out and the DJ's voice replaces it,

"If you're looking for Halloween plans, we're giving away free tickets to see Dio on October 24th at Market Square, right here in Indianapolis. Limited tickets are available, so give your favorite metalhead a treat this Halloween and stop by the studio during business hours."

They start playing what Steve recognizes as Hungry for Heaven and a plan starts forming in his head. Dio is one of Eddie’s all time favorite bands. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that Eddie knows about the concert and just didn’t say anything, but Steve hopes that he can pull this off as a surprise. He won’t admit it to anyone, but the whole disaster with Nancy last year really put a hole in his self esteem and he could use some boyfriend points right about now.

He and Robin both have tomorrow off, and it’s a weekend. No doubt there’ll be a line once they get to the station, but maybe if they leave early enough…

“Robin?”

“Hm?”

“How do you feel about a trip into the city tomorrow?”

[Read on Ao3]

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

Rabbit Foot

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢:  𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 . . . 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽. I𝗍'𝗌 2 𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖿𝗎𝗅 

You should have known that this little trip back down to Haddonfield was going too smoothly. Sure, you had only been here for about two days, but still. Disaster is part of the little towns being, stained into its fibers like the residue at a crime scene. It doesn't usually take long for trouble to announce itself. 

Your mother and father's nagging has been down to a surprising low, probably sucking up to you because you're finally back, even if the circumstances are less than ideal, and the few familiar faces that have recognized you when you were down at the market and gas station were kind enough, welcoming you back after all the years. 

So, you honestly can't say you're surprised to see the white strips of smoke snaking out from underneath the orange hood of your car. 

You curse over the sound of Billy Squier belting out the chorus of My Kinda Lover, while checking your rear-view mirror to make sure the road was clear before pulling over on the shoulder.

This is the sort of karma to expect when you drive a busted 70's Pinto. 

But at least your car broke down on a county road and not the highway or interstate. 

You try to remember the steps to take for an overheated vehicle while you set it in park and turn the volume dial down on the radio. You can't recall exactly what your father had told you when you were only a child, zoning in and out of focus on the front drive while he monologued from underneath his truck. 

Pullover . . . Shut off the car . . . pop the hood . . . let it cool . . . Wasn't there something else? God, if only you had payed attention when you were twelve, but the lawn was just so much more appealing than your dad's life lessons. 

You turn the key over in the ignition and extract it, listening to the engine die before getting out and coming round to the front. You have to squint your eyes against the vapors when you fumble for the latch through the grille. As soon as you lift the hood your rushed by a plum of pale smoke. It makes it a pain to find the support rod for a bit, but you get it eventually, successfully propping the hood. Leaving you to stare stupidly at the engine of your car, hissing like a pissed off cat. 

Now . . . What? 

Calling for help would be your best bet. Your mother is a no, as she's undoubtedly working her shift at the bank. Your dad is probably passed out in the living room, snoring on his La-Z-Boy, enjoying the weekend off for once. You really didn't want to give either of them anymore ammunition against you, but the only other option is waiting until your car cooled off enough and hoping it will start when you try. 

While you're deep in your internal debate you fail to notice the thrum of an engine approaching and then relaxing into an idle before cutting off completely.

It's the sound of your name that breaks you from your daze, and you nearly break your neck to turn and face the owner of the voice. They look just as perplexed as you do, staring at you like you're a ghost. 

God, this person looks familiar. You take in his dark doe like eyes, and the mop of curls on his head while he stands a bit awkwardly on the other side of the road next to a gold and black motorcycle. And then it clicks. 

"Corey?" 

"They're talking about me already I see," you joke, a small playful smile curling across your face, easily falling into the swing of conversation. Even after all these years.

A gentle smile raises at the corners of his mouth, and he seems to relax a bit, looking a bit more like the boy you'd see walking the hallways at high school and less like a stranger. Damn, you forgot how cute he looks when he's happy. 

"I was scared you wouldn't remember me, " he says as he covers  the road between the both of you to stand close to the side of your car. " I thought I was going crazy for a minute. Never thought I'd see you back in Haddonfield, again. I mean . . . I heard you were back, but I didn't believe it."

"You know how it is, " he shrugs his shoulder lightly, " can't take a shit without somebody hearing about it" 

"Some things never change, I guess."

"Were you expecting them to?"

"No, " you scoff under a breath of laughter, " I'd never set my expectations for this place that high." 

That gets a chuckle out of him, and you take the lull in conversation to look to the Kawasaki parked across the road. 

  " So, how've you been lately? Looks like you got a new ride." You blurt the question out before you can check yourself. You know how he's been. You've heard the rumors and allegations about him just this afternoon while you were at the market, stocking up on some much-needed junk food and a bottle of wine when you had been practically bum-rushed by your old history teacher, Mrs. Brewer. Upon recognizing you she was quick to crowd into your space with a flurry of questions: " How are you?" " How has life been treating you?" "Got a lucky fella waiting for you back home?" But once all of the formalities were out of the way she was quick to jump into the local gossip that you missed over the years.

Mostly boring disputes between neighbors and little details about ex classmates moving on and starting families. You blanked most of it out, nodding and humming absentmindedly until an old name caught your attention.

" Have you heard about Corey Cunningham? I don't know if you shared any classes with him back in the da - oh, no matter! Well, just a few years after you left, on Halloween - of course it was! - he had been babysitting the Allen's kid. Well . . . " She scoffs in an almost amused manner before leaning in and whispering like she was telling you a big secret. " He had killed him just as the parents had come home. Kicked the poor child over the railing. Tried to say it was an accident. Got away with it too, scot-free. "

Despite Mrs. Brewers intel, you are already well aware of the incident. Your mother had made sure to call you the night right after that Halloween to indulge you every single horrid detail regarding the crime. You had felt confused and possibly even a bit betrayed.

How could Corey commit such a senseless act of violence?

You couldn't have helped the relief that flooded your body when she had called you several months later to share that he had been cleared of all charges.

Corey seems to tense at the question, not that you can blame him. Instead of immediately answering he glances over his shoulder to look at his bike, probably thinking about hopping on it and speeding off. " It's a work in progress, but it gets me from point A to point B so I can't really complain. As for how I've been . . . " There's a pause like he's looking for the right way to phrase it. " I've been surviving. "

After running into your old teacher, you were quick to ask you father about the incident when you had swung by your parents. He had offered you a little more insight, though his opinion of Corey was pretty similar to Mrs. Brewer's and your mothers. That despite being proven innocent, Corey had been quick to be pegged as a social pariah. "I always knew there was something wrong with that kid. Even before that night, " your dad had said before taking a bite of his homemade ham and cheese sandwich.

So, it was just Haddonfield being Haddonfield then. Quick to cast the stone and pass judgement, as per usual.

Sure, you and Corey had never extremely close growing up. Apart from sharing a few classes and the occasional chance encounter your relationship was little more than that. But even then, there was no way that sweet, awkward Corey would willing take a child's life.

You offer him a lifeline, " there's not much else you can do in Haddonfield. " 

That gets a small chuckle out of him, and he seems a bit more at ease again. " You're right about that. But enough about me, how have you been doing? I thought that you couldn't wait to get out of here. What brought you back?" 

"Oh uh, my grandfather passed recently, so I'm here to help go through his things and get everything organized, " you say, swallowing a lump. You've done your best to ignore the dull ache in your chest, but it seems to be getting worse each passing day. And the sad look that Corey gives you doesn't help. He seems like he regrets opening his mouth and for some reason that makes you feel even worse.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

" It still hasn't really clicked that he's gone, you know? So, it's fine. I was actually heading to his house to start working on clearing some things out when this decided to take a shit on me, " you say, lightly kicking the front bumper with your shoe. 

"No, it's fine. Don't feel bad about it, " you say, shaking your head. You meant it too. Despite having to deal with countless people questioning you about your grandfathers passing, having heard the news from your mother no doubt, you don't mind talking about it with Corey. 

He didn't ask you with the intention of opening up wounds and prodding his nose into your family affairs, not the old gossips in town. 

"Mind if I take a look?" He asks.

"Please do. " You back away giving him room to work with and watching him as he leans over to inspect the contents of the engine. The smoke is next to nothing now, spars puffs that evaporate as quickly as they form. You can't help but study him as works, wondering how someone so familiar can look so different. Maybe it's the leather jacket, or the little band of silver that wraps around his pinky finger, or the absence of his glasses that used to rest on the bridge of his nose (contacts, maybe?), but something seems different about him. 

Well, of course, it's been nearly three years since you've seen him, you remind yourself, people change. 

You lean down next to him, pretending to help look for the problem even though the assortment of wires and metal make about as much sense to you as a jumbled pile of puzzle pieces. 

The close proximity lets you catch the scent of his cologne, mostly sandalwood with creamy and smoky undertones, a little bit of leather. Probably his jacket. 

He's got this studious look on his face, eyebrows pinched and slightly furrowed. A loose curl dangles above his eyes and it's a little distracting, a part of you is tempted to move it out of the way for him, to push it into unruly bundle of his hair that looks like it has flecks of amber in it because of the evening sunlight.

"So, what were you doing all the way out here, anyway?"

Jesus, since when have you ever had thoughts like these about Corey Cunningham? He used to be the one who would look at you. You would catch his fleeting glances while on your way to class, always pretending not to see the dreamy stares or the faint blush to his cheeks. 

You weren't stupid. You knew what that look meant.

But you had been in a relationship. And despite the fact that a cute kind guy with warm brown eyes had a crush on you, you stayed away. Because you had a boyfriend who treated you like dog shit and didn't deserve your time. But you were young and stupid and had thought that you were in love. 

His head perks up just a bit at your question and he pauses for a minute before answering. " I just like to ride sometimes. Just get away for a bit, even if it's only for a few minutes. " 

"It looks like it may be a bad radiator hose. They just get old and worn out and snap, " he concludes suddenly, rising to his full height. 

There's something melancholic about it. Even after all these years, his circumstances are still the same, if not worse. It reminds you of one distant chilly November evening. You were down at the local park, gently swaying on a swing when you had noticed a figure briskly walking across the lawn. It didn't take you long to recognize it as Corey. He seemed agitated, tense, like he was too big for his body and was seconds away from bursting out of it. His mother you assumed was most likely the culprit. It was no secret that she was (is) overbearing and controlling. Helicopter parent would be an understatement. When you thought of it, you had never actually seen Corey at any parties or out with friend's past 7:00 pm. 

From what you could gather his life was a constant routine of school and occasionally helping out the Allen's family with mowing their yard and pulling stubborn weeds.

You probably should have stayed put and let him walk away. Out of sight out of mind. 

But your body had a mind of its own, launching off of the swing and in his direction. It had only taken you seconds to reach him, and he looked startled and a bit confused when you had asked if you could join him. But he agreed, nonetheless. 

 You had offered him a few puffs of the joint stuffed in your pocket, but he had declined. He didn't want her to smell it, he confessed, and it had been enough to keep you from pulling it out and lighting it up with your Bic lighter. 

You had talked about everything and nothing, until the sun had dipped down low, and it was just a strip of lavender bordering the horizon. Upon noticing the time, you had said your goodbyes and he ran off in the direction of his house to be home in time for dinner. 

That had been the first time you had heard his laugh. You liked it a lot. 

"How much does that usually cost? " You can already feel the worry creeping in at the thought of your already desperate bank account. You really couldn't afford a large blow to it, right now.

"Eh, it depends really. If you do it yourself or hire someone, " he explains, eyeing the engine and combing a hand through his hair. " The part itself is usually anywhere from fifteen to thirty bucks. It depends on the quality and if you get a mechanic to do it for you." 

Damn, this is definitely what you needed right now. When it rains it pours and the umbrella you have for cover is about as stable your mental health on a busy workday. 

" I could do it, " Corey offers you. 

"How much would you charge me?" 

"No, Corey, I'm serious-"

He shakes his head slightly, shoving his hands in his pockets, " I wouldn't."

You can't help but stare at him like he grew two heads, like he's telling a weird joke and you're waiting for the punchline. Meanwhile he looks as serious as can be.

Almost hopeful if you didn't know any better. 

"So am I, " he states firmly.

The look you give him is incredulous. You're ready to argue and he can tell by the way your jaw open to speak, so he beats you to the punch. 

"I don't want your money," he says. There's a finality to it. He levels you with his eyes almost like he's challenging you to try and argue with him. But you don't want to try and go round and round in circles until one of you relents to the other. You're more confused than anything. And you want answers. 

"Why do you always do that? " You step closer to him like you'd find the answer that way. He's not following judging from is lack of response, so you elaborate, "you're always go out of your way to help me. Like the night back at the gas station. Why?"

A smile pokes at his lips but despite his apparent amusement he answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Just a fact. 

"Because you're a good person." 

" So, you won't let me pay you?" 

The response does little to satisfy you and you can't help the huff the gets pushed from your lungs. 'Good person' my ass. But maybe he was telling the truth, maybe it just wasn't the answer you wanted. You wanted that night to mean something more than it did. So that you didn't feel stupid about those old forgotten feelings heating up in your chest. Maybe he was just a nice person. 

Maybe that night when your douche of a boyfriend had kicked you out of his lifted Chevy and out onto the curb of some gas station, Corey had just offered to escort you the three miles back home out of the kindness of his heart. Because he felt bad for you. 

You had felt so embarrassed and useless when you had jumped out of the truck and stormed into the 'Gulf.'  You were at the slurpy machine, filling up a medium sized cup when Corey had approached you. As hesitant as he was, he seemed worried. Brows furrowed and raised with concern. 

He had asked if you were okay, and you had told him you were. It was short, clipped and tired. You had felt guilt gnaw at your stomach as soon as you had responded, but your pride wouldn't let you apologize. 

You expected him to back away, to be put off by your anger. But he didn't. He stayed. 

The two of you would sit outside, drinking a cherry slurpy and a Yoo-Hoo, and he'd sit and listen when the dame broke, and you vented until your throat felt raw. Then he'd offer to walk you home, knowing that you wouldn't call your parents. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction of saying, "I told you so." Despite the fact that his own mother would have his head for having vanished for about two hours without so much as a word. 

He'd guard you both as you strolled down the lonely streets lined with dim lamps, while the rest of Haddonfield was piled in the bleachers cheering on the Huskers while they played against their long-term rivals, the Montgomery Wolverines. 

All the way up to the doorstep of your house where you'd whisper a thank you and goodnight, punctuated by a light kiss on his cheek before fleeing into the confines of your home before you could see the way his face flushed in response. 

Was that just because he was a good person? 

" You can, but I'll just find a way to slip it back to you, " he says honestly. That smile is back. Cocky and self-assured. It's one you've never seen on him before, and you can't tell if it excites you or pisses you off. "We can go back to the garage, and I'll get the tow truck. Come back and get your car. With all the junk that passes through I'm sure we've probably got what you need laying around somewhere. We'll have back up and running and on your way to your grandfathers in no time." 

What the hell, maybe you can convince him to let you pay him once you get a decent meal in him. 

The two of you have a stare off for a few good seconds while you mull the offer over. As tempting as it is to let someone else take care of your problems, your morals are having trouble bending over. A compromise maybe? 

"Fine, "you relent. " But I'm buying dinner."

"Sounds like a deal," he agrees. "You can come with me if you want. It'll be dark soon and I don't like the idea of being out here all alone."

"Hey! " You call over to him, his head snapping up in your direction. " You want something to drink before I lock up? I got a cooler full of water and some sodas if you want. No chocolate milk unfortunately. " 

There's a protective edge to his voice and you can't help but think about how much you like it. You nod, giving a quick 'okay' in agreement before moving around to lock the doors and roll up the windows of your car. The last thing you need is for some jackass to steal your vehicle while you're gone. Despite how shitty it may be. 

Corey crosses the road to his Kawasaki and stands over it, giving it a strong downward push to one of the pedals. Effectively kickstarting the machine in a way that shouldn't be as attractive as it is. 

"What I need right now is you on my bike," he says seriously. You're thankful for the wanning sunlight, or else he probably would be able to see how flustered you are. The embarrassment would kill you.  "Alright, alright! I'm coming!" You call, slamming the driver side door closed, stepping away from the car and approaching Corey and the idling motorcycle. 

You place a hand on Corey's shoulder to stabilize yourself as you swing a leg over to straddle the ride.

"Hold on tight, " he warns.

It prompts you to wrap your arms around his waist and he briefly puts a hand on your forearm and squeezes before gassing up the throttle and lurching forward with a hearty growl from the engine. 

You can't help the airy giggle that bubbles up in your throat, and you're pretty sure that shaking from Corey's body is due to his own laughter, but you can't hear the sound over the sound of the motorcycle roaring down the county road. 

In this moment, however brief it maybe, you forget everything. Your grandfathers passing, your mother and father, your responsibilities, Haddonfield.

It all goes away with the rush of adrenaline that jumps through your veins and the wind in your hair. 

It's just you, Corey and the road. And you think you haven't felt so alive in forever.

Maybe being back isn't going to be a complete bust after all. 

[readyforthegarden]

Bubblegum - Part One

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female OC

Warnings: Shady management? Other than that, nothing!

Synopsis: When Eden signed her recording contract to become a pop superstar, she hadn't realized she wasn't just signing her creative freedoms away, she was signing much more. Her control over social media, her diet, and even her relationships. When she gets contracted into a relationship with some wannabe rockstar name Jake Kiszka, will she finally find her freedom?

A/N: This is actually the first fic I wrote for gvf, last year. It's been sitting in my WIP folder, because Summer in the City came into my head and wouldn't stop. I normally write in the third person, and so SITC was a trip as a reader insert. I kept this third person, I know it's not popular, but frankly, I don't care. I have plenty other reader inserts in the works, so grin and bear it.

🎶 🎶 🎶

Eden sat in her managers office, shaking her foot anxiously as he shuffled through some papers on his desk. She yearned for this meeting to be over so she could grab an iced coffee and sit at home with her cat for the rest of the day.

“Streams are up this month, your last single is a hit.” Bryan nodded, glancing up. Eden flashed a smile at him and nodded. “The radio stations are going to have this on repeat for at least the next year. Have you thought any more of what your next album should be like?”

“Yes! I really want to switch it up-“ she was cut off by her manager making a huffy noise and waiving his hand in the air, dismissing the thought before it had finished. 

“Don’t fix what ain’t broke, kid.” he shook his head. “I’ll make some calls and see if we can get the writers from your last album to work on the new one. You’re a pop princess, and you’re going to be ruling the charts next summer. Right up there with Ariana and Taylor. Wasn’t that the dream you came to me with?” Eden forced a smile this time and nodded, feeling a weight in her stomach.

“Now, your publicist and I were speaking the other day, and we had the perfect idea. Your name is getting recognized, which is good. But you know what every pop star needs to really get their name out there?” 

“An Ed Sheeran duet?” she shrugged. Her manager stopped and frowned, then jotted a note down, mumbling something about that actually being a good idea.

“Anyway, what every pop star needs is a rock and roll love interest.” he grinned. “The bad boy and the good girl next door. They’re hot, they’re crazy, and they’re off and on again more times than you can count. But people will eat it up.” Eden rolled her eyes at Bryan.

“One problem with your idea. I’m single. And I don’t think now is a good time for me to be swiping on the apps again.” she sighed. The last time she’d tried dating in the entertainment world, it was a nightmare of influencers and assholes.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Bryan grinned. “We’ve already picked out the perfect guy for you! No swiping necessary.” a knock on the door made Eden jump. “Oh, he’s here now!”

