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imagine-a-life-like-this · 4 years ago

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I Was A Bet, You Were A Distraction (K.SJ/M.YG)

Warnings : swearing, drinking, betting on feelings

Word Count : 4941

Synopsis : a relationship started on a bet, a classic trope, but with a twist.

I knew the rumours that circulated about me. I knew what everyone thought of me, but it never bothered me. Being an ice queen and keeping everyone at an arms length keeps my heart safe. Guys still tried to break me, wanting to be known as the person who broke the ice queen, but I’ve never cracked.

“Another rejection?” My best friend, Park Jimin, pouted as he sat across from me. “You really should give someone a chance. You’re obviously not going to make a move on library guy.”

“His name is Min Yoongi.” I cut him off, a playful smile on my face as he rolled his eyes. “Besides, that guy was gross. He literally told me he could show me a fun time if I just showed him a pretty smile.”

“Okay, gross.” Jimin chuckled. “But please, if a non-gross guy asks you out, just give it a shot. They could surprise you.” I rolled my eyes, reluctantly agreeing to the only guy I’ve ever had a soft spot for.

“Hey, Y/N.” Someone said as Jimin and I were getting ready to leave the café and grab dinner. When I turned around, I met the eyes of the infamous Kim Seokjin, standing there with a nervous smile on his face. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me sometime?” His eyes looked hopeful, but it didn’t phase me. I heard the rumours; heard the stories of the many girls he’s been with. I refused to be another notch in his belt. But before I could reject him, Jimin jumped in.

“She’d love to!” Seokjin looked over to my best friend who had thrown his arm across my shoulders, and then looked at me for confirmation.

“Sure, Kim Seokjin.” I didn’t bother faking a smile. I’m sure he’d heard the rumours about me. I’m sure he just wants to be the one to crack me. He’s always enjoyed a challenge.

“Great! Uh, here’s my number. Text me.” He handed me a piece of paper ripped from a notebook with his number scrawled on it. I took it from him, telling him I’d text him later, and walked away as fast as I could.

“I thought you said non-gross guy, Jimin!” I hit him lightly as we walked away from the café. “Kim Seokjin is one of the grossest!”

“Yes, but he’s got money, babe. I did you a favour.” He lightly shoved me with his shoulder, and I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes. I suppose one date couldn’t hurt. I’ll get some good food out of it at the very least.

“Here, drink some water.” Yoongi looked up at me from his textbooks with wide eyes. He quietly thanked me as I took my usual seat across from him. I took quick glances up at him every once in a while as I studied, thinking about the first day I took the seat across from him.

I used to study at the café as I waited for Jimin to get out of dance. But random guys would always interrupt me, and I found myself barely getting any studying done. So I decided to study at the library for a couple hours before heading to the café to meet Jimin per our tradition.

Min Yoongi, known as the ice king, would always sit alone. Sitting with him was my best bet in getting any work done, knowing he wouldn’t bother me. He seemed annoyed when I first sat down, but when he saw it was me, didn’t say a word. No one dared bothered us when we were together.

It didn’t take a genius to see how handsome Min Yoongi was. I always found myself sneaking glances at him while we studied, unable to keep my eyes off of him. We spoke a few words to each other over these last few months, and that was enough for me to give into my growing crush.

“Hey, Y/N?” He softly asked as I began packing up. I seized my movements, looking up at the gorgeous man I can’t stop thinking about. “I heard you were the best at this, would you mind tutoring me sometime? I’ve been having a hard time grasping it.” He pointed to a homework booklet he was given that was still completely blank save for his name in the top right corner.

“I got to go meet up with a friend, but,” I ripped a corner off from one of my notebooks and quickly scrawled my number on it, sliding it across from him. “Text me and we can figure something out.” He looked up at me with a small smile on his face, and I could swear time stopped. I quickly shook myself out of the trance his smile put me in and packed up the rest of my books before walking to the café, a lovesick smile on my face.

I was dressed in my best dress, my hair and makeup done to the best of my abilities, and I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. “Who knew my best friend was so hot.” Jimin joked over Facetime, a playful smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to actually go on a date with Kim Seokjin.” I grumbled, collapsing on my couch as I waited for him.

“It didn’t take much convincing. I know apart of you is excited to live the rich life for one night.” I giggled, but we both knew he was right. When the doorbell rang, I said my goodbyes to Jimin and went to answer it, surprised to see Seokjin standing there in a tailored suit holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Wow, you look, wow.” I chuckled, taking the flowers he was holding out for me. Quickly, I filled a vase with water and placed them inside before sliding on a pair of heels and grabbing my purse.

“You know you could have just texted that you were here.” I pointed out as he opened the car door for me.

“How am I supposed to sweep you off your feet if I do that?” He smiled before closing the door and rushing to his side.

As much as I hate to admit it, I actually enjoyed the time I spent with Jin. He was a complete gentleman right up to the end. And there wasn’t any awkward silence; conversation seemed to flow easily. I found myself laughing at his jokes and his stories. Time just seemed to fly by while I was with him as he wasn’t dropping me off until after midnight. “You certainly surprised me tonight, Kim Seokjin.” I smiled.

“Does that mean you’ll go on a second date with me?” I found myself agreeing before I could stop myself. Maybe this is exactly what I needed to get over my one-sided crush on Min Yoongi. He’d be a good distraction.

“I hear our resident Ice Queen got a boyfriend.” Yoongi teased as I sat across from him. Ever since our first date, Jin and I have been spending more time together. I still keep up my regular schedule of studying with Yoongi until I have to leave to meet up with Jimin, but Jin and his friends have decided to join us. It’s been 2 months since my first date with Jin, and 1 month since we’ve made it official.

“Now it’s time for our resident Ice King to get a girlfriend.” I teased back, taking a sip of the coffee Yoongi bought me. He’s made it a daily thing, buying my favourite coffee before I come, and I bring us water since we’re usually here for a couple hours together.

“Unlikely.” He chuckled. My heart started to pound as I looked up at his smiling face. “The girl I like doesn’t like me back.” He added before taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Oh my god! The Min Yoongi has a crush!” I quietly exclaimed, a wide smile on my face as I wrapped a hand around his wrist, begging him to tell me about the girl he likes.

“She’s beautiful.” He says, blush rising to his cheeks. “But I can tell she doesn’t believe she is. And she’s so smart, so kind. There really isn’t a better girl.” I thought dating Jin would help my one-sided crush on Yoongi, but as I sit across from him as he tells me about this girl he likes, I can feel my heart breaking, knowing it’ll never be me.

I stood in the kitchen while the party raged on around me. Since dating Jin, Jimin and I have been invited to a lot more parties, parties I keep getting dragged to. I watched as Jimin drank and made new friends, enjoying himself, and I couldn’t be happier for him. I watched as Jin and his friends played some games, laughing and drinking the night away. They’ve always been the life of the party, and though I don’t like parties, I wasn’t going to stop my boyfriend from enjoying himself. So I stood in the kitchen, watching as everyone enjoys themselves, silently wishing I took Yoongi up on his offer to see a movie tonight.

“Now don’t tell me this beautiful girl is here alone.” I looked up and met a stranger’s eyes as he smirked at me. “All alone, standing in my kitchen, must be fate.” He continued, draping an arm across my shoulders.

“Actually I’m here with my boyfriend.” I smiled, turning towards where Jin last was, and seeing that him and his friends disappeared. My heart dropped to my stomach when I couldn’t see them anywhere.

“No need to lie to me.” He teased, removing his arm from my shoulders, and instead wrapping it around my waist, pulling me closer to him as I tried to move away from him. “I’m sure I can show the Ice Queen a good time.”

“What are you doing, Minho?” The familiar voice eases my nerves but seems to do the opposite to Minho. His arm immediately drops from my waist as his eyes widen, meeting Yoongi’s eyes filled with anger. If I didn’t know Yoongi the way I do, I’d be terrified. When Yoongi raised his brow, Minho left the kitchen without another word. “Sorry about him. I’m still training him.” He chuckled. “Where’s Jin?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around for my boyfriend.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know Mr. Min Yoongi partied.” I teased, a smile making its way to my lips.

“I’m actually, unfortunately, apart of this frat. My dad actually started this frat with his friends, so I had no choice.” He explained, chuckling at my shocked face. “I really do apologize for Minho. I hope he didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, Yoongs. Thank you for saving me though. I don’t know where any of the guys went.” I took a quick look around, trying to see if I could any of the 6 guys I came with. “If you see any of them, can you let them know I went home? Parties really aren’t my thing.” I chuckled.

“I’ll take you home.” He said, setting the cup he was holding down on the counter. “Just text one of them to let them know you’re safe.” I nodded, closely following Yoongi as the two of us made our way through the dense crowd of people and out the front door. As we walked, I sent a quick text to both Jimin and Jin, letting them know Yoongi was walking me home.

“You know, you didn’t have to walk me home.” I spoke up after some silence. “It is technically your party; shouldn’t you be there?”

“Honestly, I try not to be home when there’s a party. It’s why I asked you to a movie tonight. Well that, and I like spending time with you.” My heart fluttered at his words. My head began spinning with theories as to what he meant. Would I be reading too far into it by thinking he has feelings for me too?

Monday afternoon, Yoongi was sitting at our regular table in the library, two coffees in front of him as per usual. “How’d your test go?” I asked, placing a bottle of water in front of him before taking my seat. He looked up at me as I sat down, a smile on his face when he met my eyes. So different than how things used to be.

“I won’t get the results until the end of the week, but I think I aced it!” He exclaimed. I remember the days we would study silently across from each other, not knowing anything about each other besides the rumours that circulated.

“Of course! You have the best tutor.” I joked, a wide smile on my face as he just smiled back at me, chuckling slightly, and shaking his head. I used to know absolutely nothing about him, besides the small things I heard from others, and the things I picked up on while silently crushing on him.

Now I know his smile. I know it so well I could probably draw it from memory. I know that his older brother would always cook for him. I know he’s not as close to his family as he wished he was. I know he struggles in his classes. I know he prefers iced coffee over hot coffee, and that he always forgets to drink water. He hates parties and spends most weekends at a diner, studying and trying to keep his grades up. I know he’s so far from being an Ice King. He’s so caring, so kind. And I know that I’m falling in love with him.

“I think it’s time we call it.” I overheard as I walked into the café I meet Jimin at everyday. I looked over to the tables Jin and his friends push together so the 7 of us can sit together, and saw the 5 of them sitting together, serious looks on all their faces.

“I love hanging out with her and Jimin.” Taehyung spoke, and I quickly sat at a nearby table, wanting to hear what they have to say. “You need to tell her about the bet.”

“A bet?! Seriously Jackson?” He stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a good excuse, but there wasn’t one. “Glad I could help you win. Don’t contact me again.” I pushed passed him as he called after me, but there wasn’t anything else that needed to be said. 2 years. I wasted 2 years of my life thinking we were in love, but it was all a bet. It was never love.

Jimin sat in front of me, snapping me out of my memories. He opened his mouth to say something, but I shushed him and pointed over to the guys.

“She’s so awesome. I feel so bad.” Jungkook added to the conversation. “She doesn’t deserve to have her feelings played with like this.”

“We can tell her everything and apologize. Hopefully, she’ll forgive us.” Jimin looked at me with confusion on his eyes as I struggled to breathe. It’s like high school all over again. When Jackson came into my life, stole my heart, and then destroyed me. Telling me he loved me, and planning our future, all the while laughing with his friends about how gullible I was. Jimin was the one to pull me out of my slump, but I put my walls up and I promised myself I’d never let them crumble. I’d never be so naïve again.

“I doubt she’d even care.” Jin scoffed. “She’s the Ice Queen for a reason.” Yet here I was, repeating it all over again.

“Just because she’s an Ice Queen doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings, hyung.” Hoseok spoke up, shaking his head. I’ll admit that the reason I started dating Jin wasn’t the best, but I found myself enjoying his company. Everything felt real, like he really cared about me. My feelings for Yoongi have always been stronger, but sometimes I felt myself falling for Jin’s charms. He’s not the school playboy for nothing. He really knows how to make a girl feel special. He knows how to knock down any wall someone has put up to protect themselves.

“Whatever. You guys can tell her about the bet then. While you’re at it, you can tell her we’re over. I have things to do.” He stood up from the table, and that’s when they all noticed Jimin and I sitting at a nearby table. Jin’s eyes widened when he saw us.

“You guys are all fucking disgusting.” Jimin exclaimed, standing up from the table. “You’re damn right she doesn’t deserve this. No one does! Y/N, let’s go.” His voice softened when he looked over at me, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked up at the man who bet on my heart. “They don’t deserve your tears, angel.” He whispered, wiping away my tears before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the café.

“Talk about déjà vu.” I chuckled as we walked towards my apartment.

“Guys are the worst.” Jimin mumbled, shaking his head as the two of us walked hand in hand. I laced our fingers and walked closer beside him, swinging our arms causing him to chuckle at me.

“You’ve always been the exception to that statement, Min.” I smiled up at my best friend. I wasn’t in love with Jin the way I was with Jackson, but it doesn’t hurt any less. The crush that was forming on the handsome man quickly faded as the reality set in. Once again I was a bet. And I just wished people would stop making bets on my feelings.

“Don’t you usually leave by now?” Yoongi asked as the two of us studied together the next day. “The boyfriend is probably waiting for you.” He chuckled.

“We actually broke up.” His smile quickly fell as he spit out an apology. “It’s fine. The relationship was all a bet anyway.” I shrugged, trying my best not to let my feelings show. Trying to seem as unbothered as possible. “People love trying to break the Ice Queen.” Little do they know, the reason for my smiles wasn’t Kim Seokjin, but Min Yoongi, the Ice King himself.

“That’s so fucked. Guys are the worst.” He scoffed causing me to chuckle.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.” I smiled.

“Talking about me?” Jimin joked, taking a seat beside me. “I hope you don’t mind if I intrude from now on.” The statement was directed towards Yoongi who shook his head. “Good, because if I see any of those guys, I will be throwing hands.”

“Please, Jungkook could beat you with just his pinky.” I teased, shoving him lightly. Yoongi was watching us with a fondness in his eyes I haven’t seen before. And I couldn’t stop the pounding of my heart, no matter how hard I tried.

Jimin continued meeting Yoongi and I at the library everyday after getting out of dance. At first I thought Yoongi would hate it as Jimin isn’t known for quietly studying like Yoongi and I are. But he quickly warmed up to my best friend, and 3 of us spent weekends going to movies and to the diner Yoongi loves to much. We avoided all the parties we were once invited to, and the café we were regulars at for so long, hoping never to cross paths with the guys we once considered friends.

My feelings for Yoongi only continued to grow as spent nearly everyday together. Days quickly turned into weeks, and before I knew it, it had been a month since Jin and I broke up. With Jimin and Yoongi with me everyday, I barely had time to feel the hurt I felt when it happened with Jackson. “Y/N.” 1 month since I found out about the bet. 1 month since I’ve seen any of the guys. 1 month and now Jin is standing in front of me. I moved to push passed him and get to the library, but he wrapped his hand around my arm, effectively stopping me. “It’s been a month; can I please just say something?”

“What more is there to say? I was a bet, and honestly speaking Kim Seokjin, you were a distraction.” His hand fell from my arm, dropping back to his side. “It was fun, though. But that doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t hurt. And you didn’t seem to give a fuck. Telling your boys to tell me and break up with me for you. So why now? Don’t tell me some cliché shit that you realized you had feelings for me and that you miss me, because we both know that’s bullshit.” He stayed silent. “Good talk, Kim Seokjin.” I pushed open the doors to the library and made my way to my regular table, Yoongi already there, two coffees in front of him. “I feel like getting drunk.” I said, plopping in my regular seat.

“Rough day?” Yoongi chuckled, sliding my coffee across the table towards me.

“Let’s just say Seokjin wanted to talk.” Yoongi closed his text book and smiled up at me.

“Soju and ice cream?” He asked as he quickly packed up.

“I’ll text Jimin to meet us at my apartment. Let’s get drunk!” I exclaimed, grabbing my coffee, and leaving the library with Yoongi by my side. We were both chuckling as he opened the door, allowing me to walk out first. I wasn’t paying attention as I walked out the door, turning my head to look at Yoongi, and bumped into someone. “Sorry … Namjoon?” He smiled down at me as I quickly took a step back. Yoongi looked up at him before wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer to him.

“You didn’t let Jin talk, so I figured I’d try.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Yoongi spoke up. “You guys got caught; deal with the consequences of your actions.” The two of us tried to walk passed him, but unlike Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon was persistent.

“You act like you don’t make mistakes.” He called after us, stopping us in our tracks. “Jin told me you said he was just a distraction.” I turned to face Namjoon causing Yoongi’s arm to fall back to his side.

“When I agreed to the first date, I agreed hoping for a distraction from my one-sided crush. But when I agreed to the second date, it was because I liked his company. When I said yes to being his girlfriend, it was because I had real feelings for him. And that’s the difference between me and him, Kim Namjoon. Everything on my end was 100% real, where as on his end it was all fake. He pretended to have feelings for me.” Namjoon stared at me, obviously not expecting my blow up. “What else needs to be said, Namjoon?” I asked, my voice cracking. Yoongi slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“We’re sorry. We never got to apologize, and we want to.” I shook my head.

“I don’t want your apology. You don’t deserve my forgiveness.” He didn’t stop us as we walked away this time. “I really need a drink.” I whispered causing Yoongi to chuckle.

“Consider it done, princess.”

Jimin was angrily pacing around my living room after Yoongi and I told him what happened. “Hoseok approached me today, too. They waited an entire month to try to apologize. What a joke.” He took a swig of his drink. “I can’t believe they did exactly what Jackson and his friends did in high school! Like, we’re in fucking college now.”

“Wait, this happened to you before?” Yoongi jumped in as Jimin continued to mumble to himself between taking swigs of his drink.

“It’s not a big deal.” I shrugged, really not wanting to explain what happened in high school. But Jimin had other plans.

“No big deal?! You switched schools! Wouldn’t eat unless I forced you to! Jackson is the whole reason you’re known as the Ice Queen in the first place.” Yoongi looked between the two of us. “You spent 2 years believing he was the great love of your life, just to find out it was all a bet and he never loved you. That’s a big deal!”

“2 years?” Yoongi asked and all I could do was nod. “God, guys fucking suck.” He exclaimed, leaning back on the couch as he took another sip of his drink.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Jimin added, plopping himself down on a chair.

“You two are the only guys I need.” I smiled, cuddling up to Yoongi, who happily wrapped his arms around me and placed a kiss on top of my head.

“I never should have told you to go on that date.” Jimin mumbled as he watched Yoongi and I.

“You didn’t know it would end up like this.” I told him; my words muffled by Yoongi’s shirt as my head rested on his chest. The three of us continued to drink, trying to forget all the angst of the day and have a good night.

“Hey! Now that Suck-Jin is gone, you can make your move!” Jimin exclaimed some hours later, all of us considerably more drunk than we expected to be.

“Oh yeah! You were saying you had a crush on someone!” Yoongi jumped in, poking my arm with a teasing smile on his face. “You’re beautiful! You should just go for it.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Come on, Y/N!” Yoongi whined. “I want to see you happy.”

“Yeah, Y/N! What was his name again?” I couldn’t help but laugh at how Jimin hasn’t changed. He still forgets everything when he’s drunk. “Yoongi!” He yelled, causing Yoongi to look over at him.

“You don’t have to yell, I’m right here!” Yoongi yelled back. Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Y/N! Now’s your chance! He’s right there.” He loudly whispered, cupping his hands around his mouth as if that would stop Yoongi from hearing him.

“Shut up, Jimin!” I said as I threw a pillow towards him, missing by a lot due to the alcohol in my system. “He has a crush on some girl!” I exclaimed with a pout on my face.

“Dammit Yoongi!” Jimin exclaimed. “How can you not like Y/N?!” He leaned forward in his chair, causing him to fall to the ground. I burst out laughing, completely forgetting the conversation that was happening seconds previous.

“Idiot! You’re always falling off chairs.” I laughed, but Yoongi was silent, seeming to have quickly sobered up. “Yah!” I slapped Yoongi’s arm. “What’s with that face?” I pouted.

“You like me?” My eyes widened as my jaw dropped.

“Who told you?” I whispered. “You weren’t supposed to know!” Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head at me.

“I think it’s bed time for you.” He stood up, holding a hand out for me to take so he could help me up. “Jimin,” he turned to saying something, but Jimin was passed out on the floor. “Okay then.” He chuckled before helping me to my room.

“Stay.” I pouted as I patted the empty space beside me. He shook his head as he tucked me in and turned to leave. “Yoongs!” I whined. “I want cuddles.” He chuckled, standing in my doorway contemplating whether he should stay or leave. “Please.”

“Always my weakness.” He mumbled to himself before crawling into bed with me and pulling me into his arms. I fell asleep quickly while listening to his heartbeat.

I woke up still wrapped in Yoongi’s arms, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. “Fuck.” I whispered to myself, trying to wriggle out of his arms without waking him up.

“You wanted cuddles; you live with the consequences.” He mumbled; his eyes still closed.

“Yah, if you’re awake, let me go.” I whined, trying to pull his arms off of me, but his grip only tightened. “What are you doing?” I asked, eventually giving up on getting out of his arms. He mumbled something I couldn’t understand before pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wow, who would have known the Ice King was actually the biggest softie.” I joked.

“Says miss Ice Queen pouting until I cuddled her.” I let out a small giggle, the memory coming back to me slowly. “You and Jimin are really funny when you’re drunk.” Before I could ask, he continued. “You accidentally confessed to me last night.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard him loud and clear. “Before you panic,” He was moving so he could look at me, but his arms were still around me. “I like you too.” I couldn’t help the smile the overtook my face when he said that. “So if we can shake the third wheel, I’d like to take you out today.” I giggled, but promised I’d find a way for it to be just us. “Okay, then I’m going to go home and get ready. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple before getting out of my bed and leaving.

My two previous relationships may have failed miserably, but I know things are different this time. Third times a charm, as they say.

#bts imagine #bts au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi au #min yoongi x reader #kim seokjin imagine #kim seokjin au #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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goldencuffs · 4 years ago

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untraditional

@lamenweek day five: traditions

Damen doesn’t think he’s supposed to feel so bone-weary at thirty-one.

Everything in his body aches, and he’s already greying at his temples. Last night, he had gone to bed at eight.

Theomedes doesn’t look up from the Ios Financial Times when Damen enters the Drawing Room. The table already has been set: Damen’s seat is, as usual, is to the left of his father, exactly fourty-seven centimetres apart. Damen’s food has been already served, because his father got here before him, and everyone gets served the same time as Theomedes.

Damen’s entire life has been dictated by these traditions, guidelines and precedents.

Some of them are good, but most of them are like this: nonsensical and elitist.

Even Theomedes’ and Damianos’ tea is prepared via strict protocol: one teaspoon of loose tea leaves per cup, heated to a hundred degrees celcius (seventy for green tea), with a tablespoon of organic, raw honey added straight to the teapot.

(It’s amazing tea, though).

Theomedes says, “Your food is cold.”

Damen stares at the pile of mash potatoes and salmon. “I’m not hungry.”

He also hates salmon, but Theomedes is the only one who sets the menu for the week with the head chef. Last week, they had roast beef and vegetables four times.

“You’re not still sulking are you?” Theomedes finally says, three minutes later.

Damen grips his table fork. He forces himself to do the breathing exercises Makedon had taught him.

In an ideal world, he wouldn’t reply, but in this one, everyone answered to the King.

“No, sir,” Damen says, and shoves a polite bite of food in his mouth.

“You haven’t had a meal with me in three weeks,” Theomedes says, and he sounds hurt and disappointed.

“Hmm,” Damen says. “I’ve been busy. You know I’ve been working on the preservation of Marlas with Nikandros.”

Theomedes crosses his fork and knife over his plate. Instantly, three different staff members rush forward to clear the table.

Damen’s plate is cleared too; no one eats after the King has left. Another useless, bane tradition.

“You know I did what’s best for you,” Theomedes says, looming over Damen.

When Damen nods, Theomedes kisses his temple. “You’ll realise it sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes, sir,” Damen says quietly, and rises only after Theomedes has left, as is protocol.

An hour later, the itch under Damen’s skin becomes unbearable, and he finds himself burrowing under the left corner of his mattress for certain… supplies.

He pulls on the red, shoulder-length curly wig with little care, and then the faux-leather beret. It’s peeling and terrible, but Damen doesn’t care.

The rest of his outfit is just layers: sunglasses, two coats, scarves, and a muted shirt, to hide as much of his body as possible.

He normally doesn’t leave so early in the day, when he’s being patrolled by guards and the Kyros.

Luckily, it’s only Nikandros who catches him, right outside his door.

His expression is flat. “You’re not serious. You’re leaving now? We’re in the middle of drafting the Delpha treaty!”

Damen shrugs. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to—” Nikandros cuts himself off with a sigh. “Whatever. Can you please bring me back those caramel slices?”

Damen grins. “You got it, boss.”

Once he’s past the Main Foyer, the rest of the journey is easy: Damen takes an hour and a half train ride from Central Ios to Andris, and then a fifteen minute bus ride on the eighty-six. And then finally, an eight minute walk to the Andris Office District.

There’s a small bookstore there called Pocket Bookmark, painted emerald green, the lettering done in gold.

Inside, it’s not too busy: it’s not quite the end of a business day, and the customers in here are high school students, skimming the Shakespeare section, and a man hovering near the new releases.

