#posted chapter 2 of the load out literally the day after I took my last exam and BOOM. stopped writing forever

[micamicster]

Despite having had more free time this fall than I’ve had in at least two years I have written next to nothing. What gives

[juggalomary]

This is a first chapter of my first fic which will be posted to AO3 around the 12/12 time (I’m waiting on my invitation lol). I’d also love a beta reader but I literally don’t know how to get one.

Who is This Kid?

Ch1

BANG.

Silence. Not total silence. Price was shouting, Gaz was shouting, Ghost was shouting. There was a lot of shouting.

Johnny fell, hit the ground hard and then didn’t move. He was bleeding, a lot. There was blood on Ghosts knee, from where he knelt down next to him. It was in Soaps hair, on his clothes, on his gun, everywhere.

“DISARMED�� there was a shout from Gaz. It sounded like he was underwater. It was then when Ghost finally took his hand off Johnnys pulse point. A simple shake of the head said it all. Soap Mactavish was KIA.

—————

They didn’t try to bring him home with them.

Well didn’t try is an understatement, Ghost and Gaz tried, they had him upright and ready to be lifted before Price told them to leave it to the recon and collection crews.

So that’s what they did. Johnny stayed on the ground, blood still steeping from his head, slowly. Ghost couldn’t look anymore, his best mate, and possible crush, dead on the floor of some tube station next to a disarmed bomb.

—————

Ghost was laying on his bed next to some sickly man at a civilian hospital. He had gone nonverbal for a few days after the mission. Then suddenly one day he knocked on Prices door, drunk off his head and said some shit. Things along the lines of: “I’ll carve his name into a bullet and paint the wall red and pink.”

He probably should’ve specified that he was talking about Makarov. Ghost was not suicidal, he had not once attempted. Ghost was not unstable. Ghost passed every psych eval except for his last one. He was 5 points off of a pass, he failed due to the ‘what are your plans out of the military question?’

He had said “buy a nice house and hunt.” They had asked what, he had said “anything that moves really.”

So what it was a bit vague, he was feeling vague at that moment. So he ended up on watch and not allowed leave. He wouldn’t have taken one anyway. He got taken off watch and sent to a hospital when his gun was found on range after he had left for a moment with one bullet with ‘J. Mactivish’ carved into it.

Ghost is not suicidal. Ghost was planning on shooting Makarov with that one. He just grabbed some ammo from his room and loaded up. He had not realized that it was Johnnys bullet.

He spent a week in the hospital, then was released. He found himself back on base to spend his 2 week medical leave ordered by his psychiatrist.

When he entered his room, everything slowed to a halt and then sped back up. There was a note on his door.

‘Lieutenant Riley

We feel as though we have to tell you personally, John Leon ‘Soap’ Mactavish has been formally reported KIA as of 11/23/23. All living family has been contacted and his body was cremated on 11/25/23. Our deepest condolences go to you.’

He chuckled lightly at Johnnys middle name. Then he was laughing, then he was laughing as tears slipped out, and then he was sitting on the floor of Prices office as he was being held. Wait. When the hell did he get there. Well never mind that, his captain and father figure (he would never tell a soul that) was holding him. It was nice.

—————

Ghosts 2 weeks were up. He was cleared for duty. During those weeks they had sent Johnny to rest in the wind and water. He was wearing his dog tags along his. They had found evidence of Makarov in a remote and seemingly abandoned village along the Russia-Malaysia border. Heat signatures were suddenly picked up after 3 months of nothing more than a few wild animals.

It was decided that the 141 would go in and attempt to apprehend Makarov. Ghost would be sniping while Gaz and Price would go in. Johnny would be watching down on them.

—————

It was a simple mission. No casualties on either side. Turns out they ran just hours before the 141 were wheels up. They still looked and looked, for anything really. They were searching through a file cabinet when a file was picked up and a few Polaroids fell out.

“Captain, you have to see this.” Gaz was speaking slowly and sounded scared. It took a lot to scare Gaz, and pictures are usually not something soldiers who’ve seen so much should be afraid of.

“Gaz, what do you have…” 5 pictures, 2 head wounds, 2 soldiers, 1 person in a hospital bed, one person on the ground.

The dead man was not John, the man in hospital was. The final photo was a picture taken in a dark room with flash, a buzzed head with a bloody bandage. He looked terrible, bruised, bloody, beaten, and the worst part, he was looking towards the camera, but not at it. 1000 yard stare, as his therapist would say.

The entire village was searched again, with 100% more thoroughness. They didn’t find anybody. What they did find the second round was the hospital bed that he was laying in in the picture. There was a blood stain on the top of the mattress and metal restraints at the sides. They also found a copy of the records they kept on him.

The bullet had penetrated his skull and somehow missed his brain and exited 4 inches above the entry wound on the top of his head, nearly shattering his skull. He was kept alive on life support for 5 days, before throwing up the intubation and passing out. He was then ‘taken to the positive psychology ward’, meaning roughly that he was now in the process of being seemingly brainwashed. There was one photo with a date on it 12/4/23, it was a picture of Soap with a M branded onto his collarbone and mouth slightly open, broken nose and disassociated.

That man in the photo may be Soap, but there was no way it was Johnny.

[huge-enthusiast]

MIRACULOUS FIC RECOMENDATIONS!! (Part 2)

You can find part 1 here.

The first one was really popular! So I decided to make a second part.

The rules are the same:

All of the fics will be rated Teen and up audiences or lower. Also if I don’t put the author’s tumblr is because they didn’t put it in the fic or/and I couldn’t find it.

The only thing that changes is that I would be putting the pairing in the description of the fic.

Without further ado...

Written in the Stars by Boogum (@botherkupo here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Marichat and Adrienette.

He was the god of destruction. She was a princess whose kingdom had been prophesied to fall. To save her people, she became his wife. To save him, she would have to do the impossible. The castle has secrets, the gods are watching, and time is running out.

Chapters: 37/37

TW for mild violence.

Arrange marriage, God AU. While I'm making this list, I still haven't finished the fic, but I had to recommend it because is THAT good. The way I gasped out loud while reading some of the plot twists. The worldbuilding is so good, and even if you aren't into AUs that deviate a lot from cannon like me, I 100% reccomend it.

Need a Lift? again by Boogum.

Pairing: DJWifi

Getting stranded on a foreign planet sucked. Luckily for Nino, his rival was willing to give him a lift home. Unluckily for Nino, she was beautiful and funny and he might just be in love with her.

Chapters: 1/1

Space Bounty Hunter AU! Really sweet and funny. If you are into flustered!Nino then this fic is for you.

hey, you by peachcitt (@peachcitt here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

“Have you ever had a dream about someone that changes the way you think of them?”

or Adrien has a dream about Marinette.

Chapters: 1/1

Okay so, peachcitt is one of my favorite ml writers. Everything that they write is sooo good y'all, and i'm already a sucker for adrienette, so I cannot recommend this fic (or any of theirs) enough.

double dare again by peachcitt (I told ya!)

Pairing: Ladrien (with lots of sided ladynoir)

“Don’t ever do that again,” Marinette says, maybe a little too emphatically, and Adrien looks at her, his expression quiet. His cheeks, Marinette notices, are a little red.

“But I wanted to save you,” he says.

or Ladybug and Adrien can't seem to stop running into each other. (whether that is on accident or on purpose is nobody's business but their own, of course).

Chapters: 30/30

This was a ladrien june fic! Every chapter corresponds to the day's prompts but it also continues a story. If that doesn't make you want to read it then I don't know what it will. I fear fanfic writers, they're insane.

(not) so much by therentyoupay (@therentyoupayfanfiction here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Marichat and adrienette

(The claws are sharp, but the host of Destruction��for all of his loudmouth chaos and lack of reserve—is paradoxically careful.)

Chapters: 1/1

In which Chat Noir pays a visit not long after Marinette has made a pretty difficult decision, and they accidentally make a routine.

Prompt: Marinette gives Chat a hickey. Adrien has a suspiciously similar looking hickey the next day at school...

Gotta be honest with y'all, I did not expect this fic to be as good as it is. The adrienette has everything a stablished!Marichat should have. Marinette conflicted with her feelings? Check. Adrien being a hot mess bc That's My Girlfriend But She Doesn't Know That? Check. Them being absolute idiots? Check. It's good!

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News (Your Lips Is The Only Cure I Could Use) by BreG21.

Pairing: Adrienette

Rainwater sloshed up from the pools they had made on the sidewalk and coated his jean pants with every step he took. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He sniffed away some of the water that dribbled down his matted head. "Yeah?"

He paused as if to consider his words while Adrien stared down at him, so lost. "You weren't wrong when you thought you knew. A part of you wanted it to be her, but it was too perfect, you let the illusion fool you because how would you get that lucky. But trust me, Adrien. You weren't wrong."

He wasn't wrong? What was he not wrong about?

You weren't wrong. You want it to be her.

And it finally clicked as a small gasp wisped past his lips. He wasn't wrong.

In which, Plagg falls ill, and with Fu gone and Ladybug being the guardian now, has to go find her civilian self-even with the knowledge that she might not like that-is shocked to realize that even with having the kwami that was supposed to embodied the very being of bad luck, Adrien could conclude the very opposite of what he had thought for so long.

He was so very lucky.

Chapters: 1/1

I screamed so hard while reading this fic. It's just one of those who gets the characters right. Do you like a good reveal? Go read this now.

Operation Mega Sleepover by InTheWild (@smellerbeee here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

When Alya and Nino drop out of their long awaited mega-sleepover at the last minute, it leaves Marinette and Adrien alone together for the night. An Adrinette one-shot with lots of fluff and sleepover shenanigans.

Chapters: 1/1

I just,,, I love adrienette fluff so much,,, I love them,,,

You, Me & A Little Bit Of The Future by joonapeach.

Pairing: this is a fortunate case of all lovesquare shenanigans™

Marinette expects some disaster on her first outing alone with Adrien.

She just doesn't expect that disaster to be her future self passing off a baby for her to take care of with Adrien.

(Alternatively... two idiots obliviously in love cooing over their daughter while acting like they have no idea whose kid this is.)

Chapters: 1/1

I think the description says anything that it needs to be said. It's really sweet and funny and I love how they just change their minds so quickly and get emo for literally nothing. Peak shakesperean dumbasery.

The entire Marry That Girl series by Miraculous_Max (Maximilian_Alexander).

Pairing: Adrienette

Let’s say Marinette has a special sketchbook. This sketchbook is filled with drawings of their future house, of Adrien as an adult in multiple occupational settings, of Marinette and Adrien’s wedding, and most importantly, their future children.

Let's say Adrien found this sketchbook.

Works: 8 (All are 1/1 chapters)

Just realized how this list exposes me as number 1 adrienette sucker... oh well. I love how Adrien doesn't feel weirded out by the intensity of Marinette's crush. He likes it! He's as weird and romantic as her! That's one of the reasons I love the lovesquare so much and it makes me happy to see that everyone is in the same boat with me.

Strenght by 11JJ11.

Pairing: Adrienette

Marinette knew she was much stronger than she looked thanks to being a hero. So when her class had an arm wrestling contest she knew that she could beat all of them with ease, but she wasn't expecting anyone else to come close.

Chapters: 1/1

Good ol' accidental reveal feat. the entire class shenanigans. I, once again, screamed for an adrienette fic. Who could've thought.

Super Fan by Taliax.

Pairing: Ladrien

It was a good thing Alya was holding the phone and not her, because it would have slipped from her fingers and shattered. How had she not noticed? She had been there, and somehow she’d missed her crush looking at her like she was an angel sent from heaven.

Forget the perfume ad. This picture was going to be her new desktop.

(In which Marinette realizes that she and Adrien might both be obsessive fans.)

Chapters: 1/1

Canon divergent from after Gorizilla. They're so dumb. That's my opinion on this fic.

How to Kiss Your Crush in Five Minutes or Less also by Taliax.

Pairing: Ladrien

He just needed to know if Ladybug needed Chat Noir. He didn't expect to learn just how much she wanted Adrien.

This would be the best five minutes of his life, if he didn't expect her to forget it.

Chapters: 1/1

CW for making out.

Set during Desperada. I promise there's a happy ending. Also Luka is there for some reason, felt really bad for him.

Laying Down the Rules: The Gabriel Agreste Clauses by LadyKae

Gen

Adrien leaves the manor on a dark and stormy night and seeks sanctuary at the only place he feels safe: The Home of the Dupain-Cheng Family. When Sabine learns why her dear boy is fleeing to her home in the middle of the night, she makes a personal visit to one Gabriel Agreste.

There's more rules in play, but not for Adrien and Marinette.

Chapters: 1/1

This is just Sabine going to beat the fuck out of Gabriel and it's really satifying ngl

4am. by hannieks

Pairing: post-reveal lovesquare

In which Adrien has the cat tendency to wake up their owners at stupid o'clock, and Marinette just wants to sleep. Cuteness ensues.

Chapters: 1/1

Really short but really sweet. If you like Adrien acting like a cat then you would like this.

Can I Date You(r Character)? by midnightstarlightwrites (@midnightstarlightwrites here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

Adrien turned to her, something unreadable in his gaze. “Are you ok with this?” he asked.

And what a loaded question that was. Was she ok with it? Was she ok with the one guy she couldn’t seem to get over in real life kissing her in a game of Dungeons and Dragons? When she put it like that, it seemed a bit silly to get so worked up.

It was just a game...right?

She was ok with it, right?

“Sure,” she lied. “I’m ok with it.”

When Adrien's character falls in love with Marinette's, they decided to date in-game. What could go wrong?

Chapters: 7/?

THIS ONE IS SO CUTE. You want to scream??? Read this.

two idiots and a hamster by Boogum (again) and carpisuns (@carpisuns here on tumblr)

Pairing: Adrienette

How do you hide your superhero identity from your roommate? (spoiler alert: badly)

Chapters: 5/?

Once @anna-scribbles described this fic as "is literally the closest i’ve ever seen a fic come to matching the energy of canon", and I couldn't have described it better.

And that's all for now! Next time I will probably make an only DJWifi list since I've been treating them so dirty lol.

[btsandvmin]

BTSandVMIN update: On “Spring Day analysis”, making videos and creating a Patreon

There are a few things I would like to talk to you all about, and things I have been thinking about for a while. I thought it was time to give you all a bit of an update on the things I am doing, want to do and how I might have to do them.

Ok, so first of all, as you know I have been working on the Spring Day analysis for quite some time now. In fact I have been working on it for so long it has long since stopped being just about Spring Day. Rather than being about Spring Day and Vmin it has become a collection post where I go through many similarities in Vmin’s (in particular Taehyung’s) songs and discuss themes and topics with Spring Day simply as the main foundation of inspiration.

The text kept getting longer and currently it is around 24 000 words long + images (130+ pages in google docs). I honestly don’t think Tumblr will be able to handle it. I have been thinking about what to do with longer posts for a while, especially after the Vmin analysis - 4 o’clock which didn’t show up in the tag, loaded very slowly, took a long time to re-make in tumblr format and also didn’t get that many notes. You all know I have struggled and complained about longer posts here on tumblr many times. Thus I have wondered what to do if I want to keep making them in a way that works. In particular even longer pieces like this “Spring Day analysis” or my even longer “Big Vmin analysis”, which might be very difficult to make here on tumblr in a way that you can all read properly. (Several of you have even told me about your app crashing when trying to read some of my posts and honestly Tumblr just isn’t made for very longs posts with many images.)

After looking into it a bit I decided to make a Patreon just to try, and I could literally copypaste the whole post with images and all in just a few seconds. (WHY IS IT SO HARD TUMBLR?)

Another reason I finally decided to make a Patreon is so that I could create a small community space for me and you; a discord. Through Patreon you get access and I can talk to you guys more freely, and you can also simply use the discord as your own place to enjoy and discuss BTS and Vmin with other Vminies that join my Patreon. I thought this seemed like a fun idea since I can’t properly talk to you all in more conversational ways here (even less so since this is a side-blog), and by having it through Patreon it also limits the discussions from possible toxic outsiders. Basically a safe space away from the haters and antis.

There were also the reactions I got after making my first Vmin video. I talked about that a lot, in many posts:

A personal dilemma What kind of power to influence shippers into becoming delusional do I really have? I don’t know what to do… Making videos…

The concerns I got about me making Vmin videos made me question what to do, and if I should stop making analysis all together if people really worried about what it might lead to. I want to do more good than bad, for the community and for BTS. I am hoping having this space and the discord might make it feel easier for me to keep doing this more comfortably.

I also got some really really sweet messages from so many of you that honestly warmed my heart so much. I mean, there is little I can say to truly let you know what those messages mean to me. Just as one example:

Thank you, to every single one of you for not only sending me love but also understanding and respecting my worries. It means more to me than you will ever know.  💜

The thing is that I don’t want to stop. I still very much enjoy writing and gushing about Vmin, and I also really kind of want to try making videos. So back when this all happened a few of you suggested Patreon, as a way to limit who sees my videos. And after thinking about it I decided to make one, for several reasons.

It might help me to have longer analysis. It keeps away unwanted attention and hate. I can moderate more and have better control. We can talk with each other more freely. I can post things I feel a bit unsure about sharing to the general audience. I could do videos without worrying too much. (And it might also help me with an extra income?)

Don’t get me wrong, I won’t stop posting things here for free, but I think I will post longer posts and perhaps more “analysing” types of videos if I ever get to that point on Patreon. Likely I will post shorter versions that Tumblr can handle, or divide posts into parts here, but keep longer versions intact on Patreon. So the idea is not to stop doing things here but rather to add some other things and extra stuff on Patreon (basically some bonus material, maybe some behind the scenes, sneak peaks and polls).

Right now my Patreon only has one tier “I purple you”, but if things go well the plan is to create a second tier if I ever decide to make videos more frequently and perhaps add some bonus material like Q&A videos where you can ask questions and I talk about them. (I am not sure yet, I don’t even know if videos is something that people will like.) 

I’ve set the price at 15 SEK, which is a bit less than 2 US dollars/month. I don’t know what I might do further ahead, but for now basically it will mostly be some bonus stuff, a way to read longer texts in full (because I will have to divide it into parts here on Tumblr) and a community platform (and of course also a way to support me).

I hope you will check it out and join me! I am especially excited about the discord and getting to talk to you all in a new more casual way!

https://www.patreon.com/btsandvmin

Right now I have the Spring Day analysis posted (I will post it here too, but I need to figure out how to divide it in parts in a good way.) and I also have 2 chapters of my Vmin fanfiction “The last color is our spring”. (Seriously, I suck at naming fics, it’s honestly one of the hardest parts.) Again, I do plan to post some updates, and basically “first edits” of posts or things I feel a bit unsure about talking about here (like more analytical videos), but for now mostly it’s a way to support me and join the discord so we can share our love for Vmin together. 💜

Also, even if you don’t join I will still appriciate you all and the love you give me here. Seriously, this is mostly meant for you, and only if you want it and like it will there be any point to have it. I feel it is worth giving it a try. 

Become a Patron!

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 5:

Warnings: Mentions of guns, lil’ bitta tension, lotta angst. Mentions of Haley. 

Word Count: 2,262

------

“I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone.” - Daniel Keyes

------

“Aaron would you just listen to me?!” The frustration seeps out of her pores, her hands running through her blonde hair. 

They’ve been going around in circles for months now, ever since he took on your case, the irregular hours and time away taking its toll. It seems like a never ending cycle, she argues, he goes to work anyway, brings her back some flowers or gifts, they make up. Rinse and repeat. And she’s at the end of her tether. 

He holds his hands up in defeat, setting his phone against the kitchen counter. “Haley! What would you have me do? I have a job, this is my career.” He says, almost condescendingly.

She slams the cupboard as her voice goes up a few octaves. “What is that supposed to mean? Don’t do that. Don’t you dare try to make me out to be the bad guy! Don’t you dare, Aaron.” Her eyes narrow and she’s seething, her face red and tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “You asked me to move in with you because you wanted to be with me. You wanted a future with me.” 

“-I do.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She hisses. “We moved from Seattle to DC so you could chase your dreams. I left my parents, my family, my friends to be with you. Because I believed you when you said you wanted a future with me.” Her tears spill over as she wipes at them frantically. 

“Haley.” 

“No. Aaron. I can’t. I understand you want to follow your dreams, I know this is your job, that this is who you are. But you need to seriously reconsider what’s important to you, because I can’t keep doing this.” Her voice cracks.

The sentence hits him like a freight train as he swallows the lump in his throat. “Keep doing what?” He asks hesitantly. He’s not sure if he even wants to know the answer. She’s all he knows. 

“Going to bed alone.” She whispers. “I can’t keep living like this, I can’t keep being the only person all in for this relationship.” 

His heart sinks. He crosses the small kitchen to hold her hands in his, a split second taking him back to when he held yours in the car that day. He shakes the thought from his head and seeks out her eyes. He doesn’t really know what to say, can’t quite find the words. 

“I’m sorry.” He says defeatedly. He cups his hand around her cheeks and wipes the tears from her eyes as she leans into his touch, bringing her forehead to his. 

It hurts him to know that she feels like this, but it devastates him even more to know that he can’t promise her he’ll do better. He wants to. More than almost anything, to give her what she wants, but his commitment to his job is almost hardwired into him, his need to uphold his oath. And the strange pull he feels towards you makes him feel like there’s too many parts of him being pulled this way and that, being spread too thin. 

He feels torn. 

She leans into his touch, both of them sharing a quiet moment after their blow up, their eyes closed, a glimmer of hope emerging in her chest. 

But then his phone rings. He can almost see the disappointment rise in Haley’s shoulders as his eyes tear open at the sound, but Haley squeezes her eyes shut even more, knowing the answer. She already knows the outcome. 

She knows who wins in this situation. 

“Just go.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. 

Panic rises in Hotch’s chest, the magnetic pull of his phone and his job tearing him away from his childhood sweetheart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Can we talk tonight?” He pleads.

She doesn’t respond, just keeps her eyes shut as he places a chaste kiss against her lips. 

“I’m sorry.” And with that he leaves. 

———-

“Oh, so big bad Hotch’s gonna teach me how to shoot, huh?” You huff out a laugh as you hand him your bag to load into the trunk. 

“Yep.” 

You squint at him, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanour, a knot forming in your stomach. You step into the SUV, securing your seatbelt, your anxiety taking over, suddenly. 

You’ve noticed he’s been tense the past couple of days, but today especially. His eyebrows are pulled into a frown, he seems distant and unfocused and his jaw is set into a hard line, which ordinarily would get you into trouble with yourself, but today, it’s a sign for concern. 

He checks his phone for the fifth time in almost as many minutes, rubbing a hand over his beard, inhaling sharply. His jaw ticks as he rolls open the window before putting the car into drive. 

The car ride is literally and figuratively chilly, the spring air permeating the awkward atmosphere. Hotch doesn’t attempt to make any conversation with you, doesn’t even look at you, his nostrils flared and his mind elsewhere. 

You feel awkward, uncomfortable and there’s a creeping sensation up your neck, a sharp contrast to a couple days ago when he had held your hand in his, reassured you that he’d do whatever he could to catch this guy. Now, the butterflies are an unwelcome sensation. 

You continue on your wordless journey, pulling up to the shooting range. You take a beat and wait for Hotch as he unbuckles his belt and steps out of the car without even so much as acknowledging you. You swallow thickly, feeling an almost misplaced guilt towards his actions. 

Was it you? Did you do something wrong?

———

“Okay, you’re gonna start with this one here.” Hotch explains, holding the Glock 42 flat in his palm, weighing it in his hands. “You’re gonna start with the smallest, get used to the trigger and the weight before we can move up.” His voice is monotone, unwavering. No hint of levity. You move up to the shelf, taking the gun from his hands. 

Damn. What is with this guy today?

You clear your head.

Okay. Check the magazine, load, safety. 

Done.

Stance, aim, push, pull and squeeze. 

The smoke from the round wafts into your nose as you open your eyes to check the paper target in front of you, completely untouched. 

Shit. 

Hotch pinches his nose, the vein in his temple throbbing. “No, c’mon! How many times-“ 

He winces and stops abruptly. Stops before he says something he doesn’t mean, before he does something he knows he’ll regret. This isn’t him. And it isn’t your fault. He knows this, but he can’t help but feel that the misplaced frustration he has towards you is because of his guilty conscience, it’s compensation for the way he feels so torn. Still he pushes it down further. 

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I-. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ 

You just follow his movements, watch him collect himself. He takes a breath and huffs out a dry laugh. “Alright. C’mere.” 

You shoot him a puzzled look, the swift change in his mood taking you aback. Part of you wants to rip him a new one for treating you like this, but it wouldn’t do any good. Strange attraction aside, he was fast becoming your friend, one of the only people you could rely on, and knowing he wasn’t in the right headspace but not having the answer for him was frustrating. 

He chuckles. “Come on. Come here.” He beckons you toward him. You plant yourself in front of him, as he moves in close, his body solid behind you. He grips your wrists from behind as your hands wrap around the glock, taking stance, his breath on your neck. 

His voice is low in your ear. “Remember to follow through, okay?” You don't dare turn your head, he’s so close. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye to find him watching you, his eyes flirting to your lips for a brief second and you feel that familiar heat creep up your neck. 

He moves back only slightly, giving him enough room to grip your hips, positioning your right foot back, angling your body at a slight diagonal. His hands are solid on your body, moving you with ease. You try your best to concentrate on the target in front of you and to hold the glock level, but Hotch’s presence so close is less than ideal when you need to focus. 

He positions your arms once again, touch feather light this time, brushing your shoulders as he does. He nods for you to try again. 