“Wait, what?! I don’t want to be set up with anyone!”

“Look, it’s all fake anyway.” Bryan said as he got up to answer the door. “You just have to go out and be seen together on a few dates, break up in a few months, maybe a year or two, and then you get to put out your break-up ballad as another single and watch your sales skyrocket.” The way he spoke about it so nonchalantly made Eden’s head spin. She stood up to try and got toe-to-toe with Bryan, but he opened the door as she turned around, ready to unleash hell. 

A tall, slender woman dressed in a navy pantsuit stood there, grinning like the cheshire cat while she greeted Bryan. Next to her was a young man with brown hair, wavy and just past his shoulders, sort of scraggly, like it hadn’t been combed through in a day or so. His brown eyes darted from the woman with him to Bryan, then over to Eden.

“Natalie, I thought you said we were going to meet with another musician?” he mumbled to the woman. She rolled her eyes and ushered him inside, nearly pushing him so he was standing next to Eden.

“You are!” Natalie explained. “This is Eden Beckett, one of the hottest new artists on the scene. Eden, this is Jake Kiszka.”

“What?” the young man squinted his eyes at the young singer next to him, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, you’re that shitty pop singer my little sister likes.” he turned back to the woman. “Why are we here?” Eden’s blood boiled at his comment, her being just a shitty pop singer. ‘I’d love to see him sing a C6 while jumping around on stage in six-inch heels.’ she thought

“Oh they didn’t tell you?” Eden seethed at the brown eyed boy. “We’re the new It Couple on the block, baby.” His eyes widened in shock at her announcement.

“What?! No way!” he protested, throwing his hands up in front of him. “Natalie, I’m not dating some nasal bubblegum pop brat.” Nasal?!

“Excuse me,” Eden scoffed, shooting a glare at Jake. “I don’t want to date you either. You look homeless, and frankly, I don’t even know who you are.” Eden glared at Bryan, who was standing with Natalie, both with knowing grins on their faces.

“Well, the contracts for the arrangement were already signed this morning.” Bryan shrugged. Eden and Jake mirrored each other as their jaws fell open. “Remember those autographs you signed, Eden?” her stomach dropped as she remembered hastily scratching her name on a sheet of paper, what was said to be a birthday gift for Bryans niece.

“You tricked us?!” Jake exclaimed. “What the fuck?!” Natalie rolled her eyes again.

“It’s the only way you’d both agree to this!” she said, as if it were the most obvious answer. “Besides, this is going to be amazing for both of your brands.” Eden glared at Bryan, praying for telekinetic powers in that instance so that the ceiling would fall down and crush him and Natalie, and she could be free of this terrible idea.

“You two are just going to have to deal with this.” Bryan stated. “What’s done is done. Now, why don’t you both go home and freshen up a bit. Your first appearance together is tonight. Natalie and I will send you the details in a bit.” Eden bent down to grab her purse. As she stood upright, Jake was already halfway out the door. She went to follow suit, but Bryan put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Eden, I’ll send something over for you wear tonight. The last time you dressed yourself was abysmal, truly.” the brunette shrugged his hand off her shoulder and marched down the hallway to the elevator. 

Jake was waiting already, his hands shoved in the pockets of his dark jeans. Eden silently waited next to him, the animosity growing between them as they avoided looking at one another. The doors to the elevator finally opened and they both went inside, him slamming his finger on the lobby button, then leaning back against the wall, his head tilted up, eyes closed.

Eden took a moment to take in his appearance. His round face was highlighted by sharp cheekbones, and she watched them flex as he clenched his jaw. He opened his eyes and Eden quickly looked away, thanking god that the elevator stopped and she was about to escape. Jake pushed himself away from the wall and stood next to her. As the doors opened, he turned and shot her a smug smirk that made her face flush. He began to walk out and called over his shoulder.

“See you tonight, princess.” 

Taglist: @trafficwasabitch, @obetrolncocktails, @streamsofstardust, @sammiejane22, @myownparadise96, @gretavanbitches, @mamavanheat, @lunaindigoraven, @shutupdevvie @jakewhorecore @josiee-gvf

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

-

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

[reyescarlos]

someone to you || a tarlos fic

read on ao3 || word count: 6.1k

Summary:

Ever since the start of the semester, Carlos has been harboring a crush on the cute guy in his weekly lecture. When the boy begins appearing at the coffee shop Carlos works at, attending weekly open mic nights, Carlos finds himself falling a little bit more with each song. After one slightly awkward introduction, Carlos goes from being unknown to seen. With a friendship fully in place, Carlos' feelings only grow but he slowly starts to see that maybe, just maybe, he isn't alone in thinking they could be something more.

story mood board by: @sunshinestrand​ literally just reposting this story because Paige surprised me and blessed me with this graphic and it needs to be seen! thank you so much, my love! I loved writing this fic for you. now we’ve come full circle 💜💕

I’ll make the moon shine just for your view I’ll make the starlight circle the room And if you feel like night is falling I wanna be the one you’re calling

“If you don’t say something to him one of these days, I just might lose my mind,” Michelle says with a sigh as she approaches the counter where Carlos is standing.

He chews absentmindedly on his bottom lip as he looks over at TK. Everything to the guy is so effortless. Somehow he makes sitting down in a coffee shop look like an ad as he holds up his mug aloft and laughs at something one of his friends says.

Carlos would give anything to have that kind of access to TK, to be able to share in jokes and to simply know him. Carlos is fairly certain TK doesn’t even know they’re in the same lecture every Tuesday. But even in a hall filled with students, Carlos is always able to spot him, constantly dialed into his frequency like his favorite radio station.

Realizing that he’s been blatantly staring, Carlos clears his throat and looks away, mindlessly pouring sugar into a dispenser.

“It’s just a stupid crush. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well the way I see you gawk at him every week he shows up here says otherwise.”

Carlos can’t help it. In their class TK almost never speaks but each time he makes it out to an open mic, Carlos gets treated to TK quite literally under a spotlight, up on stage singing and playing his guitar or the keyboard.

“He’s really good. I like his sound is all.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Michelle teases, bumping her hip against Carlos’ as she passes by him. “I think it’s safe to say you like his everything.”

He jokingly glares at her before laughing. She’s definitely not wrong about that. Carlos has been crushing quietly since he first saw TK in their lecture at the start of term a little over two months ago. TK has been coming to open mic nights here at the cafe for the last month. Each week he performs, Carlos feels himself fall a little harder, swept up in his beautiful voice. Whether TK performs original music or a cover of something, he always brings the house down.

Michelle glances at her watch. “Oh, I have to start in just a few. Are you okay up here?”

“Yeah, I can tackle the counter. You go ahead.”

She pats his arm once with a smile before moving from behind the counter to head towards the stage to double check the microphones and setup for the evening’s session. He turns his focus back on refilling the dispensers in front of him. A shadow casts suddenly over the countertop, darkening his work area. Carlos looks up, his hand jerking forward in surprise to see TK smiling at him. Sugar spills against the surface, Carlos quickly tipping the bag upright to stem the flow.

“Shoot, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” TK says, grabbing a tissue and trying to clean up the grains of sugar.

Carlos grabs a dry rag from under the counter and wipes it away.

“No worries. It’s cool. Uh, can I get anything for you?” he asks, looking back at TK, doing his best to ignore the way his heart is hammering. This isn’t how he pictured his first substantial interaction with TK to go but he saves face as best he can.

“Could I trouble you for a scone?” TK says, jutting at the case with his thumb.

Carlos holds his breath and nods, clearing his throat, picking up the tongs and a plate. “Yeah, sure thing.”

TK smiles and Carlos can feel something inside his chest melt at the sight. Before he can dwell on it or potentially embarrass himself by randomly saying something to prolong the moment, he quickly puts the pastry on the dish. TK already has his card out, ready to pay for it.

Carlos ignores the slight tremble in his hands as he takes it, mentally reprimanding himself for getting so worked up over his brief and truly mundane conversation with TK.

“Here you go,” he says, handing back TK’s card and pushing the plate toward him.

TK thanks him and Carlos thinks that’s the end of their interaction until TK looks up again and eyes him thoughtfully.

“I feel like I know you.”

The phrasing makes his breath catch in his throat but he quickly realizes what TK actually means.

“We have a class together, don’t we?”

“Astronomy,” Carlos supplies.

TK snaps his fingers and points at him. “Right, yes. That’s it. Man, that was really bugging me. I knew I recognized you from somewhere other than here. It’s good to see you…”

“Carlos.”

“Carlos,” he repeats as if weighing the syllables on his tongue. “I’m TK. It’s nice to meet you officially.”

“Yeah, you too.”

The house lights dim and both TK and Carlos snap their heads towards the stage where Michelle approaches the microphone.

“Hello and welcome to open mic night here at Déjà Brew,” she greets. There’s a warm round of applause and eager cheering from the crowd gathered.

“It’s always so great seeing so many familiar faces and new ones alike. There are still slots available. Our sign up sheet will remain here just offstage for anyone that would like to perform,” she says, gesturing to her left. “Without further ado, please help me welcome one of our favorite regulars to the stage…Mr. TK Strand. Take it away, sir,” she muses.

TK turns back to Carlos and looks as if he wants to say something but the crowd is already giving him a warm, welcoming applause. He quickly takes his scone and hurries back to his table where one of his friends is holding out his guitar for him.

Carlos lets out a breath as TK approaches the stage and settles on the stool positioned right in the center of it. A few people whoop and cheer for him once again now that he’s situated. TK laughs coyly but the microphone sends his chuckle throughout the room.

“Thank you for that lovely intro, Michelle. Very flattering; I love being a favorite but really, who doesn’t?” he jokes, earning a few laughs. “I was debating what to play tonight. I’ve been working on some new stuff but finally settled on just going for one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists. This is The Girl by City and Colour, bastardized by me.”

There are a few more laughs, TK personable as ever that he makes each person feel like they’re old friends. Anyone who has ever heard him play knows there’s no way he won’t knock this cover out of the park.

From the first string TK plucks, the room is completely his. Carlos watches his fingers move expertly along the fretboard. It’s a real sight to see and as Carlos looks away from TK’s hands to his face, he can see just how much fun he’s having with the playful opening melody.

TK gets close to the mic and starts to sing and instantly Carlos leans closer, arms folded on the counter as he watches TK in action. There isn’t a single person speaking quietly to a friend or distracted by their phone. All eyes are glued to the musician on stage. Carlos could listen to TK play all day and never grow tired of the sound. It’s remarkable how his voice floats and cloaks the room, each note nestling in his chest like seeds.

The audience erupts into applause as TK’s final note rings out. He smiles to himself before looking out at the crowd.

“Thank you so much,” he says into the mic before slipping off his guitar and hopping down from the low stage.

Carlos can’t help but to smile as people TK passes give him thumbs up or murmur compliments as he returns to the table with his friends.

Michelle gets back on stage and introduces the next person on the sign up sheet.

The next performer is great but Carlos knows he’s more than a little biased in saying that TK will be the best person to hit the stage tonight.

He chances a glance over at TK and sees that TK is looking at him as he breaks off a piece of his scone. Carlos quickly looks away and focuses on other tasks throughout the rest of his shift, ones that don’t include keeping tabs on the comings and goings of a certain musician.

The night comes to a close, marking yet another successful open mic night. Given that it’s Friday, most of the crowd dissipated as the evening progressed to perhaps party or hang out elsewhere. TK and his friends opted to stay for the entire session, as they almost always do, showing support to each performer who graced the stage.

As TK and his group begin to file out for the night, Carlos waves them off as they say their thanks for another fun night at the shop. Carlos turns his back for a moment to replenish silverware when he hears the quick rap of knuckles on the counter. He turns and is greeted to TK’s bright and open smile up close for the second time this evening.

“So, I’ll see you on Tuesday, right?” he says, hitching the strap of his guitar case up his shoulder.

Brought up short at TK essentially singling him out just then, Carlos nods slowly before he finds his voice again.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll uh, I’ll see you next week.”

“Cool. Have a good night, Carlos,” TK replies simply with the smile that hasn’t left his face. He knocks on the counter once as if to punctuate his sentence and slinks away to join his friends just outside of the shop.

“Looks like you made it onto someone’s radar tonight,” Michelle sing-songs, settling in beside him.

Carlos stares out the window at TK with his friends, one guy nudging his arm as they begin to walk away. Once they’re out of view, Carlos turns back to look at her.

“He’s just being nice.”

“Denial runs deep in you, doesn’t it?” she teases, shaking her head. “Come on, let’s try and finish up so you can have some of the night to yourself, loverboy.”

~*~*~

On Tuesday Carlos makes sure he shows up early for his lecture, standing outside of the hall doors waiting for the group before him to clear out. Today has the potential to be so different from all the other lectures that have come before it. This Tuesday in particular marks the first time TK will truly know of his existence in the hall too.

He tries to settle his nerves by reading news on his phone but he’s too anxious to focus on the words for long. He gives up with a sigh, tucking his phone into his pocket when TK comes bounding toward him with a bemused smile.

“I was hoping you’d come early, too. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much on Friday,” TK says, completely blowing past any formal greeting. Carlos is taken aback by that candor.

“Yeah, I guess not. You were great, by the way. I mean, you always are but…I really liked your performance. I’ve pretty much been listening to the song on a loop since Friday so thanks for the rec.”

Carlos’ heart nosedives as he realizes what he’s just disclosed so openly. But TK doesn’t appear to think it an odd statement. His face lights up, genuinely pleased.

“Oh yeah? That’s awesome.”

“You’ve got great taste in music though, I guess that really shouldn’t be surprising.”

TK laughs. “I’d be majoring in the wrong field if I didn’t, that’s for sure.”

Before Carlos can reply, the doors to the lecture hall open, students filing out into the hallway. Carlos thinks this kills off the chance of speaking to TK still but the guy stays close to him once the doors are clear enough for them to enter too.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit with you today?” TK asks.

Carlos quickly shakes his head. “Uh, no. Not at all.”

He heads up the flight of stairs in the hall, taking up his usual seat. The one beside him is typically home for his backpack but today it’s TK’s frame that settles into the chair.

Carlos takes covert glances at him from the corner of his eye. It was truly so much easier to look at him when he was across the hall these last few weeks. This close up, it’s much harder to sneak and get an open look. But just sitting beside him makes Carlos so acutely aware of TK’s movements.

As the lecture starts, he zones out in favor of taking notice each time TK toys with the strings on his hoodie or his leg bounces restlessly.

The hour and a half passes in a blur and Carlos is surprised to look down and realize he actually still managed to take a decent amount of notes. Their professor reminds them of an upcoming assignment to which TK groans and quickly writes something down in his book, underlining it twice.

“I totally spaced on that.”

“Was that meant to be an astronomy pun?” Carlos cringes at himself but TK laughs heartedly.

“That was a good one.” He closes his notebook and puts it back into his bag, Carlos following suit and packing up his things as well. “But seriously, I completely forgot the deadline was coming up so quickly.”

“I could…if you need someone to go through it with you or anything, I could help,” he offers.

“Carlos, that’s so sweet of you but you don’t have to do that. I got myself into this mess. I’ll figure something out. But, I mean, maybe I could get your number just in case I hit a snag or something?”

The quick turnaround from feeling rejected to elated is jarring but Carlos smiles and says, “Definitely, yeah.”

TK flashes a smile back and takes his phone out, unlocking it before surrendering it to Carlos to create a new contact. When Carlos is done, he hands the phone back to TK who looks at the newest addition to his phone.

“Cool.” TK sends him a quick text. “Just in case you need to get in touch with me for any reason before then, now you can.”

That phrasing sounds like a challenge, as if TK is now tipping the ball into his court.

“I’ll keep that in mind ,” he says.

~*~*~

Texting with TK becomes such a part of Carlos’ daily routine now. It’s to the point where he comes to expect a message from TK each time his phone buzzes as they’ve had a pretty consistent chain going all week. TK’s most recent text, however, wasn’t a Spotify link to a song he thought Carlos might like but rather an SOS to help him complete his astronomy assignment. The message was followed with TK’s building and room number and the entire walk across campus is spent with Carlos’ heart racing until he’s knocking at TK’s door.

“Thank you,” TK immediately says as he lets Carlos in. “I almost didn’t text you to come over but I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing this wrong.”

Carlos looks around the room as he steps in, clearly picking up on which side is TK’s. There are guitar picks and sheet music on one of the desks, two guitar cases leaning against the wall by the foot of one bed. Above the bed itself is a stylish black and white map of Manhattan. Carlos smiles to himself seeing these traces of TK in the space.

“You can grab a seat,” TK says, gesturing to the desk chair. TK sits at the foot of the bed, a small gap of space separating them.

The air feels charged but Carlos is certain that’s all in his head. Being alone in TK’s room is worlds away from sitting beside him during their lectures.

“Okay, let’s see what you have so far,” Carlos says, determined to focus on the task at hand.

They work for about two hours, getting distracted with cracking jokes every now and then and talking about random things as they eventually end up on the floor with papers and charts spread out between them. It’s a mess but Carlos looks over all that they have and draws one very clear conclusion.

“We did it. You’re officially done.”

TK throws his hands up in victory and laughs, flopping down to rest his back on the floor and stare up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit. Thank you. Again. You’re a lifesaver; I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” He turns his head to look at Carlos who merely shrugs.

But Carlos can’t deny how good it feels to be of help and save TK from the stress he’s been feeling with this assignment hanging over his head. TK is looking at him as if he’s a saint or something. Carlos can feel the back of his neck warming up and busies himself with gathering the sheets of paper around them to avoid looking at TK for even a moment longer before that blush spreads to his face.

“What are friends for, right?” he says, only daring to look back at TK now that he’s collected himself.

TK eyes him thoughtfully and Carlos holds his breaths as he waits to see what TK will have to say.

“Lucky me for having you as mine.”

~*~*~

TK has been frequenting the shop more often than his usual Friday nights. Now Carlos has come to expect him here and there but on Sundays mostly where the crowd is far less dense and the evenings are slowgoing enough that Carlos can actually linger behind the counter and chat with him. It’s become a common occurrence for TK to plant himself at one of the elevated seats and work on assignments. More often than not, the books get neglected for long stretches of time. It’s a comfortable routine, one that Carlos has been finding himself growing dependent on.

TK helps him clean up for the night, offering to sweep while Carlos closes out the registers. They don’t speak much as they focus on their tasks but there’s a comfort in just having TK there, to look up from counting the till to see him moving about the room. This coffee shop really belongs to them in their own ways and now they’ve managed to find yet another way to make it special.

Carlos gets back to his closing duties as TK volunteers to put the trash out back. While he’s gone, Carlos makes a quick to-go cup of green tea, TK’s usual, as thanks. TK comes back in and heads over to wash his hands in the bathroom.

When he returns, he joins Carlos at the counter who pushes the cup forward.

“For your hard work tonight,” Carlos says.

TK smirks and picks it up, bringing the cup to his mouth. “If you keep this up, you may never get rid of me.”

“Ah, so you’re on to me then.” The words slip from his lips so easily but TK doesn’t seem put off. Instead the boy smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

Relieved, Carlos takes his store keys out of his bag and heads for the door. TK steps out as he flips off the switch, the shop plunged in darkness as he locks back.