Damen keeps his head down, weaving through the aisles.

Nicaise, the mouthy teenage cashier rolls his eyes when he sees Damen approaching, lifting up the wooden flap on on the bench, allowing Damen to duck through.

“Thanks, kid,” Damen says, mussing his hair.

“Ah, fuck off,” Nicaise grunts, but fondly. He’s warmed up to Damen ever since Damen bought him his first car. (Nothing too flashy, obviously).

Damen hurries all the way to the back, opening the door marked, No entry, and then goes up the narrow steps, which always make the worst creaking noises.

There’s another door a the small porch upstairs, and Damen fishes out the key in his pocket to open it.

Instantly, he’s hit with the smell of butter chicken simmering on the stove, and his mouth salivates. He dumps his entire attire by the small settee in the hallway, inhaling gratefully.

The second thing he’s greeted with is Wendy, who meows and claws at his leg.

“Come here, baby,” Damen murmurs, picking her up and holding her to his chest. She purrs and curls up, like a big ball of fluff and he kisses her head. “I love you so much.”

She meows in response, and snuggles closer.

Laurent turns off the stove in the tiny kitchen. He looks over his shoulder for just a second and scrunches his nose. “Ugh, she’s such a slut. I’ve been petting her for the last hour, but apparently I’m just not good enough.”

Laurent is in his after work attire: which means he’s as half dressed as possible. The shirt he’s wearing is one of Damen’s, and his shorts are the pair that shrunk in the wash; they ride too high up his thigh.

Laurent’s just come out of the shower: the hair at his nape is still wet, and his skin is pinked and glowing. Even with the curry, Damen can smell jasmine and coconut.

Laurent has got this sweet, soft smile that lights up his eyes.

It takes Damen’s breath away: not just Laurent, but this entire picture of domesticity. It’s all Damen’s wanted his entire life.

He means to make a snarky comment about Wendy, but what comes out is: “Marry me.”

Laurent drops the wooden spoon, eyes wide.

Damen grips Wendy too tightly and she lets out a shriek and jumps out of his arms.

They stare at each other for a moment. Damen’s heart is racing.

Laurent blinks. “Oh, sorry. I think I hallucinated for a minute.”

Damen steps forward, smiling. “It wasn’t a hallucination. Marry me.”

Laurent makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Are you asking me or telling me?” He swallows, eyes darting all over Damen’s face, his body. “I don’t see a ring,” he says quietly.

Damen groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit, I know. I had this whole plan, I was going to propose with the Queen’s ring, but obviously I’d have to talk to my father first and—” He sits down at the kitchen table, pulling out his phone. “There’s a courthouse ten minutes from here. It’s Thursday night, so they’re still open. We just need to show up with a signed ‘Intended Marriage Certificate’. It’s like three pages, we’ll be fine.”

“…Oh.” Laurent has gone very still. “You’re looking up courthouses. You’re serious.”

“Shit,” Damen says, watching him. “I’m so sorry. You—Do you want to marry me, Laurent? Because I’ve been dying to marry you since I first saw you. Er. No pressure, though.”

Laurent glares at him, affronted. “Of course I want to marry you, you fucking idiot!”

Damen leaps to his feet, grinning and flushed. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go print this form and—”

“Damen!” Laurent laughs, looking a little crazed. “We can’t just—Just wait a minute.”

“Alright. Shoot, baby.”

Predictably, Laurent flushes pink. “Is it even legal? Aren’t there special ceremonies for royals? And—and the King still thinks we broke up!”

Damen winces a little at that.

After an entire year of sneaking around, of meeting up in discreet hotels, and making plans to move in together one day, Damen had fucked up three weeks ago.

Drunk and enamoured, he had kissed Laurent outside his bookstore after a date. There had been photos—and the only saving grace had been the fact that Laurent’s face had been inscrutable.

But the fact that he was a commoner had been enough for Theomedes to unleash his rage. He had ordered Damen to break things off with Laurent, and Damen had pretended to, but… Well, Laurent had been hurt. It had been the first time he had realised how shaky their entire relationship was, how quickly it could come crumbling down.

Damen had spent days convincing him otherwise, and Laurent had finally agreed, but there had still been shadows in his eyes.

Now—now, though, Damen realises exactly what he can do, what he should have done months ago, to make Laurent realise he’s it.

“Fuck the King,” Damen says. He finally closes the distance between them, gripping Laurent’s hands. “Laurent, listen. I can still get married legally in a civil ceremony.”

“But—” Laurent bites his lip. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. And,” His voice grows small. “I know there’s so many rules and traditions you have to follow. I’ve read about the whole tradition where your father is supposed to gift you a diptych piece.”

Damen’s heart is warm. He smiles down at Laurent, smitten. “You’ve read up on royal wedding traditions?”

Laurent colours even more. “Of course.”

Damen kisses him hard, unable to bare the love swelling up inside him. Laurent flings his arms around Damen’s neck, his mouth emitting small, sweet gasps.

When they pull apart, Damen presses his forehead to Laurent’s. “Fuck the King,” he repeats. “Fuck the customs and rules and traditions. You are the only thing that matters to me. Just forget everything for a moment and answer: do you want to go downtown and marry me?”

Laurent’s smile overtakes his face, his eyes shining. “Yes,” he says softly. “I want to—so much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in a better way or give you a ring or—”

“Stop. This was absolutely perfect.” He sighs. “You’re perfect.”

Damen kisses him again, pressing him to the counter. “I want you to have my mother’s ring.”

Laurent buries his head into Damen’s chest, overwhelmed. He nods.

Damen drops a kiss to his hair. “Get changed, baby. We’re getting married.”

Laurent looks up at him in wonder. “We’re getting married.”

#yes this is rushed what about it!!!!! 🤧😤#just kidding i still hope u enjoy #lamen week 2021 #captive prince #my writing #my fic

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

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a year in the life | rockstar! s.s.

pairing: rockstar!sebastian stan x writer!reader

main work: i wanna know what love is

season: autumn 🍁

a/n: in celebration of 4 major works of mine turning one this year (my babies, cannot believe it’s been a year) and based on the reboot of gilmore girls, i will be revisiting my works per season. we are starting with autumn and rockstar!seb. hope you enjoy xx

Y/N laid on the big chez lounge couch in the middle of her living room, surrounded by her children’s toys, with a large bowl of Doritos on her lap as the Real Housewives played on the background. For the very first time since forever, she was alone at home; Jess and Marion were at their respective schools while Sebastian was busy in the studio, doing some rearrangements to a new album. She loved the three of them more than anything but she knew that she would’ve never had the chance to eat Doritos without Sebastian complaining it was unhealthy for her or her children trying to take a bite. Lately, all she wants is to lay low, bask in her leave from work and watch some trashy TV.

As her eyes were getting heavier and heavier with sleep when the front door opened, sending her back into alert mood. Luckily, it wasn’t no one trying to break in but her husband who still couldn’t open doors without making a big ruckus about it.

- I’m sorry, bunny. - he stepped back as he recognised his wife’s sleepy face. - I thought you’d be in the bedroom.

- Can’t move. - she pointed at her bulging bump covered by one of his old jumpers which seemed to be the only thing that fully covered her at this particular stage. Sebastian chuckled, walking over to her to quickly kiss her, hand caressing her bump through the jumper. - Didn’t expect you to be home so early.

- I can see. - he pointed at the bowl of Doritos on her lap. - You’re supposed to be the prudent one.

- I’m carrying your offspring. It makes me make bad decisions. - she teased, cuddling against him as he sat by her side, worn out slightly loose black leather jacket still on. - How are the boys?

- Fighting about who gets to be godfather this time.

- Did you tell them my brother is gonna be the godfather?

- Now, where would the fun be in that, bunny? - he smirked, with that boyish like looks he still managed to remain after all these years.

- Stop it. - she leaned towards him to kiss him.

- How are you feeling today? - his hand mindlessly rubbed her bump, feeling the little moves of the baby whenever the baby moved. - Little one is a bit feisty today.

- It’s been like this all of last night. I think I might be closer to labour than we think.

- Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve driven the kids to school, honey love.

- You needed to sleep. - she groaned as she stretched her legs. - Besides, Marion is staying with your mum today so I wanted to spend some time with her before she went.

- No kids tonight? - he leaned over to kiss her collarbone. - How long has it been?

- As long as I’ve been pregnant. - she pushed him away playfully. - Jess is not going.

- Why not? Jess loves my mum. Is he sick? Urgh, is the flu going around his class again? We need to put him into a better school, those kids at his school are always s...

- Seb, stop. - she rolled her eyes, smiling at the same time at how he’d gone from let it be to constant rambling about his children’s wellbeing. - He just wants to be home tonight and he’s been a little sad lately.

- You’re sure he’s not sick? Because there’s this private school which tests kids for all those flu things.

- He’s not sick. He’s just got ... a bit of a lovebug. He got like this when I was last pregnant with Marion.

- Well, at least he hasn’t decided that the baby is just not coming. - Sebastian referred to Marion. Their daughter had just decided there was no baby coming around, even after being offered her own bedroom with her own bathroom, just for herself. - I’ll go pick him up, make it a whole thing. Maybe even pass by Al’s ... get you that pasta you really like.

- You’re just trying to make me forget that you’re the reason we’re moving houses.

- Y/N, this house has always been too small.

- That’s because you need a whole room for your guitars alone.

She’d spend the best part of her initial married years trying to convince Sebastian to either get a storage unit to put all his guitars in or to just merge it with his office yet, he’d always come back with an excuse. “Honey love, they need to be displayed”, “Bunny I would just get distracted if they were in my office” he would tell her with his rockstar like charm which she thought was strong enough to resist, yet how can she say no when he immediately shifts from boyish smile to having her pressed against the wall of that very same room, pounding into her as if he was an up and coming rockstar and her his favourite groupie. With the need for that bedroom, their once spacious apartment they bought when she was pregnant with Jess was becoming too small. Normally Y/N would be okay with it but being 8 months pregnant during the fall where it constantly rains in New York, moving seemed like the last thing she’d like to do and just thinking about it made her tired already. After all, she could barely walk to the kitchen without feeling tired or taking a short break in the middle of the path. She thought that after two pregnancies, the third one would be a walk in the park. Turns out it’s more like a run in the park, except the park is on fire and she’s barefoot.

- Honey love, asking me to get rid of my guitars is like asking you to get rid of your five copies of Emma.

- They’re in different languages. - she argued back.

- They’re different models, besides, we can finally have a guest bedroom. You always wanted a guest bedroom.

- Sure then maybe my grandfather will come visit more often. How about that? - Sebastian chuckled at her answer. - I’m not joking. You get me pregnant, you get to be annoyed by my grandfather.

- You’re acting like this is my fault when you were the one who wore fishnets with a leather skirt. I’m only human.

- Fine, 10% my fault, 90% you fault. That’s my final offer.

- You sure?

- Yes. You see, you are a sex maniac who cannot be controlled.

- That’s not what you wrote about me. - he smirked. - You said I had more soul than just a sex pot.

- Do not quote my own words at me.

- You bought my old guitar.

- Urgh ... - she rolled her eyes. Sebastian grinned, happy he’d won the debate. - Just go make the other mums jealous please.

- Look at you, using me for my sex appeal only.

- No. I just really enjoy being the powerful mum.

- Yeah? What’s that like?

- Constant questions about if we do weird sex blood rituals. Then mysterious answers, so they all fear you and don’t force you to attend PTA meetings on date nights.

- I gotta say, bunny ... we got this parenting thing covered.

- We do.

- When I come back, you better not have a bowl of Doritos on your belly.

- I’ll do whatever I want.

- Sure, bunny, if you walk to the kitchen by yourself ...

- Low move, Stan. Low.

- You love me. - he chuckled, grabbing his keys from the trinket dish by the entry door. - See you soon, bunny.

- Love you. - she scrunched her face in a little smile which he couldn’t help but smile back.

Sebastian liked to pick up Marion and Jess from school. His schedule normally meant Y/N, who had a more 9-5 job, was the one who’d do the drop offs and collections so he’d always meet them at home but whenever he could pick them up, he’d be the first one there. He just loved to see his two babies come out of school in their little uniforms which he incredibly hated when they first enrolled but now couldn’t help but find incredibly adorable. He also loved to see how both his children came out of school. Marion would be the one who’d take the longest, surrounded by all her friends and probably nursing a scrape or two on her knee as if kindergarten 2-3 year old was a big fighting ground while Jess would come out as quickly as he could.

He parked slightly in front of his son’s school, coming out of the car and leaning against it. The parents’ eyes were immediately on him, maybe it was due to the star power or, most likely, it was because he was wearing a leather jacket, dark shades and his neck tattoo could be seen peaking out the collar of his jacket. His shoes crinkled the fallen leaves on the floor, avoiding those looks as he waited for his son. He knew who he was and he was not going to change it because he became a father, he is a good father, he knows that. The bell rang and a swarm of children came rushing out of the school, and they say birth rates are low. He took his sunglasses off, trying to pin point his son in the middle of all different aged children.

- DAD! - he turned his head to the memorable voice, crutching down as he son rushed to him. Jess wrapped his arms around his father, little childish giggles as Sebastian pulled him off the floor.

- Hey, buddy. How was school?

- We did hand turkeys.

- Hand turkeys? No way, that’s so cool. - he opened up the car’s passenger’s seat, sticking around to check if he fastened his seatbelt correctly before taking the driver’s seat. - It’s just gonna be us three today, bud. You, me and mummy. We getting Al’s and some ice cream.

- Why didn’t mummy come?

- Mummy is very tired, buddy. The baby is kicking a lot, won’t let the baby sleep.

- Oh ... - Sebastian saw his son’s face grow sadder.

- What do you want from Al’s, bud? You can get whatever you want.

- Really?

- Yeah.

The little restaurant had soon become a staple in their family life. Sebastian had. discovered by accident after accidentally burning dinner for Y/N’s. He wasn’t already too popular with Y/N’s family so he knew he had to fix it and there it was, the small little restaurant filled with delicious food. Now, it was just a Friday night tradition yet today was special, almost nostalgic to when Y/N, Sebastian and Jess had their first home. Back when Y/N and him were new parents and would trip on every toy in the apartment. God, those were the days.

- Dad? - Jess pulled at his sleeve while the two were waiting in the queue.

- Yeah, bud? - Sebastian picked him up, already understanding the signs of whenever he wanted to be held.

- I ... The baby’s not coming for a while, right?

- Why, Jessie? What did Marion say?

- She didn’t say anything ... uhm, it’s gonna be three of us now.

- Yeah. We’re gonna get a new big place, we can even get a dog or a cat. You always wanted a cat, didn’t you?

- But, now I’m third.

- What do you mean? - Sebastian furrowed his brows at the comment.

- Well, when Marion was a baby you and mummy were always with her but she’s still a baby and now there’s a new baby, so I’m gonna be third. - Sebastian’s heart broke at that comment. Now it made sense. - And ... you’re not home a lot and mummy is gonna be busy with the baby.

- Hey, you’re not third. - he rubbed his son’s back, kissing the side of his head, soothing him to the best of his ability. - You want me to be home more?

- No, daddy ... you like doing music.

- Hm ... how about you come to the studio with me when you don’t have school?

- Really? But you said I’m too little.

- Well, you’re gonna be a big brother again, I think it’s time.

- Really?

- Yeah. - he smiled him, his smile reflecting back at him.

- Faye.

- What?

- We should name the baby Faye.

- Faye? You want your baby sister to be named Faye?

- Yes.

- Well ... Faye it is.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan au #rockstar! sebastian stan

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love-toxin · 5 years ago

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a/n: in which tsuyu decides to apologize for skipping out on another date to tend to her hero work.

warnings: gn! reader, established relationship, pro hero! tsuyu, oral, quirk kink, make up sex.

word count: 1.4k

Seeing your girlfriend on tv was far from the same as seeing her in person. No matter how tightly you squeezed the pillow tucked within your arms and imagined it was her, you weren’t hugging Tsuyu after a long day of tiring hero work, the smell of chlorine on her hair and an exhausted “kero” on her lips as she slept.

Those evenings were the best, the ones where she would yawn as she slipped through the door and pulled off her boots with half-closed eyes, before shuffling into the living room and collapsing into your waiting arms that she always knew would be there. It was a routine that worked out in both of your favours, but there were just some times when you had to break tradition despite not wanting to. And today was one of those days, your phone sitting on the empty cushion beside you with an apology text in the notifications, marked by Tsuyu’s nickname and a little frog emoji. You didn’t have to read it to know what it said, and you didn’t want to, because it would just make you sad to see that your poor girlfriend felt so bad about cancelling your date to go to an interview she didn’t want to attend in the first place. You’d lost count of how many days she’d had to stay in her agency late at night or hurry off into a patrol early, not to mention all the times she’d been called right into the action at the site of a robbery or villain attack.

“Next up is the rising star in this new age of pro heroes, the rainy season hero, Froppy!”

Before the camera could finish panning past the lineup of pro heroes they had previously been interviewing, many of which you recognized as Tsu’s old friends from U.A, you aimed your remote at the television and shut it off with a click. Normally, you would love to see her smile and wave to the crowds of fans that adored her, but not today.

Right now, as you pulled your blanket over you and nuzzled your face into the arm of the sofa, you just wanted to forget about the whole thing for awhile and wake up once she finally got home.

As per usual for an impromptu nap on the couch, your slumber was long and dreamless, your body simply taking all it needed so you could awaken refreshed and ready for the day. But when you were roused by your legs shifting not of your own accord, and the light from the lamp next to you had shut off and left you in darkness, you were more disoriented than anything else.

“..Are you awake, kero?”

With a quick rub of the sleep from your eyes, you blinked once and realized what you saw was not, in fact, a dream--Tsuyu laid between your legs with bright eyes turned up towards you, her voice the softest of whispers so as not to shock you, and her ungloved fingers hooked on the waistband of your shorts that had been pulled halfway down your knees. If you weren’t so accustomed to that view of your hero, it would’ve been quite the shock, indeed.

“Hu..huh..? Tsu?”

Your words felt like a jumble in your mouth, and she smiled up at you despite it, her fingertips drawing closer to your skin as she carefully pulled your bottoms down the rest of the way and let them fall into a heap on the floor.

“I asked Ochaco to cover my meeting segment for me. It wasn’t fair of me to cancel so last-minute, and when you’ve always been my biggest supporter…”

You only felt your awareness heighten when she slipped a finger beneath the hem of your underwear, and slowly tugged it down until she could ease it off your ankles and drop it in the same breath. And once you were bared completely to her, she licked her lips and placed the cool pads of her fingertips against the inside of both your thighs.

“So I figured that you deserved an apology. One that I know you deserve.”

As far as you concerned, this view alone and the unusually lewd tone of her voice was apology enough--hell, you weren’t even concerned with an apology, you just couldn’t wait for her to come home and spend time with you that you’d struggled to get with your busy schedules. But you certainly weren’t going to complain, especially at the sight of her tongue moving with a mind of its own as it slid closer and closer towards you, the sticky fluid that she secreted dripping on to the couch cushions before it smacked your thigh with a gentle pap. By the time you were only half-prepared to handle the sensation, Tsu was making her move--and the first long swipe of her tongue against your nethers was already enough to finish you off then and there.

“Hah-! Ts-Tsu, it’s-!”

Another flick of her tongue ripped the breath from your throat, her lengthy appendage so squishy and strong at the same time as she sent tremors through your body with every movement. Her tongue filled any bare inch of skin in seconds, the sticky substance bringing a pull to her strokes as she dragged it upwards before starting again, and again, and again. And the most mind-numbing of the whole experience was how cool her tongue was, as how the rest of her skin often felt when she nuzzled up against you. Not cold enough to hurt, but enough that it contrasted your body heat in a way that felt like you were melting in her grasp, your vision flickering once she really started pushing up against your most sensitive areas. And when she pulled back and started rubbing the tip of it against your entrance, you lost all ability to speak properly and only moaned out her name when she finally managed to wriggle it past your walls.

If you could have closed your legs, you probably would have on instinct--but Tsu’s hands were strong and her grip even stronger as she pinned your knees apart, her focus totally set on the way you bucked your hips and crooned out her name as she licked you up from the inside out. You clenched around her without meaning to, the silky firmness of her tongue inside you more than enough to make you see stars--and when she mumbled with a full mouth about how good you tasted, it was impossible for you to ignore the blazing pleasure that was overcoming you any longer, and you felt your world grind to a halt as you finished before you were ready and your vision whited out for a moment or two. In that moment of a blank, burning orgasm that rippled through your body, you briefly struggled to remember the last time you’d had the chance to do something as intimate as this together--and when you couldn’t immediately recall, and you slowly fell back down from your high as Tsuyu rubbed your hips and gave you time to recover, you knew it had been far, far too long. She waited well until your breathing had returned to normal before she slipped her tentacle-like tongue out of you with a quiet smacking sound, and only then did she endeavor to dip her head down and leave a trail of kisses down your inner thigh, before gingerly taking hold of your wrist and guiding your hand to settle atop her head.

“Do you remember how many days I had to work late this week, kero?”

She cocked her head to the side, not-so-subtly letting her tongue roll in her mouth to enjoy the taste you had left on her.

“U-Uh...I-I think it was three? Or four..?”

You honestly couldn’t really think of it clearly, not when Tsu was so close to your most sensitive areas again, and all while you were still dripping and trembling from the orgasm she’d ripped from you so quickly. You were quite amazed she even had the energy to--but the nibbling she did to her lip out of habit when she looked up at you said otherwise, her lithe body practically vibrating with a fresh reserve of energy.

“Four?”

She waited patiently for confirmation, which you gave her in the form of a shaky nod, and a gentle stroke of your fingers through her hair. Usually, she would nuzzle in to such a comforting touch--but with a smacking of her lips as she puffed out a cool breath against your skin, she had a gleam in her eyes that warned you that she was nowhere near being finished with you.

“Good. Now I remember how many more apologies I’ve got to make, kero.”

#tsuyu asui #tsuyu x reader #tsuyu asui x reader #froppy x reader #bnha #kinktober 2020 #love-toxin kinktober #love-toxin #1k

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sasa-gay-yo · 4 years ago

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Just Us (Chapter Four: Pretend)

← Chapter Three

Levi had accustomed himself to come at one on the Saturday he had off. He would walk in and order black tea, knowing I would give him the complete opposite. When the rush of people was over, he would take the cloth from my hands, commenting on how soap adds to dryness, and clean the table tops to his liking. I never understood why it took him one pass, but when I did it, he would complain over and over again. Secretly, he must want to clean. Maybe it’s his idea of normalcy. Being able to clean up inside the walls when it was hard to do the same on the outside. It gave him a sense of being in control that he didn’t have over there, so I let him clean while I swept.

Then, we would close the windows, lock up shop, and he would take the entrance in the back of the café up to the apartment so no one would suspect anything. It felt weird having to sneak around doing no wrong, but Levi was the master of it and insisted. We would sit across from each other, tea in hand, and just talk about anything. The topics included the best water source in the walls, the gossip that plagued Trost, and how many kicks it takes to knock out all of someone’s teeth. While certain topics about the Scouts or the current expedition would come up, they were short and never really taken care of. He never asked for my time in the underground or the details about me gaining ownership of the café. It was a good game of pretend for the time being, but it got me thinking about what we were pretending to be. As we sat there, in my home, sipping tea, what was this “normal” that Levi was playing out? If he wasn’t Captain and I wasn’t civilian, then what characters were we? And at what point will this game morph into reality… if it for me hasn’t already.

We’ve met three times more after we started the game. Twice after expeditions and once on a random day in the middle of a blizzard. The Scouts were preparing to go out for an expedition, but it was suspended for the day until the weather had cleared up.

I never went to see Levi off. I’d listen to their shouts from the comfort of my café, but never went to see them leave the town square. I think that’s when the game we were playing would break. Seeing Levi and Captain Levi leaving and me as the civilian, hoping he’d return. I would only go meet them on their way back and we could pretend again once I saw his face and knew he was alive. It was dangerous, like I had said before. Deep down Levi had to know that too.

Now, we were in the last month of the year, and the Scouts were off on a shortened expedition so they could spend the end of the year festival with their families. I didn’t have any idea what Levi would do then. We never had the opportunity to meet for more than one night a month. Would that change?

“What the hell are you thinking about so hard? A new recipe?” I turned to Jonas who was sitting next to me. We were going over what extra I was going to order for the holidays. People desperately wanted fresh bread and pastries, and I had to include fruit in them as tradition states. I would be busy the week before the festival time, so I would have to close up for a few days and hope that my profit for the holidays would outweigh that of which I lost. It usually did and I had most of my savings because of the year-end. Last year, I had enough saved to even go out and enjoy the festivities they put on in Trost.

“I’m doing math in my head, hold on. If it takes four berries per pastry and twelve a batch and I plan to make twelve batches that's...I wrote it down, that's like, round up, six-hundred. And you said you can guarantee there to be twenty plus in each box, so I’ll have to buy… thirty boxes! That’s so much money!” I whined on the table and Jonas wrote down the number on the form. At least I would get a friends and family discount.

“I think people will want more than you have anyways. I mean, this is the time of year you usually have a line outside of the café.” He put a hand on my back and I sat up again.

“It’s just I hate spending money every year on a business gamble. Especially when I have to get gifts for people too. With the increased prices, I’ll have to dig into reserves and I have yet to buy just regular working items in the capital. That's another five or six days off.” I put my head in my hands again. Too much to think about.