You keep your eyes on the target this time, trained on the marker body in front of you after you shoot and you can’t quite believe you hit it. You squeal with excitement and turn to face Hotch who looks proud but drops down quickly, seeing the Glock still in your hands. 

“Yeah, lesson number 2. Never-“ He nods at you to punctuate his point, taking the gun from you. “-Never. Point a gun at someone without aiming.” 

———

It’s dark when Hotch pulls up outside your building, the mood decidedly lighter than before but the unspoken heaviness still lingers in the air, carries all the way up to your apartment. You key the door open, switching on a lamp on your way in, Hotch making quick work of a window sweep.

“Two MPD officers are posted right outside, and there are two unmarked cars outside, too. Just in case.”  

You nod as you walk into your kitchen, a sudden surge of bravery taking over. “Hey, Hotch?” 

He doesn’t look up from his phone when he answers. “Yeah?” 

“Hotch.”

He looks up this time, sheepish expression on his face when he realises you’re staring at his phone, too, cursing himself for not minding his manners. 

“Sorry. What is it?” 

“Are you okay?” You ask, earnestly. 

He pretends to be oblivious, as you walk out of your kitchen and plant yourself on your couch, water in hand. He sits on the ottoman you use as a footrest opposite your couch, but says nothing. Just watches you, but you wait for him. 

He runs his hands through his hair. It’s endearing, you think. 

“That obvious?” He says with a dry chuckle. 

You wait for him to go on. 

“I know I’ve been ‘off�� the last couple of days. I’m sorry. It’s just- I don’t know. Stuff in my personal life, I guess - I let it affect my job. Won’t happen again.” 

“That’s not what I mean. Screw the job. I mean are you actually okay?” You feel a strange pull in your chest, the vulnerability is written on his face. But you don’t want to push him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“It’s- just this job, y’know. My girlfriend-“

“-Haley.” You’re thinking out loud but he looks surprised as to how you could know her name. “I think I heard you talking to her a couple times.” You shake it off. 

“Yeah. Well. She’s struggling to cope with all of this, I guess. The job. It’s not like it’s a regular 9-5, and I don’t suppose it’s much fun going to sleep in an empty house most nights.” 

I go to bed alone. 

She goes to bed alone. 

He curses himself for his lack of tact. “I mean I know where she’s coming from, I wish I could be around more but it’s hard trying to get the right balance y’know? And I don’t know, I have the feeling she might not want to stick around much longer - and I wouldn’t blame her.” 

He whispers the last part, like he doesn’t trust his voice to betray him. He’s surprised he’s even opened up to you this much, this quickly and he realises his mouth has already betrayed him before his brain had even had a chance to catch up. He feels lighter though, maybe even optimistic. 

But you feel your heart sinking. The naive little girl in you had thought maybe Hotch could have felt attracted to you, maybe even had some feelings for you. The realisation that he has a foundation, a home, a long-term relationship - even if it was on the rocks - makes your chest heavy. Makes it hard to breathe.

You don’t want to give him advice. Don’t even want to really think about him and Haley at all. But the sadness in his eyes and the worry in his voice speaks louder than the little voice in your head. 

“You love her?”

He takes a beat, but nods.

“Then you know what you have to do, Hotch. Give her what she wants. Give her what she needs to stay.” You feel a misplaced, profound kind of sadness deep within you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because you feel utterly alone and like nobody would ever want to fight for you - or whether it’s because you know that person wouldn’t be the man sitting in front of you. 

Still, you inhale deeply and stand. “Well, listen - I don’t wanna keep you.” You walk him to your door. “I hope it all works out.” You tell him as you watch him leave. And you only half mean it. 

———

“Haley?” Hotch shouts through the door. He shrugs off his blazer and loosens his tie as he turns on the lights in their dark home, blinking as his eyes adjust. There’s no answer. 

“Haley?” 

Nothing.

He searches the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, a sinking feeling taking over. Still, he calls out her name, to no avail. He turns on the light in their bedroom, the wardrobes open and hangers laying on a neat pile in the corner. He sighs defeatedly. 

His eyes fall to a piece of folded yellow paper on the centre of their perfectly made bed. He picks it up and lets his body fall onto the mattress, unfolding the note.

Haley’s elegant, slanted writing reads: 

‘I’m sorry too. - HB’ 

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Tags: Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

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[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: Language, Bullying Themes

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup my Loves! so it’s been a while since I last added to the story, I tried my best to keep my writing similar to my previous chapters, let me know what you all think! any advice or constructive criticism is welcome :) I’ll shush now, enjoy!

(This is what I Imagine Annetta to look like :) )

So, in case you were all wondering, the day didn’t get any better. I mean I kinda knew that kids my age could be massive A holes to each other, but I didn’t really expect to see it literally the flipping second I ‘walked’ through the doors. And by walked I mean dragged by the duo known as my own personal demons, or Steve and Bucky to the rest of the population.  A crowd of kids were all gathered around a row of lockers, loads of the shitheads were cheering and encouraging whatever the hell was goin’ on, and as I was about to find out it wasn’t a surprise performance by Frank Sinatra. Safe to say that was a bigger disappointment that diet coke. Anyway, what was I saying ? oh yeah, stood at the front of the crowd were a bunch of lasses that couldn’t of been older than 16, in their hands was a bunch of eggs and flour. At the bottom of their feet, on the floor, was a kid around the same age as me, her glasses were snapped in half and the bottom of to shirt was ripped, but what disgusted me the most was the fact she was begging for help as these girls smashed egg after egg into her face. You know how bulls lose their shit when they see somethin’ red? Yeah imagine that but 10x worse, the lads didn’t have time to stop me as I tore through the crowd ready to beat the ever-loving shit outta these pricks.

“‘OI! WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT ARE YOU DOIN’”  the crowd fell silent as the girls turned to me with what one can only assume was supposed to be a ‘threatening’ glare, if I’m being completely honest it looked like they’d all simultaneously crapped em self’s. One of the girls stepped forwards, she was only a tad taller than me, her hair was a bright red, her green eyes were narrowed at me like she couldn’t believe someone was actually talking back to her. I think this is the part where I yell surprise right ? no? okay then. “Not that I care, but who the hell do you think you are? You got any idea who I am?” she sneered at me, oh my god! I’ve found someone with a bigger ego than Bucky. How in the hell is that possible. “well from first glance I’da said Santa Clause’s ex-wife but I reckon he’d have a better taste in girls now I’ve seen you up close”. And que the outraged gasps from her minions in 3,2,1…. I could hear a few people laughin’ and if I weren’t mistaken a very loud “Oh Jesus wept” from barney boy. Oooh yeah that’s when I know I’m doing my job right.

“YOU BITCH!” she screamed at me, her grubby little hands started swinging towards me in such an exaggerated way it was almost funny, I mean come on anyone coulda seen that comin’ from a mile off. And like the genius I am, I literally just side stepped her as she lunged forward,  an’ from the look on her face she weren’t expecting that, it was like the world slowed down as she surged forward unable to stop herself. Well that was till she landed head -first in the bin. I’d be a big fat liar if I said I wasn’t on the floor dying from laughter. Her legs were flailing above her head as she struggled to pull herself outta there, her cronies tried to help by grabbing her legs but that ended with one of em sporting one heck of a shiner on her right eye. A small sniffle pulled my attention away from the rather hilarious sight, glancing behind me I saw the young lass still on the ground, holdin’ her glasses which were in half with tears rolling down her cheeks. “hey, it’s okay now, they’ve gone. Here take my hand, lets get ya cleaned up eh? Reckon they’re be a bathroom round here somewhere”. The lass didn’t say anything to me, only looking at me with apprehension before taking my outstretched hand and leading us to the bathroom, the sound of the crowd growing quieter as we moved further away from it. “Thanks for saving me from Monica, she’s been bullying me since we were 11, nobody’s ever stood up for me before.” Her voice was so quiet, it shook from the effort it took her to hold back her tears, and I admired her strength, not a lotta girls woulda gone this long and not tell a teacher. “Don’t worry about it mate, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to defend ya, my names y/n by the way, don’t think we’ve met” her brown eyes met mine, as a small smile spread across her face, I couldn’t really tell what colour her hair was but I’m guessing it’s a shade a brown,  other than that she looked like a completely normal person. “My names Annetta, you’re right we ain’t met yet but I’m glad we did”.

-Later that day

It took us ‘bout 30 minutes to get all the egg off Annetta, best we could do was wash it off and cover up the stains with the cardigan I leant her, but what really put the icing on the cake was the teacher in period 1 yellin’ at us for being so late. The temptation to yeet my shoe at someone had never been as strong as it was in that moment, fortunately for the overgrown turnip of a teacher I had to settle for a mean ass side eye. And man was it a mean one.

Apart from that the day had gone by with no more incidents, well unless you count me chasing Bucky round the canteen with a carton of milk for stealin’ half my lunch, much to Annetta’s entertainment and Steve’s embarrassment. I mean the butthole deserved it, nobody and I mean NOBODY messes with my lunch. Even blue-eyed boys with a smile that could charm the devil….what am I sayin’?!

ANYWAYS it’s now what? 4th period I think, which meant English with Annetta, and maybe my favourite boys in the world. Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. Bet ya thought I were gonna say Steve and Bucky right? Well they’re currently sat behind me debating who’d win in a fight, Popeye, or Bugs Bunny. I’m surrounded by idiots. Thankfully, the teacher walked into the classroom and saved me, Mrs Davis seemed like a nice woman, she had a friendly smile and roundish face, her hair tied back into a neat bun as she took a seat. Now I’ll save you the boring bits, she started the lesson with a pop quiz which was just plain rude, about halfway through it the door burst open and there stood my best friend in the entire world. Monica. I have to say I loved her new style, the schools P.E kit really brought out the judgement in her eyes, did you detect my sarcasm yet?.

You wanna know what made her entrance even more dramatic ? the lovely aroma of gone off milk and rotted banana skins that followed her around the room,  I could help the smirk on my face as everyone around me started gagging at the smell. If you ask me I reckon it’s an improvement, I mean she certainly captures the attention of everyone in the room. Monica’s face started to match her hair, quickly racing over to Mrs Davis to give her the tardy slip before taking her seat which just had to be across from me, whoopee for me. Eventually Mrs Davis got the attention back to her, carrying on with her lesson, which moved onto matching up the famous English literature quotes with the character and book. To be fair this was actually a load of fun for me, even if Steve butchered a line from Romeo and Juliet, I don’t remember Shakespeare saying, ‘ A rose by any other name would smell as bad’. The way I banged my head on the table made Annetta think I broke my neck. Fun times people.

Of course, my reaction didn’t escape Mrs Davis’s attention, just my luck eh?. “Miss y/n, seeing as you seem to know everything, answer me this. Elizabeth Bennet is a main character in a well-known book, she’s known for the quote ‘I am a no bird and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will’. The question is who is the author of this book is it A) Charles Dickens B) Jane Austen or C) Arthur Conan Doyle ?”. Is she being for real right now?. “Miss? With no disrespect the question itself is wrong, that wasn’t said by Elizabeth Bennet from pride and Prejudice, but said by Jane Eyre, and it was written by Charlotte Brontë”. A small smile spread across her face, which was confusing as all heck and a tad creepy to be honest, “very well-done Miss y/n, that’s the first time a student has gotten that question correct.”……

What in the name of ever-loving fluff just happened?….

So our girl is back and kicking butt! hopefully it’s not as bad as I think it is, and again I want to thank you all again for being so patient with me, good news is I’ve got the rest of the book written already! I’ll be posting them at least once a week.

Lots of love,

Rose xxx

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 3: Chapter 10

I’m free as a bird when I’m flying in your cage: Nov/Dec 2017  

Word count: 3k

SkyFire 3 MASTERLIST

Please for the love of god, if you like the story just hit the reblog button. I really don’t know how to say it nicely but it’s really starting to bother me and maybe that makes me a dick but so be it.

>Instagram posts

Thankfully, after a day and a half of vocal rest, Harry was ready to go for the Manchester show and he very much dialled his performance up to 11 for his hometown crowd. Just as she had told Grimmy, Aurora stayed off social media in the days following the interview, but she heard from others that a small section of the fandom was absolutely furious with her and the social media manager that Mark had hired years ago to clear out her comment sections was working overtime to keep some of the nastier shit from her feeds. As much as Aurora herself was able to avoid it all together, she knew that a lot of her fans would be reading the comments and she wanted to keep it safe for them. Harry’s team was also working to keep his own accounts clear as well, and while they couldn’t hide from what was being said about them or Louis and Elanor, they could try to filter out the worst of it. This was the one part of celebrity that they all agreed was the worst. It was the unfortunate consequence of having such passionate fans. Ella had no such inclination to avoid the comment sections and was spending her free time picking fights with Larries and attempting to set them straight on the reality of Harry and Louis’ relationship as nothing more than brotherly love. Aurora tried to urge her to let it go, but unfortunately her best friend was feisty and easy to anger which was not a good combination with how overprotective she was about her loved ones. By the time they stepped out onto the Manchester stage, both Rori and Harry were happy to put aside the drama and focus on the music.  Things started to cool down over the following week which took them up to Glasgow and then on to Stockholm, Berlin, Amsterdam, and Milan. By the time they returned to London on the 11th, the music video for Kiwi had been live for 3 days and the fans had thankfully moved on from Aurora’s interview in exchange for raving about the new video.  

They spent the first few days relaxing at home before Rori headed to North London to meet up with Liam at the recording studio he liked to use to work on the song he had mentioned at Niall’s launch party. Aurora had spent the last few weeks listening to the demo on repeat while pouring over the sheet music Liam had emailed her. She was obsessed with the song and the two had been messaging back and forth constantly, discussing the arrangement and which parts each of them would take. Stepping back into a recording studio, even one she’d never visited before, felt like coming home after weeks on the road and her face lit up immediately as soon as she caught sight of Liam,  wrapping her arms around him in a rib crushing hug.

“Ready to jump straight in?” he asked after letting her go.

“Absolutely,” she replied excitedly before following him as he introduced her to the producer and technicians that they would be working with for the following few days.

With a full week before Harry and Rori were due to  fly to Shanghai, neither she nor Liam were on a tight schedule to finish the song. This meant that the environment in the studio was very chilled and there were many tangents and breaks taken while they worked.

“How attached are you and Lou to the lyrics?” Rori asked on their second day in the studio.

“Of course, you want to change something,” Liam laughed in a response. “Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Rori replied with a laugh of her own. “I am who I am.”

“I know,” Liam agreed. “So, show me what you’re thinking.”

“I’ve been tossing around the pre-chorus and I was wondering if instead of what you lads have there, instead we go with this.”

I'm free as a bird When I'm flying in your cage I'm diving in deep And I'm riding with no brakes And I'm bleeding in love You're swimming in my veins You got me now

“Well fuck,” Liam replied. “Think I need to stop writing with Louis and start writing with you more often.”

“You like it?”

“Rors, I love it,” he said. “It’s way better than what we came up with. Let’s get back in the booth and record it.”

They ended up spending four days finishing the song which left Aurora with a few remaining days to catch up with Ella and also relax at home with her husband before they were thrown back into work.

xXx

The day before they were set to fly to China, Aurora headed over to Ella’s flat in Wimbledon. “I brought cake,” she yelled as she let herself into the flat with the spare key Ella had given her when Rori first moved back to London.

“Fuck yes!” Ella cheered in response, her voice carrying down the hall from the kitchen. “I’m just making us tea,” she continued as Rori made her way inside. “Get yourself comfy on the sofa and I’ll meet you in there, babe.”

Rori made herself at home in the living room, Ella’s elderly tabby cat Elliot, immediately padding over to make himself comfortable in her lap.

“You were recording with Liam this week yeah?” Ella asked as she joined Rori on the sofa, placing mugs of tea in front of them. “How was it?”

“God, it was so much fun El,” Rori sighed. “I didn’t realise how much I missed being in the studio. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love touring and I’m having an incredible time on the road, but it felt so good to be back recording again and it just has me itching to write again.”

“You should make sure to do more of it over the Christmas break then,” Ella pointed out. “Speaking of which are you going to be in New York or are you coming home for winter?”

“We’re planning a bit of both. Christmas and my birthday in New York with my dads and then we’ll come back here for February before the tour kicks off again in March. I think Gemma and Anne are going to join us for Christmas too and then when we get back Liam and I have made plans to have a writing session together. ”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Ella nodded before taking a sip of her tea. “Selfishly I’m glad you’ll be spending a decent chunk of time here. I miss you.”

“Urggh,” Rori groaned. “I miss you too. Was thinking of maybe doing something for Harry’s birthday and getting you, Lou, Liam, and Niall over to our flat for a game’s night or something. I feel like Harry could use something a little more lowkey this year after the insanity of tour.”

“Don’t feel like you need to invite me,” Ella replied awkwardly. “I mean, if you’re inviting the band over, I’m not really part of that group.”

“Oh bullshit,” Rori laughed. “They boys love you just like I do. You all get along great whenever we were all together for wedding stuff or the album launch. Why on earth would you feel like I shouldn’t invite you too?”

“Rori,” Ella sighed. “While yes, I have gotten along with yours and Harry’s friends in the past, that doesn’t mean that I run in the same circles as they do. They’re celebrities, you are a celebrity and I just think that sometimes you forget that I’m just your old friend from school. It’s two separate worlds that you live in.”

Aurora rolled her eyes in response, taking a sip of her tea while she compiled her rebuttal. “That’s such a load of shit El. They are mine and Harry’s friends and so are you. When we are away from the paparazzi, they are no different to you and me. I get that we grew up with their pictures on our bedroom walls but once you put that aside they’re just a bunch of really great guys that I think could become your close friends too if you let them in and stop freaking out around them.”

“Ok fine,” Ella agreed after a moment of silent staring between the two women. “I’ll try to get over myself and give them a chance next time we’re all in the same room. Can we change the subject now?”

“That’s all I’m asking for and absolutely we can change the subject. How’s things with Tim? Feel like we haven’t talked about him in a while.” Ella made a face and Aurora felt her heart break for her best friend. “When?” she asked softly. “What happened, love?”

“He broke it off a few weeks ago,” Ella explained. “Said he didn’t feel a spark or something.”

“I’m sorry babe, things seemed to be going so well when I left for the tour.”

“They were. At least I thought they were. We barely made it past 3 months before he gave up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were half a world away having the best time,” Ella replied. “If I’d told you then you would have just felt guilty for not being here.”

“And now instead I feel guilty for not even being able to be a sympathetic ear since I couldn’t provide a shoulder. How are you now?”

“I’ll be ok. I’ve been a bit down in the dumps, but I think it’s for the best. He made some good points about me not really knowing what I wanted and he’s right. I think I’m gonna swear off dating until I really figure out who I am and what I’m looking for.”

“Well if you ever want help figuring out who you are, I think I know you pretty well by now.”

“I might take you up on that offer,” Ella said with a small smile before changing topic. “Now enough moping, you said you brought cake with you? You are never going to believe the scandal that’s broken out amongst some of the girls in my Colonial History class.”

xXx

Occasionally something would happen in Aurora’s life that would give her pause and remind her how incredibly ludicrous her life had become. Standing behind her keyboard in the middle of a Victoria Secrets show in Shanghai while her husband sang and danced his heart out in front of her while literally supermodels strutted past them was one of those moments.

It was hard for her to believe that only 2 days ago she was sitting on her best friend’s sofa eating a chocolate cake from Sainsbury’s and discussing the latest high school drama playing out in Ella’s classroom. She found herself thinking about how her mother would react if she somehow had a way to travel back in time seven years and tell her about this moment and all the other life changing moments that had occurred since they parted. It was while her thoughts were caught on her mother that Harry turned, catching her eye, a mile-wide smile lighting up his face as he winked at her, causing her own smile to grow in response. No matter how strange her life had become and how much everything had changed since she was an average teenager living above a small bar, she knew that she wouldn’t change a single thing that had happened if it meant ending up here with Harry smiling at her like that.

xXx

Following the Victoria Secrets show, the band arrived in Singapore early and spent a few days exploring before their show there after which the flew on to Australia, a country that Harry had toured many times over the years with One Direction, but Aurora had never managed to visit herself. They had a week in the land Down Under, with shows in both Sydney and Melbourne and Aurora made it her mission to see as much as she could of the 2 state capitals, often dragging Harry or other members of the band along on her adventures. Given that it was the last week of November everywhere was getting into the Christmas spirit, however since it was the southern hemisphere the weather was scorching hot and the group found the combination highly entertaining, if somewhat baffling.

While in Sydney they took in the iconic sights such as Bondi beach, the Opera House, and the Harbour Bridge, as well as a day trip out to explore the Blue Mountains. In Melbourne they visited the Eureka Tower with it’s Skydeck that offered an amazing view of the city spread out beneath them. They also spent some time at the Melbourne Zoo and National Gallery of Victoria, then the day after their show at the Forum, they were taken on a drive out of the city and down along the coastal Great Ocean Road.

The tour stop in Auckland was similarly packed out with touristy opportunities where Aurora’s highlight was the art gallery Toi o Tāmaki. While the laid back vibes in both Australia and New Zealand captured Aurora’s attention, it was the week they spent in Tokyo that held Harry’s, so much so that while everyone else headed home the day after the last show, the young couple made a last minute change to their travel plans and extended their stay by an additional week to explore the city more.

Once again, Tokyo was somewhere that Harry had visited many times with the band while Aurora had never been, and he enjoyed to opportunity to show her his favourite parts. Something Aurora noticed almost immediately about Tokyo was that unlike in the US or the UK, people either didn’t recognize them when they were out and about or they did but respected their privacy and left them alone. She pointed this out to Harry on their second day wandering the city streets and he smiled back at her, agreeing that it was something he’d also noticed in a previous visit and had definitely played a role in him falling in love with the city.

They spent their days wandering the streets, ducking into quirky shops that caught their eye and just revelling in the normalcy of being together in public. As they walked, they both realized that they had never had this; a chance to be like everyone else crowding the sidewalks around them. Save for stolen moments in the early days of their relationship like their first date in Hampstead Heath or when they were able to sneak into galleries on quiet days, they’d never really been able to be themselves within a crowd. They’d always needed to wrap a scarf that little bit higher around their chins or wear a hat a little lower on their heads or glasses a little bit larger. To walk hand in hand like any other couple was freeing in a way that Rori hadn’t realized she’d been missing, and she soaked up every moment of their time in Tokyo. If only for a week she felt like she was living the life she would have had if her mother hadn’t died. If she had continued living as a normal girl from Wimbledon instead of being thrust into the spotlight, free to live her life without the scrutiny of the press and the public. Of course, it wasn’t lost on her that the man holding her hand wouldn’t be Harry in this parallel universe and for that she would happily trade in her freedom. She could accept that the price she paid to be married to Harry and be Steve and Tony’s daughter was that she would never really be allowed to have this normality, so she simply tried to make the most of their time before they flew on to New York for Christmas. They never spoke about any of this during their little vacation away from their lives but even without voicing her thoughts, Rori was certain that Harry was thinking the same thing and would willingly make the same sacrifices for the life they had built together.

xXx

Both Aurora and Harry were exhausted by the time they reached New York and were grateful to find Happy waiting for them as soon as they exited the arrivals terminal at JFK. He offered a quick hug to Rori before collecting their bags from them and leading them to the town car waiting for them. She leant against Harry in the back seat as they made the hour long drive into Manhattan. Her blinks began to lengthen as the airport shrank in the rear-view mirror and she was fast asleep before they reached Queens. Harry had to gently coax her awake once they finally reached the tower and she slowly made her way out of the car and into the elevator up to the penthouse. Tony and Steve were waiting up for their arrival and excitedly pulled their daughter into tight hugs the moment she stepped out of the elevator. It was Steve that noticed the way both Rori and Harry’s eyelids seem to droop and their gazes glazed over while Tony asked them a dozen questions about their recent adventures, and Rori was grateful when her Pops shooed them both off to bed with promises that they could catch up properly over a homecooked breakfast the next morning. They were barely conscious by the time they stripped out of their clothes and crawled into bed, however Aurora remained awake just long enough the think about how good it felt to be home.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3                               

[malecacidd]

So... Do you have any fic recs? 👀👀👀

Um????? Vi?????? Yes absolutely?????? Ily????? Kfkzkdnsk 🥺🥺🥺 and aaaaaaa I'm sorry if you've read some of these but!!! Here are some recs 🥺🥺 aaaaa

Chaptered Fics

So I'm splitting this into categories between chaptered and one shots because I can. Also if I know the person has a Tumblr I'll be tagging them too kfkskfks

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Turn Your Back on Mother Nature by @siriuspiggyback

Ghosts aren't people. This is something that Klaus learned when he was small. Ghosts aren't people, because people are more than the hate and fear and anger inside of them.

But Ben is different. Isn't he?

/Evil Ben fic that brought me loads of pain/10 chapters/36k words/Rated teen and up with a warning of graphic violence/

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This Is the First Day of My Life by @dyll-pickless

There was a stretch of silence. “Fine,” he eventually said. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

Klaus grinned. “I won’t.”

-OR-

In attempting to find more information on his brother's death, Klaus Hargreeves gets caught up in a lot of trouble with some very powerful people.

/Mob au that I love very very much/14 chapters/40.5k words/Rated teen and up with a warning of graphic violence/

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Unfamiliar by @caedi

A sleep deprived Klaus accidentally stumbles into a difficult discussion with Ben. One that's been haunting them both for sixteen years.

This changes a few things for the 1963 apocalypse. Other things stay the same.