“Thanks again for sticking around and helping me,” he says as they begin to head back to campus. “You really didn’t have to do any of that.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s the least I could do. You completely saved my ass last week and besides, it was just…nice. I like hanging out with you.”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking out into a ridiculous grin. He feels like he’s in middle school again with just how much he’s been crushing on TK but he can’t help it. His stomach always seems to do cartwheels when TK is around, especially when he makes statements like this.

They walk alongside each other in comfortable silence for a time. Carlos does his best not to keep stealing glances at TK but it’s easier said than done. A few times he’s caught TK looking at him which throws him off guard but it’s certainly not unwelcome.

“How old were you when you started playing?” he asks as they near campus.

“I always sort of grew up around the piano. My mom played and she had one in the apartment so I’d sit with her sometimes and she taught me a few things here and there. But I didn’t start taking it really seriously until I was about seven, maybe eight. It was our thing, you know? My parents…things with them went south and she was busy a lot with work. But whenever we did get to check in with each other, we’d find ourselves on the piano bench together. I loved that time with her, even though it became harder and harder to come by the older I got.”

Carlos smiles a bit sadly. But, he thinks, it says a lot that TK is able to be so candid with him about his upbringing. It’s pretty personal insight and yet TK extends it to him so freely. He supposes TK may just be an open guy in general but it still means a lot to be trusted in this manner.

“Wow, that took a turn, I’m sorry,” TK laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind at all.” TK nods at this and continues after a beat.

“I got my first guitar on my tenth birthday from my dad. I think he was trying to speak our language in his own way and I really appreciated it. I took to that pretty well and became a bit obsessed, clearly. Totally thought I was going to be a kid rockstar,” he jokes. “Anyway, music’s always been there for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s really cool, TK. Most people go on a long journey to find the thing that’s right for them but your passion found you early on.”

Carlos’ building comes into view and each step towards it fills him with utter dread. They’ve already managed to stretch this night but greedily, it’s still not enough for him.

As they come to a stop outside the doors to his building, TK stares at him and for a wild moment, Carlos thinks TK might kiss him. TK does lean in but it’s to give a hug, one in which Carlos gladly reciprocates.

“It was great getting to hang out with you tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” Carlos replies, subtly drawing in a breath and breathing TK in as they embrace.

TK begins to pull away after a moment and places a soft kiss on Carlos’ cheek.

Carlos is sure his face flushes and he’s all too grateful for the cover of night to disguise it. They both avoid each other’s gaze for a second before laughing a bit. TK stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Carlos tries to remember how to form a sentence.

“Goodnight, TK,” he says softly.

TK searches his eyes for a moment, almost pensively before smiling faintly.

“Goodnight, Carlos. Sweet dreams.”

~*~*~

Carlos has not been able to shake his walk home with TK. Each time he thinks about it, he can practically feel TK’s lips on his cheek. It was such a modest kiss, a quick peck that probably didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things and yet, it’s all he can think about.

On Tuesday they sat beside each other, same as always and have continued chatting regularly through texts. Neither has made even the smallest hint or mention of what happened Sunday night. It makes Carlos wonder if he’s been blowing this out of proportion or if TK is just as clueless on what comes next as he is.

The latter seems almost comical. TK is perhaps the smoothest, most confident guy he knows. If he wanted to progress things further, he would have already.

Carlos does his best not to stare now at TK’s table. Friday night has rolled around once again and while Carlos is excited to see TK perform, it’s hard to see him and not feel transported back to Sunday night. The phantom sensation of that chaste kiss has kept him up every night this week.

“You okay?” Michelle asks, pulling Carlos from his thoughts.

Carlos blinks twice and nods. “Yeah, just tired I guess.” His eyes flicker to where TK is seated.

Something about him seems off tonight. Normally he’d be the liveliest one at the table but TK seems withdrawn.

Michelle makes a noncommittal hum but says nothing else on the matter and Carlos is grateful for it. She excuses herself to start tonight’s event.

He busies himself with customers who approach the counter as the evening kicks off, the backdrop of performers truly background noise as he works.

Michelle calls TK to the stage when it’s his turn and immediately Carlos zeroes in on his table. TK’s friend pats him on the back before letting out a whoop as he settles up on stage before the keyboard.

“Hey, guys. This one’s been playing on my mind a lot these days. Figured I should do something with it and free it somehow. So, yeah. This is Bloodstream by Stateless.”

TK clears his throat and it’s strange but for the first time, the young man actually looks and sounds nervous. He looks over at Carlos who smiles encouragingly. TK blinks twice and looks down at the keys, brows deepened before playing.

The melody he plays is eerie but beautiful, Carlos’ interest all the more piqued as TK’s fingers strike deftly. The song is haunting, TK’s voice much more gravelly than usual and it’s all so captivating that Carlos holds his breath as he listens.

I think I might’ve inhaled you I could feel you behind my eyes

“Gee, wonder who this one is for,” Michelle says, coming up beside him at the counter for a glass of water.

Carlos can’t even offer a response as he continues to watch TK. The guy’s eyes are closed as he croons into the mic, his shoulders bouncing as he strikes the right notes.

He feels goosebumps watching TK perform and can’t help but to hope there’s some validity in what Michelle is not so subtly hinting at.

TK tinkers around on the keyboard for the last few notes, his eyes landing on Carlos for the briefest of seconds as the audience claps for him. He thanks them and rises from his seat, hopping off the stage and returning to his table— but not without another look at Carlos before he sits once more with his friends.

Carlos feels shaken, his heart ricocheting like a pinball.

He hopes so fiercely that TK’s performance was a declaration of some kind but the night ends for the first time since they’ve befriended each other with an awkward smile and wave from a distance as TK and his friends leave.

Carlos isn’t sure what to make of any of this.

~*~*~

The strange energy doesn’t last long. The very next day TK shoots him a random humorous text and Carlos is glad for the ice breaker as it allows them to get back on track. They easily fall into their usual routine and as the week progresses, the night at the shop soon seems like a lifetime away.

TK invites Carlos to his dorm to hang out Wednesday afternoon and Carlos is all too happy to accept, taking advantage of his free time to head over to TK’s building.

From what he can discern, TK’s roommate is the next best thing to living alone. The guy is never in the room, leaving Carlos with uninterrupted time to just talk and be around TK any time he visits.

TK sits at the foot of the bed with his guitar, plucking out a melody for a song he’s been working on and hoping to debut at open mic. He’s got a pencil trapped between his teeth as he plays, stopping occasionally to jot down a note in the open book beside him. It’s fascinating to watch his process from his spot in the middle of TK’s bed, seeing how he develops an idea from a mere thought to an actual song, to something tangible.

“I hope this one goes over well on Friday,” TK mutters, moreso to himself.

“I know it will. Everyone loves you there and your songs are always a huge hit. This won’t be any different.”

TK smiles warmly at his sentiment. “Thanks. It’s always a bit nerve wracking to perform something new and original but it’s pretty exciting, too.”

Carlos shakes his head and laughs, resting his back against the wall.

“I could never do what you do.”

TK finger picks without even looking at the fret as he eyes Carlos quizzically.

“What? Play or perform?”

“Both. I love music but I don’t have the talent for learning. And performing? Ha, there’s no way you’d ever catch me in front of a crowd. But every week you get up there and knock it out of the park. It’s incredible though.”

TK’s mouth twists to the side slightly before he sets his guitar back into its case on the ground and turns to face Carlos again.

“Lay down,” TK says unexpectedly. Carlos is sure his expression must be bewildered because TK laughs and rolls his eyes. “I’m not about to steal your virtue. Just…settle back for a second.”

Carlos does as he’s instructed and stretches out on TK’s bed completely, his head coming to rest on the guy’s pillow. TK’s scent is everywhere and with the young man smiling over him now as he sits just to the left of him on the edge of the small bed, it’s enough to make his head spin and heart stop. He stares at him as TK speaks.

“Playing is a lot easier than you might think. It’s all about proper placement and timing.” He sets his fingertips against Carlos’ ribcage like they’re keys on a piano.

Carlos searches his face as TK mimics playing and hums a melody. It sounds familiar to Carlos but he can’t place it; it’s something classical, he knows. But his main focus is on TK’s light touches, each press of his fingertips like ripples on the surface of water. His long fingers skate up and down Carlos’ side as TK continues to play as if he’s on a Steinway.

It’s a marvel watching his expression. It’s all make-believe but Carlos has no doubt TK can see it all as clear as day in his mind’s eyes, the ivory and black keys. Though his gaze is fixed on TK’s face, the young man doesn’t lose his own focus and doesn’t catch Carlos’ eye until the final note.

“See? Nothing to it,” TK says, eyes shining with amusement.

It isn’t a conscious decision, that much Carlos knows as he sits up slowly and inches closely to TK, his hand cupping the nape of his neck. He doesn’t typically make bold moves but the draw he feels to TK is simply too much to ignore now.

TK falls silent and stares at him but doesn’t move away, his lips parting. After a beat, he draws nearer as well. Their noses touch, Carlos nuzzling gently before bringing his mouth to TK’s. That first press sends a spark shooting down his spine but Carlos doesn’t hurry or balk at the sensation. He relishes in the slight shiver that runs through TK, the small intake of breath, happy to see that he feels this thrill too. His fingers card gently at the back of TK’s hair, curling around the strands as he continues to kiss him.

TK’s hands encircle his waist, pulling him closer and Carlos is pliant as ever, melding against the man’s frame. The kiss grows gradually, moving from tentative to assured, both guys shedding away any hesitancy and owning the moment.

It’s easy for Carlos to get swept away in kissing TK. His lips are proving themselves to be skilled at more than just offering beautiful smiles.

When TK breaks first, his eyes are still closed and Carlos can’t help but to stare, smiling softly at him when he finally reopens them.

“That’s what playing feels like,” TK says quietly. “An electric rush.”

Carlos’ face burns but TK doesn’t tease him for it. Instead he leans in and kisses Carlos’ cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose. This draws out a laugh from Carlos, a note so carefree and unguarded he’s almost surprised it’s ripped from him.

He smiles shyly and rests his forehead against TK’s, settling down and simply breathing him in. His hand finds its way once more to the nape of TK’s neck, skimming his fingertips lightly against his scalp. TK seems to appreciate the subtle touch, his eyes fluttering briefly. It’s almost hard for Carlos to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s capable of any real effect on TK and yet, the proof is laid out right before him.

All these weeks of getting to know him as more than just the cute guy in a shared class or the talented performer who frequents open mic nights. All these weeks of truly getting to know him and falling even more, they haven’t been one-sided.

“I see why you like performing so much now. I could get used to this feeling.”

TK laughs and places another kiss on his lips. It takes everything in Carlos not to get too carried away but it’s certainly tempting. TK, a musician through and through, knows what to do with his hands. Placement and timing, as he said before.

He’s able to draw out sounds from Carlos like any of his instruments, a sigh, a moan, a whimper. Carlos’ lips feel swollen by the time they break apart for good, his head in a fog.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks now,” TK says.

“Yeah?”

TK rolls his eyes jokingly. “You know, I don’t usually go around serenading guys at open mic nights, right?”

“So, that really was for me then?”

“You thought I was singing that about some other guy? Seriously?”

Carlos shrugs a shoulder, looking down until TK lifts his chin gently. He stares into his blue-green eyes and finds the confidence to keep going.

“It felt too good to be true that you may have been dedicating it to me. I thought—I mean, I’ve been hoping but was too scared to ask. In case you aren’t aware, you’re a very attractive and ridiculously talented guy, TK. You could have your pick of anyone.”

“Just like you could. Easily, Carlos. You’re such a catch. I’ve spent weeks hoping you liked me back. I was out of my mind nervous up there. It seemed like a great idea beforehand but actually being on stage and seeing you watching me? I almost chickened out but I knew my friends wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I did. And, honestly? I wanted to get my feelings for you out there somehow. Music is always my fallback so, seemed like the best bet.”

Carlos shakes his head and draws in a deep breath, letting it out in a gust.

“It was beautiful, TK. Absolutely beautiful. No one has ever done anything like that for me.”

TK gives him a small smile, looking down and playing with Carlos’ hand. “Since we met, I’ve just wanted to matter to you. Is that weird to say?” he asks, pulling his gaze upward.

Carlos shakes his head. “No, not at all. I actually liked you before we even met,” Carlos admits. “You’ve always been someone to me, TK. Never doubt that because I get the feeling that you always will be.”

TK searches his eyes, relief flooding his features before he leans in and kisses him again. Carlos serves it right back, pulling TK against him as he sinks back against the man’s bed. It’s light, it’s playful with soft laughter and even softer kisses. It’s safe and comfortable to hand this vulnerable side over and trust it will be protected.

All in all, Carlos finds, it’s simply natural to be this way, to fall for this beautiful boy and his beautiful music that makes him feel like a work of art to TK in his own right.

[twomoonstwosuns]

the best day

pairing: single dad!poe x daughter

warnings: briefest mention of sex, mention of minor bullying

word count: 1.5k

inspired by: ‘the best day’ - taylor swift 

a/n: i had this in my head for awhile, i hope you enjoy! if you’d like to be added to my permanent tag list and be tagged in anything i post, please let me know! if i tagged you and you’d like to be removed let me know too!

The sound of the front door slamming shut caught Poe’s attention from the kitchen followed by heavy footsteps going straight up the staircase. He had decided to leave work early and surprise his daughter by being home when she got home from school and was making her an afternoon snack. A second door slamming shut made him furrow his brow and he put down the knife he was using to cut up an apple to go upstairs and investigate. 

“Hon?” He knocked softly but only heard silence on the other side of the door. He knocked again before opening. “Hey, I’ve got some apples cut up if you want—“

She sat at her desk, head on top of her arms and her shoulders shaking. The breath she took in shook with sadness. Poe frowned and walked over slowly, not wanting to frighten her. 

“Hey…” He put his hand on her back and rubbed it gently. “What’s going on?”

All she could do was cry, the sound breaking his heart right in two. He kneeled down next to her so he was eye level and she immediately threw her arms around his neck, crying softly into his shoulder. Poe hugged her tightly, cupping the back of her head and kissing the side of it. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t push her to. He just let her cry. 

Her tears slowed and her cries grew quieter until the only noise that came from her was sniffles. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked quietly and she shook her head, a quiet sigh of relief escaping his lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She took a shaky breath in and it caught.

“I…I d-don’t—“

He shook his head and kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

She nodded and hugged him tighter. Poe held onto her as she continued to calm down. He moved back and cupped her cheeks, thumbs wiping the leftover tears away. 

“Come with me.”

He stood up and headed out of her room with her right behind him. She followed him downstairs and he told her to wait in the foyer while he put the apples in the fridge and grabbed his keys. They went out to the car and she got in the front seat. 

“Where are we going?” Her voice was hoarse from crying. Poe started the car and looked over at her with a soft smile. 

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

Poe set out on the road, her favorite top 40 radio station filling the silence at a low volume. He looked over at her occasionally, her head not moving from its place against the window as she watched the trees and houses pass by. The tears hadn’t returned but she still looked down. 

Being a single dad was tough. Poe had to be both mom and dad, which was admittedly easier when she was younger. Left at his doorstep by an ex-girlfriend at just a couple months old with a note tucked into her car seat, Poe thought he had done a pretty good job raising her without a mother. She was kind, polite, and the two of them were thick as thieves. But there were times when Poe felt the pressures of raising a girl, now a teenager, alone. 

He was lucky to have such strong women in his life to be there for his daughter and so grateful to have them step in and help him, especially when she started asking about boys and when her time of the month first came around. Poe was good at a lot of things, but that was way out of his comfort zone. 

He was so proud of the woman his daughter was becoming, but he’d be a fool to hide the fact that he was terrified about her teenage years and all the firsts that came with it — her first kiss, her first heartbreak and, god forbid, her first time. He found himself wishing a lot of the time that he she would just stay little forever. 

Poe finally stopped the car about an hour later and she looked around, not recognizing where they were. Small shops lined the street on either side, big windows with their big colorful displays catching people’s attentions. 

“Dad, where are we?” She asked as she got out of the car. He looked around for some kind of sign and shrugged. 

“Ummm, I’m not really sure. I just kind of drove. Let’s walk around and find out.”

He walked up to the sidewalk and looked back when he saw she wasn’t following him. He gave her a humored smile.

“Come on.”

She looked at him skeptically and caught up with him. They walked by a few stores, taking a minute to look at the items in the window but not going inside. She didn’t seem all that interested, but Poe was hoping there would be something here that would make her forget whatever it was that was troubling her. It wasn’t until they got to the other side of the road that she finally spoke. 

“I heard my friends talking about me behind my back.” Poe looked at her and she looked down and played with the sleeve of her hoodie. 

“They hurt your feelings.”

She nodded and swallowed hard to keep herself from crying again. Poe put his arm around her shoulder.

“Girls are….young teenage girls especially….” He was at a loss. He had never personally dealt with any kind of girl drama before, so he really had no idea why her friends would do that and what to say to make her feel better. 

“In my opinion, because I have no knowledge of how teenage girls operate…I think if you talk about someone behind their back, you’re insecure or jealous. Maybe even a little bit cowardly…because they can’t say it to your face.”

She nodded slowly and sighed. “I don’t like some of the same thing they do.”

“There’s nothing wrong that.”

“I think they think I’m…uncool or something. I don’t know.”

“Sweetheart…” Poe stopped walking and she looked up at him. “You are your own person. If there’s something you don’t like, big or small…you shouldn’t pretend to just because you think it’ll keep them around. I hate pickles with a passion and your Aunt Rey and Aunt Leia don’t understand why…but they don’t think I’m any less cool.”

She bit back a smile. “That’s…not exactly the same thing, dad.”

He shrugged and smiled softly. “My point is…don’t change yourself for anyone and don’t sacrifice your comfort and happiness just to please someone else.”

She knew he was right, he always was…but she couldn’t take him to school with her the next day to help her when she came face-to-face with them. How many more of her friends talked about her behind her back? Who would she talk to? And how long would she feel hurt by this? The questions swirled around in her head. The sadness she had felt earlier had been replaced by anxiety. Poe squeezed her shoulder as if he could sense it and she gave him the smallest of smiles. 

She stayed silent and he kept his arm around her as he started walking again. They came across a store that had a shirt she liked in the window and she stopped to look at it. 

“Want to go in?” Poe asked. She bit her lip.

“Can we?”

He nodded and gestured towards the door, allowing her to lead the way. She walked inside and looked back at him.

“You know, I hate pickles too.”

“They’re the worst.” She nodded in agreement and let out a giggle and he smiled at the sight of a smile on her face. 

They spent hours walking around and Poe let her go to every store she wanted to go to. They talked about everything not related to school until she completely forgot about them and laughed and smiled harder than she thought she could muster up after what had happened at school earlier. She found some clothes that she really liked and Poe bought them for her before stopping for ice cream. They each chose a flavor and gave half of their ice cream to the other, a little tradition they had started a few years prior. 

The drive home was happier. Her phone was hooked up to the car’s bluetooth and played her favorite songs, most of which Poe had never even heard of. She sang along, Poe looking at her when questionable lyrics came up. All she did was shrug and sing louder. He eventually turned the music to his favorite classic rock station, to which she laughed as she protested, and then it was Poe’s turn to sing loudly at the top of his lungs. He smiled widely when she started singing along with him, all the bad parts of the day completely forgotten. 

What was a bad day quickly became one of the best days she’d had in a long while, and she had her dad to thank for that. She knew she always would.