“I could go to the capital with you this time. It would be easier since I know a lot of the merchants there.” I shook my head no.

“I don’t just get supplies at the capital. Sometimes I go to get my hair cut, other times I shop for a whole day for gifts. It’s really boring, and besides you have to deliver things. I know the volume of orders is also a lot during this time.” He nodded and looked dejected that I rejected his offer, which made me smirk. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what June said to me… and I’ve noticed it too. The hand bandages, bringing in extra stuff from Reeve’s, showing up right when Levi does and talking for an hour. He may not be that smart, but the common sense he has is astounding.

“Well, if you don’t let me go to the capital with you, then you have to go to the year-end-”

“The Scouts are back! Only two casualties!” I cut off Jonas from whatever he was going on about and walked out the café door with the other customers. The two casualties remark got them on their feet, excited, but any talk of casualties got my stomach turning. It would never be Levi, but there was always an off chance.

This time, lots of people gathered around the streets, probably even some visitors to see their child return from the Scouts. It was always something that happened during this time of year. A long vacation meant that the families could finally be together and rejoice about another year alive. It made me think about the families that had those hopes devastated. This year-end would be different for them.

The Scouts turned the corner with less than before, but not because of death. People had gotten off the convoy when they had seen their family. Some people would not get off and ride to either lodgings in Trost or the HQ. Levi was one of those people. If I had known about the way the Scouts do year-end, I would have invited him to come and stay in my apartment and not have to ride back and forth from outside Trost. Even if I did that, for threat of rumors, he probably wouldn’t have gotten off at the café.

I saw him by Erwin, all near the end this time so that the others could leave the line undisturbed. We locked eyes and he nodded once before staring ahead again. I smiled and turned back around, entering the warmth of the café. Jonas followed looking back and forth between me and the Captain on his horse. If anyone had suspicions about Levi, it was him and the older women who seemed to always show up at one on Saturday. This time, I had no idea when he would show up to the café, as he was much more freer than usual.

“Is Captain Levi going to buy some pastries for his Scout comrades?” It was probably jealousy that made him act so hostile. I wish he would just act normal in these situations.

“I hope so. That’s a lot of pastries to buy. I might even force him to for how many cups of my tea he drinks.” That wasn’t a lie. I would need to buy peppermint tea in the capital by how much we’ve both drank in the past 2 months. Who knew three nights could ruin my supply of tea? And I was worried about the Garrison.

“He pays for all of them, right?” I nodded and signed the order form. Jonas was just trying to find one crack in Levi’s personality. Something to make it easy to hate him more.

“Every third cup is free though. Maybe I’ll eliminate that policy just for him.” I wanted to get Jonas to laugh, but I guess when talking about Levi that was impossible.

“Since this is such a large order, you have to put fifteen percent down. Company policy.” I reached into the bag that held some of my money and sadly dished it out. Why must this world run on a monetary system?

“Well, I’m off. The bar down the road has a lot of wine to order. I’ll see you in a few days, yeah? You’re planning to go to the festival, right?” I nodded and stood up, walking him out.

“Of course! I have to give you your gift, too. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you’re going to like what I planned.” He smiled and raised one hand in the air to wave goodbye as he walked through the crowd. In all honesty, I had no idea what I was going to buy him or anyone. I just went to the capital and hoped the items at the marketplace spoke to me.

“Do you have something for me planned too?” I jumped and almost slammed the door on him. Levi was leaning against the outside wall, one leg up, like he always did. I just wasn’t expecting him to come today or this quickly. My heart started beating fast again.

“I thought you’d be going to HQ.” I looked him up and down. He was in black slacks and white shirt, his regular, everyday outfit. That was a quick change. I tried to tell him that he still stuck out because we don’t dress like that, but he refused. Even his clothes had to have crisp, clean folds and edges that made them stand out.

“Erwin thought it would be nice to have the Scouts without families to board together in town for the festival. So we wouldn’t have to go back and forth.” Convenient.

“That’s cute. Is it also because Mitras doesn’t want to send in any MPs, so they put you all in charge for the district you’re closest to?” He smirked for a second then dropped it.

“How did you guess that?” I smiled and moved out of the way so he could walk into the café.

“It happened last year too. I forgot you weren’t there yet. The old ladies aren’t here to oogle at you, so you’re going to have to deal with no female attention.” He followed me behind the counter where he leans against to watch me bake or make coffee when he’s too bored of the window. With the news of the Scouts and families reuniting, the café was now empty. Levi would allow himself to play the normal game again.

“I think I’ll be fine.” He stood there, watching me make puff pastry for what felt like forever. Even if it was comfortable to have his eyes on me, sometimes when I knew he wanted to say something, it was annoying.

“If you’re so interested in how to fold puff pastry, I can show you tonight.”

“O-Oh… Um, I can’t stay tonight. We have an officer’s meeting to plan all of the expeditions for next year.” Oh. That’s a first. Why did it make me so sad that he said he couldn’t stay? I’m not used to it. We’ve only done it four times.

“I’ll be going to the capital tomorrow. I guess we’ll both have to wait a few days to finish our conversation on what color to repaint the walls of the Scout HQ.” He switched sides of the counter so he was leaning on the one I was working on. When he did this, it meant he wanted to know I understood something. Very Captain of him.

“Capital? By yourself? At this time of year?” I nodded and pushed aside a finished puff pastry sheet.

“I always do. I have to get a lot of things for the festival. I also buy gifts, so if you want to have an amazing gift like Jonas, I have to go.” That made him blink and I’d never seen that look before. He seemed dumbfounded with the idea I was going to travel there myself.

“You’re actually buying me a gift?” Oh, so it wasn't the trip. It was the fact someone was going to get him a gift. I’m sure he’s had someone give him gifts before; his fellow officers or friends or someone.

“Of course I am. I’d consider you important enough to get a gift for.” The reddening of his face didn’t go unnoticed. Another win for me. I’ve made it my mission to get him to show emotion on a daily basis so I wouldn’t have to guess what he was thinking. So far I’ve gotten one smile, three instances of blush, and one small laugh.

This is what I meant by pretending to be normal. If he wasn’t a Captain right now, and Captain Levi would never blush, then who was he? What person was he playing that would stand right next to me and blush? Who am I playing to have the right to elicit this type of reaction from him? Right now, I wasn’t playing. When I talk about paint and not about how curious I am about Levi’s time in the underground, that's pretending. How far does Levi take it?

“I guess I’ll have to buy you a gift at the capital too.” I stopped folding dough. My heart picked up speed again.

“Huh?”

“Well, you can’t go on your own to the capital. Someone who’s capable of defending you from the Underground pickpocketers has to go with. I know how they work too. Plus, I have to get gifts for people. It’s just convenient that you happen to be going tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow and remembered how easily I had denied Jonas. Was it real me or pretend me that didn’t want to deny Levi of escorting me to the capital? It all seemed like a fairytale; being escorted by a handsome, capable male. Short, but capable. Who was I to deny myself of that?

“I’ll think about it. I might leave you if you show up though. You don’t even know what time I’m going,” He pointed to the door, one hand still in the pocket of his damn slacks.

“Assuming that the sign you put on the door is correct, you’re closing tomorrow at noon. If I come at noon, I’ll catch you just in time for you to deny me.” He seemed to be in a good mood today if he was making jokes like that. Levi’s conversation depended on how that last expedition went it seems. Once he came back and barely talked to me. At that point I prepped dough while he sat on my couch staring hard at the wall. The other time he came back, he was his normal self. Not talking much in the morning, but then talking about all the ways he’d remodel the Scout HQ if they had the money at night. No matter what mood, he wouldn’t talk to me about the expeditions. The line he wouldn’t cross, I’m assuming.

The next day the café was extra busy as everyone wanted to get their orders in before I closed early. There were bulk orders for parties, the buying of heavy amounts of bread, and regular coffee sales. When noon came around, I was proud to say I was legitimately out of bread and only had a few pastries. I decided to take those along on the ferry ride.

I went upstairs using the back way, going to grab my bag and the amounts of money I put aside. Last night, I made sure I calculated four or five times, allotting only a few extra amounts of change if I went over budget. During year-end, I had to be very strict with my spending if I didn’t want to go in the negative like Mr. Flynn had taught me.

“Eva.” I stopped walking up the stairs and saw the person sitting on my steps. Was it bad that I felt disappointed that it wasn’t Levi? He said he was going to come at noon.

“Jonas. What can I do for you? I gotta run soon to buy a ticket to the ferry.” He smiled and held up two pieces of paper. Oh gods.

“I bought them already. Like it or not, I’m coming with you.” That unsettled me, because I had subconsciously accepted Levi’s offer. Jonas might be a bit heartbroken if I say that.

“Uh, Jonas, you should go return those tickets so you don’t waste your money. If you do it an hour before the ferry, they give you a full refund.” I tried to push past him to get to get into my house, but he held his hands up. This was getting frustrating. He wouldn’t even let me get into my own house.

“You shouldn’t be going alone at this time, Eva. You remember what happened last year, you got robbed!” I rolled my eyes and tried to push past him again, but it didn’t work because I wasn’t a six foot tall man who lifts heavy boxes everyday.

“They tried to take my money, but it was an empty bag, Jonas. I’m not stupid enough to be carrying things around like that. If anyone knows how pickpockets work, Jonas, I’m one of them. Please, can I get into my house.” He stepped up one more step and held his arms out wide like he was doing something heroic. I couldn’t tell him that I wasn’t going alone, so he’d just have to trust me on this one.

“Do I have to kick you off these stairs?” Jonas froze and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. I had to lean over so I could see where the harsh voice came from. Curiously enough, he was standing there in my opened door. How the hell did he get into my apartment? Did I not lock it this morning? His voice was the harshest I’ve ever heard it.

“What are you doing here?” Jonas snapped his head back and almost hit mine. This was the first time Jonas had probably said a full sentence to Levi that wasn’t full of stutters.

Levi’s eyes were scary too. Meeting them, I could see his unfaltering glare towards Jonas. Chills. It didn’t help that he was looking down at us the whole time.

“I’m here to escort Miss. Flynn to the capital so she can fill out a personal order for the Scouts.” It was a good lie that even I wouldn’t have been able to think of. He even used my last name which made it sound more legitimate. The only thing that might have been against us were those damn black slacks.

“Is that true?” Jonas whipped his head back around and again almost hit me. I gave him an annoyed look before scratching the back of my head.

“Yes, it’s true. Now, if you’ll let me by, I need to get my bag.” He looked defeated when I walked by him and I honestly didn’t think it was this serious. Maybe he had something planned but now Levi had come by and ruined it. Money was wasted on those tickets.

Without a word, I walked into the door past Levi and he slammed it behind me. I didn’t think he’d do that and thought it a bit rude to Jonas, but we didn’t have time for apologies. I’d give him a free cookie when I got back. The ferry was going to leave in about an hour and it takes twenty minutes to walk, not even mentioning the lines.

“Do you have money to buy a ticket to the ferry? I didn’t budget two people.” He put on a tan winter coat before shaking his head no. It was a nice coat with the wings of freedom on the back and a fur lining in the hood. It mimicked that of their capes, but these were definitely for winter. It looked nice and warm.

“We’re taking horses.” I dropped my bag and turned quickly to him.

“Huh?! I don’t even know how to ride a horse!” He let out a huff in laughter and slung his bag over his shoulder. I hated horses.

“It’s not hard. Besides, your horse is tied to mine. All you have to do is sit.” Oh, yeah, sit on an animal running at top speed. Of course the soldier is making it sound so easy. I’m even in a skirt, how is that going to work?

“I’d rather buy you the extra ticket.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a horse.” He sounded… annoyed? Tough. I wasn’t going to tell him he was right though.

“I’m just more comfortable going on the ferry. It’s what I always do.” I put on my coat and he opened the door slightly, probably checking to see if Jonas was still there.

“Your boy seemed extra confident today. He even glared at me from less than 5 feet away. Usually he stands by your counter and does it. You should tell him I’m proud.” I rolled my eyes and headed out the door. My boy. What kind of…

“Are we still trying to get on the ferry or have you snapped out of your delusion that it's better than horseback?” I shook my head and put my hands in my pockets. I couldn’t risk them getting any dryer in this weather. Hopefully, he had some spare gloves.

“You can take the horse. I’ll meet you in a few days.” He groaned but kept walking next to me.

“If we take the horses we’ll get there early in the morning tomorrow. It would reduce it down to a three day trip instead of a six day one. You’d lose less money that way.”

“I have enough money. Even more now that the Scouts want to order some pastries from me.” It was supposed to be a jab at him, but he didn’t falter at all.

“Erwin said he wants something sweet. I’m assuming something with fruit too. I don’t know what these people like, so I’ll just order the most common thing I can.” I stopped walking and he went a few steps ahead of me before turning around.

“You were… Y-you were serious about the order?” He nodded.

“At the meeting yesterday, I volunteered to get desserts for the officer’s year-end party they always have. You’re the best in Trost, aren’t you?”

Somehow that got me on his damn horse.

Chapter Five →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #levi x oc #levi x reader #shingeki no kyoujin levi #aot #aot levi #captain levi #levi heichou #shingeki no kyojin #original #snk

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werejusttouchingeachother · 5 years ago

Text

Whipped

(d.ksoo)

Req: fluff + smut with Kyungsoo by @johnniverse Pairing: actor!Kyungsoo x baker!reader Words: 10,609k Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut Warning: cursing, smut, mature Summary: Your close friendship with Korea’s favourite actor is suddenly strained when he begins acting strange after returning home. Three nights of disappointment and several drinks later, the memory of a rhubarb Eton mess lingers in the air as you find yourself finally seeing your best friend in a different light. Tags: actor!Soo, slightly chef!Soo, baker!reader, cursing, flirting, sexual tension and fluffy smut A/N: To the req, I hope you like it and it isnt too cringy lol, I always struggle with fluff. Also P.S, I’m never doing the fake texting image thing ever again, I had to use both my phone and laptop to edit/upload the pics in order and it was a pain in the ass especially for a fic this long (and on a side-note, props to all the text-message fic authors, this sHIT IS HARD JFC SERIOUSLY Y’ALL ARE AMAZING AND DEDICATED AF, I APPRECIATE THE EFFORT)

The smell of butter and dough that surrounded you usually helped calm your nerves but tonight could perhaps be the first time that was an exception. After all, it had been months since you last saw your best friend, Kyungsoo.

There weren’t many people around at this late hour of the night and you were thankful for the silence, for the peaceful atmosphere that was usually a rare occurrence at the bakery’s kitchen. Only when your nerves had crept into your worried thoughts as the silence prolonged had you finally scrolling to the playlist of soft instrumentals that you usually had playing at the bakery during work hours, letting the music fill the empty kitchen while you worked.

You hum softly to Billie Eilish and Khalid’s ‘lovely' as you place the tiny specks of edible gold foil atop the chocolate tart. Kyungsoo didn’t love the gold foil—he called it “too bougie”—but you knew that he didn’t hate it either. Besides, you couldn’t help the dramatic flair that you always brought to your desserts; it was what you were popular for, after all.

You’d met Kyungsoo as a customer at your artisan café almost three years ago when he’d dropped by late in the night to ask for a full-sized cake. You’d heard your co-worker Yixing apologetically inform him that there weren’t any such cakes readily available just a few minutes short to closing hours and that customers usually pre-ordered them in advance but you’d stepped out of the back-kitchen then to ask the desperate-sounding customer whether a red velvet cheesecake was fine with him.

You can still recall how you’d stumbled over your own words as your eyes finally fell on the late-night customer—Do Kyungsoo, the upcoming handsome actor who had swept over the nation with his popularity after his latest movie. Your first thought had immediately been, ‘Holy hell, he looks more beautiful than he does on the screen’.

It was only much later that you’d revealed to him that the original recipient of the cake was a little girl turning eight the next day. Kyungsoo had been stunned at the revelation and even to the present day, he still wondered why you hadn’t turned him away to find another bakery instead of going to the hassle of giving away a pre-baked cake that resulted in you pulling an all-nighter to bake another for the actual customer.

But how could you have refused? With his warm earnest brown eyes that reminded you of the pools of dark chocolate batter that you’d been whisking back in the kitchen, his cheeks that shone like freshly glazed pastries with the sheepish heart-shaped smile that put even the sun to shame, you couldn’t help but relent and give him the red velvet cheesecake that you’d been preparing for a client to pick up the next morning.

Although Kyungsoo had left in a hurry after accepting the box that night, he had visited the bakery around brunch hour the next day to thank you personally—and “properly”. Both of you had introduced yourselves and you’d been surprised at how down-to-earth and friendly he’d been, taken aback by his genuine interest in your bakery and all the desserts that you’d had. After conversing, there grew a mutual admiration—you’d never imagined that such a famous actor was also an incredible cook with an intense passion for food while having such an avid interest and genuine fascination towards your baking.

It had been the initial blossoming of a beautiful delectable friendship. You’d never thought you’d grow as close to him as you did but there was an instant connection after that first conversation at the kitchen of your bakery, a way in which both your personalities perfectly complemented each other and fit together just right. Of course, your mutual interest for food only fuelled the friendship further.

That was three years ago. Back then, it had started as a friendship but slowly bloomed to an unhealthy crush on your part. And who could blame you? Kyungsoo was unbelievably perfect—with his charming smile, his friendly and kind nature, his heart of gold and just by being an absolute sweetheart, you struggled to keep your emotions at bay as you got closer to him. He set the standard entirely too high and there was a small part of you that even blamed him for never being able to find a boyfriend. Every blind date and man that your friends introduced you to all paled in comparison to Kyungsoo, multiple meals and walks spent with them feeling extremely dreary when you spent the entire time drawing analyses of them in your mind based off of Kyungsoo as the yardstick.

However, it was a secret that you were certain you’d carry to your grave. He already had hordes of fangirls and half the country pining for him, he didn’t need to worry about you shooting heart-eyes at him too.

Besides, you cherished your relationship with Kyungsoo entirely far too much to risk losing all of it with a silly confession. You were close with his mother who called you more often than she even called him sometimes to chat with you idly about recipes, you knew how he hated parsley a lot more than he let on, how he’d admitted that your lemon meringue pies were his favourite dessert in the entire world and how he hated early morning shoots the most and could never get used to them no matter how many times he did it.

It wasn’t one-sided—he knew you like the back of his hand too. Kyungsoo knew about your coffee addiction that he always called unhealthy, how much you loved crafting recipes in your kitchen late into the night until you got it perfect, how you absolutely hated thunderstorms and could even tell whenever you were upset even from a mere text, prompting him to call you as soon as he could to talk about it.

It was too much to risk such a great friendship for a stupid crush. He meant too much to you which is exactly why you’d settled for never ever confessing to him.

You hum softly as you finally pulled your face away from the table, a satisfied smile coming upon your face as the finished tart lay atop the marble counter, gold flecks glinting in the yellow lights of the kitchen.

You picked up your phone then, frowning as you noticed the lack of texts. Kyungsoo had finally completed the premiere and tour for his latest movie, arriving back home early today morning for a well-deserved break, albeit short. You knew that his friends would most probably throw him a party—as per their tradition—but he’d texted you earlier that he would definitely drop by the bakery around midnight, at the latest.

Which was your tradition. He’d visit his mother, have a meal with his parents and then come straight to you, loudly yelling that you’d better have his favourite pies waiting for him, “or else”.

You stare at your phone, contemplating if you should send a picture of the tart and fully utilise his weakness for sweet treats against him but the screen suddenly lights up with an incoming message.

You sigh as you place your phone back on the counter and glance dejectedly down at the tarts. Pursuing your lips, you wondered if there was something wrong and if Kyungsoo was okay—it was the first time that he’d cancelled on your tradition of meeting you on the day that he got back itself.

He’s at home, probably well-fed, pampered and completely spoiled rotten by his mother so you decided to not dwell further on it. You place the tarts into airtight containers and placed them in the fridge then, yawning softly as you decided to call it a day and head home.

You were positive that you could see the colour red as you glanced at the clock hanging over the paintings on your wall, feeling more livid than you’d ever been.

It had been three days. Three days since Kyungsoo had arrived and your stupid “tradition” was in shreds—the both of you hadn’t met at all.

The day after the night he spent at his parents’ place, you waited for him all morning at the bakery before texting him. He’d called you immediately and apologised profusely, saying that he had to meet his manager at the company and that something urgent had come up. You’d let it go again but he hadn’t contacted you at all after that and you’d waited all day until finally calling him right before bed.

The conversation had been short, his words muted and seeming tired so you’d hung up without pressing too much.

But then you’d went over directly to his parents’ place yesterday. You’d been stunned to find that he wasn’t there, his mother cheerfully mentioning that he had left early in the morning “because of some work” and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d lost your appetite. After stuffing yourself full with an entire lunch that his mother had not let you leave without, you’d called him. He’d apologised again, “another work thing” and finally ended the call after mutually agreeing that he’d come over to your place early the next morning, eat breakfast with him and heading back to the bakery later in the afternoon.

It was the next morning, the pancakes you’d made were cold and soggy now, the clock read 10:19AM and Kyungsoo was nowhere in sight.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you hissed murderously, grabbing your phone and pulling up your messages to text him.

You shoved your phone away in fury, grabbing the plate of pancakes and hurriedly storing them back in the oven before grabbing the keys to your car and heading out of your apartment. You had half-a-mind to drive over to the company and ask his manager which goddamn hotel he was staying at before taking a deep breath, muttering a string of curses lowly to clear your head and pulling out of the parking space.

The entire day was a mess. Chanyeol, your commis baker, was surprised to see you head in earlier than you said you would, all of the kitchen crew and bakers flinching as you glared and yelled at them to get their shit together. You busied yourself in the kitchen, feeling Johnny’s wary eyes on you as you punched the dough like a possessed madwoman. Perhaps you weren't as good at masking your emotions as you thought you were, the entire staff catching onto the fact that their usually-cheerful patisserie chef was perhaps not seeing dough for fresh bread but instead visualising the mochi cheeks of the man whom Korea had lovingly dubbed as the actor with the most perfect heart-shaped smile.

Perfect, my ass, you thought derisively.

The day passed in phases. By 4PM, you’d baked way more puff pastries than necessary, waving off Chanyeol who meekly suggested to stop making so many since there was already a piling excess which would most probably be wasted if not sold by tonight. You told them all to just take some home, that there were your treat and involuntarily, your hands started to slow down as evening dawned, your upper arms beginning to ache slightly because you didn’t pace yourself in your rage.

You sighed as you headed to the back of the kitchen, walking through the smaller door that was alongside the pantry—a smaller space that was solely for you, a place that you lovingly called your own and was the birth of many of your sweet creations.

The anger shifted to the second phase in the evening, one that infuriated you more because at least you were productive with your fury. Now, you just slumped at the marble countertop while staring at the small fridge in the corner that still held the gold-leafed chocolate tart from two nights ago.

You sighed as you buried your face in your flour-stained palms. This has never happened and it was stressing you out in levels that you had never expected it to—because you’d never had a fight with Kyungsoo. Petty arguments, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with his spaghetti or your macaroons.

Then again, he’d never been like this. Never had he avoided you, never had he cancelled multiple times on you repeatedly, never had he broke the sacred tradition of meeting you as soon as he was back. It had been too many times now to be a mere coincidence, he was definitely avoiding you. You could tell that he was lying and your anger from today morning had subsided to just an intense worry that felt like cramps in your lower abdomen, sighs falling from your lips as you wondered what was wrong.

You thought about calling his mother for a brief moment but you could already guess that she was just as oblivious as you, maybe even more. She hadn’t seemed fazed when you’d went over yesterday, hadn’t noticed the distress on your face as you realised that you’d missed him yet again.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever. Your limbs were sore and you knew your bed would be nothing short of welcoming right now but you didn’t want to go back home in a state like this where your thoughts would be louder than ever.

Around 9PM, you decided to call it a day and closed up early. You could see the relief in everyone’s faces, especially Chanyeol who looked like he wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out. Once the entire crew had left the bakery with a box of all your rage-fuelled treats—Chanyeol had been right, there had been way too many puff pastries, cake pops and enough cookies for the entire neighbourhood—you sat alone in your workspace with nothing but silence echoing around you.

Sighing softly, you stood up and connected your phone to the small Bluetooth speakers placed at the corner of the room, putting on your Coldplay playlist. You washed your hands in the sink before setting out to make the lemon meringue pie.

There was a reason why Kyungsoo loved it the most amongst every other dessert you made—it was your go-to dessert whenever you were upset. Although the recipe wasn’t challenging nor was it particularly difficult to make, it does require a lot of patience and dedication to get a flawless pie every time. Kyungsoo loved watching you create it; you’d lost count of the number of times he’d walked in to see you furiously whipping the cream filling for the pie. The amount of concentration it took at each step usually helped calm your nerves, distracting your noisy thoughts enough to focus on the dessert at hand.

Initially, you’d thought he called it his favourite only because he’d seen first-hand how much effort it took to bake it but then Kyungsoo had explained that he could taste the effort, that the tarty tanginess of the lemon filling which would first wash over his tongue slowly morphs into the subtle sweet aftertaste of the creamy meringue which was addicting enough to make you crave for more.

There was a small part of you that didn’t believe him when he’d said that and an even smaller part that had been too flattered to believe it, unable to even form a coherent response to it but baking the pie now made your chest ache as it occurred to you that it’d probably join the tarts in the fridge from two nights ago.

The lemon meringue pies tasted best when eaten immediately and he knew it—which was exactly why he often sat around to watch you make it.