/A kind of rewrite of the last few episodes of s2 that broke my heart and I love very much/4 chapters/25.5k words/Rated mature with no archive warnings/

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What was Lost in the Portal by @is-jus-me

“Five? What happened?” Vanya asked.

“I- I don’t remember,”

Five managed to successfully return to 2019, but there was a problem, not only did he return to his 13 year old body, but he also lost his memories about the apocalypse and the commission.

Basically, life was shit.

/Amazing fic that I love and beta'd mdnsjd/5 out of 7 chapters posted/4.3k words/Rated general with no archive warning/

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last ones standing by penhaligon (on ao3)

Ben's only haunt options are the apocalypse or a cold dark slithering place, and he thinks that the universe must really have it out for him.

/idk how to describe this but basically, 'good' kfkdkdkd it's good/2 chapters/12.6k words/Rated general with no archive warnings/

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One shot timeeeee kfmskdks

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To Be Or Not To Be by AllThoseOtherWorlds (on ao3)

When Five took them back to the start of the week for a re-do, Ben wasn't expecting to suddenly find himself in Klaus's body, but sometimes things like that happen. Now he has to explain some things to their siblings, figure out Klaus's powers so they can switch back, and perhaps most importantly, convince himself and Klaus that switching back is the right thing to do.

/One of my favorite fics/7.7k words/Rated teen and up with no archive warnings/

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A quiet kind of hurt by @whatisthis-whatamidoing

Ben had been having a nice day, eating his ice cream and watching his brothers bicker. Until a friendly dog tried to say hello.

or

Ben has trauma surrounding animals

/Have you ever wanted pain and sibling bonding all in one fic? Read this jfkskd I love it/2.5k words/Rated teen and up with warning for graphic violence/

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don't forget your lines by @zontiky

Dave goes on a lot of dates, and a lot of people die.

/I can't believe I'm reccing this but it's actually good minus the bit of bave/murder mystery shitshow/2.7k words/Rated teen and up with a warning for major character death/

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the first day of the rest of our lives by hujwernoo (on ao3)

Klaus should really stop coming to the alley. It's not like it helps anyone. Everyone is probably dead, so all he's accomplishing is making himself feel shitty. This is the last time, he decides. After today, he'll stop coming.

Turns out he's real fucking lucky he didn't decide that earlier.

/s2 fix it or rewrite of Klaus' arc in which he finds Allison at the alley and I love/5.2k words/Rated teen and up with no archive warnings/

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Two Presents by @evelinaonline

How does one surprise their dead brother that follows them around everywhere with a Christmas gift? Well, Klaus better figure it out soon, because Christmas is right around the corner and Ben isn't going anywhere.

/GENUINELY IN MY TOP 3 FAVORITE FICS GO READ RN/2.5k words/Rated general with no archive warnings/

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Life After Death, Literally by Tremble (on ao3)

Ben Hargreeves is a lot of things. He’s a brother, an ex-superhero and now an ex-ghost. He was dead, but he “lived” over ten years as a ghost. Becoming a living human, or as human as somebody with eldritch horrors living just under the skin can be, is going to take a bit of an adjustment period.

AKA 5 times Ben forgot he was alive +1 time he remembered.

/The cutest most wholesome shit I've ever read/5k words/Not rated with no archive warnings/

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The Dead Make Better Company Than The Living Sometimes by Scarlet_Nin (on ao3)

“This is a bad idea.”

“You’re such a worrywart, Benny!” Klaus squints at him, shifting on his feet at the entrance of a graveyard. He can hear the faint howls of screams in his ears, the coldness seeping into his bones, freezing him into place. “It’s gonna be fine. As easy as a piece of cake. Hey, you know what? We should go out and eat cake after this. You love cake.”

Ben shakes his head. “Look at yourself! You don’t even want to do this, so let’s leave.”

Klaus glances down at him, sexy boots with heels and his favorite fur trimmed jacket. “I look fabulous. Don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve been standing here for the past hour, trembling and trying to talk yourself up to take a single step further and yet you’re still standing here. Let’s go home, Klaus.”

Yeah, no. Not happening. He's here to prove something. Leaving now would be a waste of time. It would prove Daddy dearest right and Klaus hates that thought more than what he's about to do. If it all goes well, Five and the others would stop being so stressed and he'd earn himself some browney points in family bounding. Easy peasy.

Or not. Because ghosts in a graveyard are like rabid dogs fighting over a juicy steak.

/The summary is so long I'm so sorry nfjsjdjs/This fic is amazing pls read/8.2k words/Not rated with no archive warnings/

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So, with nothing else to do, Ben drifted. He just didn't expect to be pulled back into where most people go to enjoy their afterlife.

Take Me Home (I've Lost Myself) by @malecacidd

~^~

Reginald dies and god pulls Ben up to let them talk.

/FUCK IT I'M DOING A SELF PROMO BC THIS FIC GOT LESS ATTENTION THAN I WANTED AND I GENUINELY LIKE IT KCJZJDMSMS/2.8k words/Rated teen and up with no archive warnings/

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Okay that's all I'm doing because this is getting long JFJZJDNZNDNSKSK but 🥺🥺🥺 I hope you like these!!

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part One

~the sweetest drink on the menu~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: just minsung, han jisung/lee minho

warnings: mild language (like barely)

words: 3.5k (2k too many ngl)

summary: Minho is working his usual shift at Seoul's most expensive high end restaurant, when a trio of new-comers arrive and by the end of Minho’s tedious night he’s plus one additional phone number.

a/n: To be honest this is the first thing I’ve ever written and actually posted. SO please accept this minsung one-shot that just came out of wanting more waiter Minho in my life. anyway if you read it and like it let me know, and maybe ill write more of it. In my head it has at least a few more chapters of non-plot where the other boys show up <3

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It had only been an hour since the dinner rush started and Minho was already counting the minutes until he could collect his tips and go home. Sure, he could think of countless more exhausting jobs compared to being a waiter at Menu 98 (an upscale restaurant in a part of town he most definitely did not live in), but today just hit different. He never had to do much more than just put on his Customer Server Smile ™, not mess up the orders, pour the wine without spilling, and recommend the highest priced appetizer if asked. Pretty simple stuff. Nothing too draining, but still the exhaustion set in, probably due to spending 2 more hours in the dance studio than he should’ve the previous day. 

His feet were paying for those additional long hours trying to perfect choreo by making each minute of his shift more painful than the last. Even so, working at the ever popular restaurant paid for the daily discomfort that Minho may have felt from his blistered feet. The restaurant was a well known hot spot for anyone with enough money to casually spend the equivalent of three of Minho's paychecks on a meal. CEOs and their business partners along with idols and some lesser known celebrities made up most of their usual clientele on a casual Friday night like this one. The customers always came in waves on Friday evenings, parties of usually 4 or more coming in to celebrate some successful business venture that took place during the week. Great for Minho really, because that meant usually more wine, more appetizers, larger meals, and larger checks, which means bigger tips. His bank account really needed these Fridays especially if he was gong to keep saving up to finally pursue his dream. 

A new party of six was just assigned to Minho’s section. Trademarked smile: on, Feet: still aching, Hours until close: at least another three. It looked like tonight it was going to be a long ass night. 

An hour or so passed before Minho was able to get some form of rest from being out on the floor. Minho leaned his body weight against the wall near the back of the dining room, appreciating the brief calm before the night crowd started to roll in. Thoughts of the dance he was trying to choreograph flashed through his head. He hoped that the movements he’d chosen would be able to convey the emotions of the song he had in mind. The thought of asking Hyunjin to watch his performance briefly popped in his head, but before he could consider it further the hostess was calling his name. 

“Minho! There's a new table for you in section three.” Minho moved from his comfortable position against the wall and went through his checklist; Apron? Flattened. Backup pens? Check. Hair gently moved out of his face to perfectly frame it? Check. Lastly, Polite customer service smile? Obviously. 

The three boys at the table were definitely new customers to the restaurant. Minho observed that the three of them appeared to be blissfully unaware of the de facto business casual to fully formal dress code that the other patrons in the restaurant followed. The Trio seemed to sport the street style that you would see in the popular clubs not only a block away. Two of them clothed in almost all black outfits while the third wore a bright pink colored hoodie under his jean jacket. 

“Hyung, I still can’t believe we did it! The crowd was huge, I mean after going on stage I don't even remember anything. I might have blacked out. Holy shit did I actually black out….” Pink hoodie seemed pretty animated about whatever the reason was for their meal out. Maybe a little too animated, as other tables glazed bitterly toward the source of their evening’s disruption.   

Before approaching he considered the possibility that these boys being idols was likely, but Minho still found it odd for multiple reasons. He didn't recognize them at all as idols, which he was usually pretty good at keeping up with, and when idols did casually come in it was more likely to be on a weekday for an early dinner and not a late Friday night after the dinner rush. Nonetheless, with his perfect waiter image on, he walks over to the table never showing his curiosity.

“Good evening gentlemen, My name is Minho, and I’ll be serving you tonight. Is there anything I can get you to drink before your starters?” His script rolled politely off his tongue like it had the whole night. All complete with a slight smile and arms perfectly placed behind him, as carefully and as naturally as a doll whose been posed in the same position for the past six hours.

The wide set, somewhat brooding boy has already decided after glancing at the drink menu, “yeah I'll order a bottle of the house red for the table,” glancing up at Minho from beneath his black cap. Minho swiftly wrote down the order, and moved his glance over to the next boy at the table.

“Hyung, you're the only one of us who chooses to drink wine voluntarily,” Pink hoodie spoke up, seemingly upset about the prospect of drinking bitter fruit water. 

“Jisung, you're just saying that because you can't handle anything that you can actually taste the alcohol in. I'll drink whatever Bin gets,” the handsome curly haired blonde mentions, glancing at the soft hoodied boy next to him with a look that reminds Minho of a disappointed father. Minho actively fights off the smirk that is wanting to form on his lips.

“WHAT that's not true, THAT ONE TIME I drank an entire bottle of-”

“Fine, fine just stop yelling. You’re gonna get us kicked out before we even get to eat” Mr. Black cap glances up at Minho again, but with a more apologetic look. “Add on an order of the fruitiest and sweetest drink you serve still with alcohol in it, for the small squirrel boy.” That last part came with a smirk from the dark haired speaker and a glare from from the ‘squirrel boy’ to his left. 

Minho had trouble keeping the smirk from forming this time. And maybe his perfect image faltered for a second, but he was quick to recover, and confirmed their orders with a straight face and a promise to return with water as he left to give them time to select from the menu. 

---

“Great now our waiter thinks I'm a whiny baby who looks like a squirrel. Wow, thanks Changbin-hyung.” Jisung grumbles and pinches his cheeks that cursed him with the rodent nickname. 

“Good, at least he won’t be fooled into thinking you're anything but the truth” 

“Yah! WHa-”

“Hey settle down you guys, lets try not to get kicked out please. Binnie recommended the food here, and I would very much like to eat it before we are politely asked to leave” 

Jisung grumbles something inaudible at Chan’s request, and Changbin can't help but respond with a smirk at getting to see the younger be told off.

“Also we're supposed to be celebrating selling out our show so lets do that, yeah? First show 3racha single handedly sold out! WE did that!” 

All three of them get proud smiles after that, and the bickering is left forgotten as the three recount the night, even though they had lived it together

“Not gonna lie, I think our Binnie stole the show tonight. You were on fire tonight man.” Chan said proudly, receiving a thankful smile from the younger boy, who had become shy and bashful at the praise.

“Though, Chan-hyung your rap was so charismatic tonight, you almost made that girl in front faint when you winked at her, the whole audience fucking lost it” Jisung had switched from literally yelling to just a whisper shout for emphasis.

“Hahaha, yeah I can't even believe that happened. Man, today’s energy was just different.” The smile on Chan’s face was blinding, as usual. “Hopefully we can get to play even bigger venues soon. I could get used to this...” Chan mused, seemingly already focused on the future plans of 3racha. 

“Yeah, those paydays would be real nice right about now.”

“Bin-hyung, what are you talking about, you’re literally loaded. Plus since you got that producing job, we can actually pay the rent on the apartment you parents let us stay in '' Jisungs pretty thankful for all the support Changbins parents had given them, while the three of them worked toward their collective dream to make and perform music. But he thinks they all can agree that finally being able to use their own money to live instead of just relying on handouts and the kindness of friends or family to help keep them from becoming starved or homeless, is a new kind of satisfying that Jisung hadn’t considered before. Just look at them now, at one of the nicest (and most expensive) restaurants in Seoul, fighting over drinks and having a meal that would hopefully be the first of many celebrations for their groups accomplishments. The trio could all agree that the financial stress has been one of their greatest worries, and that beginning to escape it has been all kinds of relieving. 

Before any of the boys could respond to Jisung’s comment, Minho had returned with three glasses of water, three glasses for wine, and a bottle of wine all balanced perfectly on a tray perched on the palm of his hand. Jisung had to admit it was impressive how he had managed to balance all of the glassware and liquids without losing balance, and while moving with more grace and agility than he would expect from your average waiter. 

Before Jisung had even returned from his thoughts, three glasses of water and the expertly poured wine glasses, all set delicately without a single drop spilled, were identically placed in front of each of them. Graceful may have been an understatement. 

“Have you decided what you would like to have tonight, gentlemen?” Their waiter Minho said, all with a gentle expression on his face. 

No, the answer was no, but before Jisung could respond, Changbin had already ordered the pricey steak to go with his wine. Soon after, Chan ordered the surf and turf dish that had a stupidly complicated name that Jisung couldn’t pronounce. Jisung hadn’t even remembered them even looking at the menu, or maybe it was just him who had yet to even glanced at it. Details. 

“Uhhhhh…” Jisung searched hopelessly over the menu and then at his friends, who stared blankly back at him, then back to the menu again. This was a regular occurrence when the three decided to go out and eat, when they weren’t holding themselves in their apartment for weeks at a time. Still, Jisung always ended up hopelessly unprepared to successfully order without awkward pauses and at least three consecutive strings of ‘hmm’s and ‘uhhh’s. And so,

“Hmmmmm…. I think.. Uhh…. maybe…” nothing was popping out at him, and Jisung was pretty sure at this point that he had forgotten how to read. “Ya know what, surprise me,” he decided this was the best response he could come up with.  

“Surprise you?” Minho looked just as confused as Jisung felt.

“Yeah, is that an option? If not, I'm this close to just closing my eyes and pointing.” He says while dramatically closing his eyes and waving his finger over the menu. Once again Jisung was hopeless.

He hears a soft chuckle and opens his eyes just in time to catch their waiter’s lips curl in a sweet smile that makes his eyes turn into crescents. It lasts barely a second, before his face returns to his neutral customer service expression. But Jisung decides he really likes that smile, and a part of him is sad to see it retreat so soon. 

“Well in that case, I can do the blind pointing for you, but I personally recommend the seasonally prepared local beef served on house baked brioche, that comes with garlic and parsley potato wedges. Does that sound alright?” Jisung felt he had said it faster and with more details just to confuse him. 

Jisung stares at him blankly in response, and he's pretty sure four whole seconds pass in silence before the Pretty Waiter ™ follows up, an ever so slight smirk on his lips, “it's pretty much a really good local burger with homemade fries, I think it would be something you would enjoy.” 

Jisung grins at that, “Oh! Yeah that does sound good...Thank you! I will have that.” For some reason he really likes the idea that their waiter chose something off the menu that was specially meant for him. Not that he wouldn't like all the nicer and fancier dishes they serve here with small plates with dry ice fog, but a part of him was more content in getting a dinner that didn't require him to question whether or not something on his plate was even edible. And the happy curiosity definitely had nothing to do with the way their waiter’s eyes sparkled when he talked or the barely-there smirk that Jisung just caught sight of. 

“Alright then, I’ll put in these orders. Oh! And then I'll be right back with your speciality fruit drink,” He says that last part with a slightly more upbeat tone, resulting in another smirk to appear on Changbin’s face and a groan from a slightly embarrassed Jisung.

---

Minho surprised himself. 

On any given day of work at Menu 98, he deathly avoids having to do anything more than the regular polite small talk. But for some reason, tonight he couldn’t stop himself from playing along with the antics of the cute boy at his table. The three boys were entertaining, and maybe he could blame the exhaustion and the numb pain in his heels, but the comical distraction was welcomed by Minho. He didn't even realize just how much he had been looking for a distraction from the long shift until it was staring right at him with big shiny eyes and a cute round face. Minho hurried back to enter in their orders, including his suggestion for the squirrel looking boy.

Minho wasn’t going to deny that the flustered boy at the table was cute, he was pretty aware how attractive all three the boys were when he took their orders. He had thought they were idols originally, so in Minho’s mind it made sense. Still, the waiter still felt something about the three was too unique to be categorized as just idols or trainees. As much as it may have piqued his curiosity though, Minho still got paid for his service not for his interests in customers, so he brushed it off almost as soon as it appeared. 

The rest of the evening, Minho tended to all four of his assigned tables with his usual perfect server act and minimal small talk. When it came to the three somewhat boisterous customers in the corner table, Minho may or may not have allowed himself to subtly laugh at their arguments and antics. The dynamic of the three boys was slowly becoming the highlight of his late night shift. Each of their personalities greatly contrasted and amplified the other, making way for animated and comical exchanges and arguments between them. 

When Minho had returned with a Strawberry daiquiri for the boy in pink, a chorus of giggles could be heard from the other two boys, while the other happily accepted the drink in substitute for the untouched glass of wine in front of him. Upon drinking it, the cute boy's eyes somehow widened further and shined more than Minho thought was possible. He flashed his heart-shaped smile as he thanked Minho for the drink. 

Minho nodded in return, and internally decided that Heart-shaped smiles were his new favorite. 

---

Jisung had been hyper since the show, and the energy was now focused on a new mission to see the pretty smile of their waiter again. Granted, he didn't have to try that much harder to gain the attention of the pretty waiter, being the loud and excitable person naturally he was. Every small grin that Jisung was able to pull out from under the other boy’s infuriatingly polite facade, was a major win in his book. 

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung celebrated further by enjoying the food, which was all phenomenal, and discussing their next gig the coming week. The best way to celebrate one performance is to look towards the next, or someother random bullshit Changbin had said after a couple more glasses of wine.

Overall the night was a celebration of all of the dedication and hours they had put into their music, as well as their grind to perform and grow a somewhat sizable following. They were all high on the potential of finally getting to realize their dreams and reach their goals as a group, something none of them actually thought they would get to do together. The overwhelming happiness of the night easily made it one of Jisung's new favorite memories. 

As the boys were finishing off their third--or forth--drink (Jisung definitely had another one of the strawberry drinks Minho had brought him), after dinner and figuring out their checks, Jisung felt a surge of boldness. Mostly due to having a few drinks in his system, and the slight infatuation he had with the pretty waiter's smile, Jisung decided ‘whats the worst thing that could happen? Rejection? lmao’ and wrote down his name and number on his receipt in hopes that Minho would actually read it, or maybe even contact him. Maybe. 

It was a shot in the dark, but Jisung had been feeling a little high on life, and felt like he couldn’t leave without at least shooting his shot. Jisung and the other members of 3racha got up to leave, and Jisung searched out the waiter. He  wasn’t able to see him in the mostly empty dining room now, but a hopeful part of him felt that he would see him again, leaving the restaurant with his arms around his members already bickering about who would get to shower first after their long night. 

“I'm just saying, Chan-hyung I know for a fact that you’re not even going to make it to the front door before passing out, so I call dibs. And Jisung, I’m older than you so I get veto power over your rights and decisions as your hyung.” 

Jisung was about to grumble in response but something about how Changbin’s smile was so carefree left him feeling like he deserved this victory. Changbin was definitely a little tipsy, but seeing his hyung so happy after such a rough week made Jisung glad to do anything to keep that smile there.

“Fine, fine hyung but you have to help me carry Chan-hyung up stairs when he inevitable falls asleep on me in the cab” 

“I don't know what youre talking about,” Chan replies, already yawning, while climbing into the cab.

---

Minho was picking up the receipts from his tables when one of them caught his eye.

Hey, I’m Han Jisung ^~^ (the cute one in the pink hoodie!)

Thanks for your suggestions, best waiter ever!!!

I think your smile is beautiful, Maybe I’ll get to see it again sometime?

555-XXX-XXXX

Minho couldn't help but smile to himself. He’d been hit on occasionally by customers and has been given countless numbers, which usually don't make it much farther than the trash, but something about the innocence of the note and cuteness of the boy made him actually consider keeping it.

He scoffed to himself after a second of considering it. As cute as the boy was, and as sweet as the note was, Minho didn’t have time or energy to have another added person in his life. No matter romantically or platonically, new relationships were on his ‘things to stay away from if you ever wanna make it into the dance academy’ list. He already barely ever saw his roommates, and if they weren't all in the same dance troupe, they probably wouldn't talk much. All of their time was spent working and practicing, and he and his roommates only had enough energy and free time to spend a meal or two together on the weekends. There just wasn’t any more time for anything extra, no matter how nice the idea may sound. 

He was about to give the little message the same treatment as the others as he cleaned up for the night, but a part of him couldn't bring himself to throw it away, and discreetly pocketed it instead out of instinct. Out of sight and out of mind as far as Minho was concerned.

-----

thank you if you read this far <3

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

[the1918]

Bespoke, Chapter 5 is taking me a stupid amount of time to finish, and I feel so bad about it that I’m going post post a teaser here :) This is about a quarter of the chapter. Hope you like it!

Teaser for Bespoke, Chapter 5

[Story No. 2 in the Compatibile A/B/O Universe]

Pairing: Shrunkyclunks (Cap Steve Rogers / Modern Bucky Barnes), of the bearded Alpha Steve and Omega twink!Bucky subvariety

Rating: Story Rated E for Explicit, this excerpt Rated T for Teen

Tags: A/B/O, sugar daddy!Steve

***

December 15

Thursday - 2:15 P.M.

Elevators in medical buildings always smelled like rubbing alcohol and iodine, which was definitely not Bucky’s favorite smell. He breathed through his mouth instead of his nose as the elevator descended the fourteen floors from Dr. Pete’s office suite, down to the ground floor.

Bucky had left work early that day to catch his monthly blood work appointment. Unpleasantly sterile smells aside, he was breathing especially easy that afternoon, for two reasons. First, he had finally wrapped up the enormous project he’d been working on in his lab for almost eight months, and he’d passed it off to the StarkTech testing department. Getting that load off his plate was a massive relief, and it came at the perfect time; he could now embark on his Vermont vacation (tomorrow!) with Steve and leave behind the weight of work on his shoulders. Second, the results of Bucky’s blood work had shown his hormone levels right where Dr. Pete had expected them to be, based on the Heat time-table they were anticipating. No early Heat.

Bucky was more stress-free than he could remember feeling in six months.

As he stepped out of the elevator to the ground floor, Bucky immediately felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text message from Steve.

 [2:15 P.M.] Stevie: Done at Pete’s yet?

 Instead of walking out onto the cold, winter-time city streets, Bucky found a bench in the lobby and sat down to respond.

 [2:16 P.M.] Sent: Yep, just finished.

[2:16 P.M.] Stevie: Great. Any surprises?

 Bucky knew Steve was referring to his blood work. He typed out his response knowing Steve would be relieved by the results, just as Bucky was.

 [2:17 P.M.] Sent: Nope. Everything was where Dr. P thought it would be.

[2:18 P.M.] Sent: He says I look on track for April, maybe February if it comes early.

 Bucky watched his phone. There was no response from Steve for a while, and Bucky worried that he may have spooked him with details about their time-table. The two hadn’t talked about Bucky’s next Heat much at all since their first and only therapy visit with Dr. Welsh, but Bucky knew it was hanging over their heads. If his Heat came within the conservative margin of error that Dr. Pete had estimated, they could theoretically be dealing with it in less than 60 days. With it would come Steve’s rut, and if they didn’t make any significant, tangible progress on the knotting issue before then, they could very well be dealing with something they weren’t ready for emotionally. The pressure, however silent, was there.

His phone vibrated again just as he was pulling out his gloves to head out onto the street.

 [2:22 P.M.] Stevie: Good to hear. You got any other plans this afternoon?

 Bucky frowned. He wondered if Steve was going to ask him for a late lunch, and he wished he hadn't already eaten.

 [2:23 P.M.] Sent: No. Was gonna come home for the day, help you out with the lighting installation.

[2:23 P.M.] Sent: Why?

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: Because you have plans now.

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: [Blue Serenity Spa]  - You’ve Been Sent a Link on Google Maps!

His confused frown deepened as he clicked the link. It took him to the location of some sort of day spa in northwest Brooklyn, not far from their apartment. Before Bucky could text back a ‘???’, another text from Steve came through.

 [2:25 P.M.] Stevie: You have an open-ended appointment starting at 3:15 P.M. Any and all services you ask for. I got you scheduled for a massage already, but you can change that if you want.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: They have my card info. Don’t you dare to even think about looking at the price list.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: Better go catch the next train baby ;)

 Flabbergasted, thumbs paralyzed and seemingly unable to type out another text, Bucky decided to just hit the call button on Steve’s contact. He placed the phone to his ear and he suddenly felt antsy as he waited for Steve to pick up. There was no ‘hello’ when the ringing stopped, only Steve’s teasing voice.

“I thought I told you to head for the train?”

“Steve,” Bucky began, emphatically. “What is this? You booked me a spa appointment?”

Steve was silent on the other end of the line for a long moment, and Bucky wondered if it was because he was more nervous than his confident communication let on.