[permanent tag list] - @dameronsgalaxygal​ @cloud-leader​ @multifandomlife22​ @frietiemeloen​ @xxidontwikeitxx​ @justanotherblonde23​

[hobbitingryffindor]

Don’t respond after 9 pm

So I've never written fanfic before, but apparently, I'm pissed at Jane. Please be kind, but also let me know if I should continue. I have a few other rules and scenes in mind. I have no idea if this will grow into anything more. Constructive feedback would be great.

___

Maura was ruminating. It was never good when she couldn’t get through her Saturday morning yoga session, but these days, it was becoming the norm. So after she finished her cup of tea, she locked herself in her yoga room, rolled out her yoga mat, and settled in with herself.

She had rules. They were new, and it was hard to keep to them some days, but they were there because she knew better. She knows she deserves more. She may not have had an attentive family growing up, but she knows her worth, or at least she’s gotten better at reminding herself. She knows what they have goes beyond friendship. She also knows it will never be more. Jane just keeps holding back the final piece of the puzzle. She could resign herself to a lifetime of this sexually charged and emotionally mediocre but never fulfilling relationship OR she could take a step back from Jane and a step forward for herself. But last night she forgot. She forgot the first rule she put in place almost a month ago.

1 - Don’t respond to Jane after 9 pm

Recognizing the anxious feeling that started in her chest, she told herself that it was a slip-up and it wouldn’t happen again. But she couldn’t help but grab her phone and reread last night’s messages.

10:36: J - Hey, you still up?

10:42: M - Just finished Bass’ enrichment and heading up to bed.

It had been such a simple response, it just floated out of her fingertips. She was so used to just always responding to Jane.

10:43: J- Enrichment? You can just say that you were in the sandbox hiding food for Bass to find.

10:44: M- Fine yes, I was reading his namesake’s new foreword in “Skeletal biology and bioarchaeology of the Northwestern Plains” while bass dug up the cactus leaves and strawberries I hid in his sandbox.

10:44: J- You make my night of watching the Sox lose seem like an exciting night

10:45: M- What can I say? We love to party over here.

10:45: J- I don’t know when it started, but you’ve gotten really good at sarcasm

10:46: M- You must be rubbing off on me ;-)

As Maura reread that line, she couldn’t help but cringe a little. She really couldn’t stop herself from going there last night, it was yet another small slip up, that showed how their friendship was always a little more than friendship.

10:59: J- I feel like I haven’t seen you at all this week, is the morgue backlogged?

11:04: M- It’s no busier than usual. Actually a little less so without a murder yet this month.

11:04: J- Give it time, Boston can’t go more than 2 weeks without a new murder. Have you been in court on other cases this week? I went to see if you could grab lunch a few times and I never caught you.

11:05: M- We must have just missed each other, I did lunch out of the office a few times.

11:07: J- You going to fancy places without me now?

11:09: M - Really Jane, any place that doesn’t allow jeans, you label as fancy. But no, a friend from my residency, Erica, did a few guest lectures at BCU. I caught one of her lectures and we had lunch a few times.

11:09: J- I see how it is, replacing me with other genii.

Reading this for a second time feels like a needle in her chest, last night it paralyzed her, she didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t replacing Jane, per se. This was also the point last night where she realized her mistake in responding to Jane’s late text. Even now, she still isn’t sure she handled it correctly.

11:18: J- Any plans for tomorrow?

11:20 M- While genii is correct, you can just say geniuses, you don’t have to try so hard. And, no I’m not replacing you. I was planning on browsing Newbury St in the afternoon.

11:21 J- Great, so I’ll pick you up at 2, I’ll carry the bags and then we can hit up Eataly for dinner? We haven’t been there in a while.

11:25 M- That’s okay Jane, I know you don’t enjoy my long shopping ventures, you don’t have to come. And I’ve got dinner plans, I’m sorry. But I’ll see you Sunday night for dinner.

After that, it was radio silence from Jane. Even after all these years, all the social cues Jane’s helped her learn, she still doesn’t know how to read the silence. Last night she was torn. She wanted to hang out with Jane but didn’t. Now she had to live with rejecting Jane’s plans, and what felt like a rejection of Jane herself.

That’s what brought her here, meditating as the sun was rising, or trying to anyway. Maura shook herself out and realized she was going to need a little help this morning clearing her mind. So she opened up the Calm app and resigned herself to a guided meditation. Maura went through the motions of her day, finishing off with an overzealous stop at Diane Von Furstenberg’s on Newbury just because. She still hadn’t heard from Jane and was trying to tell herself it was okay, they were okay, they were just both adjusting to this new normal. Maura hadn’t figured out what this new normal was supposed to be, but she knew she was unhappy with how Jane and she were a couple in every way, except in the way that mattered. Their friendship was unhealthy as it was. If they were only going to be friends, Maura was going to start making space in her life for other friends and possibly a lover or two. She can’t pinpoint when it happened, but her very active and healthy sex life seemed to slowly dry up the closer she and Jane got.

______________

Dressed in her new Midi dress, and a brand new pair of St. Laurent sandals, she waived to Angela across the courtyard as she headed off to meet Erica. Driving to the Chart House, she couldn’t help but reflect and acknowledge that Eric’s timing was creating a good distraction for her. She and Erica had done their residencies together, they hadn’t been best of friends, but she was always warm to Maura and tried to include Maura in her social circle. A few years after Maura moved to Boston, she reached out when she landed in Providence doing a Post Doc Fellowship at Brown. They’d do dinner a few times a year, trade interesting journal articles, nothing special, but it was nice to have a friend outside of BPD. When BCU invited Erica to guest lecture for the week, Maura decided she’d just drop in on the first lecture, which led to a couple of lunches earlier in the week, and a celebration dinner as Erica was just offered a tenure track faculty position starting in the fall. Pulling up to the valet station, she decided that this was just what she needed to expand her social circle a bit. She’d enjoy her evening, celebrate Erica’s new position and enjoy the late spring evening.

______________

Like clockwork on Sunday around noontime, the Rizzoli’s started to filter into her home. Angela always led the parade, bringing groceries and starting the prep process. Over the next couple of hours Jane, her brothers, little TJ, Frost, Korsak, Kiki, and even Susie sometimes would wander in and fill her house. When she invited Angela to live in the guest house almost 4 years ago, she never thought it was going to be permanent, nor did she think she’d enjoy having her there as much as she does. For all of Angela’s meddling and snooping in Jane’s life, she’d been nothing but respectful of Maura’s boundaries and privacy. Maura treasured how their patchwork family considered her house their gathering place, when it was full, it felt like the warm home she yearned for as a child. The amazing dinners, even if sometimes unhealthy, were a vehicle for that love and inclusion Maura had spent over 30 years searching for. She’d found it with Jane and her family, but she still craves more. She wants more than a patchwork family, she wants her own family.

As Maura was finishing up working in the garden beds Tommy and TJ arrived. By the time she’d entered the kitchen freshly showered and ready for Angela to put her to work, she saw Jane and Frankie had joined Tommy in watching a basketball game. Maura greeted everyone while looking at the TV, she noticed no one was wearing a green jersey so she knew Boston wasn’t playing, which usually boded well for her couch and rugs. TJ was in his high chair feeding himself some plain pasta while Angela sang to him. Maura and Angela quickly fell into their rhythm with this week’s batch of Ragu simmering on the stove. By the time the lasagna was in the oven, Frost, Korsak, and Kiki had arrived and, Angela and Maura joined the gang in the living room to snack on some arancini before dinner.

While Maura and Angela always cooked, the most relaxing part of Sunday dinners was when Jane and Maura cleaned up. Never fail the boys would head out not long after dessert and the games were over. And Jane in her way of appreciating her mother would kick her back to the guest house for an early night, while she took charge of cleaning up the kitchen.

“Another glass of wine while you work?” Jane asked Maura while grabbing the bottle

Maura just put her glass in front of Jane while nodding for more. The pots and pans were washed, the dishwasher had already started its cycle and Jane and Maura were moving to the living room to straighten up before settling in to catch up on their week. Normally all this happened with a comfortable level of conversation between them, but tonight, there was a little more silence than usual. With blankets folded and the remote located, they settled into the couch, each sitting against an arm, facing each other.

“You know mom asked me how your date went last night, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone” Jane started.

“It wasn’t a date, I told you I was going to dinner with Erica, she’s just accepted an offer at BCU.”

“No, you said you had lunch with Erica” with a slight hint of annoyance that only Maura could pick up on. “I didn’t know you guys were doing dinner, I thought you might have been hiding a new boyfriend from me”

“No, no new boyfriend Jane. Although that would be nice or maybe a girlfriend, I haven’t dated a woman since I first moved to Boston”

Jane nodded, her eyes a little bigger than normal, sometimes Maura could swear Jane forgot she was pansexual.

“What about you? You seeing anyone new?” Maura asked, mostly to take the heat off of her. She didn’t know what was worse, talking about her lackluster dating life or trying to appear supportive of Jane's dating life when all she wanted was to be the person dating Jane.

“No, although Frost mentioned his old college roommate is single. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the idea of letting him set me up.”

“You should at least meet him, if Frost is setting you up, I’m sure he’s a good man.” Maura grinned through a fake smile.

“I don’t know” Jane responded, Maura saw the walls going up “ I don’t want to talk about dating. Is Erica going to move to Boston? You know you’ve never introduced us, are you scared I’ll embarrass you?” Jane half-joked, changing the topic.

“No Jane, you have to stop with the self-deprecating humor, you know I’m not embarrassed by you. And yes, she needs to finish teaching a summer seminar at Brown, and then she’ll move up here.” The next words fell out of her mouth as soon as they occurred to her “I should see if she wants to come to next Sunday’s dinner.” Seeing Jane’s small annoyance grow into jealously, she redirected. “She can meet everyone, but please don’t interrogate her for college stories. You already know I was weird and awkward, you don’t need more things to tease me about!”

Jane took the bait “Ohhhh, I didn’t even think of that! I wonder if she’s got pictures!!

Maura just rolled her eyes, relieved that the tension was broken. She really did want Jane and everyone else to accept Erica, she remembered what it was like moving back to Boston and not having anyone. The rest of the night passed quickly, Maura kept the topics to mostly work or Boston politics. Jane could rant about local politics for hours and it didn’t put Maura at risk of gazing at Jane like she wanted to take her upstairs. A little before 11, Jane sighed and made her excuses about getting back to Jo before she relieved herself on the rug again. Pre-rules Maura might have made some comment about how much wine Jane had and how she should stay the night. Post-rules Maura kept her mouth shut. As Maura locked the door behind Jane, she couldn’t help but hope that just maybe, with some delicate balancing, she’d be able to move on from Jane and keep her as a friend.

________

Later that week Maura found herself at the Robber with the whole group, even Susie joined them. Maura was finding her new footing and it felt nice, it gave her a boost of confidence. Jane no longer acted as her interpreter when Frost made a joke, Korsak no longer felt the need to censor his dirty jokes and Susie actually had a pretty foul mouth once she had a few drinks. More than ever she noticed how breaking down her walls, allowed others to break their own down around her. She didn’t feel like Queen of the Dead anymore, she was Maura. As the night stretched on the table shuffled around a bit, Korsak left to meet Kiki, Frankie and Nina joined, Susie went home and Frost tried his luck with a pretty blonde at the bar.

Maura didn’t even notice how slowly Jane crept to her, close enough that her side was against Maura and her arm draped behind Maura across the back of the booth. But she did notice when the vibe between Jane and her started to mirror that of Frankie and Nina, right down to Jane ordering Maura another drink before checking with her. Maura and Jane were a couple, they couldn’t help it. The small touches, the laughing into each other’s sides, even the stolen glances. It no longer felt like hanging out, it felt like they were on a double date. It was too much for Maura, she excused herself to the bathroom to regroup. Looking at herself in the mirror, she scolded herself. She had to get out of there, she needed more distance. How could she possibly have her own relationship if she always ended up with Jane?

“I didn’t realize how late it had was,” Maura said marching up to the booth. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you all in the morning? Those cultures should be ready by 10, I’ll page you when I have the report ready.” All of a sudden Maura infused a formalness into the air that wasn’t there before. Frankie raised his eyebrows but said nothing. It was weird for Maura to leave without Jane, or at least inviting Jane back to her house.

“I’ll leave with you” Jane started to get up.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m parked just across the street. I’ll be fine, stay, enjoy the rest of your beer” Maura responded with a slightly stern note. Jane nodded, “Party pooper, leaving me with these love doves” gesturing to Frankie and Nina, while they responded with mock offense. As Maura walked away, she didn’t see Frankie lean in and whisper to Jane.

Once Maura settled into bed for the evening she decided it was time for her to get out there. Even if it meant her joining one of those annoying dating sites. It was better to be trying than pining. Last week Erica had suggested How About We, it was worth at least signing up. She decided that it couldn’t hurt more than she was already hurting. While she hadn’t opened up to Erica about how frustrated she was with her’s and Jane’s relationship, she had expressed a desire to get out there more and Erica had offered a few bits of advice. If she couldn’t go to Jane about this, it was nice to at least have another friend to commiserate with about dating. As soon as she completed her profile, her phone beeped and a notification popped up on the screen.

11:17 PM

Jane Rizzoli

You awake?

Clicking her screen off, Maura put her phone on her nightstand and turned over for what would be a very uncomfortable night’s sleep.

[aitarose]

AKAIBARA (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: he was everything, her entire world. y/n didn’t know love without kuroo, but she also didn’t know if he knew any love for her—any love at all.

word count: 5.6k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, mutual pining, fluff, angst

warnings: blood, mentions of death, terminal illness?

notes: this is for my muse, lina-chan, since she’s my love—and i catered y/n to her exact personality traits..so you’re welcome loser-chan!

↳ DIRECTORY

Nine petals and counting.

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of the vinyl bathroom sink, head tilted downwards, towards the view of red. Solids and liquids approached the drain, a mix of flowers and blood escaping from her body.

Ten, eleven, twelve. It was unstoppable, the amount of love she was losing, the amount of strength she had to go on. Her legs felt weak, frail in comparison to her usual tenacity and vigor on the side of the court.

She hadn’t been able to manage the volleyball team in weeks, nearing months. Her physical health had wavered, forcing her to resign from her post. Forcing her responsibilities on their coach, her boys having to fend for themselves for the first time since she was fifteen.

Loneliness was all Y/N knew, though she was still an avid student and classmate. It was all she’d felt in the past days, isolated from her friends, her classmates, even him.

Even Kuroo.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from him, from his humor, his laugh, the overwhelming feeling of warmth that he brought to her life. He was her sun amongst Toyko’s sea of stars—but he couldn’t see her like this.

He couldn’t see the blood stains, the coughing fits, the garden of flowers that grew from her throat. She was a mess and he was him, the very person that caused her this horrid disease. The very person that she loved more than anyone in the entire world.

Hanahaki wasn’t uncommon in their town, nearly a quarter of Nekoma High suffered from it in some type of way. It was truly an enigma, a confusion turned infection that made no sense to the human mind.

Y/N had tried to re-work her diagnosis for years, since the first few weeks she’d had it—and despite her knowledge of anatomy and biology, there was no solution to her dilemma, there was no true scientific cure.

And over time, she and Kuroo had come to realize that. While they worked and worked for a way to rid her of the thorns, there was nothing they could do as he didn’t know who her love was.

He didn’t know that no matter how many nights he stayed up beside her, chin rested over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her torso—no matter how much he tried to relieve her of her pain, he only made it worse.

He wanted to help, she knew that he wanted to help in any way that he could—but it was no use. All he’d ever be able to do is watch in sympathy as she’d run out of their classroom and back into the hole that was the public girl’s restroom.

Kuroo was the best person Y/N knew, which was all the more reason that he had to stay out, that he needed to give her space during this time. The disaster that was hanahaki couldn’t infiltrate his life, Y/N wouldn’t let it, he didn’t deserve the pressure—the pressure of loving her.

Thirteen, fourteen, to nothing.

Relief began to overcome her lungs, oxygen filling her veins, the thorn-covered vines retreated back to the place in which they came. It was as if the sun had finally showered through the clouds, giving Y/N the light that she so desperately needed.

Her flowers were strange in comparison to the stories she and Kuroo had read online. Rather than continuous, straight lines of blood and blossoms—her roses were sporadic and unpredictable.

There’d be times where she’d be stuck in the restroom for the entirety of the day, throwing up due to her rib cage cramping and rolling over itself—or she’d be perfectly fine, with all the energy in the world.

Those days were her favorite. The day’s where she and Kuroo would scream at the top of their lungs. Where he’d spin her around and wrap her up in the tightest hug he could muster. Where he’d smile at her as if she wasn’t only his best friend—as if he loved her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted at least.

A light sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, her quivering body stilling as she finally took a look towards her reflection. She’d been staring at the pile of scarlet for nearly a half-an-hour, trying her best not to lose count of her trauma.

Fifteen petals was all it took to uproot her day, dwindle her time with Kuroo down to nothing. It was embarrassing, truly.—that her soul was controlled by a mere rose.

Color slowly returned to her cheeks, flushed shades of pink mocking her with their rosy hue, red lighting up the tip of her nose. Her eyes were weary, blurry from the amount of tears she’d shed, the same tears that had meshed with the running tap water. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N let go of the sink. She let go of the safety of her reflection, the safety of knowing that she was the only person who’d ever see herself this way, completely derailed by love.

Stepping into the real world, the world of judgement from classmates and concerned advisors, she hastily left the bathroom—only for a large, calloused hand to wrap itself around her forearm.

As she rolled her eyes, turning to face her captor, Y/N raised her palm and flicked her best friend right between his eyebrows. “You waited?” She suppressed a grin, stifling a laugh at the sight of his mocking pout. 

“Seems like fan behavior to me, Kuroo.”

He frowned at her words, picking her up with ease as he made his way down the now empty hallways. Y/N squealed, despite being used to his relentless strength, there would never be a time in which she’d expect him to throw her over his shoulder. 

Holding her legs whilst supporting her waist, he nodded with a troublesome smile at any of their classmates who’d so happened to remain after the school bell had rung—to which they’d respond with a simple shake of the head, amused at the sight of Nekoma High’s infamous best friends.

“Fan behavior, huh?” Kuroo spun dramatically as they reached the parking lot, nearly throwing Y/N into the passenger seat of his car, her designated spot. The place where no person, not even Kenma, was allowed to sit.

He instinctively buckled her seatbelt, knowing that she must’ve felt weak and nauseous due to the stress her body had been under only ten minutes prior, before settling himself behind the wheel.

A bright beam overcame his features, practically spreading across his entire face as her eyes met his. “Where to next?” Y/N asked, fingers fiddling with the different radio channels, deciding on a soft indie-station.

“Home.” He replied, taking a hold of the hand she’d placed over the volume nozzle, allowing them to turn up the song together. Though it was brief, him releasing her touch after seconds, it was moments like this where she considered the theory that perhaps she did hold a place in his heart. 

She shook her head, forcing the absurd thought away and rolling her eyes once again at the utter ridiculousness that was Kuroo Tetsurou. She leaned back into the soft leather of her seat, deadpanning at his words. “Your home. You act as if I live there.”

“You practically do,” he quipped back with ease, hair pressed against the chair’s headrest, smothering the thick black peaks, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N. There’s nothing I’d ever keep from you.”

“You deserve the world, and I’m going to give you every little bit of this world that I can.”