You decided not to dwell on it. Once you were done with the pie, you’d call him one last time to ask if he could meet you wherever possible tonight itself. You’d use the pies as an extra leverage, perhaps as a ruse to just lure him out. Just so you could yell at him for being an idiot right at his face instead of at the phone.

You’d just lined the pastry base into the pan and chilled it for an hour before baking it in the oven while you whisked the lemon filling. The humming of the oven had involuntarily made your shoulders loosen up as you lost yourself in making the lemon filling and you were softly singing along to Yellow as it echoed around the small kitchen space.

The song suddenly stopped and your hands froze reflexively as you turned around to see your phone lighting up with an incoming call.

‘satansoo😈💕’

You dropped the whisk immediately and grabbed the dishcloth, wiping your hands hastily as you strode around the counter. You threw the cloth aside, hands still feeling slightly sticky as you grabbed your phone and disconnected the Bluetooth connection.

Your voice was slightly breathless as you finally answered, “Soo? Hello? Kyungsoo?”

There was dull music faintly thumping in the background but at a distance, as if muted. You frowned as the pause on the other side of the call lasted for almost three seconds before finally hearing an unfamiliar male voice.

“Hello? Y/N? Is this Y/N?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” you said loudly, furrowing your eyebrows as you felt a sense of dread creep into you. “Who is this? Where’s—?”

“You were the first on his emergency contact list,” the man interrupted, making your heart drop to your feet.

“What’s going on?” You asked hurriedly in a panic, your eyes widening as you felt your stomach twist. “Where’s Kyungsoo? Is he okay?”

“Ma’am, my name is Woo Shik and I’m the bartender at Club Exodus. Your friend is really really drunk,” the man replied, sounding slightly exasperated. “He came in around 7PM and got a room alone although we told him that he can’t do that singly but he insisted and said he’d even pay more for it. And now-now he’s just really drunk. He’s been yelling your name for the past half hour and crying something about rhu.. rhu something? Itaewon mess?”

“Rhubarb Eton mess,” you deadpanned, sighing. “I’m… I’ll be there as soon as I can. Could you just text me the address of the club, to this number?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send the location right now.”

“Okay, thank you, I’ll be there.”

You hang up quickly and your limbs feel like they’re frozen, uncoordinated from your brain as you will yourself to move. You feel disoriented, a thousand thoughts flying through your head as you quickly pull off your messy apron and grab your phone. You don’t bother fixing yourself much, knowing that you probably smelled like fresh dough and lemons as you hurriedly shut off the oven. You pause as you notice the halfway baked pie shell, wondering if you should call Chanyeol and ask him if he could clean up in here as a favour.

The large grandfather clock in the main lounge area of the bakery suddenly sounded, echoing softly in the back-kitchen and you glanced down at your phone.

10PM.

He’s been drinking by himself for three hours.

“Fuck it,” you mutter, snatching the oven mitts and not even bothering to put it on as you use it just to shield your hand whilst grabbing the hot pie tray.

Your legs seem to move faster than your brain then, your body moving almost robotically as you threw the half-whisked lemon filling in its large glass bowl, the pastry shell and the cream for the meringue into the small fridge. It only held a few failed recipes and a couple of disfigured-looking pastries that you usually snacked on, along with Soo’s dark chocolate gold tart from two nights ago that you hadn’t had the heart to throw away, having expected him to walk into the bakery at some godforsaken hour and claim the dessert.

You felt a slight ache now as you stashed everything into the fridge, knowing how many ingredients that you’d just wasted because there was no way even you could resurrect or save this disaster after leaving this kitchen now.

Knowing that there was no time to regret it, you quickly cleaned up the counters and the rest of the workspace, grabbing your car keys and the lock to the bakery. You closed up the store and hurriedly got into the car, pulling up the location that the bartender had just sent you as you started driving to the club.

Your worry finally had a chance to fully materialise through the drive, your anxiety not allowing you to even play the radio as you raced to Club Exodus. It briefly occurred to you that there probably was a huge problem, something big that was worrying Kyungsoo if he was willing to go to the extent of booking a hotel room away from his parents and even avoiding you.

If there was anyone besides his mother who could read and see through him as well as she did, it was you.

God, Kyungsoo, what is going on?

You pulled up to the front of the club in almost half an hour, quickly jumping out and hurriedly gesturing to the car at the valet service guy standing at the entrance before heading in.

You approached the woman at the reception, your voice low as you asked, “I’m looking for Woo Shik? He’s with a friend of mine…”

“Oh yes, ma’am, hold on.” You weren’t even looking around the place, your senses almost numbed with tension as you followed the uniformed man to whom she gestured, one step behind him as he lead you away from what sounded like the main hall with its booming music that you could feel reverberating through the walls.

He showed you to a door and you could already hear Kyungsoo’s deep laughter even before entering. You pushed open the door and your eyes immediately fell on your best friend, his cheeks appearing redder than you’d ever seen them as he laid back on the black leather couches. A man in the dark burgundy uniform of the club who you assumed to be Woo Shik was trying to clear the table alongside the couch in a desperate attempt to save the bottles and glasses of alcohol from falling onto the floor.

“Kyungsoo,” you said flatly and Woo Shik looked up from the couch towards you, wide eyes filled with exasperation.

“Y/N?” He asked hopefully and you nodded, sighing.

“Did he drink more after we called?” You asked, stepping into the room fully and scrunching your nose in disgust at the way the place was reeking with alcohol.

“No, but he’d been chugging for a while and they’re all settling in now, I think,” Woo Shik explained tiredly, stepping away to let you walk around the table towards your drunk best friend.

You forgot what to even say as you looked at Kyungsoo who was giggling giddily on the couch, his eyes closed as his hands flailed mindlessly. He looked almost smaller in the way that he was curled up on the leather seats and you could see that he’d grown thinner since the last time you’d seen him. His cheeks were very flushed and that’s when you realised that this was the first time you’d seen him so shit-faced drunk. Of the both of you, he was the one with the higher tolerance and he’d seen you blackout drunk more times than you’d seen him in the past three years and it occurred to you that he must have definitely had way too much than usual tonight to be like this.

“Soo,” you heard yourself mumble, your hands reaching for his that were still blindly reaching for something in the air. His eyes snap open when he feels your hands clasp around his, dark shining gaze shifting towards you. You watch as his eyes widen and even before you can react, his grip tightens fiercely around your hand as he yanks you to him with a high-pitched squeal of your name.

You curse as you almost collapse on top of him on the couch, feeling his body beneath yours that was radiating so much warmth that you would have mistaken him to have a fever if it weren’t for all the alcohol lying around.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” Kyungsoo slurred, smiling happily up at you as he wrapped his arms snugly around your middle while staring down at you. You felt your heart slightly melt at his elated expression, your anger and worry momentarily dissipating as you gazed back into his shining eyes.

“Hi,” you replied softly, feeling almost shy from the way he was looking at you as you realised that Woo Shik was still in the room and probably waiting for you to collect the mess that you had in your arms who had caused him enough trouble.

“Okay, can you sit up?” You ask slowly like you’re talking to a child as you pull away enough to help him sit upright. He’s still gripping one of your hands tightly and you let him use your other arm as a support to pull him upwards slowly so as not to make him dizzy.

You look up at Woo Shik then, your tone apologetic as you ask, “How much is all of this?”

“He already paid, ma’am,” Woo Shik replied, shaking his head at you.

“Okay, I’ll just take him away then, I’m so sorry for the trouble,” You quickly say as you grab Kyungsoo’s arm and throw it around your neck. You put your own arm around his waist, holding him to your side while trying not to inhale the alcohol-stench reeking off of him. Woo Shik offers help but you shake your head at him as you help Kyungsoo out of the club. He suggests the back entrance then, mentioning that it’d be safer because of his actor status and quickly hurries to tell the valet to bring your car.

You manage, with much difficulty, to finally seat Kyungsoo inside your car and strap him in safely. Once he is settled, you sincerely thank Woo Shik for all his help and make a mental note to send him some treats tomorrow and finally get back into your car. After driving away from the club, you slow down at a secluded alley and turn to Kyungsoo whose head is turned to face the window.

You gently shake his shoulder, wondering if he’s asleep as you softly call out, “Soo? Kyungsoo?”

His eyes blink open slowly and he turns to you, appearing almost woozy. You watch then as his eyes widen and the same elated expression from earlier washes over his face, his arms reaching out to wrap tightly around your frame as he again exclaims, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii.”

“Yeah, yeah, hi, hi,” you mutter, rolling your eyes in exasperation as you try to pull away from his death-grip. Any other time, you’d have been taking videos of him like this to use as precious blackmail later.

“Soo,” you call out his name again as you try to get his attention on you. Once he is blinking at you while still grinning like an idiot, you enunciate slowly, “Your hotel. Where is it? Which hotel are you staying at?”

Kyungsoo blinks incomprehensibly and you see his grin widen, mouth opening excitedly to squeal your name again and you manage to grab his arms, stopping him from hugging you yet again.

“Kyungsoo!” You call out loudly, watching him flinch and you instantly lower your tone as you slump back in your seat while staring at him helplessly. There was no way you could take him back to his parents’ place when he was like this and you knew that his mother didn’t know the hotel that he was staying at either since she hadn’t mentioned it the last time.

Sighing, you turn with resignation towards the steering wheel and start up the car again, deciding to just take him home.

It wasn’t like he’d never been to your place before—he’d slept over on your couch multiple times but this would be the first time that he’d be doing it when absolutely wasted.

Kyungsoo hums softly beneath his breath as you drive and you’re quiet, listening to him as you chew on your lip nervously while wondering if you should talk to him. You knew he was drunk as hell and by the state that he was in, you guessed that his chances of remembering any of this tomorrow morning would probably be extremely low.

You decided to risk it.

“Soo,” you started tentatively and you were surprised when the humming stopped, knowing his attention was on you. You clear your throat before asking slowly, “Why didn’t you meet me?”

He frowns and you can hear the pout in his voice as he slurs, “Because you’re an idiot.”

You turn to look at him in amazement, eyes wide at the stupid response. “What?”

You turn back to the road as he continues, “It’s true. My mother says so too.”

“Your-your mother?” You sputtered, feeling more confused by the second. What the hell is he talking about? “She said not to meet me because I’m an idiot?”

“Nooooooooo,” Kyungsoo whined and you noticed him shift in his seat slightly from your peripheral as he explained, “I decided not to meet you. Mom told me that I’m an idiot. I think you’re the idiot but Mom says it’s me.”

You should just pull over and leave him on the roadside.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm as you reminded yourself to treat him like a child. He is a child and you need information so you tried again, slowly asking, “Why are we idiots?”

There’s a pause then and Kyungsoo mumbles something in reply, incoherent again.

You slow to a stop at the red light as you turn to face him fully now, squinting at him. “What? Why are we idiots, Kyungsoo?”

“Because I like you,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly and your eyes widen then, heart jumping to your throat.

Everything freezes around you and you stare at him, certain that you’d heard wrong as he leans back against the headrest, sighing dramatically again as he softly explains, “I’ve liked you for a long time but you’re an idiot to never see it. Mom told me I’m the idiot for never telling you but you’re the idiot for never seeing the signs.”

“S-signs?” You repeated, your voice cracking in your throat. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you ask quietly, “What signs?”

Kyungsoo sighs again, longer this time and you’re almost tempted to grab him by his shoulders and shake him angrily to get him to speak faster. You felt like you were going to be sick and this idiot was putting on the show of his life, acting dramatically like his rent was due the next morning.

“Sooooooo many signs, Y/N,” he slurs your name, dragging his words tiredly as he turns to you. He faces you and pouts childishly as he asks, “You think I run to all my friends’ arms whenever I come home on break? You think I cook with parsley which I hate with all my heart for anyone else? It’s only for you, because of how much you love it on your spaghetti. Most of my friends don’t even know I cook. I never even had a thing for sweets until you and I told you that but you’re an idiot. You thought its cause I love everything you make that much but that’s only a part of it. You idiot.”

You stare at him speechlessly and jump when you hear a loud honk behind you. Dazed, you look ahead and realise the traffic lights had changed to green, slowly prompting you to shift the gear and start driving again as the cars continued honking noisily behind.

You swallowed loudly, hearing an internal screaming in your head as you tried to gather your thoughts and process the words you’d just heard. You’re about to ask more, you don’t even know what, when you hear him murmuring softly again. You catch the word ‘rhubarb’ and start to ask why he kept ranting about your Rhubarb Eton mess custard and that’s when it suddenly hits you.

The last time that he’d come home for break, the time that he’d spent with you before leaving for the movie that he’d just finished shooting, you’d made him the Rhubarb Eton mess custard. The call to travel to Japan had been abrupt, causing him to have to leave on short notice and he’d spent the night before his flight with you at the bakery. It was after working hours, close to midnight and you’d been experimenting and crafting desserts with rhubarbs since they were in-season and had whipped up the Rhubarb Eton mess custard quickly just for him.

He’d watched you in his usual seat opposite the counter as you made it and after having his first spoon, he’d scooped a spoonful of the creamy custard and fed it to you. After taking the bite, however, the blood-red juice of the rhubarb had stained your lips with a bit of the whipped cream at the edge of your mouth.

Kyungsoo had reached out almost reflexively, his thumb swiping against your lip and you’d gone still, both of your gazes locking as you’d felt the atmosphere shift. You thought it had only been in your head, that it had only been you wondering what the expression on his face would be if you leaned forward and sucked the cream from his thumb, if his eyes would dilate watching your lips wrap around his digit the way that you were sure your eyes had when his hand had reached towards your mouth.

You could still recall how terse the silence had been then, both of you in a silent stare-off as you waited for the other to make a move and Kyungsoo had finally broken the moment by retrieving his hand, flashing you an innocent grin as he licked the cream from his thumb and quietly finished the rest of the dessert.

Your heart had been hammering in your chest that whole night and you’d never even known.

“Oh god,” you breathed out involuntarily as understanding finally dawned over you. Kyungsoo had been humming beside you again but at your words, he went quiet and you continued, “The rhubarb custard. You’re talking about—”

Kyungsoo groaned loudly then, confirming your suspicions as he huffed in annoyance.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad that night,” he almost whined and you felt your cheeks reddening at his confession as he continues ranting, “You were just standing there with your lips looking all glossy and red from the syrup and that stupid whipped cream on your upper lip! I was already upset cause I had to leave you so soon and you were just standing there like an idiot and I just wanted to eat you instead of that damn custard.”

Holy fucking hell. “Kyung—”

“I’ve been whipped for you forever, Y/N,” Kyungsoo admitted, shutting you up abruptly. “I’m whipped for you like your whipped cream. Like your Eton mess. Like your perfect custard. Like your pies. Like—”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I get it,” you quickly interrupt him, desperately wanting him to shut up because you were certain that you’d cause an accident with the way your heart was pounding right now, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your thoughts were disorienting. You were driving mindlessly, taking longer routes because you didn’t how much longer this conversation would go, if it would last all the way to your apartment or if he’d sober up once he got home. You felt like you were dreaming, like this conversation was unreal and wondered briefly if you’d gotten drunk with him too back at the club and this was just some cruel dream.

“Why…” you croak and you clear your throat before trying again. “Why didn’t you meet me?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to—” You loudly inhale through your mouth, knuckles almost turning white around the steering wheel as you grit out, “Did. You. Avoid. Me. Because you like me?”

“Min Ah…”

He trailed off and you frowned in confusion, pausing as you faintly recognised the name. “‘Min Ah’? Jung Min Ah? Isn’t that your co-star for the movie you just did?”

Kyungsoo nods and he mumbles sleepily, “She said she likes me during the wrap-up party but I could only think of you. I didn’t want to see you until I got my shit together and sorted out my feelings because I didn’t want to accidentally confess to you.” He pauses then and you’re surprised when he lets out a loud humourless laugh. “Maybe I am the idiot.”

You hesitate before asking, “Why don’t you want to confess to me?”

Kyungsoo is quiet for a while after that and you glance at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep but he appears to be deep in thought. His words are almost unheard as he finally mumbles, “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

You fall silent at his heavy words, the intensity of the underlying meaning getting to you as you feel something break inside of you.

You don’t say anything for the rest of the ride then and Kyungsoo dozes off, falling asleep cutely with his mouth hanging open as he lays his head back against the seat while you drown in your thoughts.

Regardless of your feelings and how much you liked him too, the words that Kyungsoo had just uttered terrified you. Friendships were stable, they endured even the ugliest of fights and lasted longer while relationships were fragile; one slip and you could lose Kyungsoo. He didn’t confess to you because he didn’t know about your feelings but now that you knew that he felt the same, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to take the risk.

It could be the end to something beautiful.

But it could also be the beginning to something more beautiful, a small voice in your head reminded you.

Or it could be the beginning to something even more beautiful that would soon reach its untimely but inevitable end and leave you with only heartache and the absence of a best friend that you’d have to burden forever.

You sighed softly as you finally parked your car in front of your apartment. You glanced at Kyungsoo and realised he was sleeping soundly, looking so warm and comfortable that it made you hesitate in awakening him. You got out of the car and walked to his side, throwing his arm around your shoulder while softly calling his name. He woke up enough to step out of the car and you helped him up to your apartment, panting by the time you finally reached your door.

You lead him straight to your bedroom, resigning to spend the night on your couch since you knew he could definitely use the entire bed in the state that he was in. You help him out of the thickly-lined trench coat that he was wearing, holding your breath to not inhale the stench of the alcohol as you decided to just throw them all with the laundry tomorrow morning.

You remove his shoes and pull off his socks but your hands hesitate mid-air before reaching for his pants. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his legs before or anything—god knows he’d helped undress you from uncomfortable clothes on multiple nights when you’d gotten too drunk—but your stomach was twisting now as if he was a whole new person who you were stripping.

God, stop overthinking it.

You force yourself to help him out of his pants, purposefully not letting your eyes go astray as you decided to leave him in the thin black sweater that he was wearing and his boxers. You grabbed your blankets and tucked it around him, smiling slightly when you notice Kyungsoo immediately snuggle to the warm sheets like a child, making himself comfortable as he closed his eyes.

You went to the kitchen then, grabbing a tall glass of water and some aspirin pills before heading back to your room. You’d just placed them on the small bedside table and was turning to leave when you felt a fierce grip on your wrist.

Your breath stopped in your throat as you looked down to see Kyungsoo holding onto you, half-lidded eyes gazing up at you as he whispered one word.

“Stay.”

You step towards the bed then, getting on your knees on the floor so that your face would be at the same level as his. You raised the hand that he wasn’t holding to stroke his cheek gently as you murmured, “Sleep, Soo.”

He was quiet, his eyes still dark and intense as they remained locked with yours. Your heart thudded as you briefly wondered if he’d come to his senses and if he remembered everything that he’d just revealed to you but then he opens his mouth again.

“Do you know something?” His voice is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret and you shake your head quietly.

“You always smell like the bakery,” he whispers, smiling softly in a way that made your heart ache. “You smell like fresh bread and sweet vanilla and strong coffee. You smell like happiness. Like home.”

A soft sigh of disbelief escapes your parted lips at his words, his eyes having closed off while he spoke as he slowly fell into deep slumber.

You were so goddamn blind.

“We’re both idiots,” you snort quietly as you gently loosen his grip around your wrist and walk out of the room.

But you decided to be the bigger idiot.

You heard Kyungsoo shuffling inside your room around noon the next day, making you glance at your bedroom door from where you sat on the couch.

The night had seemed to last forever. After putting Kyungsoo to bed, you’d spent the entire night tossing and turning on the couch restlessly. You briefly considered waking up and baking something or even heading to the bakery so that you could angrily complete that lemon meringue pie you’d left half-baked but your body was extremely exhausted and refused to even move. All the activities of the strenuous day yesterday had completely worn you out yet your brain refused to cooperate, unwilling to grant you the bliss of sleep as your thoughts grew louder with each passing hour of the night. Kyungsoo’s words, his drunken confession all echoed like a haunting melody within your head, forcing you to reminisce and reassess every moment that you’d spent together, viewing it in a light that you’d assumed to only be exclusive to you but had perhaps been the same light that he’d been seeing you in as well.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You felt more conflicted than you did when he had stood you up and you began to wonder if it had even been a good idea to even go to the club last night.

Should you have even brought him back to your place?

You could hear the shower in your room then and you knew he was probably washing off the events from last night, the stench of all the drinks that he’d downed. You sighed as you grabbed his chopsticks for the Chinese take-out that you’d just ordered—both of your go-to hangover food—since you knew he’d probably be hungry. You hadn’t bothered with breakfast because you knew that he wouldn’t wake up by then so you’d just settled on brunch.

The door opens and your heart jumps as you look up, eyes locking with Kyungsoo. He’d found one of his tees that he’d given you—“you stole it,” he insisted—and sweatpants that he’d left here from a previous sleepover. He looked better than he did last night and you cleared your throat, ignoring the nervous flutter in your chest as you asked blankly, “How’s your head?”

Kyungsoo nodded, stepping forward into the room. “It’s a lot better now. I woke up in the night with a headache and had the aspirin before sleeping again.” He hesitated before murmuring, “Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why’d you drink so much then, idiot?” You snort as you start to stand up, grabbing your phone.

You gesture to the food on the table. “I ordered Chinese. Have lunch and take another aspirin before you head back… home. Or to the hotel. Or wherever.”

Kyungsoo frowned at you as you searched for your bag. “Wait, what? You’re leaving?”

“I have a bakery to run, Kyungsoo,” you snort, finding your bag and grabbing your car keys as you head for the door while muttering, “I can’t keep coming in late because of you—”

“Y/N, I remember last night.”

You stop, hand freezing on the doorknob as your entire body goes still. Your back is facing him but you can feel his gaze on your back, feel the weight of it.

Kyungsoo’s usual deadpan tone sounds more wry than you’d ever heard it then as he says, “I remember last night so you can stop faking it and talk to me.”

Shit, shit, shit.

You take a breath, forcing yourself to slowly turn around and face him. You relent, throwing the keys and bag aside, crossing your arms in an effort to not reveal the way that your hands are slightly trembling as you nonchalantly reply, “I’m not faking anything, Kyungsoo, I am very mad at you.”

He rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to answer but you cut him off by asking, “How much?”

His gaze shifts to you and you clarify, “How much do you remember?”

“Enough,” Kyungsoo replies, carefully watching you now. When you don’t falter, he concedes, “Enough to know that I confessed to you.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you uncross your arms. “Look, it doesn’t have to be—”

“Is this your answer?”

You stop then, looking up at him with wide eyes. You frown at the shift in tone, noticing the despair that he was trying to hide in his expression as you ask, “What do you mean?”

“The fact that you’re pretending that nothing happened,” he answered, stepping forward as he spoke. “The fact that you’re ignoring everything I told you last night. Does it mean that this is never happening? That you’ve never liked me the way I’ve liked you?”

Your eyes are wide, back pressed to the door as he stood in front of you. The words that you wished to respond—even though you had no idea what they even were—were stuck in your throat as you gazed up at him, your breath growing shorter as you felt him raise his arm beside you to place it on the door as if to cage you in.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, his close proximity and husky voice making your head feel like it was going to spin. Your lips parted of their own accord, head slightly arching back to look up at him as his plush lips hovered over your own. His face was close enough that his warm breath was mingling with yours and you could smell the minty toothpaste—your minty toothpaste.

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your chest that you could hear it, your eyes greedily drinking in the close proximity as they ran over his face with enough scrutiny to commit every detail to memory—the way his long lashes looked against his pale cheek, the tiny almost invisible mole right over his upper lip and the way his eyes looked like they were shining from within as they gazed at you.

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat as he leaned his head slightly to the side, angling his lips to yours until there was only a fraction of space between your mouths. You held your breath as he murmured, the words brushing against your parted lips, “Stop me, Y/N.”

And then Kyungsoo was kissing you.

Your eyes seemed to refuse to close, your body frozen like a statue and your arms were immobile at your sides as you felt his plush lips press against yours. It was light, hesitant and tentative like he was waiting for you to shove him off any second but you could feel the blood pounding through your head and coursing within every vein at that moment.

Fuck it.

You raised your hands tentatively, closing your eyes and almost collapsed back into the door as you started kissing him back. You felt Kyungsoo move his hand from the door then to gingerly place it on your hip and his other hand took your raised one that was hovering between your bodies to place it on his shoulder.

You made a soft sound of approval as you finally melted into the kiss, closing your eyes and digging your fingers into his shoulder to kiss him harder. Kyungsoo grabbed you by your hip then, holding you flush against him as he started kissing you more passionately while you dropped cupped his face with both your hands. You traced your tongue over his lower lip slowly and he was instantly parting his lips, slipping his own tongue into your mouth. Your guess was right earlier, you could taste the mint and as corny as it was, it had never tasted sweeter.

The kiss grew tender as he realised how breathless you seemed to be getting, both of your pulling away slightly while smiling against each other’s lips. Your eyes fluttered open to see Kyungsoo was smiling so hard that his eyes had become little crescents as they looked at you.

“You didn’t stop me,” Kyungsoo breathed out, sounding incredulous enough that you let out a soft laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated his words from last night, thumb stroking his cheek affectionately before correcting, “Well, we both are. I wouldn’t have stopped you ever, Soo.”

He pauses, gaze shifting from both your eyes as he asks quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For the same reasons you didn’t,” you replied with a sheepish smile. You suddenly grin with the memory of last night as you say, “If only you told me earlier, I could have said that I’m whipped for you too.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrowed at that, nose scrunching cutely in confusion as he repeats, “Too?”