“Yeah, angel. I did. Look,” Steve sighed, “you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d like this, I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“Woah,” Bucky interjected. “Hang on, I never said I didn’t like it. I just… I guess I don’t know why you want — why you think I deserved—”

“—You don’t know why I think you deserved to be pampered, Buck?” Steve interrupted, incredulous. “Really? After you just worked your ass off at work for months to finish a project that no one else could have even dreamed of doing? The technology that Tony’s been yapping to me about since before I even knew you?”

“It’s still technically in R&D,” Bucky muttered, blushing. Steve had always been supportive and enthusiastic about Bucky’s engineering work, but it still never ceased to make him feel a little bashful when Steve got to actually raving about him and his skills.

“Yeah, and the finished product is going to be amazing, because Bucky fucking Barnes developed it.”

Bucky laughed and fiddled with a thread on his sweater.

“You… you’re sure? I’ve never really been to a spa like that before, and it looked really nice on Google…”

“And it will be nice for you, which is exactly what I want.”

“Stevie…” Bucky smiled to himself and shook his head, a little at a loss for words. “I really was going to come home and help, you know. It takes more than two hands to put up some of those bigger fixtures.”

“Doesn’t have to be your hands, though. That’s why Sam is here.” Sure enough, in the background of the phone call Bucky suddenly heard Sam’s voice, hollering something that sounded a lot like, ‘go get a fucking rub down, Barnes!’.

Steve chuckled, and then Bucky thought he could hear him walking away.

“Also…” Steve said, volume lower, “last night, you put a plug in your ass and begged me to nail you on Tony’s conference room table. I think treating my baby to a spa appointment is the least I can do when you’ve just fulfilled multiple fantasies I didn’t even know I had.”

Bucky barked out a laugh at that. He looked down at the clock on his new smart watch—another gift from Steve—and realized that he really did have to head for the train if he was actually going to do this. He stood up and grabbed his bag.

“Alright… alright,” he conceded. Steve’s smile was almost audible through the phone. “You’ve convinced me. Thank you, Stevie.”

“No thanks necessary, baby. I wish you would let me treat you like this all the time, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Finally walking out onto the cold and busy sidewalk, Bucky was just about to say his goodbye and hang up when Steve chimed in again.  

“By the way, I just put in a call to Tony. You’ll be hearing from him very soon.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. “Shit. Did he figure out what we did? I mean, cleanup was a bitch, and we definitely had to throw away that undershirt after using it as towel, but I think we did a pretty good job covering our tracks? God, I’m gonna be in such deep shit with him—”

“No, nothing like that,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, there’s no way he doesn’t know, but he also knows damn well that he better come to me first if he’s got a problem with it. Besides… He probably considers it payback.”

“Payback? For what?”

“A story for another time,” Steve promised. “Are you at the station yet?”

“I’m walking there right now.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go. Have a relaxing time, baby. You deserve it. And use your time there, okay? I don’t want to see you home before six. Hell— keep ‘em ‘till they close, if you can manage it.”

“Okay,” Bucky laughed. “Thank you, Steve. Seriously… and I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I really love you when you let me spoil you.” Bucky could practically hear Steve wink. “Bye, honey.”

 As Bucky walked the familiar route to the subway station, his phone dinged again, this time from Tony.

 [2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: I literally cannot look at your face after what you did to my conference room with your jackass boyfriend.

[2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Do not come in tomorrow.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Consider it extra paid vacation, you disgusting pond scum.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Seriously. I better not see you or your vile beau again until January.

 Bucky probably looked like an idiot laughing so hard alone in public, but he didn’t care.

 [2:46 P.M.] Sent: Thanks Tony. Merry Christmas.

[2:47 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Yeah, and Happy fucking New Year.

 Bucky stuffed his phone in his pocket and abandoned himself to his thoughts as he jogged down the steps into the station, marveling at the wonder that was his boyfriend. Sometimes, he still could not believe that Steve was his. Steve—who had not only been a supportive partner to Bucky from the very beginning, but who was also a powerful and attentive lover, and—most importantly—the single greatest source of Bucky’s joy. By the time he reached the subway platform, waiting for the train, the sudden enormity of his gratitude for Steve had begun to bubble up and spread within the depths of Bucky’s chest, and he felt fit to combust with it. He had to remind himself just to breathe.

How had he gotten so lucky?

***

I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! Their relationship is about to head in a very special direction, starting in this chapter.

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter One

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1 [Here] - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. The crew finally land back into the world after the events of Ruxomar. That should be a good thing, right? But Wag is feeling the burden of everything that has happened to him, and he didn’t even get his magic back to boot.

It’s hard to be happy when life has been so shitty.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: I’ve been working on this since September? of 2019! I have 5 chapters done and still going. I wanted to wait to post this until I was done with it, but my impatience has gotten the better of me.

@the-moon-pal I’m coming for your crown king >:)

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They’d made it home a couple weeks ago, to the land of Mianite. It’d been such a relief. They got to meet the rest of the alts, got to watch Dianite meet the other gods- and cringe at the tension that crackled between them- got to find all their homes again. For once, in the past-however-long, there was peace. They could relax.

So why did Wag feel like utter shit?

Right. Because he literally got the worst part of the deal.

He thought his powers would come back when they got home. And they did, for a few hours. Not the full range, but a lot of it. It felt good to be full of magic again. It felt like he was himself.

But then things started to fall apart. Martha grew distant. His powers fell away in fits and bursts. He realized that the rest of FyreUK had moved on after they made amends in Ruxomar. They found their way on. Without him.

Nothing was the same, he realized, as he spent more time around the place they had called ‘home.’

Spark had done what he did best: built a city. Well, more like a village. What had once been a place of buildings thrown about at random and mostly open plains was now sparsely populated. Neatly arranged shops and a few houses took up the space next to the beach. New people had even begun to show up.

Everything was changing around him, yet he was stuck holding onto the past. Holding onto his wizardhood, to his brotherhood, to a partner that was farther now than ever, and- worst of all- he was still holding onto the hope that everything would just… go back. To how it was.

To when he was important.

Well, like fuck is he was going to sit around and loathe his existence. He could at least try to do something. Swear to Athar, he wasn’t going to turn into a lump of depression just because he couldn’t handle change! He’d rather be a walking mass of depression! That way he could at least pretend he was being productive.

Potions or spellbooks? A question as old as time. Potions were a staple in his life. If there was one thing that would never leave him, it was his ability to make fucking potions. Like, fucking make potions. Not potions to help people fuck. On the other hand, the more he poured through spellbooks, the more likely he was to get closer to finding out how to get his powers back.

Maybe his powers left when FyreUK left, taking all the glory of Athar with it. But that was too terrible of a thought, so that got chucked in the ‘not-today-bitch’ bin. Which was a handy dandy mental bin that stored all of his worst problems.

He never could fit himself in it, though.

So potions it was.

Now that he was out of the business of magic, most of his money came from his potion making. He had made yet another little wizard- alchemist? Potion master?- tower. Plopped some advertisements in el Pueblo de Spark and took orders to pass the time. He had to fund his botany experiments somehow.  Someone had to introduce weed into this world, that might as well be him.

If he was going down in history for something, that wasn’t ‘Word Renowned Wizard Extraordinaire’, then ‘The Guy who Made Weed’ would sure as hell work. 

Wag pulled up his log of orders. Luck, luck, dexterity, healing, luck, love- yeah, those didn’t really work but he’d make it anyways-, strength, luck, yadda, yadda, yadda. Lots of luck. He could probably get away with making a batch or two of luck potions, then work through the rest.

He spared a glance outside. Spark’s little hut-square town was beginning to develop into a pleasant little fishing hole. Surprisingly- or not, given how deep the waters were nearby- the place was actually a fairly hot place for single fish to mingle. Warm waters, nice and deep, lots of cover, and not much human interference. Until now, anyway.

Either the fishermen were starting to get a fair amount of revenue going or they really needed help. Luck potions were among his most expensive. The ingredients were hard to acquire regardless of how you made it.

Rabbit’s foot? Morally and physically hard to get a hold of. Rainbow trout? Terribly rare. ‘Star-light Fruit’? Not even confirmed to exist.

His method was a little more straightforward. A butt load of four-leaf clovers, a tiny bit of alcohol, and a fuckton of glitter. Clovers for the magic, glitter for the look, and alcohol for the feeling of being lucky.

It was a very bullshit potion.

It took forever to find the clovers, let alone collect them.

Athar give him strength.

Giving one last look outside, he tucked his log book in his cloak. Then he went and rummaged through his chests.

Monotony here he comes.

~~~

Wag was halfway through his second batch of luck potions when a distant knock came from his door, followed by the sound of bells. If not for the bells he’d have ignored the knocking. With a stretch, he putzed down the stairs. The many flights of stairs.

He missed being able to make elevators.

Opening the door revealed one Mr. Sparklez, hair tousled but otherwise neatly groomed. He was relaxed, if not a little winded from his trek up the hill Wag claimed as his own.

Wag smiled. “Hey Sparklez, what brings you up to my tower of terror today? Here for a chat or a swanky danky potion?”

He gestured for Jordan to head inside and get comfortable, but the man waved him off. “Actually,” Jordan started, “I was wondering if you’d seen Martha? I needed to ask her something and I haven’t seen her all day. Figured she’d be with you.”

Ah, so Jordan wanted to find Martha.

Ouch.

Doing his best to ignore the squeeze in his chest, Wag kept his smile firmly in place. “No, I don’t think I have. She, uh.” He paused, going for a nonchalant shrug. “She doesn’t come around the tower all that often. I’d ask Spark instead. She tends to hang around him more. Her good ole pops and all, y’know. They do have a lot to catch up on.” Wag tried to ignore how weak his words sounded. He didn’t want it to sound weird that Martha wouldn’t come around, but instead he just sounded pathetic.

Great.

Jordan gave Wag an awkward smile, seemingly uncomfortable with the sad display. “Ah, alright. I’ll ask around for Spark.” 

He turned to leave but caught himself before he was fully turned away. Jordan chewed on his words. “Are you-” His eyes swept over Wag. “How have you been? We don’t see you as much anymore. Other than Tom, I guess, but it's hard to get rid of Tom once he decides you’re friends, y’know?”

“I’ve been,” Wag wanted to laugh, but pushed through the sentence, “swell, thank you. I would get out more, but I’m always so busy potion making. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t the exact truth, but he did spend a lot of time on potions.

Letting his shoulders settle, Jordan gave a small laugh. “Who would press a wizard to pay bills? Someone who wants to catch on fire, I’m sure.” He opted for a friendly smile. “If you ever want to hang out or something, let me know. I’ve been getting kind of bored between Spark telling me how to be a better champion of Ianite and living in an actual, peaceful society.”

Wag waved after Jordan as he began his descent. Yeah, a wizard. A frown tugged at his face while he shut the door.

A real fucking wizard.

~~~

Making potions was rather methodical. Each step took a certain amount of time, each item had certain effects, meshed certain ways with other items. It was like following a recipe, but with bigger consequences for messing up. Cooler results, though.

Wag had just finished melting down the clovers he’d gathered and extracting the essence- which is to say he lit it on fire after sprinkling a generous amount of blaze powder on it- when Jordan had stopped by. Which was convenient, since he needed to wait for the weird half-liquid half-slime to cool off enough to move it. The awkward potions, glitter, and alcohol were already prepped. Now all he needed to do was mix shit together.

Oh joy.

At the very least, it was satisfying to roll the clover essence into little balls to plop into an awkward potion and then watch them dissolve. The clover gave the essence a natural, healthy green color while the blaze powder, which clung to even the most thoroughly washed slime, gave it something of a yellow highlight. Golden glitter gets dumped in to make it feel like you were about to drink something special. Yes, the glitter was edible. No, most people didn’t realize he put glitter in this shit. Then the alcohol was for that background buzz. It was meant to dull the senses just enough to trick people into believing, wholeheartedly, in whatever god-forsaken abomination he just made.

Sorry. What ever divinely crafted, totally safe potion he’d just made.

Sure, he didn’t test it himself, but it seemed to work well enough for the people he gave it to. So where was the harm?

It was fine.

The next part was perhaps the most boring. And he’d spent all day yesterday crawling on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.

Tagging and packaging. Writing names on slips of paper, tying them to the potion, putting it in a small, padded box to prevent any breaks. Rinse, repeat. It was annoying, wasted money, all that jazz, but it helped the look. Who wants to be handed a regular old potion, by hand, when you can get it in some majestic looking box to really add some sparkle to your magic?

Maybe Ruxomar rubbed off on him in a bad way.

In any case, the look was important, and by Athar was he going to make it look fucking fantastic.

Unfortunately, this task was also terribly, horribly monotonous. Worse yet, it left room for thinking. And thinking was Wag’s least favorite pastime since floating in the Void. Especially since floating in the Void.

It lead to him thinking deeply about himself and Athar knows that most of his life problems could be traced right back to that. His mistakes, his fuck ups, his shortcomings, all of it came back to him thinking way too hard about himself. 

Gross.

Instead, he tried to run over potion recipes in his mind. Or any recipe, really. All the different ways to make a fire resistance potion when you don’t have magma cream. Counting how many potions used lemongrass. Figuring out what potions would make it more likely to catch fish. Literally anything. As long as it was potions, it was fine.

Not about himself, not about Athar, not about wizards, and not about… Martha.

Yeah, that last one would be a one hit k-o. 

But now that his mind had touched on the subject, it dug in. Sunk it's claws into the delicate stability of his mind. Dramatic, he knows, but that’s how it felt. It was like the more he tried to get the thought out of his mind, the further it burrowed into him. Awful, painful, and not even worth the effort.

Martha… clearly didn’t care about him anymore. Or, well. He winced at the thought. She didn’t love him like she used to. If she, uh. Did in the first place. But this was old news. This was something he pondered after she seemed to avoid him like the plague, seemed to grimace when she looked over and saw him and not him.

Steve.

The name sat heavy in his head. They hadn’t meshed well, ‘specially where Martha was concerned. But they managed, for her, because they loved her.

Wag felt guilty, looking back on it now. For stealing their time together, for messing with their relationship. They hadn’t gotten to be together enough, had lost too much time before-

Yeah, he didn’t like thinking about Steve more than he didn’t like thinking about Martha. Wag didn’t feel like he deserved to think the name, let alone put himself up against his image. Steve was a hero. He rebelled against Helgrind in a cunning, intelligent way, he was selfless in more aspects than any of the heroes that appeared in Ruxomar, and he was the one to sacrifice the most. To sacrifice it all.

Where did Wag stand against that?

Honestly, it was no wonder Martha couldn’t stand to look at him. He was just a reminder of Steve, a reminder that she didn’t have Steve. That she had him instead. 

Had she ever loved him?

That wasn’t the point. The point was that Martha was hurting, trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind in Ruxomar. What she had lost. And Wag wasn’t doing anything to help. He was stuck up in his tower, making potions, trying to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

He should try to look for her.

But the last time he did, he got turned away. She was “catching up with her father.” She was “busy settling into the new world.” She was “trying to get a grip on her new goddesshood.”

Wag was persistent, but even he could get the hint.

By Athar, he got the hint. “I don’t want to see you.” “Don’t come near me.” “You can’t help me.” 

He wondered if Spark was doing anything to help her or if he was also caught up in everything that had happened. From what he had learned about the man in Ruxomar, he was devoted to his wife. No, he gave everything for his wife. Learning she was dead after working up everything to see her again?

He had played it well. When he heard the news, Spark kept strong, only letting his tears show. If he had gone home later after parting with Martha, who had her own grief and guilt, crumbling on the inside no one would know. And if he had locked himself away and let everything loose, let himself break, none would be the wiser. But they could guess, they could give him a passing glance, a thoughtful frown.

Wag wondered if he still carried that grief around with him.

Spark had taken to trying to discipline Jordan to be a better champion of Ianite. It had made the man uncomfortable with getting told he could be a better follower and all. Or rather, having it implied that he wasn’t the best follower. Spark was stubborn in ‘training’ the champion of Ianite to be a full fledged follower.

Still, Jordan didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Wag understood. Having the husband of the very goddess you watched die get on your case about being a better follower? When the crushing weight of guilt hadn’t fully let off your shoulders? He wondered if Spark hadn’t taken to coaching Jordan to make himself feel better, to remind himself that he would have kept Ianite safe, that he would have fixed the world before it broke out from under them.

It sounded like torture.

But it helped settle Wag. Call him selfish, but he felt better knowing other people had real problems, real grief, to deal with. Sure, Wag had his hang up with Martha. Yeah, he had his issues with being-a-wizard-yet-not. But he wasn’t as close to neck deep as Spark was. Like Martha was.

He wished belittling his problems made them feel less suffocating.

Martha. Martha was still pushing him away. And he was letting her. What did that say about him? About their relationship?

A sigh heaved out of his chest. It was like someone stuck a large rock right in his rib cage, tucked neatly between his lungs. Hard, heavy, and an all around burden. Potions. He needed to think about potions.

His hands betrayed him with a subtle shake. How many names did he have left to write? How many boxes did he have left to pack? Fuck if he knew. He had to keep counting, to find a way to wrap up all his issues, his panic, his fear, into a nice little package and tuck it away like a forgotten gift.

Athar help me, Wag tried to control his thoughts, I might drive myself insane by the end of the year.

As if on cue, another knock at his door broke his thoughts. He tried not to feel relieved to rush away from his potion packaging. He was fine, cool as a cucumber.

Throwing open the door, he came face to face with his second visitor of the day. Tom.

Tom was standing in front of his door almost uncertainly, like he wasn’t quite sure why or how he got there. He took one sweep over Wag’s unhidden face and a determined, focus look set in on his own.

“We,” Tom looped his arm around Wag’s in a sudden movement, “are going out somewhere. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.” 

Eyebrows shooting up, Wag let himself be dragged from his house with an aborted motion to close the door behind him. He mournfully watched his door stay ajar. Hopefully no one else ventured up the hill today, otherwise he might be down a few potions.

“Why?” Wag turned his attention back to Tom, who was resolute in his intention of pulling Wag away to Athar knows where.

A grin was shot in his direction. “You look like you need to get out of the house. Also, I’m real fuckin’ bored and you’re clearly in need of some company.”

A wry smile snuck on Wag’s face. “Oh lucky me. We should get some tea, live up to our trademark.”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s hit town. Fuck it up. Flaunt our hero-ness and get shit faced.”

“Let’s not get shit faced, and especially not get kicked out of town for making a ruckus.” Wag fondly rolled his eyes. “I do quite like living here and it’d be a shame to have to follow you around to make sure you don’t die.”

Tom gave a mocked offended gasp, free hand coming up to his forehead as he leaned away. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’d never die if I didn’t live in a community. I’m a rogue, don’t you know.” He sniffed. “I can easily hold my own in the dangerous wilds.”

“Without anyone to pester and annoy?”

“I can pester anything!”

Wag bit his lip to stop a laugh. Tom always brought such energy with him. It was refreshing. Maybe he was right, he just needed some company.

He wouldn’t say that to his face, though.

“I suppose so,” Wag continued, “You are rather persistent. I bet you could annoy the sun into setting early.”

“Nah, I’d blow that fucker up instead.” Tom winked, snuggled back up to Wag, effectively trapping his arm. “I still think we should get shit faced. Drink our sorrows into the drain, throw them up another day.” 

Wag mock gagged. “I’d rather keep them down the drain, thank you. Besides, what a waste of alcohol. If I’m drinking, I’m drinking to keep it down. Not!” He quickly cut Tom off, “That I want to go out drinking.” He eyed the sky, giving a disapproving look to Tom when he saw that it was still early afternoon. “No one should be getting drunk before the sun touches the horizon.”

With a pout, Tom leaned into Wag’s side. “Lame. I suppose,” he drew out the word, “we could go get some good old fashioned tea. Call it a pre-game without the game.”

Wag rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking to out game his issues. That wasn’t a solution. It’d just make him turn into a sad drunk and give him a headache in the morning.

This is why he needed weed back.

But also, he didn’t want to develop another problem. Gotta keep it clean. For now.

Tom still had his own plans, alcohol or no alcohol. “I find when I’m feeling down that doing something batshit stupid makes me feel better. We should go fishing with our bare hands- no, with only our teeth- and no shirt on. Attract ladies and gents to us alike. Are they looking at our finely chiseled chests or our daring courage? Who’s to say.”

“You are far from chiseled my friend. Try soft.” Wag poked Tom in the stomach jokingly. “And who said that I’m feeling down?”

“Hey!” Tom swatted his hand away. “I’ll have you know I’m more ripped than you’ll ever be!” He huffed, squeezing Wag’s arm. They walked in silence for a moment, now upon the town. After wandering the street for a second, Tom spoke again, quieter. “I had this feeling.” Wag eyes him. “It was weird. My gut was telling me to check in on you. And then when you opened the door it was written on your face. Even I’m not dumb enough to miss that.” 

Wag heard the unspoken I was worried carried in Tom’s words. Talk about soft. He squeezed Tom’s arm back. “Oh wow, a gut feeling?” He teased lightly, “I think it was just you missing my magical presence. It is hard to go too long without seeing me.” If only that were true. “But I’m here now, and we can go do something absolutely stupid, just for you.”

They share a smile, a quiet thank you floating between them.

Tom gets a glint in his eyes. “Does this mean we can go catch fish with our bare hands?”

“I suppose so.” Wag drawled. “How else are we going to show off our toned figures?”

That got him a laugh, one concerningly maniacal, and he was dragged between houses.

Yeah, he might regret this.

Tom turned and gave him a smile that was all teeth and no common sense. He paused next to the shore, a little ways off from the docks. Shucking his clothes, one Tom Syndicate stood proudly in his underwear, unconcerned about the effect of sunlight on zombified skin. People gave them a look of distaste.

Oh, he was definitely going to regret this. 

~~~

Soggy was one way to describe how Wag felt. Wet as shit was another. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and the rather large, shiny fish sitting in his lap. The fish which so happened to be a fair amount larger than Tom’s.

“Oh fuck you.” Tom spluttered around a mouthful of fish, laying down an arm’s length away. He had gathered quite an amount of fish, a solid number for catching something with your mouth alone. None of them were that large. In fact, most were an average, if not slightly below, size.

Wag eyed the pile smugly. He may have only caught two, but damn if he didn’t go big.

“Well, it seems that I’ve caught myself a winner.” He tried not to look too pleased. The look on Tom’s face told him he failed.

Tom scoffed, letting the fish fall to the sandy floor with a wet fwop. “You got lucky! Clearly, quantity wins the game here. Sure, you caught one big, old, dumb motherfucker, but I caught a dozen other dumbass fish! I should get the win.”

“Wasn’t size the goal here?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before Tom could fire back, a voice from behind interrupted him. “I think the two fools sitting in their underwear soaked to the bone are both losers.”

Wag tilted his head back to see Tucker standing with his hands in his pockets, back slouched, and an easy smile on his face, standing just where the sand turned to grass. Next to him was one lovely fox lady, Sonja herself, and one Sparkle butt, Jordan.

Nice to see the gang all here.

Tom sat up. “How dare you! I’ll have you know we are the best fishers on the island!”

Tucker raised a single eyebrow. “Really now? Are all the other fishers out at sea today?”

“Well excuse you, Mr. Boner. I’ll have you know we caught all of this,” Tom sweeps his arm across their score. “And I think that’s quite the haul.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Fuck you.”

Tucker snickered, moving closer to poke his foot into Tom’s side. “That’s what I thought.”

Wag, meanwhile, was carefully moving his prize to the side so he could stand up. Brushing the sand off himself, he exchanged a smile with Sonja and a nod with Jordan. Sonja gave him a good natured headshake. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.”

Jordan’s eyes trailed down Wag’s chest before flittering away. “Right down to your boxers? Tom must have gotten you good.”

“Well, I was fairly set on getting a nice cup of tea and walking across the beach, hand in hand like real lovers, but Tom was far more intent to go all macho and catch fish with his mouth alone.” Wag leaned in with a hand against his mouth to give a stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to step up his oral game.” He winked.

Jordan groaned, giving Wag what he thought to be a rather dramatic eye roll. That wasn’t even the worst he had to offer, and he’d given him such an easy setup! Sonja waggled her eyebrows and giggled when Tom butted in. “It’ll never be as good as yours dear.” He batted his eyelashes mock innocently.

The group burst into laughter. Tucker stepped closer, swinging an arm around his vaguely damp shoulders. “Hey, it’s nice to see you out and about man. It’s been a hot second. Almost thought you’d drank the wrong potion and kicked it or something.” 

Wag nodded seriously. “Quite the real possibility. Why, just yesterday I almost drank real glitter! The kind you’re not supposed to eat.”

“Been there,” Sonja added, “I thought I was going to die when I did. Just gave me a very colorful trip to the bathroom.”

Tom grinned as he moved to elbow Jordan in the side. “I bet our good ole Captain here wouldn’t know the difference. How else did he get his namesake, right Mr. Sparkley Butt?”

“Hardy har,” Jordan gave Tom a fondly disgusted look. “The name’s Captain Sparklez, that ‘namesake’ came from you giving me a stupid nickname.”

They fell into more chatter, giving Tom and Wag the time to put their clothes back on, Tom not caring that he was still wet as he put his suit back on, while Wag just slung his cloak over himself. No point in putting pants on over wet underwear.

The group, all now clothed to some extent, began to wander back towards town. Wag was more than content to listen to Tom ramble on. He would get interrupted by Tucker when he said something ‘incredibly stupid’ and, more rarely, by Jordan, who would correct some technical thing that Tom clearly did not give a shit about.

Sonja drifted next to him, giving Wag a conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking mighty fine in just a robe and boxers. Is this the bedroom Wag special? Or is that sans boxers?” 

“The bedroom Wag special is whatever you want it to be.” He winked. “It’s magic all around.”

They exchanged a laugh, falling silent again.

Wag knew that wasn’t what Sonja really wanted to talk about.

She looked back at him, a warm look in her eyes. “It’s nice. To see you out. Been a while, y’know?” Sonja stretched her arms out in front of her. “It really has been a bit since we’ve talked. And since you’ve left the house. But honestly?” Her tail swishes behind her. “I could have made a few more treks up that damn mountain myself.”

Shaking his head, Wag elbowed her side lightly. “It is a fairly tall hill, but I think mountain is a bit of an overstatement.” It was, in fact, a bitch of a climb, but Wag didn’t think it was that bad. He’d put the tower just on the other side of the Glowstone Forest, across from the Priest’s house. (What was it called again? Forest of the Void? Abyss Forest? Obsidian Trees? Yeah, he didn’t know or care). 

Left unsaid was a ‘That’s okay, you don’t have to go out of your way’.

He received an eye roll. “Please, the only trek worse than that is up to where Tucker’s first house was. I was so happy when we moved it down the mountain. Well, into.”

It’s no trouble, her words left hanging, I don’t mind.

Wag huffed. How dare she be considerate. “You know what’s worse than a trek up a mountain? A trek up a mountain to get some rare flower, only to be spited by the universe and have not a single flower growing up there. Honestly, I could use some help from someone so used to climbing mountains.” A smirk pulled at his face. “Or maybe just send someone up there for me.”

We could always hang out when I’m playing master botanist. If you’d like.

Sonja smiled at him, but couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Aw, did you skip leg day? Have some chicken legs over there? That’s alright, I’m sure someone,” she tilts her head, eyes sweeping past the buildings around them, “would be willing. Get a nice little lackey so you can rest your old bones at home and complain about how the cold makes your joints stiff.” 

“How dare you,” Wag sniffed, hand held up to his heart. “I’ll have you know, my joints are just fine in the cold! Some of us just aren’t made of the cold, little miss fox.”

Sonja, ever so mature, stuck her tongue out at him.

They kept up some conversation, occasionally stopping to listen in to whatever Tom was saying. Wag, for a moment, realized that he had missed this. Missed them. That even though he wanted to avoid all the new things in this world, he’d always have his friends.

A quiet, hopeless voice asked if they’d leave him too.