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, internally punching herself at the sweetness in his voice, the purity that he managed to sop into every word. Looking away from his gorgeous face, gaze retreating to the bustling city around them, Y/N contemplated his promise. 

It was impossible, the idea that he’d proposed. The thing that he vowed to her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. The concept that she always loved to hear roll off of his tongue, but also wanted to throw out her open window. 

After all, how would Kuroo ever be able to give her the world—when her world was entirely him?

While his house was practically her second home, Y/N always seemed to notice the residence beside it before anything else.

As they pulled up in the driveway, Kuroo carefully parking his car between the stone gate and his grandfather’s buggy, both of their ears perked to the familiar sound of none other than Kozume Kenma. 

“You’re spending the night again?” He questioned peering over the fence, recognizing the extra duffel packed along with Y/N’s school bag. “You were just over last week. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other by now.”

Kuroo shook his head, making his way around the hood and opening the passenger door. “No way, pudding head.” He shouted, resting his elbow on the roof whilst slinging the small pack over his shoulder. “Only thing I’d ever get sick of is your cute little attitude.”

Y/N giggled, squinting her eyes to see the nonchalant expression that was undoubtedly gracing Kenma’s features. She wasn’t exactly close with him, having little to nothing in common other than their giant of a friend, but still held great respect for his dedication. 

Dedication as in the value to which he held his friendship with Kuroo.

Though she’d known their captain longer, there were times in which she wasn’t able to be by his side during matches or breakdowns. This usually having to do with her hanahaki forcing her to be immobile.

But it always turned out alright, since Kenma was there. He was always there to help, even when she’d forget to send him a warning text message or quick heads up. He was reliable as he was pessimistic, a truly unconventional friend that Y/N would be grateful for until the very end.

As Kuroo took her bags inside the house, insisting that he had to help even though she claimed that her muscles were feeling perfectly fine, Y/N waved to the younger boy, casually approaching his small figure.

Her steps were small, fallen leaves crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers. Autumn was beautiful this year, the oranges and yellows mixing together like the perfect sunset.

It was complementary, the colors—they reflected the sky in a dream-like synchronization. The last time fall had landed upon Japan, she and Kuroo had spent the entire day nestled together, jumping in the multiple piles of leaves and sipping spiced drinks by the fireplace.

While the memories were happy and nostalgic, they were a distraction. Nothing but recollections of false hope and ideologies that she’d ingrained into her brain as convincing factors that he did indeed love her—that he had just an inch of his heart that was completely reserved for her.

Kenma immediately opened his mouth, interrupting Y/N before she could ask him all about how his school day had gone. Her jaw dropped, the statement being said was unexpected, out of box in the current moment of relaxation.

“You still have hanahaki.” He looked straight into her eyes as if he were challenging her. If Y/N could see into his brain, there was no doubt that the gears would be turning rapidly in synchrony. “You’ve had it for years, Y/N. A normal person would’ve given up by now.”

She frowned, her lips curving into a downward arc, slightly appalled by the bluntness of his words, before furrowing her brows while she came up with an understandable response.

Her relationship with Kenma was civil, never straying from one of acquaintances, but there were sparse moments like this in which he’d blatantly say something personal—something that made her think that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t think my case falls under the normal category.” Y/N whispered, choosing to reply with honesty over falsehood, while both of their gazes fled to Kuroo, who’d cheered as he successfully managed to unlock the front door with his hands full of bags. 

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she continued with a love-struck radiance. As if on natural instinct, her legs began to move towards the person that was her heart, abandoning Kenma to his side of the fence. 

With one final glance, she saw him nod at her last words. The words that she repeated to herself every time her flowers became too much, every time she needed to remember why she was here in the first place.

“As long as I’m still breathing, he’s got me.” She called out, chest warming at the sight of her little friend’s approval. The approval that meant more to her than any test grade or big win. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heads up!” 

Before she could blink an eye, Y/N’s vision was covered by the thin grey fabric of Kuroo’s massive t-shirt. It draped over her head like a sheet in the night, the smell being clean and comforting, completely and utterly him.

Reaching up to take hold of the borrowed garment, she shoved his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter rolling off of him in contagious waves. Despite how much he annoyed her, he could be quite amusing at times.

Their dynamic had always been an interesting one. Her being more logical and serious, whilst he was carefree and witty. They weren’t an obvious pair of best friends, but they did have the important things in common.

That being the value of hard work and dedication, whether that came to school assignments or volleyball—they both knew the true meaning of ambition and success, and would do anything to help the other achieve their dreams.

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Y/N slipped Kuroo’s shirt over the tank top she’d been wearing, stripping herself of her undergarments beneath the endless fabric. She tossed her clothes into her duffel, zipping it tightly and placing it on the floor.

The Kuroo household was a place she was comfortable in, having been friends with the boy for nearly all of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stop by and stay for dinner or overnight, considering his family adored her and considered her one of their own.

In their first year of high school, she’d spent a total of one-hundred and twenty nights wrapped up in his arms before his grandparents had decided to permanently mark the guest bedroom as her’s. 

Though she’d grown accustomed to the warmth of her best friend’s comforter, Y/N did have to admit that it was nice to have her own space. Her own space that also gave her the luxury of having the person she loved only one wall away.

As she dug through the right-hand drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste that she always stored in the case that she’d be staying overnight, a rhythm of knocks ricocheted off of the hard wood.

“You ready?” She called out, walking past the sliding shower doors and turning the small door-knob. “I was just about to brush my teeth,” her words continued, stopping as she came face-to-face with her favorite giant. 

His smile was cheeky, mischief seemingly on his mind as he held up his own set of tools. “You waited for me, Y/N?” A sly smirk crept on his face, her words from earlier coming back to bite her in the butt. “Seems a little like fan behavior to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stepped aside, making room for his ginormous body in the quaint bathroom. The countertop wasn’t exactly large, having just enough space for the two of them to stand beside one another with their arms touching as they looked into their reflections.

Her eyes seemed distant, even to herself. The usual livelihood that inhabited her irises was absent, replaced with fragments of the person she once was, the person that had been overshadowed by dirt and disease.

Resentment was the only emotion she displayed, hatred for the pathetic reasoning behind her pain, the putrid dreams she wished would come true—but as Y/N looked away from the stress and worry, she saw him. She saw Kuroo.

Unlike her, his gaze wasn’t resting on himself. His eyes weren’t immediately attracted to his own appearance, choosing to lay on Y/N instead. His neck was angled down, a soft expression gracing his face while he simply admired her.

While he admired her like a boy in love.

They held eye contact for a brief moment, neither one wanting to end the intimate interaction, before he broke away. He snapped out of his trance, hands subconsciously reaching for the tube of toothpaste that had been forgotten by both minds. 

As they began to brush their teeth, Kuroo played troublemaker. Whether that meant making faces or mimicking Y/N’s actions, he found endless ways to humor her, wanting to see the smile on her face as she flipped him off.

The laughter wheezing from her lips was infectious, her body doubling over, forcing heavy chuckles from her love as well. It was a sight to see, two high schoolers in a minimal-sized bathroom, overcome with a fit of giggles—but that was simply them. It was simply Y/N and Kuroo.

With a mouth full of foam, she leaned past him and over the sink, expecting to see a mix of bubbles and white—only to be gifted with the mood-killing sight of blood and blossoms. 

She choked, gasping for air as the small roses fell from her throat. “Please,” she cried, gripping the ledge of the counter with a killer grasp, gesturing for Kuroo to leave the room. “I can’t breathe.”

But he didn’t listen, he didn’t leave. He didn’t cover his eyes and walk away like he normally did, respecting her wishes that he would never see her like this—like a complete and utter mess.

As her airway began to clear, her smiles turned to frowns, embarrassed of what he’d seen, the proof of her never-ending infatuation. However, Kuroo didn’t seem phased. He glanced at the flowers as if they were nothing, as if they weren’t a foul sight in itself.

He turned the faucet on, washing them away from her view, forcing the spray roses to dissolve and wither above the drain—and for some odd reason, Y/N’s heart hurt at his actions. 

It was the first time in months that he’d been present during one of her uproars. The first time in months that he had to see what she went through on a nearly daily basis, and he didn’t even blink an eye.

He looked at the physical representation of her love like it didn’t matter, like it was a pest that he had to kill. Like an unintentional rejection that his instincts dictated, a rejection that she feared for every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered, refusing to meet the concern in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the inevitable judgement that she expected to come from his way—only to feel his rough hand take a hold of her chin, tilting it upwards towards his face.

Nothing was said, no remarks came from his end. Instead, he wordlessly stole the hand towel that’d been hanging on the shower door and dabbed away the blood that had soaked into the skin beneath her lips. 

He was unreadable.

No matter how hard she tried to analyze his thoughts, his actions, his posture; a blank canvas was all she’d painted. She wanted to keep apologizing for the things that were out of her control, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted with a question that she’d never expected to hear.

“If it weren’t for your hanahaki,” he began, brows furrowed in concentration, not allowing Y/N to pin-point what he was so focused on, if it was the disease or herself. “Do you think you’d know that you love them?”

“You know, your person?”

Her response was momentary, the gears in her brain working on overtime as she tried to find the meaning behind his words. Why the sudden curiosity? Did he have hanahaki? Was there someone he loved? 

Clearing her throat, making sure that there was no evidence of her accident, Y/N began to speak slowly. “Being in love is more than just a disease, Kuroo. It can’t be dimmed down to a single flower or infection.”

“I love him enough to put myself through pressure every day. I love him so much that it physically hurts me to think about him. He brings a light to this darkness that no other person can outshine—”

“—and I’d never give up on him.” Glass covered her eyes, tears struggling to roll down her cheeks as her peripheral vision grew blurry. In the midst of her tangent, Kuroo had pressed Y/N against his chest, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“He’s the other half of me, my true equal.” Bitterness was being laced in her tone, the irony of it all settling in. It was unfair. Her describing her everlasting love for the boy she’d do anything for. He was right beside her, and yet he seemed miles away.

“I’d know love for him even if I was healthy. Even if we were strangers, worlds apart.” Choking back the last of her cries, Y/N bit her lip, pushing away the warmth of his chest. “Trust me, Kuroo. You’d know if you were in love.”

For once in his life, he had no words. No comments or remarks that he was dying to say. His only response was a nod of the head, a curt acknowledgement of her feelings, before he turned and said a brief goodnight.

Before he turned and left Y/N with nothing but confusion, thoughts that would keep her restless and awake throughout the night. Itching concerns to creep up her veins and into her dreams.

If only he loved her, then all of this could’ve been avoided. If only he had asked her who her hanahaki was for, then maybe she would’ve confessed. Perhaps she’d be free and untethered from her illness. 

But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t confess. All she was left with was broken fragments of care, leftovers of love that she received through twisted questions and wonder. 

All she was left with was half of a heart, that would never find its whole.

2AM.

It was nearly two in the morning and Y/N was restless, chasing sleep like it was an everlasting punishment. Slumber being within her grasp, but stolen, kidnapped by the stress and worries that were Kuroo Tetsurou. 

Her mind was moving at a million miles per hour, overthinking and overworking the question that he’d asked her in the midst of their nightly routine. The curiosity that had somehow overcome his usual vigor and happiness. 

Panic settled in her throat, the feeling of thorns and stems inching their way up her neck and touching her tongue. She needed water, anything that could suppress the punishment for feeling love. 

Swinging her legs over the side of the queen-sized mattress, Y/N shivered as her feet touched the cold floor. Her steps were light, trying her best to be completely silent, not wanting to disturb the actual members of the household.

The trip to the kitchen was short. An easy route for her after having taken many midnights trips before, since her hanahaki always seemed to act up whenever she stayed overnight. 

Finding a small glass and filling it to the brim with tap water, Y/N gulped it down, savoring every last bit as if there was no other substance on Earth. The liquid ran down her throat, pushing past the vines and forcing them into their home that was her heart. 

“You’re up late.” 

Y/N jumped, nearly smashing the cup on the counter as the familiar voice of Kuroo’s obaachan crept up from behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath before facing the old woman.

Her relationship with his family had grown extremely close in the years that they’d known each other. She was practically considered a member of the family, them always wanting her around no matter what the circumstances were.

But she and obaachan were different compared to how she bonded with the Kuroo men. Unlike the others, his grandmother was observant, knowing of the love that Y/N had for her favorite boy. Knowing of the cause of her hanahaki.

“Obaachan.” She greeted her weakly, holding up the glass as an excuse for the timing of their interaction. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to cause any havoc.”

The old woman simply smiled, approaching Y/N with a loving hand and placing it on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s alright dear,” she squeezed her palm, feeling the younger girl’s struggling heartbeat. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N grimaced, shaking her head in defeat. “But it is,” she admitted. She’d always take blame for her hanahaki. It was a virus in not only her life, but everyone around her. “It’s my fault that I’m unwell.”

“No, dear.” Obaachan cupped her hands around her cheeks, challenging her eyes, not taking her answer or excuses. A sad smile graced her lips, sorrow in her irises. “You’re not unwell..you’re in love.”

Tears grew from the corners of Y/N’s sockets, waterworks beginning to roll down her cheeks at the familiar feeling of the comforting touch of a Kuroo. She broke down, her walls shattering in front of the only person who understood. The only person who would truly listen. 

“Why won’t he love me?” She cried out, pain overtaking her whole body. The pent up emotions were collapsing like tidal waves, storming throughout her heart. “Why won’t I ever deserve him?”

Concern furrowed in the older woman’s brows at the sight of Y/N breaking down. Her grandson’s best friend was one of the strongest people she knew, and knowing that her struggles were this great was indescribably disheartening. 

“My Tetsurou has been a caretaker all of his life,” she started, gently speaking in languid sentences, doing her best to keep Y/N’s attention on her and not her pain. “Whether it was for me, my husband, or Kenma—he takes on more responsibility than he can handle.”

“His heart is so big, so full of love for everyone other than himself.” She continued, her words beginning to settle in Y/N’s mind. “And in the midst of that, I don’t think he realizes that he’s capable of experiencing love as well.”

“He doesn’t realize that everything he could ever want is standing right in front of him.”

Obaachan was whispering now, her voice being soft but commanding. It was frightening, the passion that she held for her grandson. The passion that she held for her dreams of his happiness. Her dreams of him finding his true love.

“While love is a chemical feeling, it has no chemical solution.” Y/N swallowed hard, taking in every single thing she was saying. Letting her statements ingrain themselves into her memory. “This disease doesn’t define your future, my dear.”

“Whomever you choose to love will be lucky, Y/N—but I have to say, I truly hope that my Tetsurou has luck on his side.”

It’d been almost a month since the fateful overnight encounter, Obbachan’s words playing on repeat, over and over again until they grew tiresome. The idea that Kuroo could perhaps love her was haunting, terrorizing her very soul. 

Despite the shift in their energy, the elephant in the room being his unexpected question and her never ending response, their friendship continued on like normal.

They’d go to school, spend time together afterwards, perhaps even have a sleepover, and repeat. It was all the same, not a thing out of place except for a major detail that couldn’t be explained. 

The presence of Y/N’s hanahaki was little to none.

Her flowers decreased, the numbers becoming smaller and smaller every single time she took the time to count. The disease that had become a constant in her life had suddenly disappeared, confusing her to a maximum.

She didn’t feel like she’d fallen out of love for Kuroo, there was still a large part of her heart that was reserved for him and only him—yet her roses were invisible, the trips to the bathroom were down to none. 

And while those statistics had fallen, the number of quick glances, stolen touches, and late night conversations had increased. She and Kuroo did everything together before, but now it was as if they were inseparable at all times.

It was as if his heart had finally opened up, accepted her presence and locked it into place, never wanting to let it go. Y/N couldn’t determine what had gotten into him, what made the sudden change in behavior.

But her flowers were gone and her love still remained. All that needed to be said was a confession, a confession of the love that she hoped was mutual. The one-sided love that she’d secretly harbored for years on years.

Mindlessly walking down the school hallway, passing by classmates and advisors, Y/N contemplated the future of her and Kuroo’s relationship. The future of her heart and if it would ever find its other half. The other half that so happened to take a hold of her hand at that very moment.

Kuroo seemed on edge, his heartbeat was quick, throbbing against Y/N’s palm as he dragged her towards the closest empty classroom. Without warning he closed the door, drowning out the scattered noises of everyone on the other side of the wall.

“Hey.” He said, breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling, his breaths deep as if he’d just ran a marathon on his path to retrieve her. “I really needed to talk to you.”

Y/N almost toppled over, the strength of his grasp tripping and unbalancing her body. As her vision began to stabilize, wobbly from the sprint, she took notice of the classroom he’d brought her to.

Flowers lined the walls and ceilings, potted plants hanging from the wooden beams and arches. Soil was sprinkled over the floorboards, various footprints etched into the dirt. 

He’d taken her to the floriculture classroom—the classroom for the study of flowers.

Silence overcame them for a moment, neither one speaking a single word as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Her confession was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be said, ready to be spoken into existence—but Kuroo spoke first.

“I’ve never had it.” He simply said, his mouth pursed and head towering over her. Before she could respond, asking him what in the world he was talking about, he continued. “Hanahaki. I’ve never had it.”

Biting his lips, Kuroo took her hands in his once more. Rubbing her palms with his calloused fingertips, easing away her confusion and speaking his feelings with his entire heart weighed into them.

“All this time, for all these years, I thought that I’d never known love.” His brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Y/N could tell what he was so focused on. It was her. 

“I asked you how you knew that you were in love, flowers or not, and the way you described that feeling..it was familiar. It was something that I’d felt before, something that I felt all of the time.”

“Something that I felt all of the time for you.”

Y/N was at a loss for words, the confession that she’d always wanted to say being said to her. The very moment that she’d dreamed of was actually coming true, it was actually happening right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t her imagination—it was real. Kuroo loved her.

The smile spread across her face was more than enough to ease his nerves, her teeth were so bright they could’ve been compared to the sun. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she looked, how she was his sun.

“I’m so sorry my love hasn’t been constant, Y/N. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize the patterns, how your hanahaki came and went. It was my fault you’ve gone through so much pain.”

“But even here,” he whispered, pulling her close. His arms wrapped themselves around her body, his nose being mere inches away from hers. “With all of the flowers anyone could ever ask for, the only one that matters is you.”

She could feel his breath now, the soft breeze against her cheeks. Her body wanted to surge forward, connect their lips in a final confirmation of their feelings. She wanted the kiss with Kuroo that she’d been waiting for for her entire life. 

“I love you.” He admitted, not waiting for her response before pressing his mouth to hers.

His smile could be felt between their lips, moving continuously as if they didn’t need any air to breathe. After all, they really only needed each other—Kuroo was the missing piece to Y/N’s puzzle, her heart was finally whole.

As they broke apart, love radiating off of them in contagious waves, overwhelming the room, igniting the aura—a cheeky grin grew on her new lover’s face. 

He plucked a flower from the pot behind her head, presenting it with a laugh at the sight of her rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. Although she found him to be ridiculous, she accepted it gratefully—loving the new chapter that they were about to embark on.

“I heard you like roses?”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[wonder-womans-ex]

‘Cause Boy I was Made for You

By wonder-womans-ex for @inloveoknutzy Sweater Weather secret santa exchange 2020

When Remus Lupin was eleven years old, he learned about soulmates. 

“Almost everyone gets a soulmark on their nineteenth birthday,” Mr. Holliday, his fifth-grade teacher, had explained. “A design, like a tattoo, on their left wrist. And out there, somewhere, someone will have a matching one.