“You said last night that you’re whipped for me like whipped cream. That you’re whipped like my Eton mess, like my pies, like my custard—”

“Oh my god, stop!” Kyungsoo buried his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment, making you burst out laughing aloud as you fully wrapped your arms around his back and held him to you. His voice was muffled as he mumbled, “Most of those things aren’t even whipped.”

“I know!” You laughed again and pulled him away enough from you to look at his face. His cheeks were faintly rosy and it reminded you of last night again.

His voice is grumpy as he asks, “What else did I say last night?”

“A lot of things,” you teased, grinning as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “Enough to torture you for at least a decade.” You gasp exaggeratedly, raising your voice dramatically as you wonder aloud, “Who would have ever thought that Korea’s favourite actor Do Kyungsoo who has an internal breakdown every time he has to do aegyo and act cute was actually so cheesy and corny? That he would look me in the eyes, with his chest out while proudly saying that he is whipped for me like my whipped cream, that he would rather eat me than my custard—”

Kyungsoo grabbed your face then and shutting you up by kissing you again. You grinned against his mouth as he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, lifting you up against the door so that your legs curl around his lean hips.

“Aren’t you hungry?” You murmured into the kiss.

“Yeah, for you,” he countered, kissing your jawline. His husky voice right in your ear made the small hairs on the back of your neck rise as he groaned, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?”

“Mm, show me,” you hummed, taking his face into your hands again as you kissed him harder. You thought Kyungsoo would lead you to the couch but he carries you to your bedroom instead, laying you down on the edge so that your legs are hanging off the edge of the bed. You blink up at him, pouting slightly as you clutch the front of your shirt—his shirt. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow then, smirking slightly as he asks, “In a hurry, are we?”

“You think you’re the only one who’s been waiting forever?” You retort, using your elbows to push yourself back further up the mattress. You grab his hand and yank him harshly towards you, making him stumble slightly as he almost fell over your body while you started lifting his shirt off of him.

Kyungsoo raises his arms, helping you pull off the thin shirt and you immediately grab his shoulders, pushing him onto the bed beneath you. He blinks up at you in surprise as you throw your leg over his waist to straddle him, his gaze questioning as he looks at the blouse that you still had on.

“I’m going to be so late for work,” you muttered, pulling the blouse off your neck and throwing it across the room as Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at you.

“Chanyeol can hold the fort down for one day, Y/N,” he snorts as he sits upright against the headboard to grab your hips and seat you on his lap properly. You feel the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants brush against your clothed core and your lips part open of their own accord, making him smirk almost dangerously at you as he murmurs, “Has anyone told you that you’re a workaholic, babygirl?”

The word is so foreign from his lips, his expression so foreign yet familiar as he gripped your hips tightly to adjust you right over the tent in his pants. He leans forward and kisses you with an almost vehement fervour, trailing his hungry mouth over your cheeks, jawline and down the curve of your neck. You sigh softly, eyes closing and head arching back as you feel his plush mouth suck on the sensitive soft spot on your throat, his tongue licking incessantly.

Kyungsoo’s hands move almost unnoticeably, curving around your back to unclasp your bra as he marks up your neck. There’s a fire coursing through your body, making you feel as if you’d been plugged into a circuit—every place on your body that he was touching; his lips, his fingers, his firm thighs spread beneath your own, his warm breath were all sending crackles and tingles of electricity through your veins.

You could feel the outline of his hardness against your thin shorts now, your wet heat pressed right up against him and his fingers expertly pull the bra off your body. His cool fingers are cupping your breasts then, thumbs stroking your nipples experimentally as he teasingly thrusts his hips up into you.

A loud moan leaves your lips unintentionally at the sparks of arousal ignited by his touch and your eyes snap open as you hear yourself, feeling Kyungsoo still slightly beneath you at the very porn-star-like noise that you’d just made.

He pulls away from your neck to look up at your wide eyes and you’re already opening your mouth to apologise, feeling the embarrassment swallowing you but he grabs the side of your neck then, kissing you fiercely.

“You sound so fucking beautiful,” he groaned huskily, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, his voice a breathy whisper as he said, “To think that I could have been hearing those moans all this time.”

Your heart swells with an emotion that you can’t quite describe, an overwhelming need to feel as much of him taking over your senses as you crash your lips to his heatedly. Kyungsoo responds immediately, kissing you back just as hard as his fingers continue playing with your breasts and tweaking the nipples while you moan just for him.

Your own hand that had been on his chest lowers down his torso and slips underneath the elastic band of his sweatpants. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, eliciting a groan at the back of his throat as you smile into the kiss while stroking him up and down.

Lips latching onto the spot beneath his ear, you kiss and suck at the skin gently while pressing him back against the headboard. Teasingly, you explore his length leisurely with your hand and feel the way that it is already slick with pre-cum, using your thumb to spread the fluid around the slit.

You gasp against his neck when his hands tighten harshly around your breasts, fingers squeezing your nipple roughly enough that you felt it all the way in your throbbing pussy. Quickening the pace of your wrist, you continue circling the soft bulbous head of his dick with your thumb while he gropes your breasts. You pull away then to look at him, watching the way his chest heaves with the movement of your hand and his eyes flutter dazedly at you.

His gaze is unfocused and you lean forward then, kissing him as you start stroking his length with repeated up-and-down motions. Kyungsoo grabs your wrist then, stopping you and he pulls away from your mouth enough to say, “You’re going to make me cum like this.”

Kyungsoo’s hands find your hips then, tugging at the black shorts that you had on and you let him slip his hands beneath the waistband, pulling both your shorts and panties down your bare thighs. You raise your ass off his lap and yank the material from around your ankles hurriedly before straddling him again.

You grab his erection then, holding your breath and watch Kyungsoo’s face, noticing the awe on his face as you rub his head over your slit that was glistening with arousal.

“Oh fuck,” he curses lowly as you guide his dick inside you, the head parting open your dripping slit and your eyes were already fluttering at the immense pleasure you felt with just his tip inside you. You didn’t even realise the way you’d been whimpering until Kyungsoo shifts his gaze higher to watch your face, staring at you as you arched your head back while slowly pushing yourself down onto his length.

Your free hand is on his shoulder, his own wrapped around your wrist as you whimpered his name breathily when you feel his thick length stretching your tight walls open in the most pleasurable way. Kyungsoo’s arms wrap around your waist then as you begin moving up and down on his lap, riding his dick at an already speedy pace while you felt your lower abdomen tighten with arousal.

His plush lips latched onto your breast then and you moaned loudly, grabbing the back of his head and holding it to your chest as he sucked your nipple into his warm mouth. The wet warmth of his tongue and lips, along with the way his dick felt inside you as the tip brushed against your clit with every movement you made all had you soon trembling on his lap as you tried to reach both your highs.

Growing impatient, Kyungsoo grabs your hips then and pulls you off of his length, making you gasp at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your walls desperately clenching around nothing. He shifts you around so that you’re lying back on the mattress, hands quickly removing the sweatpants that he still had on before crawling back atop you and spreading your legs wide.

His eyes are dark and heavy as they watch your face clearer then, memorising the way your lids flutter when he pushes his dick into your throbbing wetness again. You mewl softly as he fills you up again, already addicted to the way he feels inside you as you wrap your arms around his back.

You don’t get a moment longer to relish in the feeling as Kyungsoo immediately starts moving his hips at a quick and snappy pace against you, thrusting into you roughly enough that you can hear the echoes of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises of your core become louder with every thrust, your walls tightening with the looming orgasm as he fucks you and you don’t realise how loud you are until he lowers his face to your chest.

Walls clenching around him tightly as if to suck him inside you, he groans at how utterly tight you feel as he thrusts faster. Your pussy convulses as his teeth sinks into your sore breast, Kyungsoo realising how sensitive you are over there by the way your body instantly reacts to him as you feel yourself finally fall off the edge.

Your nails are digging into his back and you groan as Kyungsoo’s hips stutter against yours, the rapid way that your pussy clenches and unclenches around him as you cum setting off his own orgasm. You gasp as you feel his warm heat flood into your slickness, filling you up as he continues sloppily thrusting to draw out both your orgasms.

You’re whining his name into his flushed neck as you slowly come down from your high, hand lowering to the small of his back as he collapses on top of you. He buries his face in your shoulder, breathing hard as you wrap your other hand around the back of his head while trying to catch your own breath. Feeling him soften inside you, he begins to pull away slightly but you wrap your leg around him and push him to his side so that he is still inside you with your body still pressed up against him.

You’d always thought Kyungsoo looked beautiful but you don’t think you’d ever seen him as radiant as he was right now, basking in a post-orgasm glow as he smiles at you. His gaze is filled with so much warmth and affection, the same expression that he’d had yesterday at the club when he’d first seen you and you feel shy all over again.

“Hi,” you mutter embarrassedly and Kyungsoo laughs softly, nudging your nose with his own.

“Hi,” he teases back, grinning.

He wraps his arm around your waist then, pulling you to his chest and you snuggle in that familiar warmth, smiling when you feel him bury his nose in your hair and inhale, remembering his drunken words from earlier.

‘You smell like happiness. Like home’.

You tightened your arms around Kyungsoo then, finally being able to realise the emotions that you always felt around him, that you always felt with him and that you felt now when you held him. The way that your heart had always swelled with every touch and gaze of his, that indescribable happiness that took over your entire body every time that he came back from a shoot and you had your arms around him again.

Best friend or boyfriend, Kyungsoo was your happiness.

He was your home.

382 notes · View notes

demisexualemmaswan · 4 years ago

Text

till the summer comes again

Summary: “I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”- Lewis Carroll Emma has been dating Killian for two years, and since then their family unit has only gotten closer. But that could change with the arrival of Eloise Gardner, Killian’s ex. Oh, and has Emma mentioned she’s pregnant? Not exactly. A sequel to six impossible things before breakfast.

[Read on Ao3] A/N: It is 10:40pmEST on my posting date for @csjanuaryjoy and here I am getting this right under the wire. I did not intend to be posting this late, nor did I necessarily intend to write a sequel for a fic that I wrote two years ago and quite frankly had no intention of continuing. But here we are. At any rate: enjoy this CS January Joy fic! --

Pregnant.

Emma stared at it for what felt like a minute, and then looked at the other one just to be sure.

Pregnant.

And then she picked up the third one just to be safe.

Pregnant.

A veritable tempest of very conflicting emotions all swirled within her. Joy. Excitement. Nervousness. Dread. Fear.

She nearly grabbed her phone to text Killian to tell him right away, but a wave of nausea was stronger than all of it and she put her head in the toilet. “Seriously?” she complained, her hand curling protectively over her stomach. “Your brother Henry wasn’t like this, you know,” she admonished softly.

“Emma?” A hesitant knock sounded at the door, and the timid voice of Alice, Killian’s daughter, wafted in gently. “Emma, are you sure you’re okay? I’m sure Papa wouldn’t mind just bringing some Granny’s home if you wanted to stay in. I could make you some tea while we wait.”

Emma closed her eyes and considered her options as she kept her head pressed against the cool porcelain. On the one hand, staying at home sounded nice. On the other, Henry and Alice cherished family dinner night at Granny’s. They would certainly be flexible if Alice’s concern was anything to go by. But Emma knew that with the teen years on the horizon, they would only get so many more of these together.

“Emma?” Alice repeated.

“Mom?” Henry’s voice joined Alice’s.

“There is no need to get the Spanish inquisition together,” she told them, sitting up. “Something’s not sitting right with me, but I’ll get some soup at the diner and it’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t we go to the diner, make the order to go and then bring it back?” Henry suggested. “That way Mom doesn’t have to sit so long but we can still go!”

“I’ll text Papa!” Alice said excitedly, and Emma heard the thump of her footsteps as she sprinted away from the bathroom door.

Emma just smiled affectionately, even though neither of her kids could see her. She had to stop that thought for a moment, reflecting on how much had changed in the past two years. Ever since that fateful incident with the bullies, she and Killian had worked and built a relationship and a life together.

They’d bought a bigger apartment together, although with two almost teenagers and now a baby on the way she’d have to reconsider her whole living situation and maybe they’d have to buy a house.

She loved the life that she and Killian built so far. He was attentive, caring, and so good with Henry. And she’d come to love Alice’s tender heart, her creativity, and her sweet tooth. Though she hadn’t articulated this to Alice or Killian yet, admittedly too afraid to break the contentment she finally experienced for the first time in her life.

Emma knew, logically, that both Alice and Killian’s hearts were big enough that this would only strengthen things and not break them, but the little lost girl that lived in Emma’s brain loved to remind her of Neal at every opportune moment and stop her from feeling secure in her relationship.

She was working on this. With Archie every week. Sometimes Killian was there and sometimes she was alone. But she was working on it every day. And she wasn’t alone and her relationship baggage. Killian had told her about Milah, who was not Alice’s mom but had been sleeping with him while she was married and that ended poorly. She could see it in the way Killian’s jaw clenched whenever Alice’s mom came up in conversation.

Alice had stopped asking after a while, but the weight of her mother and the unanswered questions sometimes hung in her interactions with Emma.

“Emma?” Alice had returned to the door.

“Mom, are you dead?” Henry asked worriedly, jiggling the doorknob.

“I’m okay,” Emma called back. “I just…needed a minute.” She quickly cleaned up the mess up so the kids wouldn’t stumble upon the pregnancy tests by accident. She opened the door and soon had her arms full of two twelve-year olds, who she squeezed close to her. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll still have family dinner, just like always,” she hummed. She leaned over and kissed the top of their heads. “Now go get your shoes.”

Henry dashed away to go get his shoes, but Alice stayed curled in close to Emma for a moment longer.

“You okay, star?” Emma asked softly. Alice smiled a little bit against Emma’s side. The one time Emma had called her “starfish”, Alice had made it abundantly clear that she was only her father’s starfish. So Emma had compromised and asked how she felt about star. So Emma’s star she became.

“Mhmm. Just glad you are too,” Alice said softly, gently squeezing her.

Emma’s nausea greatly protested at the action, but she wouldn’t dare let it show on her face. Alice clearly needed reassurance, which Emma was more than happy to give. “C’mon, let’s go get see your Dad, hmm?”

Alice beamed up at her and raced off into the other room. Emma couldn’t help but smile, knowing that in her heart of hearts that Henry and Alice would be incredible older siblings.

But first she had to tell them.

As per their usual tradition, Alice and Henry went scampering off to the jukebox to play some songs, but Killian said that since they were only picking up food to go that they needed to compromise on the song choice rather than switching the two.

Over her shoulder, she could see the two kids having like a good natured argument as they flipped through the song choices. Warmed in thought, she swiveled on the counter stool to look at Killian.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, love?” Killian asked worriedly, his hand gently cupping her face.

Two years ago, she certainly would have no idea how integral Killian would become to her well-being. And it wasn’t bad before when she lived alone. She could take care of herself fairly easily and her son.

But to have a true and equal partner, who she could depend on and support, fall back on and push up when they needed meant more than she could say. For the first time in a long time, with Killian, nothing ever truly felt like that much of a struggle. Sure there were arguments and tension sometimes, but with Killian…she didn’t feel like she was white knuckling her grip through life.

Except for the fact that she was white knuckling a napkin in her hand right now, but that was more from nerves because she wanted to keep things the way they were. They’d never talked about kids, though they were both fairly young parents.

Another child wouldn’t be completely unreasonable.

“Love?” Killian’s voice brought her back out of her head. “Is everything okay?”

Looking into his eyes, Emma was warmed by the love and support she saw there. “Yeah, uh…” she started shyly. Her heart began to pick up faster and faster in her chest. “There’s just…something I need to tell you?”

“You know you can tell me anything,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. She smiled and dropped her head, smiling at her lap.

“Yeah, I know,” Emma laughed softly. “It’s just…” She picked her head back up, only for her smile to fade. Killian’s jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes blazed as he looked beyond her. “Killian?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Killian snarled, jumping off his stool and striding toward a woman who was now standing near Henry and Alice.

“Hello, Killian.” The woman’s voice seemed pleasant enough, but it struck a chord with Emma in a way she did not enjoy. She leaped off her chair and ushered the children in close to her. The woman narrowed her eyes at Emma. “Who is this? And why is she near my daughter?”

“Your daughter?” Emma repeated, dumbfounded.

“You lost every right to call her that over a decade ago, Eloise,” Killian growled, effectively putting himself between Eloise and Emma. “She’s my daughter. How did you even find us?”

“I was interested in getting to know my daughter a little bit better,” Eloise replied, that too pleasant voice still grating on Emma’s last nerve. “I’ll certainly be seeing you all very soon.”

Emma felt Alice’s quivering against her side, and she held the girl a little bit closer. “It’s okay,” she whispered, watching Eloise’s retreating form. “You’re okay…”

“Papa?” Alice asked gently, gingerly peeking her head around Emma. “Papa, is she really my mother?”

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly taking in the confused and devastated look from his daughter. His gaze met Emma’s, looking for a courage or absolution, she wasn’t sure quite which. But she was more than happy to grant it to him.

She certainly was no stranger to shitty exes.

So she nodded and gave him a small smile, doing her best to communicate with him that it was okay, that they would work through this new trial together.

Killian exhaled calmly, and a little smile crossed his face as well.

When they got home, Alice and Killian went to Alice’s room to talk privately.

“Shouldn’t this be a family conversation?” Henry asked worriedly. “What if she comes back when Alice and I are at school or something?”

“It is not our place to demand to be a part of that conversation,” Emma said patiently. “If Neal came back, do you think you’d want Alice to know right away or would you rather talk to me first?”

“I’d definitely want to talk just us first,” Henry admitted. “But I’d still want to tell Alice.”

“I think she will,” Emma laughed softly, kissing his head. “Just give her some time. It’s…it’s hard for her.”

“So what can I do, Mom?” Henry asked, his gaze flickering to Alice’s closed door. “Alice is my best friend, she’s practically my sister. I don’t want her to feel like she has to do this by yourself.”

She proudly smiled at her son, her heart near fit to burst. Henry’s acceptance of Killian only reaffirmed that he would make a fantastic older brother to his new brother or sister when the time came. “They really are our family, aren’t they?” she asked softly.

Henry nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Nice of you to catch up,” he teased, his hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. The joy faded for a moment when he added, “But seriously, Mom? How am I supposed to help her?”

Emma reached across the table to hold her son’s hand. “I think you just ask her how you can best support her and follow her lead. She’ll tell you whatever she’s ready to tell. And if she doesn’t want to talk about it and not want to think about it, then you can distract her and make her feel better.”

Henry thought over this advice before hugging her again. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, kid,” Emma said softly, kissing his head as she cupped the back of it. “You know you’ll always be number one in my life?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Henry said. “But I can make room for some other people if need be.”

“Good,” Killian replied softly. “The Jones are quite so lucky to be loved by the Swans.”

She was so focused in giving Henry advice that she didn’t even see Killian enter the room until Henry got up to hug him tightly. Killian squeezed him before adding roughly, “Alice is playing Smash Brothers if you want to go play with her.”

Henry dashed off, leaving the two adults in the room alone.

Killian was quiet for a moment before he gently pulled Emma into his arms. “I don’t think I tell you what a good job you’ve done with him on your own,” he told her softly against her hair. “He’s an incredible young lad and his heart is so big…he’s really become such an incredible man without the presence of Neal…”

“He’s so lucky to have men like David and you in his life,” Emma murmured, wrapping her arms around him to give him all the comfort he could want. She held him for a moment longer before asking, “So, how can I best support you, Killian?” He took in a shuddering breath and she squeezed him.

“Whatever your history with that woman is, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Emma promised softly against his skin. “You know I’m always going to see the best in you.”

“And I you,” Killian promised, kissing the top of her hair. “Can we…can we go to the couch?” he asked and she nodded, gently pulling him along to the living room. She sat, and looked back at Killian and tilted her head as he watched her appraisingly. “Are you feeling better? The kids were saying you were poorly.”

“If we’re gonna do some sharing, I can share after,” Emma said, her heartbeat picking up again as she thought about telling him about her pregnancy.

Killian sat across the couch from her and gently took his hand in hers. “I…I was young. Just broken up with Milah and just…not wanting to deal with the pain of losing her. So I was a bit…promiscuous, thinking it would just make it stop hurting.”

“I’m sure you never ran in short supply,” Emma teased lightly, just wanting to see the smile back in his eyes.

He huffed a laugh and gave her a small but cheeky smile. “Aye, my partners certainly never complained except if they were telling me not to stop.” She smiled and gently squeezed his hand again. “And one night I met Eloise at the bar.”

He stopped, looking down again. Her thumb gently dragged across his knuckles and she waited for him to speak again. She didn’t say anything, just kept the drag of her thumb across his knuckles consistent.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” Killian sighed. “I thought I’d made it clear that I didn’t want anything beyond a one night stand. But she kept coming to the bar. Or my coffee shop and…and she was a distraction. We didn’t do much talking. And it felt good…”

“But she kept pushing your boundaries and you were so hurt, and she made you forget that you hurt that it didn’t seem important to reinforce them,” Emma blurted out, guessing the story. His eyebrow raised a little and he pulled her into his lap with a strained laugh. “Trust me, babe,” she replied. “How do you think I ended up with Neal?”

Killian nuzzled her shoulder for a moment, as if to soothe the sting of the past. “It gets worse,” he admitted quietly. “She…she kept seeking me out to get pregnant on purpose. So she could trap me with her.”

“Oh my god,” Emma breathed in deeply, looking over her shoulder quickly to make sure Alice didn’t hear that part. “How did you get out with Alice?”

“A few weeks after Alice was born, I came home and she was just…gone. She left a note saying she wouldn’t be bound any longer and good luck,” Killian said wryly. “Little did she know that she gave me the greatest blessing of my life and it led me to the second greatest blessing of my life.”

“Granny’s?” Emma teased weakly, resting her head against his.

“Aye,” he laughed, kissing her shoulder. “Granny’s.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and her entire body seemed to relax in his hold. Even her nausea seemed to settle, knowing that he was here and holding her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me, love?”

Suddenly Emma’s whole world crashed down her ears, and her old wounds came kicking and screaming to the surface. She couldn’t possibly tell him right on the heels of that. What if he really wouldn’t be happy about having another baby? What if he thought she was trapping him just like Eloise did with him?

“Just that, um, I might take a personal day tomorrow so if you wanted to take Alice out of school, she and I can have a girl’s day,” Emma said softly, curling into him, hating how her nausea had returned full force.

Killian stilled, eying her again. After a moment, he seemed satisfied with what she’s said and relaxed as he held her close to his chest. “I love you, Emma,” he murmured softly. “So much.”

“Yeah,” Emma replied hollowly. “I love you too.”

Emma made sure to make Alice’s favorite breakfast—sunny side up eggs with a side of scrambled toast and orange marmalade—before the girl woke. She even made a plate for herself, delighted that her future child would give her something to eat.

When Alice walked into the room, her eyes lit up at the breakfast. “Is this for me?” she asked excitedly.

Emma laughed. “Of course. I figured you’d like your favorite breakfast on your day off,” she said, pushing the plate toward Alice.

“Your stomach seems to enjoy the marmalade,” Alice giggled. “I told you marmalade is great!”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Emma said fondly. “Well, today is your day and we can do whatever you want?”

“Whatever?” Alice asked hopefully, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. “Anything I want?”

“Yeah, it’s a self-care day!” Emma laughed. “So you tell me what you want to do today and we’ll do it!”

“Can we go to the library?” Alice seemed to get more excited by the minute. “And then the bakery?”

“You got it, star,” Emma said softly, grinning fondly. “And if you wanna talk, that’s okay. And if you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to do that either.”

The use of her nickname made Alice pause, picking nervously at her crust. “Emma?” she asked softly. “If…if Eloise becomes part of my life…am I still your star?”

“Of course,” Emma replied without any hesitation. “You’re my star, and yo—I mean Eloise can’t take that away from us. And just because she gave birth to you doesn’t mean she has to be part of your life if you don’t want her to be.”

“Will you get jealous if I do?” Alice asked quietly, still picking at the crust of her toast.

“I mean, I’ll miss you if you choose to spend more time with her,” Emma said honestly. “I like hanging out with you. Video game nights with you and Henry are my favorite. But also…if this is what’s going to make you happy, then of course I’m going to support you.” She leaned over and tapped Alice’s nose. “Besides…you have your father’s heart. I know you have plenty of love in your heart.”

Alice looked at her, the same way Killian had the night before. And then she gently leaned over to hug Emma tightly. “I love you, Emma,” the girl promised.

Emma would definitely blame the pregnancy hormones for the way she teared up and held Alice even closer to her. “I love you too,” she whispered. “And I can’t wait to spend the day with you, star. Should we go to the library first?”

“Yeah!” Alice said excitedly and bounded out of the room with unbridled enthusiasm.

Emma worked on getting dressed, pausing only once to run her hand over her bump, before heading out with Alice. She was relieved to see Alice’s viviacious spirit returned as Alice talked about all the books she wanted to read, what books she’d been waiting for, and what books the girls in her class were reading.

They were only a few blocks away when Emma had the strangest feeling something was wrong. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eloise following them, but Emma made sure that she kept Alice close.

She wasn’t entirely sure why Eloise was so close, and she hoped it was a coincidence. The lack of formal channels or communications made her nervous and Emma was worried about making a wrong move.

“Emma, can we go to the second floor first?” Alice asked, gently tugging on her hand. “That’s where are the old books are!”