~~~

There was nothing quite like hiking up a hill, in only your boxers, a little buzzed, during the night time. The pure amount of skeletons that had sniffed around looking for a cheap shot alone was bad enough, but the fact that his legs already hurt from struggling to fish with just his mouth without drowning? Yeah, it felt more like he was climbing up a mountain that was near vertical.

Fuck gravity.

A pit of warmth had settled in his chest a couple hours ago. Whether it was the alcohol that Tucker, of all people, had got the group into drinking or just the effect of being with friends for a while, Wag felt content. Not a common feeling in recent times. It was nice.

Really nice.

Upon reaching his door, his mind scrambled to figure out why it was left slightly open. He shrugged. As long as nothing was missing or stolen, he didn’t really care.

He made his way inside- making sure to actually close the door behind him- and wandered over to the stairs. Ah, his mortal enemy. Between being a wizard way back when and the magic rampant in Ruxomar, he had gotten way too used to avoiding stairs. Now it was a chore to move up and down the tower. But his bed was upstairs and he was not sleeping on the crappy couch he shoved into the lobby for guests or customers again.

So stairs it was.

By the time he got halfway up the stairs, he wanted to quit. Why, in Athar’s name, did he put his room on the third highest level? Stupidity, that’s why. The view was so not worth it.

When he actually made it up to the correct floor, he pushed the door to his room open, chucked his clothes to one side, and collapsed in bed. Now this, this was worth it. Soft, plush, warm, and very much without skeletons.

The less arrows being shot at him the better.

A soft chuckle caught his attention. Or rather, killed the peace he had wrapped around himself mere hours earlier.

He didn’t move. Not because he was scared. No, he knew who was in his room. He just wanted to pretend, for a moment, like this was something he was used to.

Like coming home to his lover being home wouldn’t surprise him.

The bed dipped beside him and his robed and boxer-ed glory. A hand ran through his hair. Wag tried not to tense.

“Seems like you had a good night out.” Her voice was like silk, soft and pleasant on his ears. “Hopefully they didn’t hassle you too much.”

Wag breathed. His chest was tight, emotion punching at his ribs. “Yeah,” he said, “It was nice to have some time with them again.”

All of this felt so forgein, now. To have her here. Was she here? Or did he drink more than he had originally thought. Shit.

Martha scratched his head. “I do have to say, I’m surprised that you actually left the tower. You’ve been holed up here for so long I thought I’d have to drag you out.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Or maybe he was imagining it. His head was a mess and he wasn’t quite sure what he was making up and what was real.

It was kind of pathetic.

He laughed. “Yeah, Tom showed up and dragged me out. Not complaining though, I had a lot of fun. It was nice to take off from work. Making potions gets boring.”

So did sitting in your own depressing thoughts, but that was more exhausting than boring.

“Oh,” Wag turned his head to face Martha, looking up at her. The darkness made her hair stand out. It looked like a halo around her face, bringing out her lovely lilac eyes. She was just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. But there was something heavy in her eyes that she tried to wipe away when his own reached her. “Jordan was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”

Martha blinked and the heaviness was gone. Ish. He knew it was there. Somewhere.

“Ah, no.” She frowned. “I’ll have to see what he needs tomorrow.”

He nodded. To be honest, Wag wasn’t convinced Martha was actually sitting here with him. Which was kind of sad. Very sad.

“I can come with, if you’d like,” Wag rushed out, trying not to sound desperate. “We haven’t had much time together, which is understandable with your dad being around and all the stuff you need to do. And, y’know, it’d be nice to walk with you for a bit.”

Oh, he sounded so desperate.

Yikes.

A smile graced Martha’s lips. “Sure, I’d love that.” Wag let out a breath. “We’ll take a stroll, get a nice scenic view of the beach as we go, call it a date-” She cut off. The heaviness came back to her eyes. Wag knew what she was thinking. Who she was thinking about.

It hurt.

“I’m going to go take a shower before getting ready for bed. You can go ahead and sleep, if you’d like. I know you’ve had a long day and you’re probably tired. Don’t force yourself for me.” Martha stood as she said this, fingers trailing in his hair. Then she left.

Reluctantly, Wag got up to do just that. Changed his boxers and hung up his cloak. Buried himself back into bed, under the covers.