“Some people don’t get them until later—no one knows why. Some don’t get them at all. It’s rare, but some people have more than one soulmate, or their soulmate changes. 

“Can anyone tell me why this might be?”

Trust a teacher to turn this into a lesson, Remus thought, and put up his hand. 

“Because people change, and the person who your soul matches could change, too?” 

“Very good, Mr. Lupin.” 

***

When Sirius Black was eleven years old, his parents kept him home from school. Instead, they sat him down at the dining room table—which was only ever used for special occasions; he couldn’t fathom why this might be considered one—and told him three things. 

“One,” Walburga said, bony fingers and long nails that reminded Sirius of talons drumming on the centuries-old wood, “your career comes first. Always. No matter who your soulmate turns out to be or how you feel about it, you are expected to make the choice that benefits yourself and your role in this family.” 

“Two,” Orion put in, “you are the only person who can prove who your soulmate is. If the reality is something that puts your future or your reputation at risk, lying is the best option. Remember, listen to your head, not your wrist.”

“Three—” this was Walburga again, “—your soulmark, when you get it, will remain covered at all times. No one else is permitted to see it. Are we clear?”

Sirius nodded. 

“Speak up!”

“Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.”

***

When Remus Lupin was thirteen years old, he had his first kiss. It was with a girl from his first aid course to whom he’d never really talked before, and it was wet and clumsy and didn’t taste very nice. In six years when he got his soulmark, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name. 

***

When Sirius Black was thirteen years old, he fell asleep in math class twice. He’d spent the entire night practicing—under his father’s instructions, of course—and the words in the textbook began to swim in front of his eyes. 

His mother slapped him across the cheek when she found out. Though he told no one for a very long time, that was when he started drinking coffee. 

***

When Remus Lupin was fifteen years old, he googled what if your soulmate doesn’t love you. 

***

When Sirius Black was fifteen years old, he found out what it was like to be famous. He enjoyed it, at first. There was so much to enjoy: the attention from his parents, the people who recognized him in public and smiled, and the hockey. 

The hockey was everything. 

He wouldn’t have thought so, but it was freeing, really, to be on the ice, doing what he loved, and know that the whole world was watching. It showed him he was enough—better than enough. He was the best. He’d been working towards being best his whole life, and now he finally got to feel good about it. What wasn’t to like about that?

Amycus Carrow, apparently. The first guy on his team to notice he was different. “Queer,” he whispered, as Sirius packed his gear up. 

Sirius wasn’t sure who he was trying to prove something to by sleeping with Janie Clearwater—Amycus or himself. 

***

When Remus Lupin was seventeen years old, he and his mom picked his little brother Julian up from daycare. Jules had a crude drawing of a star on his wrist in green washable marker. 

“My teacher has one! So I wanted one too!” 

Remus smiled, ruffling Julian’s hair. 

That night, he locked his bedroom door and looked up Sirius Black. Video after video of slapshots, passes, interviews, until he finally drifted off to sleep thinking that’s the sort of person I want to be loved by. 

***

When Sirius Black was seventeen years old, he had his first panic attack. He wasn’t sure what triggered it; he wasn’t sure how he pulled himself out, but he ran a thumb over the red marks where his fingernails had dug into his skin and tried not to cry.

***

When Remus Lupin was nineteen years old, everything went wrong. He woke up on his birthday to his wrist itching, and it took all his willpower not to look at it. He wasn’t quite ready yet. 

It was like Schrödinger’s cat, he reasoned—if he didn’t look, he couldn’t confirm what had been nagging at the back of his head for a while now. He couldn’t deny it, either, but it was better than nothing. 

Julian ran to hug him when he got downstairs, grinning to show off his gap-toothed smile. “I got you a present! Wanna know what it is?”

“I think,” Remus told him, “I’m about to find out anyway.”

Two weeks later, Fenrir Greyback approached him in the locker room. 

***

When Sirius Black was nineteen years old, he found himself signed to an NHL team he wasn’t supposed to be on and with a soulmark he could make neither head nor tail of: a silver wolf and black dog, intertwined like yin and yang, two crossed hockey sticks behind them. He remembered, distantly, being told that soulmarks were meant to make sense. 

The black dog was probably meant to represent him—black dog, dog black (he still hadn’t forgiven his parents for that one)—and the hockey sticks almost definitely had something to do with, well, hockey, but the wolf he had no idea about.  

***

It is now that these two stories meet. There is a split second, a fraction of time, and it seems as though the whole world is holding its breath. Will their paths cross, only to continue on their separate ways? Will they travel together for a time, before they are destined to part once more?

“Hello,” says Remus, and when Sirius holds his hand out coldly, their fate is decided. 

***

“Pots, c’mere a second!” 

Sirius is happy, almost. He’s got the team—he’s one of them, now, really and truly, but there’s something still off. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to. 

“I’m coming, Captain! Keep your head on!”

James comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi. What do you need?”

“Please poke Dumo.” A few of the guys chuckle, and this makes Sirius smile. He likes making other people laugh. 

“What, and you needed me for that? You couldn't do it yourself?”

Finn walks into the room, then, jersey half on. “Why do it at all? What did poor old Dumo do to you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Pascal says from where he’s sitting by his locker. “Respect your elders!”

“Elder, you say? Edging on retirement, are you?”

“Tais-toi!” 

Glancing over to Remus, Sirius allows the barest flicker of a smile to pass over his face. He gets one in return. 

“Alright, everyone get moving,” Coach tells them, opening the door and surveying where they’re all arranged, faces like guilty puppies. “You’re paid to play hockey, not sit on your asses and gossip. Practice starts in five minutes, or you run laps around the outside of the rink. In skates.”

Most of them groan, and Kasey downs a Powerade. “Well, boys, that’s my cue.”

James is the next to go, then Finn, then Logan. Leo and Talker continue their argument—something about George Harrison; Sirius isn’t really listening—out onto the ice, and Adam follows them with Olli and Nado close behind. Dumo winks at Sirius before he goes, too, and then it’s just the two of them. 

“What did he do?” Remus asks, after Sirius has laced and relaced his left skate three times. “Dumo, I mean.” 

“Nothing much. Just… well, if you must know, he put shaving cream in the fridge, once. Guess what I had on my waffles that morning.” 

“Waffles aren’t on your diet plan.”

“It was last year.”

“And you waited until now to get James to poke him?”

He knows Remus can see right through him. He always can. “Never question the methods of a hockey player, Loops.”

He meant it as a joke, but Remus stiffens for some reason, jaw clenching and eyes darting away. There’s an awkward pause before Sirius says, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat, trying in vain to find something else to say. He would be lying if he said Remus didn’t mean something to him—he knows it. But, after all, knowing something and acknowledging it are two very different things. 

Sirius runs the laps. 

***

That night, after practice, Remus is about to head for the bus station when Sirius steps in front of him. He’s walking backwards, even with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, and Remus isn’t ashamed to say he’s a little impressed. (From a purely objective point of view, of course. It has nothing to do with Sirius and everything to do with the skill it would take, hypothetically, to do such a thing.) (He’s not fooling anyone, least of all himself.) 

“Want a lift?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that.”

Remus rolls his eyes; he pretends to think about it. “All right,” he says, finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I get to choose the music.”

Sirius lets out one loud ‘ha!’  It’s the most beautiful thing Remus has heard in a long time. (That would go well: “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. No need to put on the radio, I’ll be content if you just keep laughing.”) (There’s a reason people like him are off to the side, out of sight, instead of right in the spotlight with a microphone.)  

Remus is glad that Sirius waits until he’s parked outside Remus’s apartment building to bring up their earlier conversation. It says something that they say “So, about this evening—” in unison, but Remus isn’t going to think about that. 

“You go first,” Sirius tells him, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Please.”

“I suppose,” Remus says, slowly, “That I haven’t quite been honest with you. Any of you. I wasn’t always a PT.”

“Of course not. You’re my age. You can’t have always worked for the Lions—before that you were a teenager. A student.”

Remus shakes his head. “No. Before that I was a player.” 

“You played? Why’d you stop?”

“Bad hit,” he says, shrugging. “I’m over it. But I… I know what it’s like. The pressure. The rules. So, if you need someone to talk to… just remember—I know what the game does to a guy. You’re not the only one who’s been told to be something you aren’t by someone who forgets you’re a person off the ice, too.

“See you tomorrow, Cap. Thanks for the ride.” 

***

Sirius is probably the one person in history who has managed to burn eggs without even turning the stove on. 

“How on earth did that happen?” James asks when Sirius phones him. 

“I dropped them into the toaster—hey! Stop laughing! It could happen to anyone!”

“Yes,” he hears from the other end of the line, “But it didn’t. It happened to you.”

It takes exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds after hanging up on James for Sirius to decide to call Remus. Cooking failures might not have been quite what Remus meant when he said Sirius could talk to him, but it’s the problem at hand right now. 

(Remus laughs just as hard as James, but at least he has the decency to apologize for it afterwards.) 

“Well,” he says, once he’s calmed down, “What are you going to eat now?” 

“I’m not sure. Cereal?”

“Practice is in two and a half hours. You need more than that.”

“I’ll be—”

“If you end that sentence with ‘fine,’ I’ll take the laces out of your skates and strangle you with them. Do you want me to walk you through, I dunno, a pancake?” 

“Sure. What do I need?”

“Flour, butter, eggs, milk…”

Twenty minutes later Sirius is left with milk on his shirt, flour in his hair, butter practically everywhere else, and a microwave that won’t start. 

“I think,” he tells Remus, “I should have cereal.”

“You are going to eat a pancake if it’s the last thing I do—”

“Why don’t you just come over here and make it for me, then? I’m sure you’ll have more success.” 

He holds his breath for a moment, hoping this wasn’t a step too far, before Remus responds. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be over in… half an hour?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Click. 

The instant the call is over, Sirius opens the freezer and grabs one of the popsicles he secretly has stashed there. They’re not part of his diet plan, but he needs one. Then he takes a sponge and starts trying to get the butter out of the sole of his shoe. 

***

The first thought that crosses Remus’s mind is that Sirius’s tongue is purple from one of the popsicles he thinks no one knows about. If Remus kissed him, he’d probably taste like grapes. (The thought is banished from his mind the moment it enters.) 

“So,” he says, surveying the damage. “I am going to teach you how to make a pancake.” 

Sirius, it turns out, is infinitely better at following instructions when they’re simple, and the two of them work out a system quickly. Remus makes the pancake, Sirius gets the ingredients. It works. 

“That’s salt, not sugar. Try again.”

(Most of the time, at least.)

 “Really?” Sirius is squinting at the package. “Why doesn’t it say so?”

“It does. Right there.” 

“How am I supposed to read that?”

“You need glasses, Cap.” 

“I have glasses. I just never wear them.” 

“What?” This is news to Remus. Visions of Sirius with glasses and bed hair are swimming in front of his eyes. “Why?” 

A shrug. “I look stupid.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’d be drop-dead gorgeous in anything.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Remus realizes that, yes, he said that out loud. “I mean, all those fangirls certainly seem to think so.” 

“Right. Yeah.” Sirius clears his throat. 

“Anyway, pancakes! I think these are almost ready to cook—can you turn on the element?”

“The what now?” 

“The element? The coil on the stove?” 

“Should’ve just said that in the first place,” Sirius grumbles. “Fucking Americans.” 

“Fucking French.” 

Suddenly, Remus has a spatula pointed at his nose. He has to cross his eyes to see it properly. “Say that again; I dare you.”

“Fucking French?”

“Awright, that’s it! En garde, bitch!” 

And so begins the great whisk-vs-spatula duel of 2020. There is very little batter left once they’re done—in the bowl, at least. Most of it is on their clothes. 

They look at each other. “Cereal?” 

“...Cereal.” 

***

Kasey’s eyes go wide—almost comically so—when they show up to practice together. 

“Cap giving rides?” He says, and Sirius isn’t sure what accent he’s trying to fake but he ends up sounding like a scandalized duchess from the movie adaptation of an Austen knockoff. (Maybe that is what he was going for. It’s hard to know, with Kasey.) “I thought the day would never come.”

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.”

Remus’s elbow digs into Sirius’s rib cage. “You don’t want to say that. He tried to make me shut up this morning—it’s something I’ll never recover from.” 

Sirius almost laughs at the expression Remus makes when he realizes exactly how that sounds. 

“He dumped pancake batter down my shirt!” 

“You didn’t!” The look on James’s face is aghast. “First the eggs, now this—what will people think?” 

Finn looks up from his phone. “Eggs?” 

“Sirius here dropped the eggs he was going to eat for breakfast into his—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” 

Dumo slings an arm around his shoulders. “The price you must pay for telling James to poke me yesterday. Learn from this, mon fils. Learn.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Treachery!” 

Shrugging him off, Sirius grins. “I am the kitchen monster. Cross me and I will slaughter you in a food war.”

“Try me.” This is Logan speaking; Sirius hadn’t even realized he was there. 

“You’ve been warned!” 

***

“Look, there are twenty-two hockey players in this arena, and I ain’t one of them,” Moody says, and Remus can’t be sure, but he thinks Sirius looks at him. 

***

“You’re favouring your right leg,” Remus comments as soon as Sirius is off the ice. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine, really—”

“I’ll try again. Want me to take a look?” 

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Loops.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

They walk into the PT room in businesslike silence, Sirius hoping all the way that one of them will break it. Neither does, and it isn’t until Remus has taken off both his skates for him, now expertly examining his left ankle, that he realizes what he should say. 

“You mentioned you played, last night.”

The finger tracing his Achilles tendon stills. “I did.” 

“Were you any good?” He knows, somewhere, that he’s entering forbidden territory. He can’t bring himself to care. 

“I’d like to believe so.”

“Be honest.” Sirens are blaring in his head. He keeps going. 

“There were rumours…” Remus bites his lip, glances away. “People said I was set for first.”

“What? How come you never said anything? C’mon, you need to play with us sometime, just scrimmage or something—”

“Maybe. That hit…”

“Right. God, I’m sorry, Rem.”

If Remus’s Adam’s apple bobs at the nickname, Sirius doesn’t notice. He certainly doesn’t try his best not to jump to conclusions. (Double negative; that’s a yes, a voice that sounds suspiciously like James’s says in his head. Shut up, he tells it.)

“It’s fine. Really. I just don’t like talking about it. And besides, I like this. Working with the team, even if I can’t be a part of it.”

“You are. A part of the team, I mean. Just as much as I am.”

“Sure.”

There’s another awkward pause before Remus clears his throat. “So, I’m gonna put on some anti-inflammatory gel because it’s a little swollen, but don’t get used to it. I want you to keep doing some stretches, not too much pressure. Capeesh?”

“What the fuck is a capeesh?”

“Just say it.”

“...Capeesh?”

“Awesome.” 

Remus leans forward towards him, their foreheads almost touching. Sirius’s breath catches. 

It’s over just as suddenly. The tube of extra-strength Voltaren is in Remus’s hand, and Sirius feels stupid for thinking he was going to—

Nope. Not thinking about that. 

When he feels tears start to prick at his eyes, he glances up at the fluorescent lights overhead; at least then he’ll have an excuse. There’s a moth resting on one. Its wings flutter once, twice, then go still. Fragile things, moths are—maybe it’s died, maybe it hasn’t. He could read into that, but he won’t. 

He jumps when the cool of the gel on Remus’s hands touches his foot. “Hey!” He yelps, looking quickly down. 

Sirius hates to succumb to cliches, but he would be lying if he was to say his heart doesn’t still. 

Because Remus has pulled the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows, and his wrist is turned to the sky—to Sirius, who has seen that mark before somewhere. 

Somewhere. He’s kidding himself. He’s seen it every day whenever he bothers to look at his own soulmark, and he’s seeing it again now. 

“You know what, I’m fine,” he blurts out, shaking his ankle out of Remus’s grasp. “Thanks, though. See you later, Loops.” 

***

Remus stays there for a second, watching Sirius leave. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he’s not sure he wants to. 

When he gets up to leave, tossing the container towards the first aid kit on the bench and allowing himself a small smile when it lands perfectly inside, blood rushes to his head. He closes his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. 

And then he crashes into Finn. 

“Whoa, sorry,” Remus says, stumbling backwards.

“Nah, don’t stress it. There’s just something I want you to check on.”

Remus is hit by a sense of deja vu. He wonders if Finn, too, is going to leave without explanation. He follows him back into the PT room, Finn gesturing for him to lock the door. 

Though he may be the shorter of the two, Remus knows it’s his job to be the bigger person. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Finn waits another moment before yanking one sleeve up to reveal three paw prints, each no bigger than a thumbnail, clustered together—one forest green, one golden, and one a deep navy blue. 

“Your soulmark.” Remus doesn’t understand. “What? Is something wrong?” 

“There’s three of them,” Finn says. “Which means there’s three of us.”

“You have two soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, Finn. It may not be common, but it’s not unheard of. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” 

“It’s not that. It’s… hey, you can’t tell anyone this, okay?”

“I know. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?”

“Right.” Finn takes a breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “What if I told you I know who they are? Or I think I do?” 

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“Well, I’d ask you if they knew.”

“And I’d say I don’t think so. One of them’s pretty stubborn—wouldn’t see love if it stood up on the ice and sang the national anthem—and the other isn’t nineteen yet, so he doesn’t—I mean wouldn’t—have his mark yet.” 

“His?”

Finn’s eyes widen. There is a pause before he nods, slowly. “Yeah. Got a problem?”

“Trust me, I’m the last person on earth who’d have a problem with something like that. Hypothetically.” 

This, at least, earns Remus a smile. “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” Another pause. “What if I told you, still hypothetically, that they were both on the team?” 

“Then I’d say get the fuck out of here and win them over before they start thinking you’ve forgotten about them.” 

Finn, smiling ear to ear, starts to leave. “Wait,” he says, hand on the doorknob. “You said you were…”

“Gay.”

“Yeah. Do—do you know who your soulmate is?”

Remus opens his mouth to say ‘no.’ He really does. But what comes out—when he takes into account the look of recognition on Sirius’s face when Remus had his sleeves rolled up; the understanding that had passed between them outside Remus’s building (god, that was just last night); the way they’ve always just clicked—is most certainly not ‘no.’ 

“Oh, fuck, I think I do,” he says, and he and Finn run out into the hallway together. 

Sirius’s car is pulling out of the parking lot when Remus arrives, out of breath, at the front doors of the arena. 

“I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry.” Remus jumps. He hadn’t heard James come to stand beside him. “Just packed up his gear at the speed of light and left. Didn’t even shower; he said he’d do it at home.”

So Sirius had been so appalled—disgusted, even—at Remus being his soulmate that he’d left without explanation, with barely even a goodbye. There was a pleasant thought. 

He turns so his back is against the door, sliding slowly down to sit on the floor. 

“Y’know,” James says, sitting next to him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you needed a hug.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Remus says, “James?”

“Yeah?” 

“I need a hug.” 

James gives the best hugs. Everyone says so. But until now, Remus has never been on the receiving end of a true James Potter hug—warm, strong, and friendly as hell. (“I want that on a t-shirt,” James says when Remus tells him so.)

But eventually, James has to go, too, and Remus heads back to the PT room. He passes Logan in the hall, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Maybe it’s Finn’s doing; he had mentioned that one of them was oblivious. Logan, Remus knows, is the definition of oblivious. 