“Lead the way,” Emma chuckled warmly. She made sure to duck around some shelves when they entered to see if Eloise was still following them. When Emma didn’t see her on the second floor, she let out quick sigh of relief, and watched Alice scamper down the aisle.

And then something collided with the back of her head and everything went black.

Emma had the faintest memory of weakly calling for Alice, for her daughter, faces swimming around her while her hand stayed firmly around Alice’s and then everything went dark again.

But she knew she was in a hospital bed now, she recognized the beep of the machines anywhere.

“Of course I want to bloody press charges!” Killian’s voice was a little too loud, but she was thankful that he was there. If he was with her, it meant Alice and Henry were safe. “She hurt Emma! She was going to kidnap Alice!”

He sighed, deflating a little bit at whatever response David gave him. “Yes, I can bring her down tomorrow to be interviewed. Emma is gonna need some rest…your detectives will have to come here, as Emma’s under observation for another day or too…”

Emma forced her eyes open and gently squeezed his hand. Killian’s head snapped toward her and his eyes filled with tears. “She’s waking up. Tell Alice and Henry that we love them so much and it’s all going to be just fine. Yeah. I’ll speak to your later Dave.” Emma couldn’t even get a breath in edgewise before Killian frantically pressed his lips to hers. “Hey,” she rasped softly. “I’m okay.”

“Aye, I know,” Killian choked out. “Eloise is my…but I still…and then the doctor told me that you…” His eyes searched hers and he realized. “That’s what you wanted to tell me yesterday, wasn’t it? That’s why you were ill…”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly. “I was so scared that after seeing Eloise you’d think I was trying to trap you in a life with me.”

“Emma,” Killian whispered softly, crushing his forehead against hers. “How could you possibly think that I’d be trapped in any kind of life with you? I love you more than anything besides our children.”

“Old wounds,” she replied softly. “Between the first time I did this alone and Eloise making an untimely reappearance I just…my fear got the best of me. I figured I could wait until things settled down before telling you…I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

He laughed wetly, gently pebbling her face with kisses. “Emma…you are such an extraordinary woman. My ex attacks you, and you’re still apologizing to me.”

“You do deserve an apology,” Emma said tiredly. “I hurt you but in a different way…”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Killian promised. “You were trying to protect yourself from being hurt, and I’ll be honest…if you told me last night, I would’ve had a meltdown.” He nudged his nose gently to hers before kissing her cheek. “But if it means that much…you’re forgiven, love. I’m just so happy you and the babe are safe.”

“How are the kids?” Emma asked weakly. “How did Alice get away?”

“She started screaming bloody murder when she saw it happen,” he explained, his fingers dancing gently across Emma’s skin with the utmost love and reverence, and maybe to reassure himself she was still there. “And the librarian knew you were her mother, rather than Eloise who tried to tell the police that her daughter was having a psychotic break.”

Emma sat up abruptly, torn between the desire to find her daughter and comfort her and find Eloise and just start swinging. Killian seemed to read her mind and gently placed his hand on her shoulder so she’d rest again.

“So just to make sure…you’re okay with having a baby with me?” Emma asked.

“As if flowers mind the summer sun,” Killian replied tenderly.

“Well, technically too much sun tries up the flowers and—” He silenced her with a kiss that had her smiling against his lips. “Point taken.”

“Should we start thinking of names?”

But it was Alice and Henry who had named their little sister when she came into the world seven months later. They named her after the thing that they always got from being with one another: Hope.

#csjj #csjj2021 #blaire's writing

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octalove · 5 years ago

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VIII: Struck by Lightning

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader makes a confession, and goes on a date. Previous.

TW: Brief mention of gore (just blood)

In the weeks succeeding the Little Italy mission, I found a rhythm in the two conflicting heartbeats of my life. Occasionally, I met with Jason to file down the multitude of criminals who opposed him (it wasn’t all rescuing orphans and kittens, but his justice was fair and swift), and other than that, I carried on with life as normal; both as myself, and Batgirl. It was an inconsistent, exciting balancing act.

I tried to humor Bruce’s transparent attempts to placate me with cold cases, deeming it study. My school work had unsurprisingly lost its appeal, and I found myself rocking in the river banks of what was sure to be a failing grade in most of my classes- though I had yet to run ashore. Yet.

I danced along, despite my reprisal (a lack of sleep, and white lies on either side), and overall there was a certain stalemate. With that, peace. Or at least, the closest I could get.

On a Saturday I happened to have free (to my great relief), I woke up at one in the afternoon, to a blessedly dim day that kept the light in my room dark enough to cradle my lie-in.

I washed the sleep from my face, and stumbled downstairs, muscles sore from a Thursday night mission with Jason at the Port (of which I told my family I was going to a party). Tim was the only one in the kitchen- looking like he, too, had just crawled out of bed. He was eating cereal in silence.

We hadn’t been avoiding each other, per say- just got wrapped up in our own routines. Routines that kept me out of the house, and him trapped within it.

“Morning.” I said.

“Mm.” He replied.

I poured out my own bowl of cereal and settled on top of the glossy white granite. It was kind of a running joke at the Wayne household that you could sit anywhere but the chairs. Even Damian picked up on it- and, naturally, he was the best at it- perching his lithe little form atop the fridge at one point.

Now, Tim and I sat side by side on the countertop, shoulders brushing and spoons clanging against our glass bowls. Nothing more was said, but it was a comfortable silence.

I thought, for a second, about the world he’d been living in for the past few months as November bled into December. About his work and his many, many jobs he had to do. The way he shouldered them all week-to-week. He didn’t have to, but he did.

Tim made me a better person. I thought so, anyway.

But then, before I met him, I was the kind of person who let Carolyn Crawford slap me across the face to cover for someone else’s secret. Now, I was the kind who let other people take the blame for mine. Maybe Tim didn’t make me a better person. Only I could do that.

“I need to talk to you.” I said it firmly, and with authority. Mostly to convince myself that I was certain in my intention to go through with it. Bruce eyed me, looking up from his book.

“Alright.”

“...”

“In private.”

Alfred and Damian’s voices carried through to the living room as they had tea (an evening tradition). Bruce nodded, closed his book, and led me upstairs.

His office was a quiet, peaceful place. Finished dark wood, glass tables, and black leather accents. It was the room in the house that was most furnished to his own private taste, and thus, a glimpse inside was into him. It was mostly predictable; W.E. briefcases, notebooks and pens, case files open, and a map of the city that was displayed behind his desk. But there were other things too; a rubik’s cube half solved on the settee, a magazine featuring Vicki Vale with a pen in her hand and a defiant, head-strong look on her face. A gorgeous trailing point knife that belonged to Damian (probably confiscated).

I sat down in the chair that faced his own; his giant, glossy desk between us. I wanted to be swallowed into the dark leather. I felt like I was back at the shrink.

“Tim didn’t sneak off on the 21st.” I said quickly, cutting off the silence as quickly as I could. “He’s not the one who saw Red Hood kill that guy. It was me. I made Tim promise not to tell. He lied to cover for me.”

Bruce was quiet. He did that a lot; made you wait for him to speak. Seconds, minutes, hours. It all felt the same when he let you simmer in your own mistakes. I didn’t look up.

“I see.”

Silence. A long, testing silence. His irritating little desk clock ticked away.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

“Really?” I asked. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”

He paused. “Should I be?”

I blinked, gaze falling on the floor. “I put Tim in a really shitty position. He didn’t have to lie, but he did because I asked him to. I’m mad at me.” I admitted quietly.

Bruce nodded pedantically, resting his head on his hand. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t good enough for me. “It was wrong.” I clarified, trying to press for some manner of reprimand that I didn’t truly want, but felt deserving of anyway. Bruce considered this, in his quiet, inscrutable way. After a moment, he spoke.

“Your mothers trusted me.” He said. I knew that. My parents were business-oriented like that. They were pulled together by happenstance, each without family and carving their own way in the world by studying international law, and applying it to companies who could afford private foreign trade, such as Wayne Enterprises. I attended the parties, the galas, standing around in my designer gowns while my moms handed out their business cards and talked about imports. They weren’t neglectful, just distracted.

“I don’t know if you remember-“

“I do.”

And if I had a dollar for every time the cops or the shrink asked me if I remembered that night, I’d buy my own manor.

Bruce Wayne was at my birth. He and my mothers had been business partners for a while by that time. He watched me, dutifully, when my parents went on date nights, and played catch with me when I accompanied him and Dick to the park. He cooked me breakfast the morning after my mothers died.

I knew it wasn’t a random killing, but he didn’t talk about why they were murdered in their own bed until I was fifteen. By then, I was knowledgeable enough to go searching through the police reports on my own. So instead, one night he’d sat me down at the kitchen table, looking at me earnestly.

“You have to understand, Y/N. Your mothers were...” He’d taken a deep breath. Tried again. “They were involved in things. Things I didn’t know about. It made them a lot of enemies.” Then, something harder passed his features. A frustration.

“They were completely blind to the fact that it meant you would never have a normal life. Not as long as they kept it up- that... double life.” I let the statement hang in the air for a time. “That was stolen from you, from the moment they got involved with the Baciu. And I’m sorry.”

It was easy to be sorry. I was sorry, too. My mothers got themselves tangled in Gotham’s heroin trade, and they weren’t careful enough, so they died for it. It was fairly cut and dry. Open file, close case. But the part that was so bitter to swallow was that it happened to me. A fourteen-year-old child creeping into my mothers’ bed because I’d heard a noise, and the re-runs of Ghost Hunter I’d religiously consumed were conjuring movement in the shadows. But there were no ghosts. Just sheets stained with blood that looked black in the darkness. Just the wet, clogged sort of sound when I peeled back the covers, unable to register they way my mothers were bent, and stilled in a way that only death can induce, where just earlier that night they’d been walking and talking. Bringing me Chinese take-out for dinner.

Their death, and everything that followed was emptying. Cracking open a great chasm and bringing death home, into the halls, and into my room. No longer a rumor. It was an empty chair, and a storied space made cold and worthless. It would’ve been easier if they had simply died as a random killing. Tragic, standard, random Gotham City killing. If I had just been that unlucky. If they’d only been struck by lightning. Instead, I grieved twice; once for who they were, and another time, for who I thought they were.

When Bruce adopted me, I became Batgirl. I made it my own vendetta to stop criminals without killing them, because I knew that some- most of them had children at home who would be the real victims if I did.

But then, I thought deeper. More considerately, about who my mothers were. Moreover, who they weren’t. Pearl and gold, white teeth and hairspray. Singing to me, and playing Monopoly, at which they were both so competitive that they had to kiss and make up after every game. Bringing me a strawberry cupcake in bed every year on my birthday. Kissing me on the head. Telling me to be good. Leaving me in that big house. Going off to Port Adams, or Crime Alley. Signing orders. Putting bodies in Finger River.

Nobody’s innocent here, dollface.

“They trusted me.” Bruce’s voice interrupted my reminiscing with the ghosts of my past. “I know their death was hard, and you may still be recovering. I’m trying to do the best I can for you.” He finished. For all the gnashing teeth and avaricious expanses of Gotham City secrets, he looked tired.

“I know, Bruce.” I said quietly. “Me too.”

The following Tuesday, I got home from school and started on a mountain of homework I needed to do- some make up work as well. Christmas break was around the corner, and I was slowly losing motivation as the semester drew to a close. I had too many distractions; and tonight was no exception.

Ding.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down, eyebrows raising to find that it was a text from Jason- one that wasn’t just a pin dropped to a location.

Meet me at Twin Sharks. I’ll buy you a coffee.

- What’s the occasion?

No reply. I sighed. I should’ve called him and made him tell me, but I knew that I would go no matter what, so I decided to play the apathy card. Despite my cool response, my heart (the traitor) was fluttering like a bird. Was this about the kiss? Our partnership? Was it an actual, regular date? Or was he breaking it off? My mind raced, and as I pulled together a tasteful outfit and sprayed myself with perfume, I promised myself that it wasn’t for him.

The Twin Sharks was a diner in Upper West Side, near China town. It was nicer than the likes of Sherman’s, or anything else East End had to offer. The late afternoon was unexpectedly bright, clouds parted for a sweet reprieve of gold and blush in the sky. The sun was a striking blood-orange, hung low over the city. It struck a match in my chest- some childish, poetic hopefulness.

The diner’s door jingled, and I scanned the booths and tables. It was a little crowded, but I spotted Jason alone in a booth, his eyes cast down, involved with his phone. I made my way over to him, slipping off my coat and plopping down his opposite.

“Hey.” I said. His eyes fell upon me, and I saw something on his face- maybe surprise, or something to that effect- before he composed his expression into something unreadable.

“Hey.”

The diner had a big, hot pink neon sign that depicted a matching pair of sharks above the counter. Its buzzing glow mixed with the orange gleam of the lowering sun through the windows- it was all very rose-colored.

The waitress put a coffee in front of me, and I got to work on adorning it with the little cream and sugar packets on the table. He watched me do it for while.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothin’.” He said. Then, he reached across the table, and took my hand, pulling it back to him, and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. I was so startled by it that I dropped the sugar packet I was holding. Neither of us seemed to notice. He turned my hand over and placed another kiss in the inside of my wrist before returning it safely to my side of the table. I was certain my face burned like the neon sharks.

“I’m- um- is this a date?” I asked, trying to get him to say something- anything- to get my mind off the way he’d just reduced me to a puddle.

He looked amused by that. “You want it to be?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, stirring my coffee. “You invited me.”

He nodded, eyes falling away. “Yeah. I’ve got an update for you. D’amici business.”

“Oh.” By the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“Perfect. My day’s been a little too good so far.” I said. He slid me his phone- on the screen was an article from the Gotham Quarterly.

Young Bride Found Murdered in Diamond District Estate

I read over it a couple times, brow furrowing. “You mean...“

“Penelope. It happened last night.”

“Shit.” I muttered, scrolling down and scanning through the article. My throat caught as I read over it. She was shot in her bed. “It says there’s no suspects.”

“Course it does. It’s the mafia. They handle things nice and quiet.”

“And I’m guessing you have a few a suspects.” He nodded grimly as I slid his phone back to him.

“One better. I know exactly who did it. I think you do, too.”

I put my head in my hands, mulling over my options. Really there was only one. Penelope’s beautiful, flustered face and apologetic eyes flashed through my mind. Her wind-chime laugh as we ate scones under the watchful eye of her adoring, peculiar grandmother.

“Okay.” I resolved. “Let’s get that girl justice.”

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specterchasing-a · 4 years ago

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Brainberry Picking || Morgan & Eddie

TIMING: Current-ish

LOCATION: Jericho Hill Cemetery

PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems & @specterchasing

SUMMARY: A zombie and a medium meet in a graveyard, one of them might have a foot fetish.

CONTENT: Aside from the foot fetish, all is well.

“I just don’t see how you can have a whole existence that relies on human systems and communities--well people systems and communities and not give a crap just because you’ve been doing it for a long time,” Morgan complained, swilling her chopsticks around her brains and rice. “Aren’t we responsible for each other even if we’re three hundred and some baby normie is twenty? How can apathy be a good thing?”

It was her off day from work, and rather than worry her family by spending the day cooped up inside, she opted to spend as much time outside as possible, even if being in hunting range made her nervous. But Jericho Hill was more ghostly than anything else, and the trusted the soldier to signal if he saw anything dangerous looking, even if he did talk a big game about being specater in the game of humanity, and the effects of longevity. He’d saved her and Erin. He had more of a heart than he wanted to admit, even for a centuries-old kid.

The colonial soldier shrugged and said that she should wait and see until she was older.

“Okay, teen grandpa,” Morgan deadpanned.

The colonial soldier changed the subject by way of nodding toward her foot. Did she require assistance or was she really just that bad at noticing grievous injuries?

Morgan looked down at the chunks of broken bottle protruding from her toes. “Fucking--” She hissed and propped up her foot, starting to yank out the pieces one by one and wipe the black blood on her skirt so there wouldn’t be anything for hunters to find when they prowled at night. Her wounds would close up soon enough. As much as she wanted to sport as much extra strength as possible, she hadn’t figured out how to negotiate her fear of being caught off guard by some junior college murderer and the fear of not being herself.

In the distance, stone scattered across the tall grass. Morgan stopped, mid tug, and looked around. “Hello?”

Jericho Hill, one of Eddie’s most beloved places to visit. The other cemeteries in town had their charm, but meandering among the derelict headstones of White Crest’s oldest burial ground came second to none. As per usual, he arrived with a camera—just in case.

Eddie minded the graves as he wandered, making sure not to intrude on anyone’s final resting place. Midway through the graveyard, he spotted two figures with their backs to him in the midst of conversation. Considering Jericho Hill was open to the public, that would’ve been a perfectly ordinary occurrence, except one of the figures happened to be a colonial soldier far beyond his expiration date. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat at the possibility of encountering another medium but, as he grew closer, he noticed the potential medium doing something with her foot.

Raising his camera, Eddie slowed his pace and zoomed in on the woman’s feet for a better look. “Oh, what the fu—” He stumbled over a semi-interred rock, nearly losing his balance and dislodging the rock in one fell swoop.

“Hello?” said the woman.

Eddie froze in place as if staying perfectly still made him invisible. Realizing she likely had very little in common with Spielbergian dinosaurs, he cleared his throat and waved sheepishly. “Beautiful day, huh? Hey—is your foot okay?”

Morgan stiffened at the sound of a voice nearby. She ran a dozen or so scenarios Mina had drilled into her. She was better at defense on account of nine more months of practice, but that didn’t mean she relished the thought of having to throw anyone to the ground or break any bones.

But it was just some kid, looking like a peeping tom who’d been found out.

“Is it a beautiful day?” She challenged. “Because being spied on doesn’t usually fall under my ‘beautiful day’ umbrella.” At the mention of her foot, she put hers back down and yanked as many pieces out under the cover of the grass as she could. “I’m fine. Why are you looking at my feet in the first place?”

“Hold on, don’t do that,” Eddie said with a shake of his head. “Don’t make me sound like some kind of graveyard-foot-pervert. Look at it.” He gestured towards the foot in question. “That’s not natural and neither is talking to ghosts—hey, by the way, nice to see you again, Terry.” The second half of his statement was directed at the colonial soldier and paired with another short wave.

“Hi, Eddie,” the ghost responded.

“Y’know, I was just excited to meet someone else who could see them, but the whole black goo thing kind of threw me off my game.” Eddie’s attention reverted back to the woman currently picking at her foot. “Also, who eats in cemeteries? I’m just saying, let he who is not being super weird in public cast the first stone.”

Morgan didn’t know what to process first, having her injuries spotted by a Gen-Z wunderkind with a camera, the “not natural” thing, him seeing the ghost, or--

“Terry? Really? You tell him your name, but not me?” Morgan reached over and elbowed the soldier through his arm.

“A man has to keep some mystery with a pretty lady,” he replied, smirking through the gash in his face.

“Now you’re just trying to clean it up. Did you see him coming too?” She turned back to the kid, Eddie apparently, and tucked her feet under her skirt. “Whatever you are, you aren’t the only kind of person who can make friends with ghosts,” she said, miffed but starting to deflate. He had said he was excited. Excited people usually didn’t try to lop off your head. “And for your information, cemetery picnics have been a time honored tradition for centuries. The Victorians designed some of their cemeteries to be enjoyed like parks. And there’s a lot less---” Kids. Couples picnicking. Burger wrappers and empty slushie cups. Life. “Crowds, in a cemetery. I like the quiet. And the company. Sometimes.” She side-eyed Terry, who clutched his chest like he was wounded.

The conversation unfolding before Eddie left him feeling like a child seeing their parents get into an argument. He casually averted his gaze in an attempt to give them some semblance of privacy while they worked through their dispute. Before he knew it, the irate woman’s attention was back on him and he found himself wishing their argument would have gone on longer.

“That’s… actually very cool,” Eddie admitted, his brows raising in approval. “But, um, circling back to what you said about seeing ghosts—I’m a medium, I thought we were only ones with that specific privilege.” He couldn’t help feeling inadequate as he confessed his ignorance. Eddie dedicated his life to knowing about the supernatural, but he barely knew anything for certain. “Who else made the cut? Obviously, you don’t have to, like, tell me what you are, or anything. Not unless you want to, which would be stellar, but… I feel like I should know that kind of thing.”

“Medium, huh?” Morgan said, sizing the kid up again. “I’ve met a few of you. Exorcists, mostly, but still. But, since you asked so nicely, all of the undead I’m aware of and some fae can see and hear ghosts. It seems to be a proximity to death sort of thing, but I don’t know how the metaphysics works.” She set her lunch aside and dropped her hand under her foot to finish picking out the glass, away from view. She was mostly sure he didn’t actually have some voyeuristic foot fetish, but that didn’t do much for her self-consciousness. It was one thing to patch herself up at home, or with dead people who didn’t care, but with strangers, she felt the wrongness of her body. It wasn’t neutral, it was batshit. “You must be some kind of death enthusiast too, though. Coming out here by yourself in the middle of the day? It’s not exactly the nicest cemetery in town. I hardly see anyone alive out here on my visits. Shouldn’t you be hustling or studying or having fun somewhere?”

Eddie’s eyes glistened with rabid enthusiasm at the mention of the undead and fae. He’d only recently learned about the existence of zombies, and his fae-knowledge severely lacked depth. And here this woman was, sounding like she knew a great deal about both.

“Hustling?” he repeated the word with bashful incredulity. “I mean, this is fun for me. Not to sound edgy, but I love the dead. The living are cool too, but… they’ve never felt like home, y’know? All my life, I’ve been surrounded by dead people that either needed my help, or who helped me. I like spending as much time with them as I can.” He tried not to watch as she covertly plucked at her foot. Curious as he was, he could do without further insinuation that he harbored some sort of affinity for feet. “Is that how you are?”

With the last of the glass picked out, Morgan went still and regarded Eddie more carefully. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met a human who spoke so affectionately about the dead, and she wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or concerned. “You talk about the living like you aren’t one of them,” she said. “I don’t meet too many humans that apathetic about who they are. But your ghosts--they were good to you? You weren’t ever scared?” But one revelation deserved a little something in return, and anyone that fond of the dead probably wouldn’t sell her out. Morgan pursed her lips as she thought her answer over. “I am recently un-humaned, yes,” she said. “A little over a year now. You could say making friends with death saved my un-life, but I had lots of other help too. Living-people-help.”

The stranger had a point—Eddie never felt like he belonged among the living—but never had the dissonance he felt been stated so bluntly. “I guess, yeah. The living are assholes, for the most part.” There were, of course, exceptions to that rule, but they were few and far between. “Most have been good to me, except…” Eddie shook his head gently. “They’re individuals too, can’t expect them to all be winners.” As she admitted to being undead, he looked at her with enraptured awe. “That’s… wow. I mean, first of all, I’m sorry for your loss. You’ve probably got a handle on things by now, but I’m sure that’s a pretty wild transition. And, I’m glad you had people to help you adjust, support systems are so important.” Eddie took a moment to center himself. “What’s the, uh, preferred terminology for your… condition? Also, wow, I should probably ask your name, huh? Like Terry said, I’m Eddie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed his head slightly to punctuate his sentence.

“The living are individuals too, Eddie,” Morgan said. “And if you didn’t know about undead and fae seeing ghosts, I’m guessing you haven’t met many of the other living species of people out there. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to dismiss all of them out of hand. Or especially kind. Your ghosts were living once too, you know.” But Eddie’s vagueness piqued a troubling sense of familiarity in Morgan. Children didn’t tend to rely on ghosts if they had live people to take good care of them. “Those must have been some pretty shitty assholes to make you give up on everyone alive, human or not. I’m sorry for that, Eddie. Whatever happened to you, whoever was that cruel--I know how it can feel safer to just pull away and not risk yourself again, when you’ve suffered enough in a certain way. And I’m sorry.” She sighed and held out her hand to the kid, smiling sadly for both of them. “I’m Morgan Beck. You can refer to my ‘condition’ as zombie. But that’s classified. I don’t really enjoy having to fight for my existence. Not that a slayer won’t already know what I am on sight, but I’d rather they not get any extra help you know?” Her smile curled bitterly and she turned her eyes to the rest of the cemetery. “Are you really out here because it’s fun, Eddie…?” She asked quietly. “Or is it something else, too?”

When Eddie set out for Jericho Hill earlier in the day, he hadn’t expected a lecture. “Death changes a person,” he said softly after she reminded him that ghosts weren’t always memories. It didn’t take him long to realize the issue with his statement. “Preacher, choir.” He gestured first to himself, then Morgan as he assigned the labels. “You probably have a point.”

Eddie found himself nodding along with her condemnation of ‘shitty assholes’ initially, but he stilled when he heard her apology. His expression fell into unsure neutrality; he didn’t know how to respond. Strangers weren’t usually that kind, and they never read him like a book. It took him a moment to register her outstretched hand before he grasped it with his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Morgan Beck,” Eddie said, mirroring her sad smile. “Your secret’s safe with me. People like you shouldn’t be hunted, anyway.” Her question took some mulling over. Eddie didn’t particularly like being open and honest on that front. “Well, I mean, it is fun, but…” He trailed off with a sigh before shrugging. “Actually, that’s kind of bullshit. I can’t remember the last time I had fun—maybe with Bex or Alfie, but that’s different. Having fun with friends is easy but, when I’m alone…” Eddie shook his head and let out a terse sigh. “Are you, like, a psychiatrist or something? Analyzing brains by day, eating them by night.”