Yeah. It’d be a date.

~~~

Martha didn’t like to get up early. Neither did Wag. Normally, this lead to them sleepily cuddling until one felt so inspired as to get up. Normally.

Ever since the group returned to the land of Mianite, Martha didn’t sleep as well. Between nightmares, being a fledgling goddess, and the… absence of certain people, she found herself waking earlier and earlier.

Wag had his fair share of sleep troubles. Where sleep troubles stopped Martha from sleeping as much, it led to Wag sleeping more. The less he slept the more exhausted he was. The more exhausted he was the more he slept. It was a vicious cycle and actually the reason Wag didn’t leave the house as much.

Nonetheless, both found themselves getting ready to leave just after dawn. Martha moved like last night didn’t end awkward and uncomfortable. Bright, cheerful, and painfully affectionate with Wag. Like she hadn’t been avoiding him for the better part of their stay here.

The worst part was that this wasn’t the first time she came back like nothing was wrong. It was almost like she could tell when he was starting to doubt their relationship. Except, he was constantly doubting their relationship. Even when things had been going well. But this time, it was like she knew when he was thinking about how much of a relationship they didn’t have.

Which was concerning if she actually knew what he thought.

Wag, on the other hand, moved like a zombie. Tired, groggy, and barely awake. The picture of early morning beauty. It wasn’t far off from how he used to act, but now it was like someone had chained weights to his feet.

Damn, he was tired as shit.

Martha had set about making some breakfast from the little food he had. Some eggs, some- thankfully not spoiled- fruit, and milk. Wag was pretty sure he didn’t have milk, but he wasn’t going to question it. She was the more magical of the two, now, so it was within reason that she could get milk in the few minutes he’d lagged behind her in getting out of bed.

He, on the other hand, was on the task of making coffee. Coffee was something of a luxury here, since it was so new to the land. It wasn’t grown naturally on the island and Wag wasn’t sure if it was imported from some far off place or if it had been introduced by the earlier dimension hoppers that still hung around. Spark, for sure, seemed to run on the stuff.

That didn’t really matter to Wag, though. He had a plant of it in his garden, for ease of access, but more importantly to see if it could be used to help crossbreed weed into existence. No far off land had procured the plant yet, so he would still strive to be the maker of weed.

Not the best plan in the world, but that wouldn’t matter once he actually made the plant.

He really shouldn’t be encouraging substance abuse.

Surely, coffee would wake him up. Then he could go on a walk with Martha and do that thing they seemed to do where they avoided those topics and pretended like everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, they’d enjoy the conversation. Maybe they’d feel something again, feel whole for the brief moment where they let themselves forget about the person who was missing, the person that clearly held more place in Martha’s heart for it to have torn so much when he-

Maybe Wag would get his shit together and let things die between them.

Maybe he’d decide that fighting an uphill battle wasn’t worth it.

For now, though, he was content to pretend things were the same. It was better than being entirely, wholly alone. And, deep in his heart, he still loved her. So, so much.

Enough that he knew it would hurt no matter what he did.

They chatted over the food Martha cooked. She complemented his coffee, the beans from the plant he owned, and he told her that the cooking is just as good as it’d always been.

Neither mentioned that it was usually Steve, not either of them, that did the cooking.

They tossed little affections at each other with ease. Like it was second nature. A brush of hands, a quick smile, a peck on the cheek. It was like a dance. As though they were trying to make a show of how much they still cared, how much nothing had changed despite the fact that everything had changed.

Hands loosely held together, they left the house as a unit, holding up a conversation with ease. If either of them tripped up in their speech as they avoided that topic or this word, neither called each other out for it. For all that everything was off and wrong, they made it work. They found a way to shove a cube into a round hole.

Whether it was because they wanted it to work so bad or because the hole was a giant chasm with space for miles was up to debate.

The beach was calm in the early morning. Fishers were stocking up their ships to start up on their daily trip, tightening a rope here, making space there. Few people walked about the town, the kids either asleep or getting hassled to eat breakfast. With so few people out, it felt like they were on the outskirts of life, just the two of them. Like viewing the world through a painting.

That illusion was helped by the sheer height of Jordan’s tree. It was still there, despite the damage it had received when Tom got to it. If he looked closely, Wag could see the remains of burn marks and grooves held in the thick bark. He had heard that, after the heroes had left, Ianite had nursed the tree back to life in honor of her lost champion.

He ignored the fact that Ianite had sent them into the void in the first place.

Wag himself had left before that, called on to help the heroes that he had watched over as a distant wizard. Even now, he wondered if it had been worth it. To lose everything because he was asked to. In his weakest moments, he wondered if it hadn’t been the gods’ way of throwing him out.

That thought hurt the most out of everything in his life and he never let it linger.

It wasn’t long before they made it to the base of the hill that Jordan’s tree- sorry, Jerry’s Tree- sat beside. They weren’t that close to getting inside yet, but it was a milestone.

As they climbed the hill, massive roots stretching out below them, Wag started up some conversation about the different species of trees. He never once mentioned apple trees. It was part of his botany, after all, and important to keep track of. The types of trees, not apple trees. Apple trees were just one of those topics and therefore something they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about.

He pondered, during his ramble, that Martha could have just flown up the tree. She could do that, after all. Wag couldn’t. Not anymore. The worst part was that he’d help build this tree, or, well, make it. Way back then. That was a sore spot to think about, but even still he was in awe of the tree. Not because of the fact that he's contributed to it- no, he had felt a sense of pride for that a long time ago. Rather, because of how it’d regrown.

Ianite’s gentle hand had turned it from merely a large, enchanting tree to a behemoth of divine wonder. Its branches had spread further, with more room between them and the tips reaching towards the heavens. The leaves had shaped up and gotten fuller, surely the size of a full-grown adult by now. Fireflies could be seen lazily hovering about clusters of leaves, giving the tree a pleasant, natural lighting.

Many more platforms and walkways had been built, new buildings having been added on top of that. They stretched from one end to the other. The most daring teased the edge of a branch, hung firmly along the length of it. The walkways were either long rope bridges made of braided vines that shimmered a faint purple or ramps made and reinforced by the same wood the tree was made of, the bottom featuring fancy swirls alongside the support beams.

Other vines, flora, and bushes lined the branches and platforms. Though they looked like they were leeching off the tree at first, a closer inspection- granted you were on the tree to get an inspection- showed they were delicately wrapped around the branches and sneakily planted in hidden pots for a more natural look. The flowers ranged from all sorts of purples- fitting. Buddleias enclosed doorways, Hyacinthus were wound along lanterns strung along pathways, and an abundance of Jacaranda could be found wherever space was made for flora.

The more he looked the more nature there was to see, the more connecting walkways there were strung along, the more everything there was. It felt like the whole world was home under the canopy.

The tree had gone from the house of a solitary man to a city of nature.

It didn’t feel like the same tree.

Wag pushed aside the nagging thought that it was better than anything he could have ever made. Ianite was a full fledged goddess, Wag was- had been- a mere wizard with the idea of godhood in his head. What he made had been incredible for mortal standards, and was still incredible for the standards he had held himself to. It would do no good to compare himself to Ianite, especially when all she had done was repair what was already there.

As they made their way up to the crest of the hill, following the path from the town to the tree as it curled around Jordan’s old home, Wag spared a glance at the birch and quartz house. It was simple, sleek and minimal. It suited Jordan. Of course, Jordan himself had made it, so why wouldn’t it?

Compared to Jerry’s Tree, though, it seemed rather dull and insignificant.

Actually.

Wag spared a closer look at the smaller home. It looked lived in. A frown pulled at his lips. Was someone living there? Who else, other than Jordan, would?

Martha had picked up the conversation now, adding in details about trees that she had seen in her travels long ago, ones he’d never have had the chance to see. There were many interesting species, some magical in the same sense as Silverwoods, some as plain as a simple oak tree, but all more than enough to satiate Wag’s desire to know more. His mind kept getting pulled back to the Casa de Sparklez, though.

A thought struck him, one he’d had just moments before.

Jerry’s Tree looked and felt so different, now that Ianite had tended to it. Like it was a different tree. Did Jordan think the same? Did it feel less like home, after being away for so long and having watched it burn?

Was Jordan living in his older house because the tree felt so forgein?

Martha was going on about a beautiful tree known for the lights its seeds shone, especially during the night hours. It really sounded like a sight to behold. More than that, the gentle, awed look on Martha’s face pulled at Wag’s heart.

Take care of her.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Wag decided not to mention what he had just noticed. That was Jordan’s business, not his.

Martha was looking at him now, a small, shy smile on her lips. Wag felt like if he said the wrong thing it’d disappear in an instant. Like Martha was used to having her interests pushed aside, or used to pushing them aside herself when people didn’t seem to care about what she was saying.

Take care of her.

He offered a smile back, a genuine one. He really did love her. More than anything, he wanted to keep loving her. But something told him it wouldn’t work. That what they had had started to decay sometime around the end of Ruxomar, around when he left.

No, around when Martha almost became Mrs. a instead of a Ms.

Bitterness clutched at Wag’s heart. For all the love he held for her, he wondered, again and again, if she held the same. If she ever held the same, if she even held something close to the same.

Take care of her.

Looking up at Jerry’s Tree, Wag remembered what it used to be. He remembered watching it burn, the pain he had felt in seeing his hard work get tarnished, in seeing a friend’s home wither away.

Now, though, it was different. Not quite a home, anymore, but reborn. Alive. And maybe, in the future, it’d be a home again, or maybe not. Maybe it needed to burn for it to become what it was now. Jordan would have never built it up to this, but Ianite had.

Maybe that was the secret, Wag pondered. Maybe you had to let things burn to be able to build them up stronger.

He looked at Martha again, at the softness in her face and the hardness in her eyes. His heart pulled in so many directions. Love, anguish, love, despair, love, hurt, love love love.

Yeah, he was going to have to let this relationship burn.

[hugsfromdad]

I've been mia on here, but not mia in the disaster bisexual front. So lemme fill you in

Okay, so idk if I've talked on here over the past few months about a cute cashier, but I can't seem to find it on my blog, so imma assume I haven't.

Back in mid August, I got my kitten. I got him 2 weeks earlier than expected, so the day before I picked him up, I had to run out and get his supplies. My friend was coming over that day, so we decided to hang out (outside) at my house, go get ice cream, and then go to the pet store for my stuff. after we got all that I needed, we went into Market Basket to buy some snacks so we could sit out in the parking lot and talk for a few hours. Well, that's where this story starts.

I looked hella fucking gay that day. (Striped button up UNbuttoned like halfway, my huge choker chain, and then my white washed levi's with a white 'Sisters' belt, and white converses. I can post a pic later if y'all want) so anyways, I was expecting to get some looks and stared. I did. Whatever. Well, were checking out at the speed aisle, and I notice eyes on me. I normally glace around when I'm checking out to see who is working, but I was met this time by the gaze of a cashier two rows back. I glanced down cause I didn't want to be rude, but when I check again, she was still looking at me. So I intentionally held her gaze for a few moments as I took note of what she looked like. Then I finished checking out and left with my friend.

While I'm a disaster bi and will focus and freak out over the smallest interraction with a cute person, I have become aware that most people (my friends) don't read into moments like that and will make fun of me if I do. That being said, I told myself it was probably just in my head and not that significant; that she was just checking out my outfit and clocking me as either a gay guy out with his girlfriend, (which was pretty much the case) or a couple getting some things.

WELL, so right as I was trying to not make anything out of it, my friend turns to me and goes. "Did you see that cashier staring at you? Like, she kept looking at you." And I was like "OKAY SO IT WASNT JUST ME" and she was like "no, she was really looking at you. She's really cute, too." And thus it began.

She's got a great style (also gorgeous even with a mask on, but I was more intrigued and attracted to her style). I told her that I liked her style a couple months ago and she repeated it back to me. She wears multiple necklaces, rings, and somehow makes her store uniform look cool. When I first really took note of her, my immediate thought was "she gives me west coast vibes." My best friend agreed with me when we were in the store together and she was there. And she might not be from the west coast, but if she told me she was from san Fransisco, I would believe it in a heartbeat. She got like a modern Marissa from the OC style. (I didn't watch the show, only those couple gay scenes with her character in it, so don't come for me)

So anyways, for the first 3-4ish months, my brain would short circuit as soon as we would lock eyes. Like, I can't describe it besides just a fog or a mental lockdown. I could like make eye contact, but I would just be in constant panic. I also couldn't imagine what to do next. Thus, I would panic and choose to go in a different aisle than hers for the first while. I didn't know what to do with a gorgeous woman who had eyes on me. (ALSO; I would like to state that her vibes and style are so immaculate, that I almost expect her to be gay. I thought she was clocking me as another gay person at first, but then I realized that we gays don't stare at someone of the opposite gender THIS much. So she could be gay. Idk. I'm good either way.)

Back to the panic: so it took me awhile to actually get the nerve up to choose her aisle when I could. Then we finally like interacted. I finally got her name, and I like asked her how she was. This happened like twice, and then there was a time I came in right after seeing my nephews(socially distanced). It was a slower day, so I didn't feel hurried in moving along. I asked her how her day was, and she answered and asked how mine was. I mentioner being happy cause I finally got to see my nephews after months of not. She then asked how old they were. We talked for a moment before I knew I have to go. It was as I was picking up my bag that I paused and looked at her and said "I've been meaning to say, I like your style." She like paused and said thanks, and that she liked mine as well. I then said something like "see you next time" and left.

From then, I'd see her when I went in, but almost every time she was in the wrong lane. We'd lock eyes as I walked in, and as I checked out and left, but we didn't get to like talk. That is, until I was tagging along shopping with my mum the day after fucking election night.

I don't think I need to say that I was more anxious and distracted than I had ever been when going in, and glued to my phone; refreshing google and watching the numbers come in. I don't think I even looked up when I walked in. I was in another place. I should also mention that I had noticed that the cute cashier (that's literally my nickname for her) usually worked on the weekends. This was a wednesday. So I was NOT paying sttention. I just followed my mum around the store while watching my phone and trying to do the math to see if there was a possibility that biden could win. Well, my mother eventually stuck us in line to check out, and asks me to get off my phone and help her unload, thats when I lift me head, and I'm staring directly into her eyes.

She was bagging for our aisle, so she was just standing there in my direct line of sight. And she has been watching me, waiting for me to fucking finally look up.

I'm sure I looked beyond stunned. Because I was. I honestly was so braindead from the day, that it took me a moment of staring back at to her process as to what was happening. I got it together quickly tho and bantered and talked with her a bit as she bagged and I helped load. She definitely was doing more than most, if that makes sense. I challenged her to fitting all of the groceries onto one cart cause she said she could. It was fun, and I think I again said "see you around* or something like that as we left.

And once again, once we got outside, my mother now goes "oh that bagger was cute." And I told her that that was the cute one I had mentioned before. THEN SHE GOES "oh yeah I picked up on that vibe of y'all." And I WANTED to ask her what that MEANT, but I didn't want to push it and then have my mother know/be able to make things awakrd.

ANYWAYS, 3 chapters in, lemme get to last months. I fucking got in anxiety meds. AND MY WORLD CHANGED. my mental block and fog was GONE. I could finally see a pathway through to like actually talking talking to her. SO, I pulled out a receipt, wrote down my number, and stuck it in my wallet for the next time I saw her.

Welp, the next time that was, she was in the wrong lane and teaching a new cashier what to do, so there was no way I was gonna try and insert myself into that situation. BUT, as I was walking both in and out, we locked eyes as usual, but this time as I was leaving, I did like a quick smile which caused me to squint my eyes for a half second. It almost looks like when a cat does their slow blink at you. I saw her respond to that and like smile back at me as I left. It was the first time I had ever done anything that was direct and nonverbally flirty.

So, I had to go again last night. And my parents were putting us in strict lockdown for the next 10 days, so we had to stock up. Before we left, I rewrote my note. And I told my best friends what was happening, and no matter what was the situation, I was gonna give her the note.

Well, she wasnt there. I was extremely disappointed.

Annnnd that leaves us here. It's gonna be a good 10-14 days before I'm allowed to go out, but youd better fucking believe it when I say that imma be giving her my number the moment I see her next. So wish me luck.

And also in case anyone asks; I don't want to try any dating apps cause I hate them. Also I'm half asleep now she don't have the energy to go back and edit this. Hopefully it's coherent.

So I guess I'll update y'all when I eventually get to leave the house and see her again

[mcwriting]

Starstruck (9)

hello it’s me again. Second to last chapter :( but I’ve got bigger things in the works

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: LA, London

Word Count: 2230

Warnings: mild language

Rating: K+

                            __________________________________

Tom dodged cameras and wove through crowds as he made his way through London Heathrow Airport.

He finally was home in London, but only for about a week since he’d be coming back to LA for you.

The news had obviously broken that Tom had left South Korea, so now he was being bombarded with paparazzi who still wanted to know everything about you, especially your speech four days prior.

He continued to ignore them as he got to where Tuwaine was waiting to pick them up.

The car doors slammed shut as all four boys settled themselves in, Harrison up front and the Hollands in the back. Tuwaine locked the doors, then turned around.

“Seems like we’ve got a lot to talk about, boys.”

“You have noooo idea,” Tom muttered as the others nodded eagerly.

The drive back to their south London house was comfortable to Tom after everything that had happened. They mostly strayed from talking about you in the car, instead sharing funny stories from the long-lived press tour. 

Sam decided to head back to his parents’ house after they arrived at the other boys’, ringing up an uber. He just wanted to sleep in his own bed. Their parents and Paddy had come home from the premiere before Tom went to Korea.

Once the boys were showered off and settled in, they told Tuwaine everything from the pre-release press tour before the premiere to meeting you to everything since. 

“That’s mad, Tom. So when are you going back? And how do you plan on going unseen?” Tuwaine asked.

“Well we’re gonna get back to LA on Thursday to have time to adjust again and get everything settled. I’ve paid for a couple private planes to keep things off the radar as best as I can. All of you can come if you want.”

After further discussion, they decided for only Harrison and Harry to join Tom since the others had prior commitments. 

After a couple more hours of catching up and reflecting on the past weeks, everyone finally decided to retire to their beds and hopefully get some rest.

As Tom layed down, he thought about the plan to see you again. He was nervous and excited at the same time, and went to sleep thinking one thing.

I’m coming to get ya, y/n.

                             __________________________________

As always, news of Tom’s travel back home was all over the internet with clips and pictures of him dodging through the airport being shared, you of course being tagged in those pictures by fan accounts wanting attention.

“Ughhhh I’m so tired of people tagging me in this shit like I actually care! I’m not even remotely involved in these pictures!” you exclaimed to b/f/n, who was sprawled on your bean bag chair as you laid on your stomach across a rug. 

You showed her a fan edit of Tom someone tagged you in, which was just a video transitioning between pictures of him from his press tour.

“I know. It’s so dumb like, he’s even likely to see stuff if you just pester his friends, or in your case… whatever you guys are.”

“Give me a break. We’re nothing. We just met and yeah. That’s all there is to it.”

“I don’t buy it, but whatever. I need to use your charger.”

You pointed to the bed.

“It’s over on the other side if you want it.”

B/f/n sighed dramatically, then rolled her way off the bean bag to flop onto your bed, plugging the device in. After a few minutes of silent scrolling on your phones, she piped up.

“Yo. Why does your bed smell so good? New detergent or something?”

You blushed, realizing you never told her about that little detail.

“Uh, well. It’s cologne.”

She turned her head to look directly at you, eyebrows raised cheekily.

“And why do you have cologne on your bedsheets?”

You avoided looking directly at her for a second, cringing a little.

“Well… I may have kind of left out the part of the story where Tom gave me a whole bottle of his cologne and it smelled really good so I sprayed it all over my sheets… but like no biggie right?”

She sat up.

“Yes biggie! You know exactly what Tom Holland smells like and didn’t think to tell me?”

“I forgot about it until the other day when I found the bottle in a bag of my stuff. Didn’t seem important.”

“Okay, if it’s not important, then why did you douse your bed in his scent?”

“I told you, I think it smells good. That’s it.”

“You’re really going to sit there and try to convince me of that? Everyone knows that scent memory is a really big deal, not to mention that he literally gave it to you.”

You stared each other down for almost a minute before you cracked.

“Okay, fine. It helps me sleep, alright? It takes me back to the night he spent here, which honestly was one of the best nights of my life. It just felt so nice talking to him about vulnerable things, you know? At the time I thought I could trust him, and maybe a part of me wants to remember that side of him.”

B/f/n nodded as you finished.

“I get it. What he did sucks, but you can’t let that ruin the good memories you do have. Things will work themselves out. They always do. You just need to remember that you’re a boss bitch and no matter what happens, you’re gonna be alright.”

“Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime. Now let’s forget about him and figure out where we want to get our nails done next week.”

                             __________________________________

It was now Tuesday, and you and b/f/n sat in adjacent pedicure chairs, trying to lean back peacefully as yours vibrated violently in the name of a “massage.”

After you both struggled to not laugh while the nail techs exfoliated your feet, you were now relaxed and still as they began to actually polish your toenails.

You looked over to see b/f/n smiling at her phone.

“Who’s got you acting up?” you asked. She looked up in surprise.

“It’s no one. Catherine just sent me something funny on Instagram.”

“Oh, okay. Send it to me.”

In reality, she had been talking to Harrison and Tom about Friday, sending them pics of you in your dress the prior week and learning of their plans to get to LA on Thursday morning. 

To cover for herself, though, b/f/n scrolled through her dm’s with Catherine, looking for something she’d received but never sent to you.

                             __________________________________

Wednesday in London, Tom, Harrison, and Harry sat around the dining room recapping the plan for the rest of the week.

“Okay, so we’re gonna get there pretty early tomorrow morning and then I arranged for us to stay at an AirBnb under b/f/n’s name but obviously I’m paying for it. Since none of us are 25, I couldn’t get a regular rental car, but I talked to Audi and they said they’d loan me another car as long as we post some pictures with it.”

“Won’t that defeat the purpose of laying low if we’re plastering our faces with the car online? It won't be hard to distinguish London from pretty much anywhere else,” Harry claimed.

“They said as long as we get the pictures up before we leave town, we’re good. We’ll just have to put it in the calendar so I don’t forget.”

Harry took that as his cue to put it in the calendar right then.

“What about the actual event? I know you said you got in touch with them,” Harrison brought up.

“I’m glad you asked, mate. They were down for letting us make our appearance a surprise, so they’ll have staff sneak us in the back and wait until b/f/n gives us the go-ahead. They’re gonna introduce me and I’ll give a quick word and then… hopefully y/n will let me talk to her.”

The group got everything in order and loaded their bags into Tuwaine’s car once again for him to drive them to the private jet hangars.

After saying their goodbyes again and loading up onto the plane, the boys were in the air, headed west. They would be stopping in New York to change planes, and got comfortable for the almost 8 hour flight.

By the time they got to New York, the boys were exhausted going through customs. They were happy to find that so far no one had seemed to leak the fact that they had left London and were now in the states.

They boarded the next plane and prepared for the 6 hour flight, this time planning to get sleep as it was overnight and they’d be arriving in the morning.

The sun was beginning to rise over Los Angeles as the plane touched down.

“Tom, we’re here,” Harry said, shaking his brother awake as the plane taxied. 

Tom blinked his eyes a few times to adjust to the light, looking out the window. 

The boys deplaned on the tarmac and sat tiredly in the small airport’s lobby as they waited for someone to drop off the car. 

Tom noticed one woman at the desk looking over at him frequently. He was afraid she would end up putting him all over the internet, so he got up and came to the desk.

“Hi there.”

She looked at him, startled.

“Um, hello.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you looking over at us. Would you happen to be a fan?” Tom asked politely. She blushed.

“Yes, actually, I am.”

“Would you like a picture?” Tom offered. He knew he looked horrible from his long journey but needed to know she wouldn’t go around telling everyone about meeting him.

“That would be incredible! I was too afraid to ask.”

Tom called Harry over to take the picture on her phone, then took it from the younger brother. Tom noticed Harrison carrying a couple bags out the door to a car.

“That’s a good one! I only ask that you try to keep this to yourself? At least until tomorrow evening? I’m on a bit of a secret mission, and I don’t quite want the public to know I’m here, yet.” 

The girl’s eyes widened.

“Of course! I’d hate to ruin anything for you.”

“Awesome, thank you so much. And it was quite lovely meeting you, I look forward to seeing those pictures again one day.”

With that, Tom was out the door and on his way to the spot they had rented out for the trip.

                             __________________________________

B/f/n woke up Thursday to work out again and saw there was an Instagram notification on her lock screen. It was Harrison (or maybe Tom, who knew who she was actually talking to).

We made it to the AirBnb. Thanks again for putting it under your name.

She saw it had been sent about an hour prior, so she replied.

No worries. I haven’t seen anything online about you being in the US, so it seems like you’re good so far

We’ll try to keep a low profile. We’re mostly trying to adjust to the time again so Tom isn’t falling asleep at the formal tomorrow night

B/f/n snorted. She figured it really was Harrison that she was talking to.

At the boy’s rented house, they were sitting around drinking black coffee to stay awake for the day. Eventually, they ran outside and took pictures with the car, being careful to watch that no one was looking at them.

As the morning went on, they quickly came to an unfortunate realization.

There was no food in the house, and they couldn’t just go out and get it. Delivery wasn’t the best bet either considering someone would have to answer the door.

So with stomachs growling, they messaged b/f/n again, asking her to pick up some groceries to hold them over for the day.

You’re lucky I’m not with y/n right now. Just send me a list and I’ll bring it over asap

It took her over an hour to get to the store, find everything on the list, and take it to the house. Her stomach fluttered when she pulled into the driveway as she was finally meeting her idol for real.

The door swung open before she could knock.

“Oh thank God you’re finally here, I’m starving,” Harrison said , taking the bags from her hands. “Come in, come in. Don’t need anyone seeing us.”

She stepped in the door to find the other two sitting on the couch. They greeted her starstruck self. 

“Oh, wow. Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” she eventually spit out, looking at them in amazement.

She ended up spending almost an hour conversing with them, Tom paying her back for the groceries and them finalizing the details for the upcoming day.

She stood in the doorway preparing to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow. I don’t know what she’ll do, but good luck either way.”

“Thanks, b/f/n, that means a lot. And thanks for all the help you’ve been. Without you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

                            __________________________________

A/N: honestly I’m kinda sad that this is almost over. I started it over a year ago now and I’ve really enjoyed writing it. Hopefully I’ll put out the last chapter next week and then will begin scheduling “the marriage project.” Love you guys!

TAG LIST: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @dreamyvans, @lisannehus, @honeymoonpeter, @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven, @chenellearose, @photoshopart15, @parkeret, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @racewife2004, @joyleenl

To be added to my story or permanent tag list, pls send a message or ask

[39hystericalqueens]

It’s A Hard Life (Brian May x Reader) Chapter 2

This series was written alongside a companion playlist. Each song on the playlist is related to a certain scene or moment within the story and while this fic can 100% be read without the playlist, it adds so much to the story to listen along as you read. Throughout this series, you will see numbers in parentheses within the text. Each number corresponds to a track on the playlist. For example, if you saw: (1), this would mean play the first track on the playlist before continuing on reading. Some of the songs serve to set the mood, some correspond with a song that is actually playing in the story, and some tell part of the story better than I can and so they help to drive the plot. I will say again that you don’t need the playlist to understand and enjoy this fic but I strongly recommend at least checking it out.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings: Some mild cursing 

A/N: Wow what a long break I took from posting any sort of update to this fic. I have been writing a lot in this time and have a decent portion of this story complete to post. I know hardly anyone (if even that) follows this fic especially now that I basically abandoned it for a little while there, but hopefully someone might find it interesting and enjoyable to read. Either way, please enjoy chapter 2!

Word Count: 4.8k 

October 1969

The next morning you awoke with a smile on your face. You weren’t quite sure why until the memories of the night before started coming back to you. Dancing to great music, running into Roger again, and that mystery of a guitarist: Brian. He was just as intriguing this morning as he was last night. A part of you wished you had asked Roger or Tim where he was, but you supposed it was too late now, and as you pulled yourself out of bed and into the world you tried to push the thought of him out of your mind.

After a full day of classes, which, as per usual, were long and exhausting, you found yourself at work. On Wednesdays you worked from 6 until closing at midnight. Today you had decided to actually be productive and while you waited for another customer to come through the door you worked on your composition assignment. You had two weeks to write the first movement of a sonata in the correct form, but as much as you tried, you just couldn’t get the development to sound the way you wanted it to. You sat focused behind the counter, lost in the world of themes and dominant keys, when the bell over the door jingled. You looked up and to your complete surprise saw Brian standing there. He looked almost exactly as he had the night before. Same untamed hair, same look of concentration, and when he saw you at the desk, he flashed the same small smile as last night.

“Welcome to Selmer’s,” you started your preprogrammed greeting, but then decided to take a risk, “I suppose you’ll be needing some new guitar strings?”

As Brian looked up to see who had just spoken, he was met with the sight of what he thought was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. You sat perched up on the stool behind the counter, pieces of staff paper spread around you, and a pencil in your hand, and even though he knew he was staring he just couldn’t look away. That was, until he realized what you had just said to him.

“Yeah I-- wait, how did you know that?” Brian said, utterly confused.

His speaking voice was just as light and sweet as his singing voice.

“Lucky guess?”

He chuckled, accepting your answer, but not fully certain that he believed you.

“Something tells me that you don’t use Fender strings,” you continued, “so, what can I get for you?”

“Wow you’re good, uh I use RotoSound 8 gauges.”

“A fine choice. I don’t play guitar myself but I’ve heard from a lot of my customers that they give you a really nice sound. A lot of people tell me that they find Fender strings too abrasive.”

When you mentioned this you saw him raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Wow that’s really funny that you would mention that,” he said, “Last night I was just telling the drummer in the band I’m in that the Fender strings make my sound real abrasive.”

“Lemme guess: you broke some of your strings, didn’t have any extras on hand, sent your drummer to go and get some while you finished setting up, he brought you the wrong ones, you played a show with an abrasive sounding guitar, and now you’re here buying the right strings.”

When you finished talking you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of absolute shock and disbelief that was across Brian’s face. He truly didn’t know what to say.

“How on earth did you know all of that?”

You smiled, finally deciding to let him off the hook.

“Your drummer Roger came running in here yesterday right before closing looking for your guitar strings, only he had no idea which strings to buy so I gave him your basic 12 gauges...”

Brian shook his head in disbelief.

“I told him specifically which strings to buy, I even went so far as to write it down but he insisted that he knew what he was doing. I’m never letting him buy gear for me again.”

“If it makes you feel better he did seem to be quite distraught about it when he came in. Nearly knocked down my door rushing inside.”

“Well I suppose that does make it slightly better, but you still haven’t told me how you knew I was upset about the strings.”

“Right, forgot about that. So my friend Freddie has been following this band called Smile around for quite some time,”

At the mention of the band’s name Brian smiled as he started to piece the story together.

“And he’s been on me for ages to come out to one of their shows, so last night I finally did, and as I get there and see the band walk onstage, who would be sitting behind the drum kit but Roger. I went round back after the show was over with Fred to see Roger and Tim but you weren’t there.”