***

“And I think that’s all,” Coach Weasley says, glancing around, “Unless anyone else has something to say? Moody? Cap? Loops?” 

“Actually, yes,” says Remus after a moment. “Checkups! Not naming names but Kris lied about his rib acting up so now all of you get to be interrogated.” 

Sirius swallows. He’s not anxious to be alone with Remus; not after yesterday. There’s no way there aren’t going to be questions. 

Kasey goes first, Remus taking just under five minutes to deem him ‘good to go.’ Kris, surprisingly, is only kept for eight, despite the claim of his ribs acting up again. Finn takes the longest—fifteen minutes—and as soon as he’s out he grabs Logan and Leo by the wrists and marches them off somewhere. Sirius’s turn comes last, right after Pascal’s, who gives him a knowing look as he enters.

“Hi,” Remus says, first aid kit nowhere in sight. “Sit down.” 

“Where?” Sirius gets only a shrug in response. 

He hesitates a moment, then sits on the floor, picking at the sole of his sneaker. 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks suddenly.

“Fine. Ankle’s not bothering me any more.”

“No, I mean how are you feeling?”

Scoffing, he starts to stand up. “I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

“Sirius Black, sit your ass back down before I make you.” 

Sirius sits his ass back down. 

“Good. Now, how are you feeling?” 

“I’m… confused,” he says, trying to be honest without being specific. “And nervous. And I cried myself to sleep last night, which I haven’t done since I was like seventeen, so there’s that. But mostly I’m just really fucking mad.” 

“At me.” It isn’t a question. 

“No, not at you! At me! At the—” he gestures wildly. “—Universe, or whatever. Can I go now?” 

Remus doesn’t even acknowledge his request. “So you’re disappointed.”

“...Yeah.” 

“May I ask why?” 

“I’m pretty sure you fucking know why.” 

“Maybe I do. But I’d like you to explain it to me.” 

The stupid thing is that Sirius wants to talk about it. He really does. And Remus is the only person he can conceivably talk about it to. But he still chokes on his words when he says, anger burning his throat, “It was never supposed to be like this.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Sirius practically screams. “Stop trying to fucking— psychoalalyze me or something, for fuck’s sake. You fucking asked, and I—” He tears his fingers through his hair, feeling his chest start to constrict. “Just stop talking!” 

The echoes of his shouts fade out too quickly, and the only thing worse than the voices is the sound of his breathing getting faster and faster. Remus’s hand twitches, as though he wants to touch him but thinks better of it.

“It was always supposed to be someone different. Someone faceless; nameless. Someone I could run away from. I can’t fucking run away from you, Remus.

“I always thought I could lie. That I could—pretend, or something. Just keep hiding. It was supposed to be someone I could hide from, because I’ve spent my whole life fucking hiding and that’s all I know how to do. It was never supposed to be someone I could fall in love with.” 

There’s a choked noise from where Remus is sitting on the bench, but nothing else. Sirius refuses to look at him. 

“And I just—I just fucking hate this, because all I’ve been told is that hockey comes before my dreams. And that’s made sense until now because until now hockey was my dream, but now there’s you. Yeah.” 

Remus, to his credit, waits until Sirius’s breathing has calmed down and he’s furiously wiped the tears from his eyes to speak. “What do you need?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean forget everything. Forget your family, forget the team, forget me—what do you need?  

“Right now? For the rest of my life? Because those are two very different things.” 

“Let’s start with now. Can I do anything for you? Can you do anything for yourself?” 

“I need a hot chocolate.” 

***

They wait until everyone else has gone, and then make their way outside to Sirius’s car. There’s only one other in the parking lot—a grey Toyota Remus thinks belongs to Nado, or maybe Kris. He’s not sure why he thinks it matters, because it doesn’t. 

Silence hangs around them the whole four blocks to the nearest Tim Horton’s. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

That doesn’t stop Remus from hoping. 

He knows it’s wrong; of course he does. It’s Sirius’s choice, in the end, because Sirius is the one who will be most affected. His career, his life—all on the line if he decides to trust whatever plan the world has in store for them. It’s not like that for Remus. Not anymore. 

There’s a parking spot right outside the front door. Sirius pulls into it, but he doesn’t get out right away. He glances around, makes sure there’s no one immediately in sight, and then he looks down to where his hands now rest in in his lap. Slowly, he pulls up his right sleeve to expose, bit by bit, his soulmark. 

“I don’t know why I never guessed it could be you—Wolfy McWolf Wolf.” 

Remus feels his lips twitch upwards into something resembling a smile. “I could say the same, Dog Black.” 

When he puts his hand on the console, Sirius rests his on top of it. It’s not much. 

But it’s something. 

***

Sirius looks longingly at the Boston cream doughnuts. “Please. I haven’t had one in so long.” 

“Think again, Mr. I’m-on-a-diet-plan.” 

He’s not surprised. What was he thinking, having his PT as his soulmate? (Well, he wasn’t. He didn’t get to choose. But, he thinks to himself, the point still stands.) 

“I’ll have a medium hot chocolate, please, a plain toasted bagel,” Remus looks at him and sighs. “...And a Boston cream doughnut.” 

When the food is set down on the pickup counter, Remus snatches it before Sirius has a chance to. “Hey, this is my doughnut.” 

Sirius pouts. 

“You’re cute. Here.” He tosses him the brown paper bag, and Sirius removes his prize carefully. He‘s going to eat every piece of chocolate glazing if it kills him. 

Back out in the car—this is a conversation neither of them is willing to have in the public dining area—Remus chews on his bagel thoughtfully. Sirius tries and fails not to swear when his hot chocolate burns his tongue.

“Shit!” 

Remus glances over at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, then both look away. “So,” Sirius says after a while. “I think we need to talk.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence, then—

“You go first,” they say at the same time, and laugh. Some of the tension is broken. 

Sirius reaches hesitantly to where Remus’s arm rests between the seats. He doesn’t need to voice his question—Remus sees it in his eyes; nods. 

Up close, he can see that there are a few differences between their marks. Nothing that could possibly mean they aren’t soulmates—just the discolouring on the dog’s tail; the angle of one of the sticks; the faded white gash that stretches from one side of Remus’s wrist to the other, separating the wolf’s head from its body. Sirius doesn’t quite know what he’s doing when he presses his lips to the scar. 

When he looks up, he sees that Remus is trying not to cry. And that’s when he makes his decision. 

“I want this,” he says, voice soft but sure. “All of it.”

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 308 Spoiler Thoughts: Beat His Ass, Young Midoriya!

Chapter leaks are out!  Full chapter hasn’t been revealed yet (and take what I say with a grain of salt until the official translations come out), but I think I have a pretty good idea of what’s going on.  Nothing super heavy, but it’s an action-packed chapter that shows us how much of a badass Deku has become since he left UA and went all vigilante on us.  So, let’s do this:

Before we get into the chapter, I need to mention our mangaka, Kohei Horikoshi-sensei’s comment this week.  He’s basically apologizing for taking a break last week, calling himself a “small-fry”, and promising to pick himself up.  Horikoshi deserved a break last week and he is by no means a “small-fry” for creating one of the best and most popular pieces of fiction in the last few years.  I hope that he knows that and that he shouldn’t blame himself for taking a break.  

So, the chapter picks up right where we left off!  Deku and Muscular’s battle begins and Muscular recognizes Deku’s voice.  He says that he’s been waiting for this moment as everyone else he’s faced have been weaklings compared to Deku.  As far as we know, Deku has been the only one to even beat Muscular by himself.  It took over 100% of his strength to do so, but Deku did manage to kick Muscular’s ass.  It makes sense why he’d want a rematch.

I need to take a moment here to talk about how awesome Deku looks in his Vigilante costume (as I’ve decided to call it).  The tattered clothing really works for him and the dark sclera around his eye adds to the effect.   Again, I love that he’s finally putting the bunny hood and metal mask to use.  I mean, he used them before, but not as a real part of his daily costume.  He looks almost like a completely different person with them on.  I’d be scared of Deku tbh.  

As the fight continues, he gives the injured Yo Shindo to his GF, Tatami.  Tatami can’t see Deku’s costume because of the smoke surrounding him, but she does kind of recognize his voice from somewhere.  I do wonder if Tatami’s going to put the pieces together and find out that the vigilante is Izuku Midoriya.  And I wonder if she’s going to get the word about his actions spreading and if that will reach our UA kids.  Or the news stations will, that might happen too.  

Speaking of smoke, DEKU UNLOCKED THE 6TH OFA USER’S QUIRK!  The 6th user is the Tobio Kageyama-looking dude with the long collar (He’s cute btw 😳!) and his name is “En” which translated to smoke.  His Quirk is Smokescreen which explains the smoke surrounding Deku at the end of the last chapter.  Deku is using the Quirk too much, so he needs to calm down a bit and use each Quirk individually.  There’s actually quite a bit that Deku could use with a Quirk like Smoakscreen: He could hide himself for a sneak attack, he could use it as a distraction, use it if he needs to retreat, etc.  My mind immediately went to Pokémon (because of course it did) and how Team Rocket would constantly use moves like Smoakscreen and Haze to either distract Ash and Co. to confuse them or use a sneak attack, or run away from the protagonist.  It’s another support-type Quirk, but it’s a damn good one if used right. 

Edit: There’s a panel that shows the scale of how much Smokescreen Deku used and it’s A LOT.  Like, the smoke is covering several streets and it goes to the top of some buildings.  It’s hard for really anyone to see anything.  Deku’s really trying to keep himself in the shadows, I suppose.

To use all his Quirks well, En suggests that Deku think of each Quirk like a support tool.  So, Float is a jetpack, Black Whip is a long string of rope, Danger Sense is a radio, and Smoakscreen is a flare or some kind of smoke grenade (I don’t know the specific name).  This is a really good way of thinking for Deku since he’s been using object-focused metaphors for OFA before.  Remember the “Egg in The Microwave” and the “Turntable in The Microwave”?  Similar to that!

Edit: Fan-scans are out.  It seem like Deku is actively talking to En here as if he’s a little voice in his head guiding him on what to do.  My guess is that after his coma talk with the OFA Holders, Deku can now talk to the vestiges consciously.  He doesn’t need to enter a dream-like state to interact with him; it’s just a thing he can do willingly.

So, Deku uses each Quirk individually and finally ties Muscular down with Black Whip.  I can’t describe it, but it’s so cool to see Deku in action here absolutely folding Muscular.  He really has improved since their last fight. There’s one panel that has a close up of Deku’s masked face and he looks so damn cool!  I’m so tempted to color it when the official translations come out.

Deku is asking Muscular where AFO and Shigaraki are, but Muscular doesn’t know.  He also asks why Muscular is doing what he’s doing, but Muscular just responds that there is only blood and battle in his heart and  he doesn’t want to live a life where he regrets not fulfilling that (his name is revealed to be Gouto Imasuji btw.  Don’t know the translation behind that, but I assume it has to do with his Quirk and his violent personality).  So, this confirms that Deku is actively looking for Shigaraki and AFO.  He’s not just saving people left and right, but he is actively looking for the big bad on his own.  I can’t see that ending well without help unfortunately.  Deku’s also trying to reason with Muscular to see if there’s a different path for him similar to his fight with Gentle and LaBrava.  He’s really going for the “Save People’s Hearts” route and I can understand why.  That’s Deku’s character at its core.  It’s why he wants to try to save Shigaraki despite everything.  If there is a different path for a villain, then Deku will try to lead them to it.  Unfortunately, villains like Muscular don’t always have that path.  

Edit: Actually, you know what, how in the world did Deku know Muscular’s real name?  Did he see it on the news somewhere?  Did he do some research and manage to look it up?  Does he have someone to give him intel?  I mean, unless Muscular’s name was broadcast out there, his real name is some very specific information Deku got a hold of.  

Finally, as he remembers Shigaraki and Kota (the small boy Deku saved back in the Forest Training Camp), Deku runs towards Muscular with full speed and finishes him with one powerful punch!  Deku speeds past Muscular as we finally see his face again under the mask (Badass Deku🥵)!  One Punch Man has left the chat, my dudes.  For real, though, if Muscular really is defeated, it’s amazing how flawlessly Deku beat him.  Deku used every Quirk well and efficiently to dodge Muscular's attacks and pin him down so he could get a clean hit in.  Everything was calculated and executed perfectly.  This is not the Deku we knew back in the Training Camp Arc.    

Edit: Ok, it was explained that Shindo’s Vibration actually did effect Muscular’s Quirk.  Then tendons in his muscles were pulled and were starting to unravel.  That’s what made an opening for Deku to get a good hit in.  I think it would’ve been hard for Deku to knock Muscular out with one punch if that opening wouldn’t have been made.  So, Shindo wasn’t entirely useless.  

And that’s it from what I can gather!  Damn good action-packed chapter! A+ art and writing from Horikoshi once again!  This man just keeps bringing us 🔥.  I’m so glad to see Deku fight like the badass he’s meant to be.  I wish it didn’t have to take a war and several near-death experiences to get here, but Shonen gotta Shonen.  He knocked the lights out of Muscular, I almost feel sorry for him.  He got his ass kicked by the same kid twice in less than a year.  You should’ve stayed in Tartarus, my dude.  Really, all prisoners should’ve stayed in Tartarus.  If Deku can defeat Muscular, then none of them stand a chance against him now.  I can only assume Deku’s going to go after everyone who was associated with the LOV to find Shigaraki and AFO at this point.  Thankfully, we don’t have a break next week.  Will En teach Deku how to play volleyball?!?  I’m kidding!  I do want to know what our UA kids are doing, especially Bakugo, Shoto, and Uraraka.  This would be a good time to transition to them.  Like, they can see Muscular’s capture on the local news, put the pieces together, and go after Deku.  Or we could just keep focusing on Deku’s vigilante adventures, that works too!  

Me @ Deku:

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

[the-archxr]

Waterloo!

steve harrington x reader

Summary: After witnessing you and a Family Video frequent flirting and connecting over your favourite band, Steve gets jealous and ends up showing you how ABBA should truly be celebrated.

A/N: so hahaha, I have recently been obsessed with Mamma Mia! and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, which led me to this fic, which is ONE THOUSAND PERCENT based off of the Waterloo scene from Here We Go Again, because the more I thought about it the more I realized that Steve is like Harry in that sense, so yeah. Here we are.

Song Inspo: Waterloo - ABBA, Waterloo - Hugh Skinner and Lily James (cause you can’t just pick one, m’kay?)

•••••

“Okay, but speaking in terms of the be-all to end-all of questions...”

The boy with the dirty blonde hair and ragged plaid shirt leans over the counter slowly. His blue eyes meet yours and his teeth are bared in a striking smirk. “And just so you know, your answer will determine the future of our relationship...”

You nod with a laugh. “Okay.”

“What’s your favourite ABBA song?”

You snort and shake your head, picking up his rental to ring it through.

He gives you an expectant look, which you respond with a simple shrug and and, “I don’t know.” 

He scoffs playfully. Gliding over to the register with ease he rests his head on his fist. You roll your eyes at the sight before you. If he wasn’t so cute, then you’d be severely turned off by the excessive forwardness.

“Aw, c’mon. Everyone has a favourite.”

After shutting the register with his exact change in it, you cross your arms with a sigh. “Well, if you were as true of an ABBA fan as you say you are, then you’d know that that’s a trick question. Because every ABBA song is good, therefore, they’re all my favourite.”

“Smartass,” he huffs, earning a laugh from you.

Suddenly you hear a loud “shit” come from behind you which grabs your attention from the flirtatious customer to your coworker and friend.

“You alright, Steve?”

He hops out from behind the back wall, a faint blush gracing his cheeks and neck. “Y-yeah. Just got attacked by these goddamn boxes.”

You laugh and look back to the blonde who still hasn’t left. Quirking an eyebrow, you look him up and down.

“You’re still here?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs with a shit-eating grin. “Was hoping I’d be able to talk to you a little more.”

“...About?”

He opens his mouth to speak before his eyes flit to the clock above you. “Shit, I gotta go. I have to pick up my little brother and his friends up from the pool.”

He grabs the VHS, before shooting you a wink as he waves goodbye.

It isn’t until after he leaves that you hear a scoff come from your coworker. You frown and spin on the heels of your feet.

“Something wrong, Stevie?”

He rolls his eyes and leans over to pick up the empty boxes he tripped on earlier. “No. Yes...? I don’t know. I guess, it’s just...him?”

Picking up the remaining boxes you follow him to the back. “What do you mean ‘him’?”

“Ah, c’mon he was practically eye-fucking you in the middle of the store. It was—it was gross and icky and...bleh.”

You laugh loudly at that and watch your friends hair bounce with the movement of hauling the cardboard into the large bin. “Bleh?”

“Bleh!” You both walk back to the door, which encourages Steve to hold it open for you. “I mean that’s a total Billy move.”

“Oh, so now he’s not just bleh, he’s a Billy.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “Meaning he’s a complete and utter dick.”

“Just cause he was flirty?”

“That’s not being flirty that’s called being horny.”

You groan at his words, regardless of the fact that they don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything they amuse you.

You heave yourself on top of the counter, one leg splayed over the countertop and the other swaying idly. He gestures to the sticker gun beside you, which you grab and wave in his direction. “Oh, and you know something about the difference between flirty and horny?”

“Yeah, because I used to be that horny guy.” He snatches the sticker gun out of your hand and begins to wave it around as he walks to the one end of the store.

“Oh, right. Your whole King Steve faze.” You watch him shake his head at your words with a slight frown. You sigh. “King Steve, ruler of the horndogs.”

He laughs, making your plan in lightening up the mood a success.

The silence in the store pulls on for a few seconds before you reach over and turn on the radio—the hum of the static and muffled voices echoing through the building as you switch through the channels before you set it on the desired station.

You lean back and watch your friend move around the store lazily, putting bright pink stickers on the assortment of rentals haphazardly.

You frown as you think (a curse, cause you never seem to stop thinking), and sit up playing with the many woven bracelets on your wrist. “No, but seriously, Steve. What’s your problem with the guy?”

He stops his motions and turns to you. He looks nervous and his chest heaves up and down with trepidation. He opens his mouth to speak, but he pauses. You can practically see the words stuck on the tip of his tongue, before he sighs, mainly to himself, and shoots you a small (and kind of sad) smile.

“He has a favourite ABBA song. No one trustworthy has one favourite ABBA song.”

You laugh at his words, slapping your knee as you keel back to the wall with laughter. He laughs loudly too and tosses the sticker gun and himself on the countertop. He sits opposite of you with his Nike shoe pressing almost perfectly against the sole of your Converse.

You look at the clock and huff. Steve follows your line of sight and his face falls at the sight of the time. “We got a whole half hour left.”

You hum and close your eyes, resting your head against the wall. You stay like that until the radio announcers voice comes through. You open your eyes instinctively, only to see that Steve is already looking at you.

But maybe he wasn’t because with one blink he’s actually looking at the door.  An awkward cough resonates in the back of your throat as you groan.

That’s when the mans voice comes to a slow and the beginning of the next song plays. It takes you a second, but when you recognize the song your ears prick up and a smile graces your face.

Steve eyes you strangely as you grab the knob to turn up the sound. “What? What song is this?”

Your jaw drops in your friends direction. “Uh, Waterloo?”

“Water what?”

You laugh and hop off the counter, your feet already moving to the beat of the song. “Waterloo. It’s an ABBA song.”