“What? Death changes you? No kidding,” Morgan deadpanned. “You can consider me an expert on both sides of the curtain,” she added more kindly. “Thank you. For your...Human-Plus allyship?” She wasn’t sure what to call it. She confided in so few humans these days. She had enough on her plate with her family as it was.

She kept looking at Eddie, his battered hollowness and his resilient vitality. There was more than one way to be alive and dead, she supposed. “I’m an adjunct professor in the English department at the university,” she said. “But I spent my alive-time on earth literally cursed with suffering, and consequently spent a lot of time desperately wanting to get to know people and being afraid of getting too close, in case they got sucked into my magic bullshit. So I’m good at noticing things and I understand a lot. Like that feeling where you can be mostly okay when you’re with people, especially the ones you care about, but when it’s just you that feeling you’re running from is still there and it settles in. But we don’t have to talk about that, if it makes you uncomfortable. Also, I resent the suggestion that I eat people. I’m actually trying to hurt as few people as possible right now for reasons that have nothing to do with my appetite, which I monitor and manage very carefully. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again. You can tell me about how you know Bex, if you really want a change of subject.” Beaming at Eddie, she brought up her knees and let her head fall to rest on them and settled in. She’d given him a lot, but if he was friends with Bex, it was probably best he got used to the ride.

Eddie deserved her snark, even he could admit that. Despite his theorizing, fantasizing, and romanticizing—he didn’t know what it meant to be dead. Against better judgement, he envied Morgan and the way she straddled the line between life and death. It sounded ideal, at least on paper. “I strive to be a friend of the dead,” he said with a mild shrug. “Clearly, that doesn’t absolve me of insensitivity though, sorry about that.”

As she caught him up to speed on the source of her empathy, he listened with enraptured fascination. Eddie didn’t know the first thing about curses, but he liked to think he understood the loneliness she alluded to. “Sounds like you got saddled with a spectator role, that sucks. Most people aren’t built for that.” He hoped he wasn’t projecting, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be the case.

“Shit—thanks for correcting me. I shouldn’t have made an assumption like that,” he admitted timidly when she kindly scolded him for his comment about brain-eating. His face lit up at the mention of Bex. “You know ‘er?” he asked, taking a seat in front of Morgan. Knowing she was familiar with someone like Bex instantly eased whatever lingering uncertainty he still felt. “We met pretty recently, I guess, but she’s the kind of person I feel like I’ve known a lot longer than I actually have, y’know?”

Eddie wondered how much information was safe to bring-up, ultimately deciding to play it safe. “It was after… well, she’d just gone through something pretty awful, and I think I made things a little harder on her. Not on purpose, of course, I didn’t know, but… she was really kind to me, anyway. I think that goes to show how special she is.” He neglected to mention the magical mishap; maybe Morgan didn’t know that side of Bex. “How do you know her? If that’s alright to ask, I mean.”

“You weren’t built to be a spectator in your life either, Eddie,” Morgan said. “No one is. We are here to learn, to connect, to experience. What’s the point of being stuck in a body if not to feel? What’s the point of being surrounded by so much mess and beauty if not to learn as much as you can from it? It’s cruel to take it for granted. And it’s cruel to hurt someone in a way that they cut themself off from anything good they might find in their tiny little existence.”

She fingered the tall, young grass as she spoke. She could never settle on a memory to give its strange, invisible touch more substance. When she was a child in Houston and her mother would send her into the yard to practice her alchemy, the grass was thick and sharp. It prickled her feet so badly she’d check her heels to see if they had cut her. They never did. So maybe the grass was like dull needles, or like tiptoeing around the rules, since she would often do her exercises slowly or skip steps on purpose so she could do them over again and make her time out last longer. Long enough to see the stars appear, but before the mosquitoes ate her up.

“But yes, I was really bad at keeping my distance,” she went on. “Which made for a lot of good experiences and a lot of hurt. Honestly, I wish I’d taken more risks, made more kinds of alive-memories to hold onto.”

She couldn’t help but beam at hearing the boy talk about Bex. Nothing he said was news to her, but it was nice to see her kindness reflected in someone else’s eyes. “Bex is staying with me right now. Has been for a while. Well, me and my girlfriend. We care for her as if she was ours, as best as we know how, anyway. So I know,” she grinned. “You’re not breaking supernatural club rules if you want to talk about her.”

Eddie wanted to agree with Morgan, to say that life was something precious and cherishable, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. Death looked a lot more appealing to him whether or not he made a triumphant return as something a little less human. “Cruel or not, people do it anyway,” he said with a shrug. “I’m coping with it the only way I know how.” Granted, his coping looked a lot more like sabotaging.

Eddie didn’t think much of the grass, it was just grass; everywhere and unextraordinary. All it had to offer him were stains, the thought of which made him shift uncomfortably. He felt that way about a lot of everyday life’s mundanities. They didn’t exist unless they caused a problem. Morgan had a point when she warned him against taking things for granted, but Eddie didn’t realize it. How could he?

“I bet that’s weird,” he said. “Everything changing, but also not. I don’t know much about zombies, obviously, but I know coming back is rough for a lot of ghosts. I’d tell you that there’s still time to take those risks, but I get the sense you didn’t come to Jericho Hill looking for silver linings. At least, not ones given to you by some random guy with a foot fetish.” He ended on a joke in the hopes that it might lighten the mood, praying she didn’t think he was serious.

A sigh of relief passed Eddie’s lips. “Beamed a heaping helping of trauma right into my head,” he explained. “She didn’t mean to, of course, and I’m not exactly mad about it, anyway. Knowing her is worth a little muss and fuss. That said, I learned my lesson. No more alleyways for Bex.”

“Eddie, and I mean this kindly, with the kind of empathy that comes from experience--” Morgan prefaced her words softly, giving Eddie a look that pitied and understood too well. “Putting all your attention on other people’s problems so you don’t have to look at your own doesn’t make them go away, or get smaller. A lot of the time it just makes them grow heavier and sink their roots deeper into you.”

She reached out and gently flicked some of his long hair out of his eyes. “Worrying about me isn’t coping. What’s so bad about turning all this nice attention on yourself? I know people haven’t been kind, but whatever they said or did, they weren’t right about you. You deserve kindness. And love. Being here is hard enough without being cruel to yourself too. But--” She grinned wryly. “You didn’t come to Jericho Hill for a pep talk from a walking dead lady.”

She picked up her Pyrex and ate the last bit of lunch and dusted herself off. “I’m going to go home and prep some raccoon bones for my next art project, if you want to come. Bex has some really great pieces she’s made too. But we know each other now, so I hope you won’t try and disappear just because I know what song you’re playing.”

Eddie listened as Morgan spoke. Meanwhile, his stomach twisted into anxious knots. He didn’t want to hear that putting others first wasn’t the answer. Tackling his problems head-on hurt too much, especially considering he rarely had help. “Yeah, so I’ve noticed.” His gaze fell to the ground. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to say more, it might inspire her to confront him with even more difficult truths. It was nice feeling like she cared, he didn’t expect that from someone he just met, but it was also heavy.

Eddie let out a soft huff of laughter when she flicked a strand of his hair. Such a simple gesture, but the familiarity of it inspired a gush of affection. “Maybe not, but I’m glad that didn’t stop her from giving it to me anyway.”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie asked in disbelief, rising to his feet. “You’re a bone-art making, pep talk giving zombie with a weirdly comforting southern accent. Good luck getting rid of me, you’ll need it.”

#c: morgan #wickedswriting #brainberry picking #/// HNNGH I LOVE MORGAN #kat really blessed us with her existence #and this is actually very wholesome #it gets a little heavy conversation-wise #but i don't thiiiink anything mentioned will be particularly triggering?

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everydayanth · 5 years ago

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Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years.

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time.

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall.

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite.

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week.

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement).

We were expendable.

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short.

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives.

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.”

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick.

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry.

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not.

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge.

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

#academia #anthropology #sociology #university #culture #h1n1 #coronavirus #poverty #wealth gap #elitism

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gloves94 · 5 years ago

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Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 20

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

Things were certainly looking up.

Zuko smiled as and his uncle stepped out of the carriage that had brought them to the Earth Kingdom Palace, he helped his girlfriend down of it like the gentleman he is and the three walked towards the palace together. All wearing their finest Earth Nation robes. Iroh wore green, Zuko wore a reddish brown shade and Tsai's wore her trademark golden ochre.

"Many times I imagined myself here, at the threshold of the palace." Iroh commented as he held the basket of his tea supplies, "But I always thought I would be here as a conqueror. Instead, we are here as the Earth King's personal guests, here to serve him tea. Destiny is a funny thing."

Tsai always pictured herself here, but in her head she was welcomed as an honored guest and assigned personal guards amongst other luxurious goods. This wasn't quite what she had in mind, but it would do for now. She was excited to talk to the King. Maybe he'd listen maybe he wouldn't but she wouldn't lose anything trying.

"It sure is, Uncle." Zuko agreed with a slight smile.

Moments later Zuko sat quietly beside his uncle as he poured a cup of tea in the King's meeting room. The throne was elegantly decorated with golden figurines and a mural depicting Ba Sing Se in traditional ink brush art.

"What's taking so long?" Zuko asked warily. They had now been waiting for a while.

"Maybe the Earth King overslept?" Iroh suggested.

"No," Tsai said suddenly. "It is not customary of Earth Kingdom people to be unpunctual."

What kind of royal reception was this supposed to be? Tsai shook her head if her mother was in charge of this Royal Reception none of this would've been acceptable.

Tsai stood up and dusted her palms on her dress.

"That's it," she announced in a bored tone. "I'm sick and tired of waiting. This is unacceptable. I'm going to go find the Earth King myself."

"Have you lost your mind?" Zuko reached for her arm holding her in place.

"I'll be back soon," she simply said shaking his light grip off. "You don't even know where he is." He added crossing his arms over his chest in disapproval.

"Don't worry, I know my way around a palace." She said cockily before exiting the room.

Or at least attempting to. She was pushed back into the room when several Dai Li agents came into the room and surrounded the three.

Iroh's brow furrowed in suspicion.

"Something's not right." Zuko whispered.

Azula suddenly stepped into the room and she walked past the Dai Li agents, coming to standing in front of her brother just outside the ring of agents.

"It's tea time!" She chirped joyfully, however her tone was malicious and held a sharp edge to it as per usual.

Zuko jumped to his feet in surprise and anger, "Azula!"

Azula wore a uniform similar to the Dai Li agents including a matching emerald green bow at the top of her head.

"Have you met the Dai Li?" Azula asked lightly as she smirked, "They're Earthbenders, but they have a killer instinct that's soFirebender. I just love it."

Iroh calmly picked up his cup of tea, now standing up. “Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname 'the Dragon of the West'?"

Azula rolled her eyes at her uncle, "I'm not interested in a lengthy anecdote, Uncle."

"It's more of a demonstration, really." Iroh replied and he calmly took a sip of the tea.

Tsai had heard this tale before, she knew what was coming. The three of them stood together backs pressed against each other. Zuko glanced over at his uncle in surprise then he smirked slightly and spun behind Iroh, Tsai quickly ducked and summoned her trusty hidden blades ready to attack if needed. The older man jumped to his feet and began breathing fire, scattering the Dai Li agents. Zuko quickly ran and kicked a fire blast at the wall, blasting a hole in it as Iroh continued to breathe fire as he walked backwards, then he ran down the hallway after his Tsai and his nephew.

Iroh ran in front of Zuko and threw his hand out, blasting another hole in the wall at the end of the corridor with a lightning bolt then he jumped out of the hole making a runaway opening and, landing in the bushes below. Tsai followed landing on a similar bush landing painfully on her bum.

"Come on!" Iroh shouted looking up when he saw Zuko had stopped at the edge of the hole in the second floor of the palace. "You'll be fine!"

"No! I'm tired of running!" Zuko shouted back in defiance and he turned slightly to glare down the hall with a determined expression, "It's time I faced Azula."

"Has he lost his mind?" Tsai said jumping to her feet and running towards the palace. Iroh smacked his head in exasperation at his nephew. He reached for the impulsive auburn-haired girl's hand and pulled her back.

"There' no time!" He said dragging her away with him.

xxx

"You're so dramatic." Azula sighed mockingly as she stopped between several Dai Li agents in front of her brother, "What? Are you going to challenge me to an Agni Kai?"

"Yes!" Zuko snapped back and he shifted into a bending stance, "I challenge you!"

"No, thanks." Azula replied haughtily and she smirked evilly at her older brother.

Zuko growled and shot a fire blast at her, but two Dai Li agents intervened and deflected the blast by pulling up a section of the floor, creating a wall. The agents dropped the wall then shot their rock gloves at Zuko's feet, causing him to lose his balance and place one hand on the ground, which was quickly trapped by another rock glove. Azula smiled cruelly at her brother and turned around as the Dai Li agents captured him.

xxx

Katara scowled as she paced back and forth inside the Crystal Catacombs, stopping a moment later when she heard the hole above her open up.

"You've got company." A Dai Li agent stated then he threw someone down the hole and the person rolled forward until he landed in front of Katara.

"Zuko!" Katara gasped and her eyes widened in shock before they narrowed in anger when the scarred teen looked up at her just as the hole closed above them.

xxx

"Let's go and take Azula down once and for all!" Tsai stretched her arms dramatically ready to go and cut down Zuko's sister.

"I think if we are smart, we can take her!" She said aggressively clenching a fist against her chest. Iroh remained pensive as he processed his own very complicated plan.

"Besides," She spoke after a moment. "There's something of hers I'm itching to give back to her." She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She always kept Azula's knife hidden on her person and was more than eager to return it to its rightful owner. "Come on! What are we waiting for! There's no time to lose!"

"Tsai," Iroh said impatiently. "I thought you less impulsive than my nephew," he flashed her a rare glare that was borderline a scold. She lowered her head. She hated to disappoint him. "You're right," she sighed accepting her mistake. If they were going to do this it had to be done right.

It was then that both made eye contact and saw two Dai Li agents standing guard outside of the palace.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He said stroking his beard.

Xxx

"Are you sure they'll help?" Tsai questioned as they approached a nearby apartment. "How do you even know that they're in there? Have you known all along?!" She said tossing the body of the terrified Dai Li guard that was tied up to a corner of the hallway’s balcony.

"Those who are quiet and attentive can see all, even what may be hidden right before them." Iroh spoke wisely. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. He really did sound like her grandfather. If Zuko knew that Iroh had known that the Avatar was in Ba Sing Se all along he would go fire bananas angry over this.

Iroh knocked on the wooden door and a moment later that onyx haired blind girl that they had encountered in the forest that one day opened the door.

"Glad to see you're okay," she said.

"We need your help." Iroh beat straight to the point. Tsai watched from a couple of feet away keeping watch over the Dai Li guard. Iroh went into the apartment and didn’t come out until sometime later.

“I brought someone along who might be able to help us.”

The door opened and outside stepped Iroh, Toph and Aang and Sokka who looked horrified when they saw the auburn-haired girl standing next to a kidnapped Dai Li guard with her arms crossed over her chest an annoyed look on her face.

“Sup,” she greeted casually not particularly pleased to see any of them.

“Tsai!” Aang exclaimed his tone was more alarmed than pleased. She didn’t flinch when the earthbender stomped on the ground and made two pillars rise from the ground and raise the agent up to eyelevel. He grunted and his breathing quickened. Tsai wasted no time in yanking the rag that kept him silent. He was sweating bullets and already had a cut on the side of his face that she had worked on him.

“Alright, sing,” She threatened flickering her wrist and exposing her shiny blade again. The tip was still stained with his fresh blood.

He gasped and spilled all the information they needed. The guard spoke about how Azula and a man named Long Feng were plotting a coup to overthrow the Earth King. He also said that Katara was being kept in the crystal catacombs of Old Ba Sing Se deep beneath the palace. Which was probably were Zuko was being kept as well.

Moments later the gang had split up into two groups and Tsai was making her way with Aang and Iroh walking through a makeshift tunnel into the crystal cave. She had never regretted wearing a kimono dress more in her life.

Azula… She was truly vile. All this time she had been in control. Playing them like their little pawns. She wondered how long she had known that the three of them had been living in Ba Sing Se.

She wouldn’t put it past Azula to betray the man she was working with and singlehandedly conquer the Earth Kingdom. Whatever was going to happen next was not good. She was much too distraught to listen to what Iroh and Aang were conversing about when Aang made a hole in a tunnel revealing a chamber filled with gleaming crystals.

"Aang!" Katara shouted happily and she rushed forward, hugging the bald boy tightly.

Aang smiled then glared at Zuko over Katara's shoulder, his eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance and distrust. Zuko glared back at him over his uncle's shoulder as Iroh and Tsai embraced him in a tight family sandwich embrace.

"Aang, I knew you would come." Katara said and she hugged Aang again.

"I don't understand." Zuko said in confusion as he looked from the Avatar to Iroh and Tsai and then he pointed at Aang, "What are you two doing with the Avatar?"

"Saving you, that's what." Aang replied snidely and Zuko growled, taking a threatening step towards him, but Iroh stopped him.

"Zuko, it's time we talked." Iroh said lowly then he looked at Aang and Katara, "Go help your other friends. We'll catch up with you." He said.

"Tsai?" Aang called for her. "We'll be there soon-" she flashed him a small smile “-And ready to save the Earth Kingdom.”

Aang smiled at her and Iroh and bowed down his head respectfully before exiting the chamber.

“Why?” Zuko observed the whole interaction between his uncle and the red head and the Avatar perplexed.

"Right," Tsai added softly. "You've grown so much and believe me when I say we are both extremely proud of you, but catching the Avatar is not your destiny and you have to accept that." She said in the most caring tone she could muster.

"You're not the man you used to be, Zuko. You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been." Iroh stated seriously as he looked at his nephew. “And now you have come to a crossroads of your destiny. It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good."

Zuko's eyes went slightly wide as he gave a step back. His golden orbs bounced between Iroh and Tsai until they focused on her. He would expect this kind of thing from his uncle, but from her? He shook his head. He always forgot that they were both basically the same person. Tsai would always pick his uncle over him. Even now.

"What?" He repeated his eyes turning into slits and narrowing in anger.

"It's for the best," she reached for his hand, yet he stepped away defensively.

"You're supposed to support me Tsai."

Ah, there it was. That hot headed prickly side of the temperamental prince. She looked at him with hurt in her eyes.

"I am," she responded. Her mouth suddenly going dry, she didn't like where this was going. He shook his head rapidly from side to side in denial. She really didn’t like were this was going.

"Why can't you be more supportive? Why can't you see this is the only way that we both get what we want?" He shot back angrily.

"Zuko!" Iroh growled out not liking the angry tone in which he spoke to his girlfriend.

"Not now Uncle!" He barked back rudely.

Even Tsai raised a low hand in an attempt to be polite in telling Iroh to momentarily shush and stay out of their conversation. She had a feeling that this was about more than his inner demons.

"I am trying to be supportive!" She tried to reach for his hands once again. Yet he pulled away again. Stepping away from them. Creating a small distance that suddenly seemed so great.

"I don’t support this obsession because it is going to consume you alive," her tone kept increasing as her temperament reached the borderline of her already split thin patience.

Silence was his response.

"Fine!" She snapped angrily. Her head was pulsating with anger. Blood boiling.

"Fine!"She repeated. Both of her fists were tightly clenched at her sides.

"You know what?” She taunted. “The only reason your father sent you on a fool's errand to capture the Avatar was because he didn't want you. He sent you because the Avatar hadn't been seen in the past one-hundred years and he wasn't expecting you to see him for another one-hundred years- but you got lucky. You got really lucky and it spawned this unhealthy obsession that is consuming you alive!" She finished with more anger than concern in her straining voice.

"The past week- ever since you let go of-of all of this? Don't you realize how happy you were? How happy we were? Didn't you just feel a huge weight lifted off your shoulders?"

Zuko face twisted into a nasty scowl his hurtful tone now matching hers. His tone just as strained, chest heaving as he felt the anger boiling inside of him ready to unleash his infamous temper.

"What about you?" He lashed out stepping forward in a threatening matter. She wanted to stand back yet managed to stand her ground proudly.

"You come down and judge me from your high ostrich-horse. You literally abandoned your family and for what? Why? Because a stranger asked you on a lame adventure?" He tossed a stretched-out arm to his uncle. "Because your grandfather kicked the bucket?" He scoffed ridiculing her life’s story.

She felt a pang on her already aching chest. She fought so hard against herself to stand tall and proud. Her nostrils flared as she gave him a dark hurtful look. Her eyes dull and empty.

"And what about your plan?" He pressed on. "Your dream plan is never going to happen, and you know it," he paused for a moment and scoffed. "Not unless the war ends, and you know that soon everything the light touches will belong to the Fire Nation. The truth is you left because you were bored of your unassumingly dull life in the colonies and that's why YOU were so happy here. Because you could blame our current circumstances as your excuse to tell yourself why you are never going to accomplish anything extraordinary. That's why you abandoned your dream!"

"ENOUGH!" Iroh uncharacteristically roared stepping in between the two arguing teenagers. Both of his hands stretched out as he separated them.

Her eyes were dark, lips parted, her eyes welled up with hurtful fat tears as his words sank into her thick skin ripping into it like painfully dull knives. He had been more than mean. He had been cruel. It took Zuko a moment to realize just what he had done, the horrible things they had both said to each other.

A sudden explosion resounded in the crystal cave when Iroh was suddenly encased in a prison of crystal being unable to move. Zuko and Tsai were divided by a row of crystals with Iroh in the middle. Without a moment to react both quickly spun around and shifted into offensive stances. Zuko's eyes narrowing when he saw two Dai Li agents and Azula jump into the crystal cavern chamber.

"I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle." Azula commented drily then she tsk'd, "But Zuko, Prince Zuko, you're a lot of things, but you're not a traitor, are you?"

"Release him immediately." Zuko snapped in reply.

"It's not too late for you, Zuko." Azula continued persuasively, "You can still redeem yourself."

"The kind of redemption she offers is not for you." Iroh said firmly as he looked at his nephew.

Tsai had been standing very still. Her heart aching. As she tried to stand her grounds both physically and emotionally.

"Why don't you let him decide, Uncle?" Azula barked then she looked at Zuko imploringly, "I need you, Zuko. I've plotted every move of this day, this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have Father's love. You will have everything you want and have ever wanted."

It was completely the opposite of what his girlfriend and uncle had just said to him. He was stuck in the middle of two opposite ends. Stuck between good and evil. Right and wrong. Pinned between a wall and a sword.

"Don't listen to her!" Tsai suddenly stepped up. "You can't trust her!"

"Zuko, I'm begging you." Iroh pleaded from where he was trapped by the crystals and Zuko looked at him, "Look into your heart and see what it is that you truly want." Iroh pleaded.

"Zuko please!" Tsai begged him. Literally pleaded to him her voice cracking "Please don't do this!"

Her voice wasn't the only thing cracking.

"You shut your mouth you colonial mongrel. Dare you speak to my brother like that!" Azula barked. "Your mere existence is a disgrace to the Fire Nation!" She made a gesture and before Crystals around her moved trapping her in a glass prison similar to Iroh’s. She kept her neck raised up afraid that if she lowered it would puncture.

Azula gestured at the two Dai Li agents, who then Earth bended themselves out of the chamber while Zuko contemplated his choice.

"You are free to choose." Azula stated with a small smirk and she turned, following after Aang and Katara.

It took him a moment but Zuko lowered his eyes his eyes as he walked out of the chamber. A single tear slid down Tsai's face as he walked out. She felt all the air leave her lungs as if she had been punched to the gut. Her heart shattering at his betrayal. She swallowed her pride and her breathing became aggressive before her limbs went numb and cold, suddenly feeling as if they were made out of cinder and stone. Her heart shattering on the spot alongside any illusions of dreams of happiness in the future. She had lost everything.

Zuko had just abandoned the chamber betraying the two of them without turning back.

There was a moment of heavy silence in which the only sound that could be heard were the weak sniffles and cries of the broken-hearted girl.

"So that's what you're going to do," Iroh spoke after a minute of heavy silence.

"Just stand there and cry," he commented sadly. She tiptoed being able to speak properly. "N-No," she let out a weak howl.

"Let him walk away." He continued pressing on like her conscience.

She was quiet for a moment as she sniffled the incoming angry hot tears.

"You didn't ask me to come with you with the promise of adventure," she said. "You asked me so I could fall in love with him. Change him." The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She almost felt broken. A part of her shattering under the crushing cruel reality.

Iroh was silent for a moment.

"I thought he could change. That he would choose good. That he would choose you." He said, his voice soft.

Tsai nodded her head slightly, "Right…" She trailed off for a moment. "I have lost everything," she confessed. "My family, my brother, myself and most importantly my dream and for what?" She cried. Her voice louder angrier dripping with frustration.

"You have your own destiny to fulfil Tsai and it may or may not be alongside my nephew, but it you must keep fighting."

There was a heavy silence between them and Iroh lowered his head. Everything really was lost... It took her a moment for her tears to cease.

"You're right." She said determined. She rolled her eyes to look at Iroh who simply nodded at her, his eyes closed a faint smile on his face.

Feeling a sudden surge of inner empowerment and snapping out of her momentarily depression, a determined look blazed in her eyes. Iroh saw how she came back to life from her depressive wilt. She flashed a blade and began angrily chipping at the crystal that kept her prisoner. Some moments later she was free.