“I was off taking those awful strings off of my guitar,” he said, “but now I wish I had been there to meet you.”

As he said that you felt your heart flutter in your chest once again.

“Me too, but I’m glad I’ve met you now.”

“Will I be seeing you again?”

“Yeah I hope so,” you said, giving him a small smile that he returned even more so. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Once again, he smiled. “I’m Brian.”

And with that, you handed him the package of strings, letting your hands linger for a second as they brushed against his, before giving him one last grin as he walked out the door.

(4)

_____

It had been one week since your run-in with the guitarist and all you seemed to be able to think about was when you would be able to see him again. You tried not to let it distract you from your life too much, but as you and Freddie walked home after classes that afternoon it proved to be difficult.

“...and then I said to Tim-- Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

You broke yourself out of the haze of your unintentional daydream.

“Yes! Sorry Fred, I just zoned out there for a moment.”

“Well bring yourself back because I’m about to tell the best part of the story. So I was saying to Tim that maybe we should just give up on trying to find a flat for all of us because there is literally nothing available in our area and he agreed with me. So just when we were about to call Brian and Roger and tell them, we get a call from Roger saying that he found us a place to live!”

“That’s great!” You said, “where is the place?”

“That’s the best part, it’s right down the street from Ealing where we rent out the practice rooms which means it’s right down the street from your place. And don’t worry, we won’t be at your door bothering you all day and stealing your food.”

You laugh slightly.

“Yes you will.”

“You’re right we probably will, but we’ll be pleasant company I assure you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Excellent! We’re set to move in this weekend and we’d love to have the help.”

“Sure thing,” you said, “just tell me what time to be there.”

_____

Move in day came bright and early on Saturday morning. You were up at 5 to take a cab over to Freddie’s flat on the other side of the neighborhood. When you arrived you found that he had already been up for 2 hours, finishing off last minute packing and piling boxes and a few pieces of furniture into the small truck he had rented.

“Don’t you think the truck might have been a little overkill?” you said, looking at its mostly empty interior, “I mean you don’t exactly have that much stuff to bring.”

“Oh trust me darling, I know. The truck isn’t just for me, we’re stopping by Roger’s place to load his things in here as well. Then Tim and Brian are meeting us there.”

You nodded in understanding.

“So, what can I do to help?”

“If you can grab the last few boxes from upstairs and bring them down here that would be great. And then come and help me lift this chair into the truck.” He said, gesturing at a very old and worn looking armchair sitting on the curb.

“Roger that,” you said, and headed up the stairs.

A half hour later the two of you had successfully loaded all of Freddie’s things into the truck and were driving away down to Roger’s place.

Roger lived another several blocks away, even farther away from you than Freddie, in a tiny one room flat on the top floor of the building. He had not yet started the process of luging his boxes down the five flights of stairs that he had so graciously forgotten to mention when he asked Freddie for help the other day.

“Roger...I’m...going...to kill...you,” you pant as you make your fourth trip down the stairs, two boxes balanced in your arms.

“C’mon,” he said, “if I had told you about the stairs you would never have agreed to come and help me.”

“And you’d have been right,” interjected Freddie who was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the wall, and fanning his face profusely. “Is that the last of it?”

“Thankfully yes,” you said, as you made your way out to the truck and hoisted the boxes inside. Roger followed suit, and finally you were able to pull the door down.

“Wonderful!” said Freddie, “next stop: our new home!”

It was nearly 3 o’clock when you three pulled up in front of the boy’s new building. Brian and Tim were sitting outside on the steps waiting for you.

“Well it’s about damn time,” said Tim, “you guys were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“We were a bit, delayed,” you said, looking directly at Roger. Brian gave a small snort under his breath.

“Oh come on, you guys are so dramatic. So we’re a little late, it’s not like we’re meeting the Queen or anything.”

You and Freddie collectively rolled your eyes.

“Now let’s hurry up and unpack.”

Compared to the amount of effort it had taken you to pack up Freddie and Roger’s flats, unpacking them was a breeze. Their new building had an elevator and their flat was right next door.

“Wow you guys, this is a really nice place,” you said as you walked through the door, “how did you find this place again, Roger?”

“Funny story really, I was talking to this broad at a coffee shop the other day and I guess I mentioned how my mates and I were looking for a new place to live that was central in the city. Well it turns out that her grandmother is moving to Manchester and has been trying to sell her flat for ages.”

“Ages? A place like this is every Londoner’s dream, why couldn’t she sell it?”

“Well she wasn't exactly going about it in the most conventional way. They had to sit her down and explain that walking down the street and asking people if they would like to buy your flat isn’t the most effective or appreciated form of advertisement.”

“Yeah not appreciated unless you’re four broke blokes like us in which case she was so desperate to sell it we paid next to nothing for it,” said Tim, setting down a large box. “I think this is almost all of it, there’s just one box left in the truck.

“I’ll go and get it,” said Brian, standing up.

“It’s pretty heavy, you’ll need two people to lift it,” said Tim.

“I’ll go with you,” you said quickly, making your way to the door and holding it open for him. As you walked into the hallway you caught Freddie looking at you with a sly look across his face.

There was a slightly awkward silence as you two walked down the stairs. Finally you spoke up.

“So uh, how’ve you been since I saw you at the store?”

“Oh um I’ve been alright. I’ve had a lot of work for school and all so I’ve been pretty focused on that. I think Roger already told you that I’m studying astrophysics, but I don’t want to bore you talking about it.”

“No I’d love to hear about it! What are you working on right now?”

“Well,” he said, his face lighting up, “the main thing that’s been eating up all my time is this paper we were assigned on the Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram. Basically it’s a scatter plot of stars that shows the relationship between the stars’ luminosity or brightness and its temperature. We’re meant to cover its history and creation, the functions of the diagram, and its importance in the advancement of the field. It’s an insane amount of information to cover and I’ve only got two weeks to write it.”

“That sounds really interesting,” you say, “I’m not usually one for maths and science but from the way you talk about it I’m actually interested to hear more about it.”

“You’re welcome to read my paper when it’s done if you’d like.”

“I might just take you up on that offer,” you said, smiling.

“So that’s what I’ve been up to,” he said, “what about you? You’re over at Ealing studying music, right?”

“Yep, working hard to start my career as a starving artist,” you said sarcastically. “Jokes aside though I have been quite busy as well. I’ve got a recital coming up next week so I’ve been locked in a practice room all this week.”

“Wow, that sounds really stressful.”

“It’s not too bad, this one just counts for a completion grade. The real stressors are the midterm and final recitals. Those are killer.”

“Well stressful or not I’m sure you’ll do amazing. I would love to hear you play sometime,” he added. He had been wanting to hear you play ever since Freddie had told him you played the flute, but he hoped he wasn’t being too pushy.

“Would you like to come to the recital?” you said, “it’s this Tuesday at 2.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything you know since we sort of just met each other.”

“Nonsense, I would love it if you came! In fact, I want you to. It would be so nice to have someone cheering me on in the audience. Freddie and Tim usually have classes that conflict so I’m normally playing to a crowd of strangers.”

“Well I’ll be there right in the front row, and I’ll clap louder than anyone else in the room,” he said, and you couldn’t help but blush.

“You know I just remembered that we came down here for a reason,” you said, looking towards the truck where the last box was still sitting.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “we should probably get that upstairs before they start to worry that we’ve been hit by a car or something.”

Together the two of you lifted the box up and out of the truck and into the building. Tim hadn’t been lying when he said the box was heavy. Even with the two of you, it was quite the struggle to carry it up to the flat.

“Jesus Christ, what’s in here, a load of rocks?” you said as the elevator reached their floor.

“I think it might be all our amps and sound stuff. You can tell that Roger packed this box because any sane person would have split them up between several boxes to keep the weight down.”

At last you made it into the flat, ridiculously heavy box and all.

“I wasn’t expecting to get that much of a workout in today,” you said, “next time make it a little heavier why don’t you.”

Ignoring your comment, Freddie said, “Well you two were gone a long time weren’t you,” he eyed you suspiciously.

“Yeah it took a lot of effort to carry that box,” you answer, “I need to go and get some water or something.”

You headed into the kitchen and Freddie followed behind you, closing the door.

“Alright spill it, it did not take you twenty  minutes to carry a box from the truck into an elevator,” he said.

“I mean we talked for a little bit while we were down there, but I don’t see why-”

“Let’s skip over the part where you try and dance around the facts. You so obviously have a thing for Brian!”

At his comment you felt your stomach drop slightly.

“What?! No I don’t!”

“Oh come on Lucy, I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at him, hanging on to his every word, and you volunteered to go with him to get that box so quickly I don’t think he had even finished his sentence.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said, “can’t I just like being around someone?”

“Of course you can, but that’s not what’s going on here. You like him, it’s so obvious.”

“You’re way off, Fred.”

As he gave you an exasperated look you felt some level of panic rise in you.

“If I liked Brian then why do I have a date set for this weekend? Hm?”

You’re not sure why you said it. It was a complete lie, you hadn’t been on a date in months nor did you have any interest in going on one now, but you had already committed to this story and if Fred found out you were bluffing you would never hear the end of it.

“Really?” said Freddie, skepticism in his voice, “you have a date?”

“Yep, Saturday night.”

“With who?”

Shit.

“Uh just some guy from my composition class,” then you added hastily, “you don’t know him.”

“No of course I don’t,” said Freddie, “but I’d love to meet him! Why don’t you have him pick you up at your flat so I can be there to say hello?”

You could tell that he saw right through you, but you were too far down this road to back out.

“Yeah um, ok sure. I’ll let him know.”

“Excellent!”

And with that Freddie left the kitchen, leaving you to realize what you had just gotten yourself into.

Well shit, now I’ve got to find a date. Great. Who the hell am I supposed to even ask?

______

The next day you ended up asking out a guy named Trey who sat behind you in composition class. He seemed really excited which made you feel even worse about the whole thing as you knew you would have to let him down after the one date. Saturday arrived all too soon and at a quarter to seven Freddie showed up at your door.

“Alright so where is this lad you have so graciously charmed?” he said, a devilish smile on his face.

“He should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. You opened it and there stood Trey, shifting nervously on his feet with a meek smile on his face. You could already tell that this was going to be painful. Before you could say anything, Freddie showed up right behind you to look at Trey.

“Hello darling, I’m Freddie, Y/N’s friend, I was just stopping by to see her off before your big date! I’ve got to say, when Y/N told me she had a date this weekend I didn’t believe her because, well, she’s not usually the type, but you two look oh so cute together, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you in the future!”

You could have killed him. You knew exactly what he was doing, and he had won, so now you were stuck still having to go on this date with the knowledge that Freddie would be waiting at your home to confront you when you got back.

“Don’t mind him, Trey,” you said, “Freddie can get a little over-invested in my life sometimes. Shall we?”

And with that the two of you walked out the door, but not before you looked over your shoulder to shoot Freddie a death glare to which he responded with a look of mock confusion.

To say the date was awkward would have been an understatement. It was clear that Trey didn’t pick up on how uncomfortable you were, or if he did, he didn’t mention it. You somehow stumbled your way through dinner and then a movie. By the end of the night though, you had just about reached the end of your rope as on the cab ride back to your flat he kept going on and on about how much he loved the movie you went to see.

“And I just thought the ending was so brilliant,” he said, “the way they brought the two story lines together, I didn’t even see that coming!”

“Yeah it was good,” you said, half-heartedly. The cab pulled up to the curb. “Well, this is me.”

“Let me walk you up, then we can say a proper goodbye,” he said.

“Alright,” you said.

As expected, Freddie was there waiting for you when you got back. He sat on your sofa, sipping on a glass of wine, as you and Trey said your goodbyes.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Y/N,” he said, “I’d love to do it again soon.”

“Um, yeah maybe,” you said, mentally kicking yourself as the words came out of your mouth. Why couldn’t you just say no? There was a moment of silence and then he leaned in to give you an awkward kiss on the cheek before saying one last goodnight.

Once he was gone you walked around to the sofa and collapsed into it, eyes closed.

“Well,” said Freddie, “that really was something. I think you and this Trey character could have a real future together. You seem to get along swimmingly and not to mention he’s quite handsome.”

“Alright! Alright Fred, you win! I may have a bit of a crush on Brian.”

______

It was Tuesday morning, the morning of your recital, and Brian found himself wandering through the halls of the Ealing music school, looking for the recital hall. As he rounded what he swore was the same corner he passed ten minutes ago he saw that a group of students had shown up and were talking rather loudly. He was about to turn around and continue his search when he heard something that grabbed his attention.

“So you know Y/N, the girl who sits behind me in composition, well she asked me out on Saturday to the movies.”

“Oh dude no way!”

“Yeah and it was completely out of the blue. I mean I never would have guessed that she had a thing for me, but we had a great time. She said she would want to go out again.”

Brian, who had been standing behind the corner, felt his heart drop when he heard this. He hadn’t really told anyone, but from the moment he met you he had been wanting to ask you out, he just hadn’t figured out how. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, both inside and out, and wanted nothing more than to be around you all the time. He was rather shy by nature and typically didn’t take a chance if he wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome, but after talking with you on moving day he had thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way. He knew of course that he had no right to be upset, you could obviously date whoever you wanted, but he couldn’t help but feel crestfallen knowing that you weren’t going to be anything more than friends.

(5)

Checking his watch, Brian realized that it was ten minutes before your recital was set to start and he still had no idea where he was going. Realizing that it was his only option, he turned to the group of guys.

“Hi, I’m looking for the recital hall? Do you happen to know where that is?”

The boy who had been talking about his date with Y/N turned around to look at Brian.

“Yeah mate it’s just around that corner there and then take a left and it’ll be the set of double doors on your right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Do you go here?”

There was no contempt in his voice but at his question Brian couldn’t help but feel as though he was accusing him of something.

“No,” he said apprehensively, “I’m actually here to see a friend perform.”

“Who do you know?”

“Um, Y/N... Y/N Y/L/N? Do you know her?” He grimaced internally at his question, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, she’s in my composition class. She’s real sweet, incredibly talented too.”

“Yeah I know,” said Brian, a little too quickly, “thanks for the directions.”

“Anytime,” he said, “I’m Trey by the way.”

“Brian.”

“Nice to meet you, Brian. And hey, wish Y/N good luck from me. I’ve got a class in ten minutes so I can’t go and see her play.”

“Yeah sure thing,” said Brian monotonously, as he turned to walk back down the hallway.

As much as Brian wanted to hate Trey, he knew he really couldn’t. He seemed nice enough, cared enough about Y/N’s life to know that he was missing her performance, and he had given him accurate directions. Brian found his way to the recital hall in no time, picking himself out a seat right in the front row. The turnout was what you might expect from a midday, midweek, student recital. The back of the hall was filled with students kicked back in their seats and glancing lazily at the clock every other minute, mostly likely forced to attend as part of their grade. The middle was quite sparsely populated with what looked like a few family members and friends scattered throughout, and the front was almost completely empty with the exception of four rather stern-looking people who Brian assumed were Y/N’s professors, and of course now him. He hadn’t been to see a classical performance in ages. His mother used to take him all the time to go and see the London Symphony when he was younger, but after starting secondary school and then uni and devoting all his time to his studies and his guitar he had stopped going. Now, sitting in the icebox of a theatre, he couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t belong.

A few minutes later, the performance began. It was a woodwind only recital so Brian sat through two clarinets, a saxophone, three oboes, and a bassoon, before it was your turn. When you finally walked onstage, Brian kept his promise and applauded so loudly that one of the professors turned to see where it was coming from. He didn’t care though, he couldn’t wait to hear you play. As you made your way over to the music stand you flashed Brian a smile, and he felt as though he was walking on air. God, he thought you were just perfect standing up there, completely in control of that stage. He wanted to run up the steps and hug you, kiss you, to tell you how much he adored you. How you should be with him and not Trey, but then you began to play and he was snapped back into reality. He didn’t recognize the piece, but it didn’t matter. Your sound carried through the hall with such vibrancy and clarity, and your fingers danced across the keys effortlessly. You made it look so easy, each movement more beautiful than the last.

(6)

As you brought the last movement to a close, Brian stood up and gave you a standing ovation. You knew it was overkill of him, but as you watched him fill the room with thunderous applause you couldn’t help but smile. You took your bows and with one more look at Brian, made your way offstage.

Twenty minutes later, the recital had come to a close. The last few flutes had performed but to Brian they paled in comparison to you. After a quick word with your professor and some scattered congratulations and compliments to your fellow performers, you made your way out into the audience. You saw Brian standing near the back, beaming as you half walked half ran up the stairs to him.

“So, what did you think?” you said, “it didn’t bore you too much I hope.”

“Are you kidding? Y/N, that was incredible!”

You blushed.

“I mean I knew you played well and everything, but that was just so beautiful. It was like you were singing through your flute, you’ve got a real talent.”

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” you said as you pulled him in for a hug, “what did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”

Friend, Brian thought to himself, that’s all he would ever be to you.

Taglist: @peter-sue-the-management @borhapqueen92

[thebookofus-depravity]

Skinny Bone Jones

Skinny Bone Jones

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2 coming soon!

9k words

This is my baby Park Jaehyung and an AU in which y’all are dealing with the coronavirus together in LA. Jae grew up with Y/N and you were childhood friends. You stayed close but haven’t seen each other in ages. Now you’re both back.

 Teeth rotting fluff, possible smut in future chapters (lets see if I have the balls to post it), Y/N has a strong proclivity for a certain guitarists hands. And honestly, who can blame her? TW: Confrontation with a nasty old ex, Coronavirus,  Quarantine, overbearing parents.

...

This fucking sucks.

Closing your laptop, and shoving it off of your lap to the side of your bed, you are struck by exactly how warm the underside of your Netflix Machine was in contrast to the chilly room. Well, 3 hours of To Catch a Predator in, and sure, your old 2011 Dell dinosaur is going to be a little mad at you. I've got to do something today. Anything. 

Week 3 of your quarantine is coming to a close and on this breezy LA Thurs-Fri-Turday (who the hell knows anymore) you can feel the last tendrils of your sanity escaping with the setting sun. It just doesn't stop setting. And rising. And setting. And rising. Tortuously slow some days and before you can even get out of bed the next. Not that you get out of bed much.

Alright. That's it. I'm gonna do something. I have to. It's time to make some art, bake some cookies, go for a run, tell someone around me how much I value them, topple the patriarchy. I am going to get up and do something with my life and damned if I get in my own way again. I am unstoppable. I am formidable. I am inevitable. 

Rising from your rumpled bed clothes with the steadfastness of a slightly anemic Viking (whoa I’m woozy, I shouldn't have stood up so fast. Shit, when's the last time I ate?) you cross to the large bay window that faces the street. You throw your curtains open, ready to face the day, only to be faced with… stars starting to twinkle at you out of the inky blackness. Dammit. I'm gonna have to defeat systemic oppression tomorrow. 

Squinting from behind your glasses, you see that the stars are not stars at all but helicopters blinking down at you. You haven't seen real stars since your trip to Big Sur last summer. Although you moved to LA when you were 7, you have vague recollections of the Korea that you loved as a young child. Your parents had picked up and moved to the States after years of struggling through VISA's and citizenship red tape. Your mom and dad had originally meant to get married and have you in the US. The land of opportunity. 

You now chafed slightly under that blanket of opportunity as you are far too aware of the responsibility you have been given to make the absolute most of it. From the ripe old age of 8 you had been conditioned to follow your dreams to their fullest. As long as those dreams were to become a doctor, lawyer, or marry a CEO. Your parents cared about you greatly and you knew that. They only want security for you, happiness comes from security. Now 25, you can't quite remember the last time their overbearing nature had been quite this...potent. You were in your final year of medical school at USC and there was nowhere to run.  It was time for you to begin your foray into the 'real world' of residency. The same post-undergrad 'real world' that you had watched all of your non-premed friends crash land into. They had all distanced themselves from you, both figuratively and literally; intentionally and inadvertently. Divorced, Beheaded, Died: Divorced, Beheaded, Survived. You had watched you friends get married, have kids, sabotage marriages, buy houses, do well, do poorly. And here you were in some kind of bubble both safe and isolated from all of the uncertainty beyond the classroom. 

Jokes on you, Jessica, now we're all screwed, you find yourself thinking for the upteenth time over the past month. You had been watching the Coronavirus since December and knew exactly what was to come. You did all that you were capable of as a not-quite certified medical professional and tried to convince people of the reality of the threat, convince them not to panic, and to exercise a reasonable level of preparedness. Well, that didn't work. You found yourself sunk into a deep well of frustration and futility at the action and inaction that was being exhibited throughout the States. For the first weeks of quarantine you found yourself glued to your phone, helplessly watching the tragedy unfold and the stupidity that was ensuing. By week 2 your empathy had burnt out and you knew you couldn't watch that world anymore. K-drama's it is. After completely obliterating Crash Landing on You, Itaewon Class, and rewatching Descendants of the Sun for the eighth time just because it's so. damn. cute!, your parents started to get a little concerned. 

Your stomach growled and you realize you, in fact, haven't eaten since early this morning. As you consider what the consequences of emerging from your cave of a bedroom might have, you resign yourself. Five minutes later you are hovering in the kitchen with a bowl of leftover whateverthefuck in hand, you turn to see both of your parents at the bar stools staring at you with a look of concern that you haven't seen in years. Shit, I keep forgetting, they think I'm functional.  Your parents had shipped you off to Health Careers College Prep school, a boarding school in Sacramento, when you were 16. Upon graduation there with your high school diploma, nurses aid, and dental hygienist's certificates, you immediately started at USC premed. You hadn't lived at home since your Jonas Brother's phase. As much as your parents loved you, they didn't really know you. This had been overwhelmingly obvious when the USC campus closed and you returned home to open arms and your bedroom frozen in the clutches of 2009. Your parents had welcomed you home with tearful hugs and a new gift for your room. I know how much you love that Kevin- boy. And your room is so old. Come. Come. Already wary and wondering who the hell is Kevin? you allowed yourself to be led to your old room and set your bags down with a deadened thump. You tried so hard not to laugh, You really did.  They're trying so hard. But like, Where did they even find this monstrosity? You had been staring up at the largest poster of Kevin Jonas that you had ever seen every night for 3 weeks and it was starting to get to you. 

Regardless of the decor (purple fuzzy lamp shade included), there were so many parts of living at home that were so foreign to you.  Although everything was completely the same, you were worlds different and it was disorienting. Your bed seemed smaller, the walls shorter, the colors dimmer. Everything that made that house your home was still there, only you had changed. It was like you were in a coma and had just woken up, the rest of the world unchanged but with 10 more years under your belt. Your therapist would tell you that you were reverting into a childlike state because of trauma and surroundings. Hush, Mollie, I don't need that right now. I need food. 

Food was honestly what was keeping you sane and civil. Your parents own a pho shop just down the street that was still taking carry out and delivery orders for pho, crawfish, whatever they had lying around. You had been helping out in the kitchen and with deliveries since you had been home. As freeing as the drives have been, you really come alive in the kitchen. You had been watching your mom make pho and dumplings for years and although she sent kimchi to your apartment every month or so, you missed your moms cooking. And her kitchen. You immediately took to cooking just like you had when you moved off of USC campus and into an apartment with some friends. You had 12 burners! That all worked! A convection oven! Two of them! Kitchen Aid's! You had no problem opening up shop at 8am every morning to prep the dough and get the stock boiling and all of the other things that her mother and father had been doing for the past 20 years. 

Returning to your room after rinsing out your bowl and chopsticks, and exchanging goodnight's with your parents you sit on your bed and tell yourself to go to bed. You have to be up at 7am for the kitchen. You need to chop scallions for the pork and chive dumplings so it has time to coagulate. Come on, Go to bed. No phone. It was a pitiful attempt, really. You had been pulling med-school grade all-nighters since your junior year of high school and nothing was stopping you now. Turning on your side for easy access to your charger, you plug your phone and coast through Instagram, Youtube, Twitter, Tinder for an indeterminate amount of time before your eyes start to get heavy. Instagram was just filled with all of your peers from USC recklessly meeting up with friends for picnics and drives and all of the other things they thought they were free to do because they were young and healthy and beautiful. Fuck off. Youtube provided a lovely escape from the actual outside. Mikey Chen showed you around TaiPei's street food scene, Binging with Babish gave you a new hand pulled noodle recipe to try, Bon Appetit made you glad you weren't Claire Saffitz. Tinder was a joke but an adequately funny one. Instead of your bog standard USC fuckboi's you were able to talk to fuckboi's from Korea, Dubai, Indonesia, Guatemala, Brazil. How fun. You had downloaded it 6 months prior after yet another guy in your department was just 'too busy, i'm sorry' to make the date that you had planned. You generally tried to avoid Twitter as it was just an echo chamber of panic and 24 hour news cycles and didn't do much for your anxiety. See, Mollie? I'm being smart. 

You flick open the little bird app and scroll for just a minute. A particular notification picques your attention. Jae tweeted. Well, Day6 tweeted, but we all know who runs their twitter. Your throat tightens with nerves as the post loads. You worry about him more than you'd like to admit but with tours cancelled and travel suspended, you know how hard it can be for people whose livelihoods revolve around entertainment and travel. The post loads and you let out a sigh of relief to see Jae surrounded by his band mates and smiling. Brian starts speaking Korean and delivers his message about their newly acquired tiktok. Brian gestures for Jae to speak and Jae delivers the same message in English. Ah, he went back to blonde. It looks good on him. Wait is he- oh god, he's wearing a crossbody fanny pack. Jae, you're old. Stop. Shifting to get more comfortable, you let the video loop a few times before closing the app. Jae's okay. You roll over onto your side and set your phone to the side. Jae's voice echoes through your ears for the next few minutes but you resolve yourself against it. I'm not getting fucking tiktok. I'm a grown ass woman. That app is for 12 year olds. And Jae. Resolved, you burrow into your Jonas brothers duvet cover for the night. 

Sweating and on the verge of tears, you wake with a start. The dream was already slipping from your consciousness with a blessed haste but the uneasy feeling that the nightmare gave you seemed to coat the inside of your skull and taint it's entire contents. A thin light filters through your still open window and your eyes creak open. Morning? Sure, why not? Rolling over, you flick open your phone and are greeted by an all too unfamiliar, 5:17am. It's too damn early. Even for you. You still have an hour or so to kill before you have to get up but you didn't fancy the idea of trying to go back to sleep after that dream. Propping yourself up on a few of the approximately 67 pillows that litter your twin sized bed, you open your phone. 3 new emails from USC congratulating you on your graduation and asking for some documentation of something or another or evaluation of some class you hadn't thought of in weeks. Skip. 2 emails from residencies that you had applied to before the coronavirus urging you to reapply in the fall. Great. You couldn't even bring yourself to feign concern over the missed opportunity. 1 email from Twitter informing you that Jae had tweeted. Again. You follow the link to another video of his side project EaJ. You had been following his new releases and you were surprised by the tenderness and vulnerability that they showed. He was always such a funny guy, it was the only side that he really showed much to the media. Sure, fans got glimpses at concerts, but not many knew just how deep the well ran in that man. 

Today's Tuesday, apparently. The next episode of How Did I Get Here? comes out today. I'll have something to listen to while I food prep. You never admitted to yourself how pleased you were when he started the podcast. You missed hearing his voice on a regular basis. Hollered up into your window, whispered between giggles in the back-most church pew, hurled across crowded hallways. Of course, the voice was different than it is now. Pocked by pubescence and the LA accent, you remember a far squeakier Jae. He was the first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood at 7 years old. He was 9 so of course, he took it upon himself to show you exactly where you could and couldn't go and what taco trucks would give out fare for free to little kids on weekends.  You remember those years fondly as finally having the big brother you never had. Skinny Bone Jones, you called him. He stood up for you when the kids in middle school called you smelly for bringing kimchi in your lunch. He called you smelly just for being you. He was well liked in school and by extension so were you. You had the cool big brother. You were more than happy to play second fiddle and be his backup. Tagging along to parties, helping him record his yellow post-it note covers on Youtube, letting him know when his hair looked stupid.

 And so it stayed until Jae actually made it on KPop Star. As much as you loved him, you didn't think he would ACTUALLY make it. Sure, he could sing. He had a beautiful voice but that wasn't enough. The boy danced like a drunk chicken and was 6ft tall and 120lbs soaking wet. He didn't even know Korean. What was he thinking? He was thinking he was going to prove you wrong. And he did. You watched as Skinny Bone Jones transformed into Park Jaehyung with a perfect balance of immense pride and terror. You knew you wouldn't lose your friend entirely but during his trainee days he had very limited access to the outside world, and you just weren't a priority. Honestly,  you would've been offended if you had been. He has a mom, dad, an older sister, bandmates, college. It only makes sense that the steady stream of communication turned into a trickle. It wasn't until Every Day6 that you were more of an insistent presence in his life. You burrowed your way back into his inbox with the tenacity of the annoying little sister that you were. You were worried. You watched him on After School Club and in the deluge of content that Day6 was serving their slowly growing fanbase. He looked tired. You once again rekindled your relationship but it was different now. Instead of you leaning on him for social support, you became his confidant. He was struggling. Burnt out, and questioning so many things, he didn't want to go to his bandmates because he didn't want them to worry. His parents would pull him immediately if they knew exactly how rough his condition was, his 'friends' from college had proved fake. He now had Alpha Phi Omega blocked because they wouldn't stop asking for favors: Day6 tickets, Twice merch, Got7 tickets. He felt alone but you reached out and he was able to lean on you. The trials passed and he was happier than ever and Day6's growing popularity meant good things for his lobster funds. 

You stayed in contact over the years and shared with each other the going on's of your lives. You had even managed to go to the Gravity World Tour date in LA. Jae got you backstage and you were able to meet the rest of his bandmates that you had heard so much about. It was an act of God that you managed to keep your composure. I mean sure, he's just Jae but you're still backstage at a concert for the first time! Your cheeks still redden when you remember how Jae caught you ogling at YoungK. Heart in your throat, and voice barely above a whisper YoungK had walked directly over to you and asked what you were doing backstage. After a solid 15 seconds of pointing listlessly at your Press badge and making just the strangest of noises that were meant to approximate speech, Jae finally caught wind and rushed over, knocking your sense back into you and introducing you to the members. 

Oh! Y/N! It's so nice to finally meet you! Jae talks about you all the time, I'm so glad you were able to make it! Your cheeks inexplicably reddened further to a violent shade of pink but the boys slowly defanged themselves in your mind. They're truly lovely people and you're glad Jae has them. That being said, you still can't quiiiite look Brian in the eyes and Jae thinks it's hilarious. 

The Gravity tour feels like ages ago as you shrug on some jeans and a tee shirt for your walk to the shop. August 2019 at the Novo may have only been 8 months ago but it seems like a different reality. The Novo will be closed for the forseeable future and concerts are cancelled. That stings but not as much as the radio silence from Jae. First it was his tour schedule that rendered communication difficult and now the virus. You know he's busy and it's been a weird few months for the entertainment industry, but a 'Hey I'm alive.' would be nice. From his podcasts and twitter you've been able to keep some thread attached but you feel it stretching thin as the months stretch on. You really don't want to be annoying. You're sick of feeling like a fan. Yeah, you support Jae and Day6 and would call yourself a MyDay, but that's not all you are. You know him. You dragged him through the mud when he convinced you to try sledding down a muddy hill on a trash can lid. You set up his camcorder for his covers when he still had that stupid swoopy hair. You posed as his angry girlfriend when a crazy fan wouldn't leave him alone.  You're starting to feel like just a fan and not a friend and it's only exacerbated by the glee that you feel when you get the notification from dive studios that How Did I Get Here? has updated. I miss my friend. 