“No I know this is ABBA. I’m slow, not stupid.” You cackle and roll your shoulders to the sound of the guitar. “I’ve just never heard it before.”

You grin before grabbing his hands and pulling him to the middle of the store which surprisingly has the most space. You sway both of your arms back in forth, in an attempt to coax him to start moving. An action that he doesn’t take to immediately.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be a Debbie Downer, Harrington.”

He scoffs. “I am not a Debbie Downer.”

You shake your head and stick your tongue out at him. “Well then, prove it. I mean, didn’t you used to be the funnest man in all of Hawkins?”

“Funnest isn’t a word.”

You gasp. “Wow, look who actually payed attention in English.”

He rolls his eyes and once again runs his hand through his damn hair. He stands there for a second, before a small grin appears on his face. “Also, what do you mean used to be?”

Your jaw drops as he grabs a hold of your arms and spins you around dramatically. You gasp, the breath being knocked out of you suddenly as he holds your arm above you and spins you twice. You laugh as he pulls you back into him, to which he begins to bounce around the space, spinning you every so often—much to your delight.

You gasp after another spin, but by the second verse you’re too caught up into wanting to sing the words then being worried about your lack of oxygen if you do so. “My, my! I tried to hold you back, but you were stronger!”

You spin on your heel away from him, the momentum sending you back into the counter with a laugh. “Oh yeah!” You both sing out.

Then, with a wink and a spin of his body, he uses his hand and slicks his hair back in a Greaser fashion, earning another string of laughter from you. Jumping back to you, your back is pulled into his chest as he holds an arm out and runs forward.

The bun in which you put your hair in is now dangling loosely just below your shoulders, and as he spins you for the nth time, fate would have it that some of your hair gets in his mouth. Steve sputters and makes a face, causing the both of you to erupt in another fit of laughter. Soon, you both are dancing like fools, completely in your own space, yet never too far from the others reach. “Waterloo! Finally facing my Waterloo!”

He takes your hand firmly, spins you and as the song nears the end you almost fall to the ground. However, with Steve’s knee propped up beneath you, he has you dipped and breathless. His eyes are partially closed and as he pulls you up you almost grow dizzy from him dipping you a second time. This time, the dip is more dramatic and your loose hair falls onto the ground in a soft pile, indicating that you’re far lower than the first time. 

“Waterloo!” He sings, finally getting the lyrics to the song.

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.” You finish. The song ends abruptly and both of you are at a loss of breath as you try to tune down the echo of laughter.

It’s at that moment that the sound of a door bell jingling has you both breaking away from each other awkwardly. Still out of breath, you hurriedly rush to the counter and try to smooth down your hair. (Not that you expect that to hide anything with the way your cheeks are so inflamed. If anything, whoever had come in would think that they caught you in Steve in the middle of something else.) 

Your eyes finally focus on the customer, realizing that it’s the same blonde boy from earlier. “Hey, again.” He winks at you, resting his forearm on the countertop.

“Hey,” you say back. Your eyes flit over to Steve, whose back is faced to both of you. He’s already walked to the other side of the store, and the obvious distance he has quickly put between himself and the customer makes you think.

But you don’t have to think too hard as the realization practically hits you over the head. You suddenly grin and look at the counter, the feeling of your cheeks reddening further blooming throughout your upper body.

“So, uh...” the boy in flannel begins, clicking his tongue. “I came back.”

“I see that.” You counter him quickly with a soft smile.

He laughs and runs a hand over his jaw before looking to you. He hesitates. But only for a moment. “I’m tryna’ ask you out, ya know.”

You nod at that. “Yeah, I know.”

He pauses as he bites the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, the air around you two has turned very awkward and you can tell that he knows it.

“So...”

You shrug. “So?”

Shoving his hands in his pockets he moves his shoulders up in question. “So what do you say?”

You look down at your bracelets for a moment before looking back at him with a soft smile. “I’d have to say that I’m flattered. But, uh, no thanks.”

The boys eyes widen, as does Steve’s who’s attention is now on both of you.

The blonde nods and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh...okay then. Thanks for being honest at least.”

You smile at him, which sends the boy back to the door and on his way. You let out the breath you had been holding in and look to Steve who looks just as shocked as the other guy.

“What just happened?”

“I said no to his offer.” You say matter-of-factly as you walk around the counter and closer to your friend. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes telling you that his brain is going a mile a minute.

“W—why? Why would you say no?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Usually you say no to a date when you don’t want to go on a date. At least, I don’t want to go on a date with him anyway...”

Your voice trails off purposely as you look directly at the boy in question. Steve is still stunned and is still very confused, which makes you want to laugh at his obliviousness.

It’s cute though...his obliviousness.

...He’s cute.

“Steve,” you say lowly. He’s biting his lip, and the slightest hint of worry blooms over his features.

“...Yeah?”

You sigh. “Well I’m trying to imply that I want to go on a date with you...”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that Steve had stopped breathing. Eliciting a laugh from you, you glide closer to him and look the boy in the eyes. “Steve...did I break you?”

He almost short circuits in a sense and looks at you with disbelief. “You want to go on a date with me?”

You shrug with a nod. “I think it could be fun.”

The poor boy stands there, still in shock. You shake your head and kiss him on the cheek before walking to the counter and grabbing your bag.

“Pick me up at 8 tomorrow at Dustin’s and we’ll go to Dairy Queen or something.”

His eyes and mouth are wide open as his gaze follows you to the door. The door barely closes behind you before you pop your head back in the store. “Oh, also, Steve since you’re the last one in here you gotta’ lock up.” You smile widely at him and run off before he can protest.

But even with the thought of having to lock up present in his mind, Steve doesn’t feel like protesting. When he comes back to his senses he nods to himself with a smile and runs to the back; excitement coursing through him.

•••••

Steve Harrington Taglist:

@wigofokoye @timeladygallifrey @fairlysuitehearts @loulouloueh @bluegreyme @coltonparayyko @readinthegarden12 @hello-therree @gothackedalready @aphrodites-perfume @fic-cheesecake @bohemiandeakyy @nerd-domland @blueoz @laneygthememequeen @xelaalec @i-justlikewhales @elen-alambil @heykarsyn @yellowhopes @veeshthefrog @justsomeficsilike @cxddlyash @aniya21890 @billyhargrovescigarette @nugturally @daddystevee @asheseiler @enchantedcruelsummer @jxnehxpper

[letswrites]

what about feeling homesickness and Calum comforting her?

thaxxx! i changed a bit, hope you like ❤

Home

He was standing in front of her house, it's was a fresh end of the afternoon in LA, with a cool wind and a pink-shaded sunset. He had a cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the other one was resting at his side after he knocked on the door. She opened and locked it with her key "night" he checked his iPhone '5:57 pm' "almost night. And you are gorgeous. As always" "thanks, you are too" she directed her gaze to the cigarette quickly, but not quickly as he dropped it onto the ground and stubbed his foot in it. She hated when he smoked. "thought you were going to quit" "I will" "yeah and I will fly away from this damn city" "what is wrong with LA?" "It isn't home" he knew she missed her hometown, Milwaukee, and he also knew she had duties in LA and she knew that too "babe..." "It's alright" she breathed deeply before look at her boyfriend and smile "thought we were going, huh?" "Yeah, sure, let's go" "let's go" he took her hand in his empty one and they walked to her car. She had a glowing conversible candy apple red 1966 Ford Mustang that Calum was never allowed to drive "why I cannot drive?" "You know why" "oh, come on. It's old shit, honey" "no! Almost kill me isn't 'old shit'" "was an accident and you just broke an ankle" "A leg" she sat on the driver's seat and he watched how good she looked in the sunset "hey!" She snapped her fingers "aren't you coming in?" "fuck! Sorry. it's your fault!" he jumped into the car and put on the seat belt "I will not apologize for you having a terrible sense of beauty" she had low self-esteem sometimes "my sense of beauty is perfect" he leaned closer and cupped her face "just as you" "you are perfect" she smiled and pulled his neck to a passionate kiss. A calm and warm, but passionate kiss "but, seriously babe, let me drive" "no!" she turned on the engine, adjusted the mirror and backed up the car from the driveway without taking her gaze from the mirrors "that's how you back up the car with safety" he groaned, throwing his head back "It happened once! And it was an accident" "I know, just recalling" she winked and made the way for the downtown.

Last year, before they started dating, she asked Calum to back the car out of the driveway, but he did it without looking in the mirrors, according to himself "who the fuck know the right side of pen drives?" and ran over her. Accidently, of course. For luck, she just broke a leg and he took care of her, and due it, they become closer. "You know, there're some bad things that happen for good reasons" "I thought we were done with this subject" he squeezed her right hand "if I haven't given all my attention to the damn pen drive and ran over you, maybe we'd not become closer as we did" "yeah... fine, I will let you drive" she parked the car left the driver's seat "move on, Cal!" he stood up and gave her a deep and quick kiss before sat down in the driver seat and squeeze the beige leather steering wheel "I love you" "love you too, but now I'm fucking dying to know where we're going" "you were driving and I have to know?!" "yes, Mr. driver" she teased, he giggled "fine. Know a place" "good".

*

They were on a road that she didn't recognize "Calum" "my name" he loved when she said his name "where are we going?" "It's a surprise" "oh no. Please, don't do this to me" "sorry, babe. I didn't make the rules" "which rules?" they laughed together "okay" she turned on the radio and tried to connect with some decent station "fuck" "you know you can use your pen drive, right?" she had taken the pen drive off the car "not with you in the wheel" you know, just for caution. he rolled his eyes and she finally connected with some Latin radio station

'Once de la noche y todavía no contesta'

'Un de la mañana y todavía no hay respuesta'

"Oh, no! No way!" "What?" "I am not bilingual like you" "and...?" "Not listening to something I do not understand" "so are you graduated in Korean now?" "No..."

'Cómo hacerte entender...'

he swallowed dryly a little "don't know what are you talking about" "no? What about that time you got drunk and sang out loud BTS's songs, huh?" "Only the English parts! Now just change it" "but it's Maluma!" he looked at her without blinking and pouted "fine" he smiled like a kid

'... eres muy bonita pa' llorar por el...'

She changed the radio station once more and found a random one

'Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment

I’d let you had I known it, why don’t you say so?'

"You got to be kidding me" she giggled "I hate this song!" "I know" she kept laughing

'You got to keep me focused, you want it? Say so'

"Just turned it off" "oh, but I like it" Calum turned off the radio "no songs for you" "hey, that's my car! Spent lots of money on it" "But I am driving" "don't make me feel more regret than I already am" he laughed and leaned quickly to kiss her cheek "hey, Cal" "hum?" "I am bored" "you're acting like a fucking kid" "no. I am a fucking kid" "well, it's not a long ride. We'll be there soon" "where is 'there'?" "Nice try, nice try" she pouted and laid her head on the window so she could stargaze and think about how lucky she is to had been run over by the man driving at her side. She was so so in love with him.

*

Flashback:

Some friends had texted her. Bon Jovi was going to be in town and they have two tickets more. They gave it to her of course expecting she'd invite that guy she hanged out a few times, definitely her new crush. Calum. Such a beautiful name 'thanks Roy' he had introduced them. For some miracle, she got the guts to invite him.

[4:28pm]

'Be here at 6pm'

[5:17pm]

'Your place is so far from where I am now'

'You can drive my car'

'will be there in 40 minutes'

She grinned, shook her head lightly and blocked her phone to finish her makeup 'he will never desire me' she thought even knowing she will try to impress him anyways. Was 5:55pm when he arrived "I have exactly 2 minutes in advantage" "you made it, next time I will let you have a rest" "thanks" he pecked her cheek out of breath "are you ok?" "Yes, you are just breathtaking" he laughed "oh, I am not" "yes, you're. Always" she blushed "thanks" "you're welcome. Can I have a glass of water? The bus stop is far from here, you know?" "Yeah, sure come in". She gave him a glass of water and dropped on the sofa "thanks" "how can I refuse water for someone? Especially someone like you" he arched an eyebrown "someone like me?" "Yeah" "how is someone like me?" he dropped next to her "ridiculously healthy" "oh" he giggled "thanks. I really appreciate" "so, where were you?" "someone is interested in where I was" he teased, she rolled er eyes "you love annoy me, don't you?" "And you still have to ask? Anyhow, I was hanging with a friend" "'hanging with a friend' means banging with a girl?" "What?!" He started laughing "are you jealous or something?" "No..." She blushed "just trying to know you better" "so why are you blushing?" "I..." "Relax, I was with Luke. He is planning a trip to our home country with Ash and Mikey too. So we went out to lunch, but he lives far from here..." her body relaxed and she smiled "Australia is very nice" "is the best place in the world" "yeah, except the fact that is not Minnesota" he laughed "keep dreaming, kid" "I am two months older than you" "whatever, ms. jealousy" "'m not jealous!" "you looked so relieved when I said I was with Luke" "I didn't" "it's ok, I already admitted to myself that my love life is a joke anyways" "I bet it's not true" "trust me, it is" "thought you were the kind of guy that spent the night in 3 parties and in this 3 parties, hook up with at least 2 girls. At the same time" he laughed out loud "oh, honey, I used to be that guy, and now I am feeling very proud of myself" she giggled "why you are not that guy anymore?" He cleaned his throat "well, I met this lady, some months ago, and now all I do is think on her. I made out with someone a few days ago and couldn't finish the job, because was thinking on her" 'wow that hurted' "wow... You should be with this girl right now, not with me" he looked at her, 'unfreakingbelievable' "I literally made an hour and a half trajectory in 40 minutes to go in a concert just to be in your company cause' honestly I am not going to this concert because I want to see old Jon Bon Jovi sing 'bed of roses' and take ladies to Heaven..." she giggled "why do you think I did that?" "'Cause you're an idiot" he grinned "you are right, I should be with the my romantic interest" she frowned a little and they just stayed looking inside each other's eyes for a minute "I-I think we should go" it felt like he raped her with his gaze "are you ok?" "I dunno" "alright, tell me if you will need an ambulance" "okay" "so, where is that bad boy keys?" she chuckled "here" she gave to Calum the key "please, be careful" "my middle name is safety" "really? I thought was Tomas" "details, details". They were on the driveway ready to go when she saw Ginger, her cat, with the paw stuck in the water drainage grid "oh! wait a minute" she left the car "what's wrong?" "My cat. you can back the car while I help Ginger?" "no problem. Am I allowed to listen some music, too?" "Sure. The pen drive is in the glove compartment" "'kay". she ran to Ginger to help her little baby "my God, love, I am here" Calum grabbed the pen drive in the glove compartment and started back the car slowly without looking in the mirrors "well, it's done, Ginger. You are free now" she freed her cat that ran back to the roof. Calum was fighting with the pen drive's USB entrance "why I never put that shit on the right side?" and he forgot that he was backing the car. She turned to went back to the car or they would be late and all she could see was the car's trunk colliding with her hip. When he stopped the

car she was already on the floor. She definitely needed that ambulance now.

He took her to the hospital and then back to her place. He locked the front door and she dropped onto the sofa, now with a broken leg "that was the last time you drove my car" "you're sure?" he joined her on the sofa "you will need someone to help you during the next two weeks" "I have other friends..." "So we are still friends?" "Yes" "I am sorry for ran over you" "yeah, be mad with you will not change what happened" "it's because of this that I will be the one who will take care of you. Remember? My middle name is carefulness" "Wasn't safety?" "Is a long full name, see? Calum Safety-Careful Tomas Hood" "hum, I don't think so" they laughed "sorry, again" "stop apologizing and start looking for a driver costume" "I will not do that" "why not? Would be so sexy" she bit her bottom lip "you think?" "You are already sexy so..." "I'm" they laughed "okay, you don't need a costume, but I will need help in the shower, instead" "I will love to help you with the shower" "I was thinking in call Roy" "call Roy?!" he looked a little angry "you should see your face. And I am the jealous one here" "well, I just maybe, just very very maybe am into you" she smiled and blushed a little "I am into you too" "you are saying that only because do not get turned on by Jon Bon Jovi tonight" she laughed "And you are saying this only because you ran over my leg" he turned his grin to a line "No. I really mean it" "me too" she bit her bottom lip and he smiled again "but… unfortunately, you are not literally into me" "not for too long" soon the distance between them became minimum and in a blink of eye, they kissed. They kissed like already did that for years, like their lips met each other already before, even being the first time. Calum laid her back on the sofa and things started to get hotter, soon her Bon Jovi's tank top flew across the living room. She broke the kiss "what are you doing?" "I am trying to make up, because of the concert. Do you mind?" she smiled "you really know how to fix up the things" and they kissed again, now his black tee was off and...

*

"Honey, 're you alright?" Calum took her off the flashback "oh, yes. Was thinking in the first time we fucked" he laughed "so delicate" "sorry, the first time we 'made love'" "uh, that was bad" she laughed "thanks for ran over me, by the way" "only you for thanks the idiot that ran over you" "well, you are an idiot, but you are my idiot" "possessive" but he was hers and he loved that "oh, shut up" he laughed "so, was thinking in the week after your leg was better, huh?" "That wasn't the first time we fucked" "It was" "no, we fucked after you took me home in the night it happened" "no, no. I fucked you that night and I thought we had fucked, but three weeks later I discovered that I was wrong" "I am not..." "The way you move, babe, when you were with the broken leg wasn't sex with you, was sex for you" she laughed "It should be a compliment?" "Yes. And a good one" "well, in that case, thank you very much" she directed her gaze back to the sky and he looked at her, he was so in love

*

About 30 minutes later, Calum was taking the exit on the road to Santa Monica, she had read that in a sign. "Santa Monica!" "yup" "the pier?" "Yes" "oh, you know I love a pier, is…" "…so romantic" she laughed at him pretending to be her "but, we are not here specifically because of the pier" "so why?" "You will see" "please, stop. It's killing me" "oh, you're such a drama queen" he parked the car and turned off the engine "let's go". He tugged her to the amusement park "that's so exciting! what are we gonna do?" "fucking kid" she giggled "we'll play hockey" "what?!" he guided her to the Playland Arcade "that's..." she was confused that couldn't even talk "there's a lot..." "air hockey tables? yes" "but..." "Look, I know that do not have ice and is not real hockey, but I thought you'd enjoy" he rubbed the side of his neck "hockey remembers you home, right?" she had some water on her eyes and a true smile "I would like everything since it came from you" he smiled and flipped the disk "so, let's see if the Milwaukee girl still in flames" "you definitely know nothing about Winsconsin"

*

She won, of course "Badgers rocked your ass Aussie boy!" as she said, and they decided to rest on the pier, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her body "that was lovely" "me losing or your very kind comment about it?" she giggled "no. You remembered the air hockey here and tried to diminish my homesickness" "I understand how bad it is" "thank you" "no, thank you" "for what?" "To be with me, to love me, I was taking the wrong way before met you, you know?" "Well, shout out to Roy" "shout out to Roy" he repeated and they laughed "I was thinking in buy a ticket for you. To go home for a few days..." she looked into his eyes "what do you think?" "don't" she said smoothly "you sure? I have been saving money to paying the first tax to a car mortgage, but it can wait..." "No, Cal. Buy your car" "but you miss home" "yes, I miss it, but..." she cupped his face "I have you here and I realized... my home is you" he smiled and dipped to kiss her. She rested her head back on his shoulder and watched the moonlight reflecting in the ocean "and you are mine" he whispered against her hair. she smiled and enjoyed his company, she was so in love with him and he was so in love with her.

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