Not bothering to flip the sign on the front door from closed to open, you shoulder open the front door of the shop after fumbling with the keys. Tying an apron securely around your waist, and flicking on your noise cancelling headphones to a comforting thrum, you wash your hands and begin to chop the largest pile of scallions you've ever seen. Crunching through the pile, you start Jae's podcast and everything is gone but him. You can almost imagine him in the room with you, perched on the counter talking your ear off about the Mandela effect or how weird elbows are or something equally as ridiculous. Today he's talking about soul mates. As you listen to him joke and banter and pontificate, your eyes well up. It's just the scallions. You know damn well it's only partially the scallions. You miss Jae. And you're in the middle of a pandemic. And your family barely knows you. And you're not sure if you even want to be a pediatric oncologist. Fuck. Jae's words turn into white noise in your ears as you toss your headphones to the side and place the knife on the butchers block, perhaps more aggressively than necessary. You pause the podcast and let yourself sit in the feeling. You're lonely and sad. See Mollie? I'm letting myself feel things. Making room for every emotion. You cast your mind around and recall all of the little wounds that prick a little too deep today. You feel a squeeze in your abdomen and your eyes shoot open wide. Shit, my period. I've got to be PMSing. Even Jae recognized the trend in your emotions before you did. The week before your period, you were notoriously mushy and weepy and indulgent. Well, that's one mystery solved. I'll be okay. Mollie's voice echoed through your brain with her familiar argument that hormones only heighten the emotional distress, not fabricate it. These feelings are valid and aren't fake just because you're hormonal. You steadfastly ignore that point, wipe your eyes, and pull your headphones back on. You finish up the pile of scallions and a few other morning chores before the podcast ends. It's Jae's sign off that sends the bowl of mandu filling that you were holding clattering to the floor. "I'm coming to you from my childhood home, so if the audio is a little finnicky… blame Byron." Jae's home.

…

After sweeping up a pound of pork, beef, mirin, soy sauce, and chives and disposing of it, you stare at your phone- hands shaking slightly. Jae. What the fuck. You rip off your apron and your mind races. Should I call him? Should I go see him? I can’t believe he’s right here. 2 houses down. Fuck. Your rational brain knows that it’s okay to feel excited about Jae being home. But the sneaky little bitch that lives in the back of your brain is telling you that if he wanted to hear from you, he would’ve called. You feel a little bit of yourself fragment at that, but you push it to the side. You open up your phone and slide over to his contact in your phone. What greets you is your last text conversation.

Jae: I’m so glad you had fun, Y/N! But if you ever look at Brian like that again, I might have to put a ban on you at our concerts. His head was way too big.

Y/N: Look at him like what?! I didn’t do anything and you know it! 

Jae: Of course you’re didn‘t. You totally weren’t drooling over my bassist. 

Y/N: Fuck off.

Jae: Gladly, love. ;)

8 months ago. Sure you’d DM’d quite a bit since then and called a few times. But it just seemed so sparse. You don’t want him to just humor you. You’re an adult and perfectly capable of being alone. You’re not going to text him just yet. 

You finish up your morning chores and head back to your house, pausing for perhaps just a little too long in front of the sandstone house with the tan shutters and shoes out front. You knew that house so well. You knew how much weight the tree outside the upstairs bedroom window could hold. You knew where the kimchi refrigerator was tucked away in a back corner of the garage. You knew there was a blonde boy in there that you wanted nothing more than to run inside and get a hug from. 

You shower and let the hot water run over you, hoping it will relax the knotted up muscles in your back. It’s not like I can go see him anyway. We’re in quarantine. He probably just got back to LA and just hasn’t gotten the chance to-. You run the same conversation over and over in your head until you can’t take it anymore. You need someone else’s voice in your head. Curling into your covers, you sigh and go to the App Store. A few short minutes later and you hate yourself more than you ever have. Tiktok. Here we go. You watch the video of Day6 introducing themselves to the social networking platform once, twice, three times until your eyes start to ache. All of a sudden you’re met with a new post that pings up. Your breath catches in your throat as you see Jae standing in his living room, attempting to keep up with Amber Liu’s dance challenge. You can’t help but giggle as he flails to the left, to the right, oversized black hoodie always falling into his face. BM would be proud. Express not impress. You find yourself shocked at the weight that he’s gained. He looks healthy and happy. You remember the conversations in middle school about how much he hated being skinny. The evenings in the weight room in high school. Failed doctors appointments. He looked good before but you see that in recent months his chest has been swelling and not just with pride. His shoulders sit a little bit broader than you ever remember in the past and you’re happy for him. Good for you, Jae. 

You like the tiktok and let it loop a few more times before sighing heavily and opening your messaging app.

Y/N: I got TikTok for you, ya little shit. 

You chuckle but leave the text unsent. You’ll think of something better later. You toss your phone to the side in the face of the mountain of laundry on your bed that needs to be taken care of. As you hang the last of your shirts, your phone pings. You pick it up to a notification from Jae.

Skinny Bone Jones: Language! 

Skinny Bone Jones: Do you think Amber approves? 

You feel a flare of indignation wash through your limbs at the mention. Apparently it had sent. Oh well. As the thrill of a reply ebbs out of you, it is replaced by a rising indignation. How dare you?! Not tell me you’re in town and pretend like you didn’t?! Really?! 

Y/N: I don’t really care what Amber thinks.

Maybe that was a little snippy. You love Amber, truly. But how can he have time for TikTok but not me?

Skinny Bone Jones: Yeah? Do you still care what I think? 

Your heart catches in your throat. So he’s caught on that you’re pissed. 

Skinny Bone Jones: Y/N, can I call you? 

You swipe up to the phone icon and call him on auto pilot. Talk to me, Jae.

“Y/N?” you hear Jae’s voice.

“Jae.” Your voice comes out whispier than you meant it to. You try again.

“Jae! How are you?”

“Oh, y’know, just got off a plane that smelled like bleach and got to my house that isn’t really my house anymore, left my guitar to be sanitized, was “strongly encouraged” to make a TikTok by my company, and then got my head bit off by my best friend. Just quarantine things.” There is a touch of acid in his voice but Jae mostly sounds tired. Your empathy comes surging back and you sigh.

“I’m sorry Jae. I just- I didn’t know you were in town until I listened to your podcast this morning. I was a little hurt that you didn’t call or anything.” 

“Look, kid. I just got home. I’m a diva. You know I require at least an 18 hour period of naps and boba to function properly. I’m a KPop Star now.” You laugh at the callback to your irate spiel a few years ago about how fame had changed him and he was a diva and  just ‘wasn’t the Jae you knew’ anymore. It wasn’t his fault he was allergic to everything and turned down all of your food suggestions.

“Jae, you’ve been a diva since day one.” You quip back, tension resolving as you fall back into a familiar playful banter. 

“And don’t you forget it, Y/N.” There's a slight pause before Jae continues, 

“This diva is really sorry he didn’t call you. It’s just been a lot the last few days. The tour just got cancelled. And our album comes out in a few days. Our team has been going crazy trying to figure out how we’re supposed to publicize in this climate and I just-“ 

“Jae. Chill. When I preordered mine last week, it was the most popular album on the site. It’s gonna sell. Don’t worry too much.” There’s a beat of silence in which you can hear the air whoosh out of Jae’s lungs.

“You-You preordered Demon?” Jae sounds shocked but endeared at your admission and you laugh. 

“Of course? I’m really pumped to hear that sexy, soothing voice of Wonpil’s. Maybe I’ll even get a Dowoon photo card this time! I keep getting Jae ones in my other albums and I give them to my little cousin.” This isn’t entirely true. You have 3 of Young K, 2 of Dowoon, and 1 each of Wonpil and Sungjin. You’ve been waiting for a Jae photocard for ages. You would die before you told him that, though.

“You little shit. If you don’t want to see my face, why are you following Day6 on TikTok?” Jae ribs back.

“Brian. Duh. He’s fine as hell.”

“Yah! Haven’t you found a boring ass Orthopedic surgeon or some shit, yet? Why do you have to terrorize me like this?” 

“Why? Haven’t you found a Twice member that’ll marry you yet, Skinny Bone Jones?”

“I’ll have you know, I gained 10 pounds the past 8 weeks! I’ll be big as BM soon!” You can picture the expression of childlike pride in his face even if you can’t see it. 

“You look really good, Jae. I’m proud of you. You’ve been working really hard.” The sudden sincerity catches the both of you off guard and you clear your throat.

“Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.” A comfortable silence is followed by a lengthy conversation recounting the previous weeks, the various states of the other members, your own eviction from college, and the status of the shop. 

“You know, Y/N, if you or your family need anything I’m more than happy to help. I mean I know how hard it can-“ You cut him off before he can go any further.

“We’re okay Jae, honest. I know you’d be good for it but we don’t need anything right now. Business is good at the pho shop and we’re okay.” 

“Okay, okay. Just know I’m here.”

“I mean NOW I do, no thanks to youuu,” you wheedle, whining about his failure to let you know he was in town. 

“Come on, Y/N, I said I was sorry!” He laughs but you can hear the desperation of sincerity in his voice.

“I know, Jae. I’m just kidding. I just really missed you.” 

“I missed you too Y/N.”

You get off the phone upon the realization that you needed to go to the shop and prep for the dinner deliveries. Sometimes you abhorred that you were “essential”. You run downstairs and tell your parents the good news about Jae and inform them you’ll be back soon. 

“I know you’re excited, Y/N, but remember we can’t be going and visiting people like that. Only essential work.” You roll your eyes slightly but assure them that you know. As if you hadn’t been telling them the same thing for weeks. I had to convince you not to go play mahjong in the park, eomma. You might be excited, but you’re not stupid. 

You had just started filling the mandu when you hear the bell over the door chime. Pardon me, are you stupid? We've been closed for weeks, why do you think it would be okay to just walk in? You wipe your hands on your apron and start to walk to the counter.

"Hello? I'm sorry, we're only open for call-in deliveries." You round the corner and lift your head from your hands to see the form of the gangliest, tallest, loveliest man you've ever seen in your life.

"Special delivery." Jae remarks smoothly, arms open wide in invitation and head cocked to the side as if he was bracing himself for the crash landing that was to come.

"Jae!" you yell, and launch yourself from behind the counter and into his arms. His arms fold around you and everything else melts away. Your face burrows against his chest and you inhale. He smells like home and cinnamon. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes with the tide of emotions that wash over you. Jae's hand cups the back of your head into him and he hugs you just as tightly as you hug him. You press yourself into him with everything you have and in the deafening silence and warmth all that you can think is I love you.

"Y/N" He whispers, not loosening his grip on you.

"Mmph." you respond weakly.

"My shirt's wet." You jump back from him a bit and see that he's correct. Your eyes are leaking. All over his white shirt. Oops.

"Oh! I'm-I'm sorry." You laugh a bit and swipe at your eyes before patting at his shirt in futility.

"It's okay, love. Come here." He welcomes you back into his arms and you wrap your arms over his neck this time. 

"I missed you." You whisper, voice cracking a bit. 

"I know you did." You jump back from him. Bitch.

"Hush. I missed you too, you idiot. Why else would I be standing here right now?"

You cast your eyes around in a panic. He's here. He's right here. In the store. Here. He shouldn't be here. He should be in quarantine with his family. You're unessential to him. 

Sensing the realization in your eyes,  he pushes past you, walking to the back and puts on the latex gloves hidden behind the counter. 

"I figured it was about time to get a 'real job' like everyone keeps telling me to." He smiles smugly and picks up the knife to start chopping the bok choy. You stand there in shock for one second, two seconds, three seconds until you realize he’s about to cut his fingers off. 

“Jae! Stop!”

“Look, Y/N, I don’t care what you say, I’m going to do this. I want to help. And I’ll be damned if I’m not allowed to see you in the time I’m finally here-“ 

“No, Jae. Stop. I know I can’t argue with you. I’d be thrilled if you’d work with me. But Brian is gonna kill me if I let you cut your damn hands off.” 

“I… what?” 

“You’re a guitarist Jae. We can’t have you cutting off your pretty little fingers. And if you keep chopping it like that, that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” 

Jae looks down at his hands and stretches his fingers wide as if considering them for the first time. 

“Pretty?” 

You roll your eyes, but unbidden, your eyes are still trained on his hands. They really are pretty. 

“Just. Let me show you.” You show him how to tuck his knuckles up against the blade and chop in smooth rocking motions so as not to take off his fingertips. 

You work in relative silence for the next hour, packaging meals and portioning combos as your mom and dad peek in and out to pick up the orders. You can feel a warmth flowing through you as you take in your surroundings. The loneliness of the past weeks leeches out of you and dissipates into the warm atmosphere, homey smells, and murmur of conversation. It’s almost as if your limbs wake up bit by bit, like a tree waking up after a long frigid winter. You feel yourself stretch and shine and the bubbles of contentment flow through you. By the time the last combo is out the door, you find it really difficult to take the smile of your face. 

Jae seemed to be in the same boat. On more than one occasion you caught him staring at you. Every time you caught him he just shook his head and laughed in that infuriating way of his. But you really couldn’t be irritated at him. It was impossible. He was your happy fairy, even if you wanted to kick him in the shins every two minutes for saying something dumb. Mom and dad said goodnight to Jae in the same way they have been since he was 10. “Tell Mrs.Park I say hello and don’t be a stranger.” Right after they leave and you’re washing the last dish, while Jae sits on the counter telling you about production for Day6’s new album, the phone rings. Before you can tell Jae not to answer it, he’s already taking the man's order. Fine. One more can't hurt. You weren’t anxious to end this day and return to bed alone, so you welcome the post-closing distraction. Cobbling together a plate from the leftovers you were about to bring home, you grab your keys and beckon Jae to follow you. 

“No need to bug mom and dad, we can take this one.” 

As you walk outside toward where your little yellow bug is parked, you feel Jae move behind you. You can feel his body close to yours and you stiffen instinctually. You’re not used to skinship anymore and you can feel the blood in your veins carbonate as Jae’s breath ghosts across the back of your neck. You stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide, flush creeping up your neck as you feel his hands- those damn hands- ghost along the side of your left arm. You squeak when his fingers brush against the back of your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Your world spins. Fuck is he holding my hand? Do I want this to happen? He’s so close to me. Can he hear my heartbeat? 

“Jae-“ you begin to say, with absolutely no idea as to where the statement would go after. 

Luckily you don’t have to think of any sort of decisive move because Jae immediately snatches the keys from your now limp left hand with a cackle, running ahead to the car. 

“I’m driving!” You little fucking- oooh! 

You’re thankful for the cool evening breeze and dim street lights or you were sure to get a ribbing for the blazing red cheeks that you were sporting. You climb into the passenger's seat with the food on your lap and do your best to sink into invisibility. It doesn’t work. You’re convinced that he can hear your brain jackhammering away at the night's events. 

Did I want that to happen? Did that happen? He was so close to me. He felt so warm and the way he touched me. Running your hands over your arm, you could feel his touch like it had raced a burning path down your whole left side. Do I… like Jae? 

You glance over at him now and again as he puts the car in drive and begins the route to the destination. Jae, of course, is jabbering away about how everything has changed since he’s been gone and, “Omigod, is that ANOTHER pinkberry?” You find yourself nodding along passively while actively trying to figure out what the hell was going on in your brain. Much like his podcast, his voice became white noise by which you asked yourself questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to. Of course I love him. But do I like, like him? Never in your life have you felt more like a horny, confused teenager but as you glance over and watch Jae with one hand on the steering wheel, wind blowing through his hair, you know one thing for sure- Jae isn’t a kid anymore. And he isn’t your brother. 

It isn’t until you pull into a neighborhood about 10 minutes later that you remember that you’re here on a delivery. Yanking yourself from your reverie, but with unease still firmly lodged in your thoughts, you address the task at hand. 

“Jae, where are we?” 

“Uhhhh, 3051 Driver Rd.” 

Driver Road. You know this neighborhood but you can’t quite place where. If your previous safari into your possible romantic interest in Jae wasn’t jarring enough, you feel panic rising through your system like so much bile. Why do I know this neighborhood? Jae, unaware of any turmoil on your part, pulls up to the house in question and when your headlights wash over the yard your heart sinks into your throat. You’re going to be sick. 3051 Driver Rd. This is where Sean lives. 

You had met Sean Avery in your sophomore year of premed and had fallen head over heels in love with him. He was tall, attractive, ambitious, and he wanted you. You were star struck. It wasn’t until a year of ‘dating’ later that you unearthed the whole messy truth of his long string of side pieces and general douchebaggery. If that wasn’t enough, in the past year you heard the report of him almost catching a case with a high school senior in the area. You knew now that he was nothing but a predator and a coward. You had managed to avoid him since your explosive breakup but now it seemed you had very little choice.

“Sean fucking Avery” you seethe in the seat next to Jae. 

“What did he do to you?” Jae asked, taken aback by your sudden vitriol. 

“Shit, that wasn’t in my head was it?” Jae laughs a bit but sobers up quickly at your expression.

“Y/N you look really pale, are you okay? I don’t know your history with this guy but hey, you don’t have to deliver this. I’ll do it. Don’t you worry, love.” Jae places his hand on the top of your head and ruffles your hair a bit in an attempt to be comforting. The attempt helped. Your heart pricks up a bit at Jae’s term of endearment but it feels more deadened than it should. You’re sick of feeling like this. Of letting Sean steal your joy from you. It’s been too long for that shit. Pulling yourself together a bit, you shake yourself out of your head and steel yourself. 

“No, Jae, I’ve got this.” Jae looks at you with slight concern but shrugs nonetheless.

“Alright, well, I’m going with you okay? This dude really must’ve done a number on you if this is your response. And I’d like to see the bastard.” Jae’s eyes glinted with something dangerous that you’ve never seen in him before and it causes the same fire in you to spark. Let’s do this. 

With Jae by your side, you march up to the door with the delivery order and set it on the front steps. The doorbell is deafening in the still night and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You jump as the door swings wide and a pathetic looking man sporting a robe and a beer belly peeks from the inside. All of the breath that had been waiting in your lungs released and you feel your head go a little bit light with the realization that this was the man that you were in love with. 7 years later, gone was the debonair gentleman who could sweep you off your feet. In his stead stood a balding, fat, stiff man in boxers and a moth eaten robe. He grunts in acknowledgment of  the presence of other humans but it’s obvious that the Neanderthal hasn’t recognized you. He retrieves his food and goes fumbling in his robe pocket for his wallet. He fishes out a card and hands it to you. You take it from him and process the payment. 

Declined.

“Sorry, Sean, your card- it declined.” 

He huffs and makes a sound in the back of his throat that you can only describe as gross as you hand it back to him.

“It what!? What do you mean declined?” He stumbles forward a few steps and you automatically flinch backward into Jae. Jae’s hand comes up to your shoulder to ground you, a reminder that he’s still there. Sean’s movement wafts a smell of body odor and brown liquor. He always was a mean drunk. You decide to cut your losses while you can and keep the transaction as minimal as possible. No games.

“Your card, Sean, it declined. Do you have an alternate form of payment?” Sean whips open his wallet and roots around for a minute before retrieving a few crumpled up bills. He extends the cash but before you can swap his card for cash, his arm whips back. Looking at you sideways, suspicion drips from his slurred speech,

“How do you know my name?” 

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. 

You watch helplessly as the cogs turn in his inebriated brain and recognition washes over his face.

“Y/N! It’s you! What do you want from me now, bitch? Trying to take my money now too? Get out of here!” His voice steadily rises in volume and you can feel the walls of your panic closing in on you. Suddenly Jae steps in front of you, arm outstretched to the belligerent man. 

“You’re talking to me now. You’re done with her.” Jae holds himself with a confidence that you had only seen from him onstage. 

“Just pay for the food and we’ll be going.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Sean spits back, as if Jae were something distasteful that he had found on the bottom of his shoe.

“I’m Jae. Y/N’s boyfriend. Now I’d really love to take Y/N home tonight before it gets too much later. So if you can just pay for your meal, we’ll get going.”

Sean crumples up the bills and throws it into Jae’s chest. 

“Good luck with that bitch, kid. You’re gonna need it.” And with that he retreats inside and slams the door shut behind him. 

Jae immediately rushes to your side and wraps you in a big hug. Although similar in mechanics to the hug earlier that day, this one was far different in intent. You could feel it in his soul, that hug was meant to squeeze all of the fragmented pieces of you back together again and hold them until they stuck. You can feel your heartbeat slowing to match his and your breathing slowly regulates. 

Mollie is gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

Jae escorts you back to the car and there’s a thick silence that you can’t quite bring yourself to cut as he puts the car into drive. You know he is forming his own story of what happened between you and Sean in his head and you can’t tell if that’s better or worse than just reliving it and telling him the whole story- cops and testifying and court and all.

Once out of the neighborhood, Jae heaves a sigh and chuckles a bit. 

“Well he seemed lovely.” 

“Uh huh. He’s a real peach.” 

Jae looks over at you with an expression of dual concern and amused what-the-fucker-y. Did that really just happen? 

There is a beat of silence and solid eye contact before you both start cracking up. Unable to restrain yourself any further, you both dissolve into a kind of healing, deep belly laughter that shakes the entire car. Pulling up to your house, Jae throws the car into park and then turns to face you. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, you know? It’s not my business. You’re my business. But asshats like him aren't. Just that I’m around to keep them away from you.” 

You sigh deeply, still recovering from the laugh attack, before giving him a brief bulleted list of the sheer shenanigans that Sean had pulled on you all those years ago. You watched as Jae’s face contorted over the course of the story, hardening into yet another study in fierceness that you were yet to see from him. 

“I really am okay, though Jae. He had me pretty fucked up for a little bit but honest, I’m okay. I did the therapy, I fought my battles. I just hadn’t done the last closure step of actually looking him in the eye and saying goodbye and good riddance. And I probably never would’ve if it weren’t for tonight.” You reach out and grab his hand instinctively. 

“Thank you, Jae. I really appreciate you doing that with me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“You would’ve gotten your ass handed to you is what you would’ve done.” Jae states, deadpan.

“Jaeee!” You laugh, hitting him on the arm. 

“Oh, so now you can throw a punch? Okaaay, nice.” This little shit. 

Banter aside, Jae takes the key out of the ignition and gathers his things to get out of the car. As he closes the door, you hear him mutter “You need to pick better guys. You’re too great to end up with someone like that.” 

You don’t have any kind of answer to that, but you feel a lightness in your chest as his eyes burn into you. Jae walks you to your front door and all you can hear in your head is an echo of Jae’s declaration of “I’m Jae, Y/N’s boyfriend.” Is that what I want? 

You end up at your front door far too soon and the twinkling of the helicopters in the sky signals to you that it’s more than time for Jae to go home. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought of him leaving and you inwardly groan. 

Jae gives you one last hug goodnight and you know before he even releases you that this isn’t enough. Not even nearly. Your feelings, whatever they may be: love, like, general affection, haven’t been correctly quantified and expressed. This has been the best day you’ve had in months, and he was the deciding factor. You were grateful to have him there on your front door step, in his arms. But maybe, just maybe, if you’re able to express to him exactly how you feel about him in this moment, he’ll be able to help you out and translate exactly what this feeling means for your future together. Without thinking about it too much, you retreat from the hug and angle your face up to his so that your noses are almost touching. You sit like this for just a second. That sickening second that would allow him to retreat and tell you you’re an idiot for even thinking it. But he doesn’t retreat. Instead, your lips are brushing against one another in just the barest of whispers of a kiss. His lips are so soft. It’s over in an instant and as the chilly night air cuts between the two of you, you are all too aware of how disproportionately warm your face and neck have become. You smile up at Jae and he carries a similar, if not slightly more shocked, half smile. 

As if reading one another’s minds, you both understand that it’s wise to let one another think about the night's proceedings before any further rash decisions are made. In an attempt to preserve the spell of the night sky and the kiss and the chirping cicadas, neither of you say another word to one another but instead exchange content smiles that convey more than a goodnight ever could. With a slight bow of his head and a glide of his hand down the length of your arm, Jae walks backwards down your front steps and slips into the night, shaking his head slightly, trying and failing to conceal his smile. You watch him from the porch as he skips up to his house, before slipping into the warmth of your own home.

...

GIVE IT A LIKE IF YA LIKE

FEEDBACK IS MY LOVE LANGUAGE

[allie1804-fan]

A Doorway is Opened (Chapter 2)

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 It was June 2020 and progress was being made with plans to re-open film production - Keanu would soon be heading back to Germany to continue shooting the Matrix 4.  With the lock-down restrictions on meeting friends lifting, Keanu invited Hannah to dinner at his house. He even cooked - a dish of spaghetti with prawns, fresh tomato and lemon that his sister had taught him.  This would be their first meeting in 2 months and their last in 2 months due to the shooting schedule.  

After dinner, they went through to his living room and sat on the sofa to talk through the latest draft of the script.

 “So, you’re glad I pushed you on this aren’t you? Gave you something to do in lock-down huh?”

 “Yeah OK you win”, she laughed. “I’m grateful to you for giving me the confidence to try”  

 She carried on:

 “You know these past couple of months I’ve felt like the clouds have lifted, the clouds of grief …. and I know that’s partly just time passing but it’s also thanks to you and your friendship” she spoke in an almost whisper.  When she met his gaze he was blushing again!

 “The screenplay gave me a real focus for the first time since Mark died you know other than helping the boys and just putting one foot in front of the other”

 He nodded his understanding

 “I kind of feel like a plant coming back to life after a long dark winter”

 He smiled to think he’d helped her to loosen grief’s grip on her soul.

 “I heard a theory about this before. They said that your grief is always the same, the same size and just as painful but your life grows around it and cushions the pain”

 Keanu nodded his agreement

 “For me” he said, “sometimes my grief bursts forth like an alien from my chest when I least expect it. I hope we find a way to express your concept in the movie when it’s made -  I love it so much. You have some beautiful ways of explaining grief”

 “Well like I said, that one’s not mine, it’s just one I found that really resonated with me”

 “You’re too modest”

 They looked at each other. Somehow, the atmosphere had changed with the sharing of such deep feelings. Keanu looked at her, soft brown eyes holding hers for a few moments longer than felt comfortable. Suddenly he shook his head as if a shiver went through him

 “Where are my manners, would you like some more wine”

 “I better not, I’m driving and I’ve already had one glass” she said.

 “You could always sleep over, in the spare room I mean, I mean I’m not hitting on you or anything, not that I wouldn’t want to, oh God! ……….”

 By this point, Hannah had started laughing at his befuddlement and he started to giggle as well.

 “Sorry for being such a dork – could you stay though?” he beseeched her with his eyes,  or do you need to be back for the kids?, I know I sound like I’m begging, I kind of am I guess ……….. it would just be nice to talk some more ………. I mean what with we me going away for 2 months, Facetime just isn’t the same!”

 Hannah took pity on him and placed her hand on top of his and stroked it softly

 “1 I don’t need to be back for the boys, they’re at their grandparents this week and so 2, yes I could sleep over and 3 yes please, more wine!”

 Keanu beamed and leapt up to fetch the bottle from the kitchen.

“What were we talking about before I started being a total dork?!

 Hannah chuckled “oh grief, death, our usual cheery stuff!”

 “Oh yes, of course we were, what else is there after all?!”

 A ghost of a smiled showed on Hannah’s face.

 “Do you mind telling me some more about Mark? How long were you together”

 “Wow, over 30 years   - we were just kids when we met, literally in elementary school. But we didn’t go out until I was 17, nearly 18. I guess I kind of stalked him until he caved in!  We knew we were in love about a month in I guess and we got engaged whilst at uni but married just after. I was 23 so we had been married 27 years when he died”

 “Wow you were so young to be getting married!”

 “I know right! - when I think Toby is already nearly that age, it freaks me out big time.  Anyway, I guess you almost know the rest, from the book. We were lucky in so many ways to find each other and stay in love throughout.

 A comfortable silence fell as she reflected and wondered about his romantic history. She hoped their current intimacy meant it would be OK to ask.

 “What about you? Who have been your big loves, if it’s OK to ask”

 “Sure – I mean I think I can be confident of not seeing any of this in next week’s National Enquirer! Let me see, errrrm  there was Penny. She drove with me from Toronto to LA when I left there to pursue my career.  It wasn’t exactly serious - she knew how focussed on my acting I was, but she was special, my first steady girlfriend I guess.”

Keanu then told her about a few other steady girlfriends in the 80’s and early 90s. None of them had lasted beyond a year. Film and promotional schedules often overtook his time and took him away from LA making it hard to sustain relationships.

 “And then there was Jennifer. We had a long distance thing largely as I was away filming the first Matrix not long after we hooked up. I think that added in my head to the romance of it all. Writing her letters on my little typewriter after long days on set, posting them from thousands of miles away. Once I got back to LA things felt less sure, she was never confident in us, always needing reassurance and I think she found the celebrity thing both exciting and overwhelming - like she was part way a fan, partly my lover, you know? Then she got pregnant and everything changed”

 “Oh so Jennifer was the mother of your baby, the one who died?”

 Hannah knew this one fact about him but had steered away from looking stuff up on-line about it. She counted him as a friend now so if anything was to be shared, it had to come from him.

 “Yeah, Ava’s mother. 19 years ago…….so much water under the bridge.”

 “Do you think about her often now?”

 “Who? Jen or Ava?”

 “Both I guess”

 “Yeah sometimes. You know in a sliding doors type way, especially at Christmas. That’s when we lost Ava. Christmas Eve 1999. What about you, do you think about your lost babies?”

 “Yes sometime of course …….  but I think it’s different for me. My lost babies paved the way for Josh. If they’d lived, he wouldn’t be here, so I don’t mourn them as maybe you mourn your daughter, do you see? Of course I do think of them and every Christmas we’d hang stars and angels on the tree for them. That’s how we remembered them and the pain of their loss.”

 Hannah was quiet for a few moments, remembering

 “Do you have a way, a ritual to remember Ava? Do you and your family do something to remember her?”

 “I guess they always just try to make sure I’m not alone at Christmas. That’s threatened to happen a couple of times and then Brenda or Janey or Alexandra have stepped in you know to rescue me! Stop me embodying my meme!”

 “Your meme?”

 You know, “Sad Keanu”?

 “That one must have passed me by! I’ll get the boys to explain to their boomer mom!”

 “I’m so glad you’re a boomer mum as you say and not all over it when it comes to press and internet stuff about me. It’s refreshing. Makes me feel I can be me without all that stuff informing who you think I am. Sometimes it gets in the way with new people, you know? I know I can be myself around my old old friends like Alex (he was in Bill and Ted) and Rob (he was in the band with me)

 “Wait you were in a band?”

 “Yes back in the 90s, Dogstar. Our folk thrash punk band”

 “Sounds interesting – I clearly wasn’t paying enough attention back in the 90s!”

 “Well we weren’t exactly topping the charts so that would probably explain it!”

 “Can I hear some of your stuff?”

 “Sure”

 Keanu fetched some cds and had a look through to pick a song, going for  “And I Pray”.

 “Gosh, a man of many talents” she praised “what did you play?”

 “the bass”

 “Cool”

 “wanna listen to some more music? I can hook up my phone to the speakers and we can play things on Spotify”.

 “Sure, so you’re au fait with all the new tech? I took me ages to get there and I still have loads of cds and vinyl”

 “me too   - believe me I’m generally way behind the curve with technology but my god-daughter and my kid sister both played a role in bringing me into the 21st century”

They spent the next couple of hours, huddled on the sofa, scrolling through music choices on his phone and sharing both his and her favourites as well as reminiscing about bands they’d grown up listening to and great concerts they’d been to.

 It was around 1am, with Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” softly playing that Hannah’s head lolled onto Keanu’s shoulder, the impact startling her back awake

 “sorry, sorry” she said embarrassed

 “hey no worries, you wanna go to bed now?” he asked

 “Yeah, as you saw, my eyes are closing” 

 “Come on, let’s get you set up in the guest room, I’ve got a spare t-shirt you can sleep in if you like and there’s a new toothbrush in the en-suite with your room.

 The room was a pretty one, perhaps decorated with his god-daughter in mind she thought. Once he’d shown her where things were and how to work the shower, Keanu bade her goodnight with a light kiss on her cheek. Despite being so tired, it took Hannah a good half hour to fall asleep. She touched the cheek where he’d kissed her and giggled inwardly at herself for feeling like a giddy teenager. In the past 2 months, she’d recognised her growing fondness for Keanu, putting it down to a mix of absence making the heart grow fonder and the Covid crisis making her susceptible. She’d found him very attractive way before she met him but she certainly hadn’t expected that he would reciprocate those nascent feelings. Tonight his lingering gaze as they talked about grief, his befuddlement trying to get her to stay and his soft goodnight kiss all made her wonder and maybe even hope. Tomorrow was another day.

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