"Alright," she opened her palm stretching out her fingers they each let out a satisfying pop as she did. "Ready? Move aside," she said with a sly grin raising both of her hidden blades. Today they were going to take down the Fire Nation.

“Tsai,” Iroh said her name sagely. “After you free me… I’m afraid I still have to ask more from you.”

xxx

Iroh reached a clearing which was destroyed. Shards of crystal, rock, water and rock and other debris coated the clearing. At the end of one side opposite to a stream right under a prison of gleaming crystals kneeled a defeated Katara. Her eyes reflected a broken soul as she held the Avatar's limp, pale body in her arms. Zuko and Azula rounded her as they got ready to strike without mercy.

Suddenly, a burst of orange fire flashed before them shielding Katara and Aang from Azula's fire blast. Katara, Zuko, and Azula all turned to stare in surprise as Iroh leapt off a ledge on the chamber's wall, landing in front of the Avatar protectively.

"You've got to get out of here!" Iroh shouted at Katara who was struggling to carry Aang to the waterfall, "I'll hold them off as long as I can!"

"Very moving uncle," Azula said mockingly. "And your accomplice?" She looked around and did not realize the girl from the colonies was standing so close to her. Right in between the two siblings.

“Right here.” She said darkly.

The siblings turned to face her, ready to attack. Her blades gleaming in the dim light reflecting off the crystals. Her eyes were swollen from crying and angry as she instead ran forwards towards the Dragon of the West. Behind them Katara carrying the Avatar in her arms climbed the waterfall in a body of water in an attempt to escape.

Zuko’s jaw loosened when he saw her raise a blade at his uncle

“Go get her!” She cried out as she dodged a fire ball Iroh shot in her direction and ducked before sliding across the floor cooly and easily reaching her target.

Zuko’s eyes went wide when she grasped Iroh’s robe in a tight fist and brought the sharp blade to his neck. His Uncle opened his mouth and breathed a fierce stream of flames out from his mouth. Azula noted how she shiftily kicked one of his feet from underneath and using her weight pushed against his opposite shoulder while somehow ungracefully dodging the flames making the man quickly collapse on his back.

She had him pinned to the ground a foot stepping on his chest a sharp blade tightly pressed underneath his fat chin.

The Avatar had gotten away.

“Traitor!” She let out a heart splitting roar. Her shout echoing and resounding the nooks of the Crystal Cave. Her breathing hard as she painfully heaved over the older man. Her bottom lip trembled as a lost tear slid down the bridge of her nose. The pain almost too unbearable. Her hand holding the shaky blade trembling slightly.

She was hurt. His eyes were cold as they looked into her dark ones. Tears threated to once again spill from the windows of her soul.

“What are you doing?” Azula laughed cruelly.

“M-My best…” Tsai said in a whisper more to herself eyes wide in disbelief at what she was about to do. It took her a moment to compose herself before she stepped off the man’s large body.

“He’s a traitor!” She said louder finally turning to look at the Fire Nation siblings. Azula suddenly began to laugh and clapped her hands. “Very, very dramatic.” She said with humor.

“He’s a traitor to our Nation and must be punished!” Tsai spoke through a strained breath.

“And so are you.” Azula snapped her fingers and both Iroh and Tsai were once again encased in two giant crystals prisoners of the Fire Nation. Iroh surrendered with honor lowering his hands while Tsai struggled.

Zuko’s eyes darted from Iroh to Tsai in shocking disbelief. Iroh had his eyes closed and turned his head away from his nephew. The red head did the same not wanting to meet his perturbing gaze.

Xxx

"We've done it, Zuko." Azula said gleefully as she plopped herself done on the Earth Kingdom throne, Zuko standing quietly to her left, "It's taken a hundred years, but the Fire Nation has finally conquered Ba Sing Se.”

"I betrayed Uncle ..." Zuko commented quietly as he stared at the ground blankly. "And Tsai…" he said a little more quietly to himself. He was… confused.

Her actions. It didn't seem like her. It went against everything she stood for.

The way she threw herself and attacked his uncle like some wild animal. He still found it hard to believe.

It wasn't her. Something wasn't right…

His heart clenched in pain when he remembered the pained look in her eyes as she stared him with a ghostly expression on her face.

"No, he betrayed you." Azula replied coolly as she stood and she turned to look at her brother, "Zuko, when you return home, Father will welcome you as a war hero."

"But I don't have the Avatar." Zuko stated in confusion and he glanced at his sister skeptically, "What if Father doesn't restore my honor?"

"He doesn't need to, Zuko." Azula said in almost nice tone and she put her hand on Zuko's shoulder, "Today, you restored your own honor."

Zuko looked away from her, his lips pursed with uncertainty.

"So," Azula said suddenly intrigued. "Your girlfriend-" She began.

"She's not my girlfriend." Zuko growled out through gritted teeth. At least not anymore. At least not after that fight… That betrayal.

Azula chuckled being the vile creature she was. "The way she came after Uncle. I really thought the fat man was done for."

Zuko remained silent. He didn't want to see her. He didn't even want to think about her.

"So what's her deal? Did she follow you around like a lost puppy from her pitiful colonial life? Hm?" Azula continued to press that hot red button.

"…Yeah," Zuko agreed after a moment. Half of him agreed in anger. The other half lied through his teeth. Despite their fight - he couldn't let Azula hurt her.

It was best to have her believe whatever she wanted.

"Pathetic." Azula scoffed cruelly.

Again, he responded with a heavy silence.

"At least she's got a good head. For a time, there I had her pegged as a traitor, just like uncle."

He'd had heard enough. It made him sick. His stomach twisted with ill feelings before dramatically storming off.

Xxx

The two most infamous traitors to the Fire Nation were being kept in separate cells in the Fire Nation's Royal Navy ship. Both of their hands and feet had been cuffed with Earth cuffs and Tsai's hidden blades had been taken away from her making her feel more naked and vulnerable than ever.

Because of this she kept her body pressed against one of the prison's walls making herself small. She knew that Iroh was doing the same on the other side.

Neither had said much throughout the entire night.

"Iroh?" Tsai suddenly asked.

She kept on replaying the events of the day in her head. Today had started as such a perfect day and had now ended… well like this… She didn't think she could reach an even lower, rockier bottom. “Are you sure what we did… Do you think we made the right decision?” She asked hesitation in her voice.

She remembered the little plan they had crafted in the spur of the moment.

Xxx

She raised an eyebrow, half not paying attention as she chipped away in an attempt to liberate his body from the crystal prison.

“I’m going to ask you to betray me.” He said ominously.

“What?” She questioned an aghast expression of disbelief on her face.

Iroh was suddenly free from the crystals and calmly stepped out. She looked beyond confused and he pulled out a white Pai Sho chip from the inside of his sleeve. Suddenly it felt like they hadn’t played in ages. She took her hand and placed it inside of her palm wrapping her fingers around it. It was the White Lotus, one of the rarest chips in the game of Pai Sho. A strong game chip that could change the entire outcome of any game if played well.

“I need you to return to the Fire Nation…”

“What?” Somehow, she hadn’t been able to wrap her mind around the idea. Part of her felt as if she was hallucinating. Her mind and heart racing. This went against everything she stood for now. All of her growth, everything she had learned about the vile origins and horrible crimes that her people had done. How could she return back to that? She also doubted that they would receive her with open arms.

“What-but- how- I… I don’t want to!” She cried out and suddenly felt like a very small child. “I don’t want to!” She protested in a childlike matter. “I give up! I’ve lost everything already!” The hot rivers of tears began to once again spill down her face.

Breaking him out of a crystal prison was one thing but this-

"I-I can't do it," she spoke, her voice cracking.

“You have nothing to lose then…” he said sternly with a serious expression on his face. One that made her feel as if she had no choice.

“Do you want them to win?” He leaned in.

“N-No,” she sobbed and began to aggressively wipe her tears again.

“Then listen carefully and do as I say…”

Iroh leaned in and together they concocted a plan to sabotage the Fire Nation. However, their meeting was interrupted by a horrifying scream echoed the chambers of the cave.

"That sounded like Katara!" She said and looked at Iroh with panic.

He gave her a knowing look and he sprinted out of the chamber leaving her truly alone.

Xxx

“Tsai,” Iroh said ominously.

“There’s something else you should know.” He said quietly.

Again, he was silent for a moment. She heard him open his mouth and croak out two simple words.

"Your hair..."

xxxx AN: Wow.... This was more painful than I expected 🥺😭 I’ll admit I debated whether Tsai should runaway with Team Avatar and go rouge but it was too predictable. I also considered making her turn evil but it goes against all of her growth so- here we are. We have a spy amongst our hands. Things should be interesting... 👀

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621569264636362752/sunburn-prince-zuko-21

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621326239834275840/sunburn-prince-zuko-19

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

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megbox · 4 years ago

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2020 Year in Review

Previous Posts: (2019) (2018) (2017) (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011)

2020 is a weird year because as the world goes through something collectively extremely traumatic and that is radically changing the structure of our lives, our workplaces, the way we connect socially, our mental health… our response to disease…. SO MUCH ABOUT THE WORLD…. And yet the day-to-day of living in a pandemic is so… mundane. I am privileged enough to have that opinion. I have stayed securely employed and it is privilege for my main reaction to something as intense as this pandemic to be boredom. But really, 2020 was a year of absences. It was a year spent largely alone, in my own company. It was a year that forced me to rest. It was a year that made me feel so terribly lonely but also forced me to get acquainted with myself and enjoy my own company in a new way. And it was a year of running.

I would also like to thank Connor for making this post happen by reminding me to do it and not to break tradition.

January & February

I am combining these months because they were not altogether all that memorable. My resolutions, as I noted on Twitter on January 2, were to 1) Keep running and 2) Learn how to make fresh pasta dough. I can safely say – mission accomplished on both fronts.

On January 14, I had the privilege of presenting a suicide intervention lecture to students at the medical school where my brother goes. By that time, I’d done a million of these presentations so nerves aren’t really a factor (imagine that! Me, no longer remotely afraid of public speaking…), but this one meant a little extra to me. My brother is so highly accomplished, and I am so proud of him, and I enjoyed having an opportunity to show him what I do and make him proud of me. I wore my favourite dress and did my hair all nice and he described it later as “exceptional.” It was a really, really good feeling. The first weekend of February, Ali and I had planned to go to Jasper. We wanted to go for a hike or two, and get super stoned and go to the planetarium. A huge blizzard hit Alberta just before we were supposed to leave, so we ended up having a staycation here in Calgary. We rented a hotel room, went swimming, drank wine, went to Japanese Village, had drinks in the lounge and then later to a punk rock band roulette night at the Palomino and finally crawled into our giant hotel bed and fell asleep to Remember the Titans… of all movies. It was the kind of night where you simultaneously feel 18 and 35 years old.

March

March was when the pandemic really started to become real. I don’t know exactly why, but I did not take the threat of coronavirus very seriously until the last minute. My coworkers would whisper about it in the hallways and I just rolled my eyes. But then, people started deciding they would work from home, the number of us in the office dwindled. The vibe was bad. Nobody could really focus. They held meetings at 8am and 4pm every day just for COVID-19 updates and we all waited with bated breath for them to finally tell us to go home and not come back. I really feel like I didn’t acknowledge the true implications of this virus until we got the official work from home order, and I had to tell my boss, my laptop at home is too old to run this software, I need a work tablet. My first official work from home day was March 23, 2020. I don’t remember much about that time except that the general sense of panic and anxiety made my job a lot busier, and it is hard to do a job like mine from home because it is hard to counsel or reassure clients through anxieties that are hitting you just as hard. I coped with wine, a lot of running, and listening to Ben Gibbard’s afternoon live streams where he would play acoustic versions of Death Cab songs and other covers. He played New Slang by the Shins one night and I burst into tears. I also coped with teaching myself how to make fresh pasta dough, and enjoying what was, at that point in the pandemic, the novelty and fun of Zoom.

April

In the absence of being able to have a party for my birthday, I decided to be obnoxious and do a “challenge” on my Instagram story. I asked my friends to record a distance run and/or walked and send it to me as a birthday present. My actual birthday ended up being a cold and windy and pretty miserable day. I ran 12km myself, came back home and watched both Magic Mike and Magic Mike XXL, and then went to my parents’ to celebrate both Scott and I’s birthdays with our family. My friends dropped off presents to my door and drove past my house and honked and I felt very loved and appreciated. I drank a lot of Prosecco with my brother and we listened to Kacey Musgraves.

It was also in April that I become “acquainted” with my neighborhood running nemesis. I put acquainted in apostrophes because I have never actually spoken to him. On one fateful run in April, I happened to catch up to him on my regular route. This was at the height of the COVID fear and so, while I would usually just pass someone on the sidewalk, I went out into the street. He saw me out of the corner of his eye and SPED UP. WHICH IS SUCH BAD RUNNER ETIQUETTE LIKE DUDE I’M IN THE ROAD LET ME PASS YOU. And then we ended up in this like, all-out 100m-finals-at-the-motherfucking-Olympics sprint challenge when all I was trying to do was go for a leisurely training run. And then I finally passed him, turned a corner and had to like collapse on to my hands and knees to catch my breath. Since then, I see this man running all the time. Sometimes while I am also running, sometimes from my car when I am driving through my neighborhood. He’s like… 16. And we are very competitive with one another. I hope to one day actually say hello to him. I both hate that guy and have to thank him for the motivation.

I ran my first half marathon on April 13, 2020. I was very hungover because I had stayed up quite late with someone on Zoom the night before on a virtual “first date” that had gone much better than anticipated. I don’t know why but I woke up the next morning in such a good mood that I decided I would go for a long, slow run. I got to 18km and figured, what’s 3.1 more? And so, I did it. The first thing I did upon finishing was call my mom. The second thing I did was contemplate calling an Uber to drive me the 2km left to my house. The other notable thing in April is that Maddy moved back from Australia, begrudgingly and a LOT earlier than planned, because of COVID.

May

May was kind of a blur. It was the first month of the Great Virtual Race Across Tennessee, which I signed up for while coming off of the high of actually running a half marathon all by myself. The GVRAT was fucking awesome. It was created by Lazarus Lake, of Barkley Marathons fame. The ask is to run 1022.68km between May 1 and August 31, an average of about 8.3km per day. Well, you could run, walk, or hike. This is the actual distance it would take you to cover the state of Tennessee. Myself and about 20,000 other weirdos from around the world signed up for this challenge. I figured I would never get a chance to run in a Lazarus Lake race for real, and being home all the time opened up a lot more opportunity for training. It was one of the very best things I did for myself in 2020. So May involved a lot of running, because I was fresh and naïve and fully intended to be ahead of the curve. I was running about 10-12 per day, sometimes more, and not taking any rest days.

In between these runs, I spent a lot of time going on long, ambling quarantine walks with Maddy. We would either go for a long walk or she would come over and we would get absolutely hammered in my backyard playing beer pong just to pass the time. We would send snapchats to our exes and make TikToks like 18 year olds. I know we never really said it out loud but having eachother during this time made these months bearable. We were lamenting the loss of a summer, and Maddy’s time in Australia, and all of the expectations we had for ourselves. We were watching our friends in relationships move in together or get closer due to the quarantine. We needed companionship, and stupid things to laugh about, and love, and distraction. And I can genuinely say I would not have gotten through this quarantine period if it weren’t for the nights I spent shooting Pink Whitney and dancing to Party in the USA in my living room with her.

May 13th was my one year anniversary of working at the university. It felt good to have accomplished so many things in that time, and have moved up already in my job, and to have a full-time, permanent contract.

And May 16th was when I ran my second half-marathon as part of a virtual challenge put on by a friend of a friend. My parents came and sat in lawn chairs in the park while I did loops. They cheered me on and filled my water bottle for me when I ran out. They’re my number one supporters and I love having a family that does that kind of shit for me in the face of something arbitrary like a virtual half marathon challenge. I knocked 7 minutes (!) off my original time. Amazing what not being hungover can do for your fitness levels.

June

I don’t remember many important things about June, other than Maddy moving to Banff. It was depressing but I was also happy for her and happy to have an excuse to go out there and visit. I went the very first weekend after she moved. Halfway through June I seriously contemplated quitting the GVRAT. My shins were bruised, I was dreading every single run, and I could not fathom doing it for 2.5 more months. I was dragging behind in the standings and losing my motivation.

I spent a lot of time with friends reading in parks. Sometimes, often, with wine. I met a stranger in Canmore Park and ended up kissing him. He was lovely.

Ali and I had one really good day in June where we went to the Farmer’s Market and then came back to her place and watched Ru Paul’s drag race for like eight straight hours. It was one of those days where we hadn’t seen each other in so long and you just feel totally high off of friendship and absolutely everything is funny and you just can’t stop laughing. I vividly remember it as one of the best days of the year.

July

Again, July kind of passed in a blur. I did a lot of hiking, and a lot of running… keeping up with the GVRAT. I hiked Picklejar Lakes, Castle Mountain, Little Beehive Lookout.

I went to Banff for a weekend to hang out with Maddy. We had a predictably wild weekend with her roommates and friends. We had dinner at Chili’s (hell yeah) and then went to High Rollers for beers and bowling. The “thing to do” at that point for all of these Banff people was to meet at the “rec grounds” aka public firepits and drink. The police would generally leave you alone so long as you weren’t being rowdy. I sat next to an Australian named Josh at a picnic table and later took him back to my hotel room and he gave me the world’s most unbelievable obvious hickey. Maddy and I sweat out the tequila shots the next day with a long ass hike, and then had a nap before her brother came and took us climbing at the Sunshine slabs – an activity I was not very good at but I wanted to be good at. It was the kind of weekend where you feel like, okay, I definitely indulged my wild side. And you drive home just like totally exhausted but smiling. I sent Maddy’s brother a voice note on my way into town thanking him for taking us climbing and saying it was nice to see him.

August

Okay – August was actually really eventful. Like most of the year’s events happened in August, honestly. A lot of running and hiking. I did Ha Ling Peak for the first time, and we did a 30km hike to Aylmer Pass one day that was a fricken GRIND. I spent the long weekend in Saskatchewan. We went to a cidery, and I ran laps around my Dodo’s acreage, and then we got to visit Wakaw Lake and reunite with our old next-door neighbours. We took the boat out and went tubing and lit fireworks and had an amazing dinner and honestly it was like reliving my childhood in the best, best, best way. I fell asleep on the car ride home.

I went camping with Ali in Sylvan Lake. We got ice cream and cooked fish tacos over the campfire. She told me that Cody had a date planned for the day they took possession of their house, that she wondered if he might ask her to marry him but didn’t want to get her hopes up in case it didn’t happen and ruin what otherwise was supposed to be a celebratory day. Spoiler – he did ask her to marry him  I was running when she called me. I was listening to Epsilon by Kygo, and now when I hear that song I always think of them. I stopped my watch and just openly bawled on the street out of happiness for them.

Steven successfully defended his master’s thesis. We went camping in Waterton to celebrate with Matt, Kennedy, Regan, Scott, and Rie. They brought cake. We did a sunrise hike. I slept in the back of my Ford Escape.

On August 27, Ollie passed away. It was both expected and unexpected. He had been having some issues with seizures. The vet didn’t think it was anything to be too concerned about, he was old and it wasn’t uncommon for them to happen. It happened suddenly. I had a terrible sleep that night, and woke up in a cold sweat somewhere between 3 and 4 am. In the morning, my mom called me and told me the news. He had a giant seizure in the night and was crying and yelping. They woke up and took him to the emergency vet, they made the executive call to put him down to prevent any further suffering. He died right around the time I woke up in the middle of the night. I like to think that was his way of saying goodbye, maybe. I cried all day. Well, let’s be honest, I cried all week. I burst into tears at the mere thought of him. He was such a good and lovely dog. He was so loved by us. He had a good life. It is always sad when we lose pets so early. They bring so much joy to our lives, and still when I go to my parents’ place the first thing I want to do is call for him or pet him. I hope he is running around in whatever the pet afterlife is. I miss him.

And on August 31, I ran my last kilometre of the GVRAT. I finished with 733.78 run, 83.18 hiked, and 205.09 walked.

September

September was a nice break from running. I got to start coming to campus one day a week, on Thursdays, which was good for my mental health and work productivity. I got to spend September long in Vernon with Maeghan and Madison at Michael’s family’s cabin. They took us boating and made us meals and didn’t judge us for drinking margaritas with Michael’s sister literally all day. It was the best. It was the epitome of every summer weekend you dream about. I was so happy I got to go.

I met a boy in September. It’s always September, isn’t it? It feels weird to write about him. Like, that makes him significant. But. He is significant. And I met him in September. And it was unexpected. Last minute. And essentially not a day has gone by since that day in September that I have not thought about him.

I also joined a Calgary Sport and Social Club team with my friends for softball and it started in September. We played two games and then I tore my hamstring running from second to third base. I tore… my hamstring…. Running like 30 metres…. After a summer of literally running 10+ km every day. I… it was the worst day ever. Softball itself was amazing and so fun even though I really do suck at the sport but highly recommend Rec League C-level beer league softball with all of your best friends. There’s just no way that isn’t fun.

October

A lot of pouting about my hamstring, I went to two physio sessions and then decided to just start running again. I’m bad. I’m a bad example. Don’t do what I do… but also…. It worked.

I went to Victoria to visit Sydney over the Thanksgiving weekend. We went to a Thanskgiving potluck party at my old coworker’s place. It was a nice experience to be the new people at a party, to have a room full of new people to meet and who ask you questions about your life. We got really drunk and they tried setting Sydney up with one of their roommate’s brothers, and gave us lipstick to try, and poured us tequila shots. We had such an amazing meal. It was honestly so fun. We laughed in the cab the whole way back about how we were going to need to debrief that evening HARD the next morning. We watched a lot of All Gas No Brakes, and went for dinner and brunch and I limped up Mount Doug with my hamstring. It was a very very chill weekend, like we spent a lot of time just lounging at Sydney’s apartment and doing nothing. Because that is the kind of friends we are. It was so relaxing and lovely. I was sad to leave.

Karla, my roommate, left for New York at the end of October. Her aunt was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, and she and her mom made the executive move to go there to basically be with her for the end of her life. She wasn’t going to be back until December. I was happy, because it’s nice to have a place to myself, but also sad because Karla is lovely and I knew it was going to be a stressful situation for her.

November / December

I am combining these two months because they have also been largely uneventful. In fact… I don’t know if I could really tell you anything significant that happened. We’ve been in a lockdown. I’ve spent my time playing piano, watching Netflix, listening to podcasts, basically doing all of the things I usually do when I’m bored. Lots of Among Us. Lots of outdoor things… skating… more running. We’ve been in a lockdown since early December. Time has dragged on since then. I spent Christmas with my parents. Scott and Rie stayed isolated, because Scott is in and out of the hospital for school. My mom and I watched shitty Christmas Hallmark movies and made fun of the guys who star in them. We drank a LOT on Christmas Eve and both spent Christmas with a wicked hangover. My dad and I ate edibles and I was launched into the stratosphere. I spent New Year’s Eve with Boy from September. We played beer pong, and card games, and he tried to use a coat hangover to pick the lock on the mysterious room that my landlord keeps locked. We spent most of the night kissing, honestly. I was happy to spend the last moments of the year with him.

2021:

Honestly... at this point... who really knows?

#year in review #text #personal #2020

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years ago

Text

Beautifully Unfinished - 5/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 4,580 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

First Careers.

You quickly make your way down the busy sidewalk, trying to make up for the few extra minutes it took to get out of work. You’d been working for Avengers Publishing House for 3 weeks now, and were loving it so far. Though it was a lot of work and you didn’t really have much free time anymore. You barely got to see your best friends lately, you all just starting on your career paths and slowly figuring out your own lives and new jobs.

Bucky had just passed his bar exam, and had started at a prestigious law firm about 2 weeks ago. You hadn’t seen much of him lately, but you kept each other informed on your day to day lives via text. He was enjoying the new job, but made it very clear that it was a learning curve and very draining work. Going from school life, to the working force was a shell shock for sure. Yes, you had all the book knowledge, but none of the real word experience, so new jobs were a lot to take in at first. You all figured they would be, but not to this extent. But he was happy, and thriving in his career choice, so that’s what truly mattered.

Steve had gotten a paid intern position at the MoMA, it was a once in a lifetime experience and he was over the moon for being chosen for the spot. But he had busted his ass to get it and you couldn’t have been prouder of him or his accomplishments. This was a huge stepping stone for him and his career, and from here more doors would be opened for him, and he’d have many more exciting and fulfilling opportunities in the future. He’d been there for 3 weeks now, having started damn near directly after leaving school.

And you, we’ll you’d been offered a Junior Editors position with Avengers, a very well known and reputable publishing house in Manhattan. It was the first stop on the climb to your dream job, and you were overjoyed with the opportunity to join their team. You’d always loved reading, and at a young age you’d figured out that being a publisher was right up your alley. And now that you had your foot in the door, you’d been entirely right on that thought. But it was a lot of work, late hours and spending your weekends at home and making your way through the stack of manuscripts you’d been given on a deadline.

So you had barely seen the guys over the last few weeks, you’d have the odd small coffee meets on rushed lunch breaks. Or the odd night you’d get together for your traditional weekly BFMMN™ (Best Friend Movie and Munchie Night.) But lately it was less of a tradition, and definitely not weekly. And when you did manage to come together, you’d all usually be out of it and exhausted, so the conversation was non-existent or minimal, at best. You all just being happy in the presence of your best friends, even in utter silence. It was better than nothing.

But today, you were all meeting for dinner, going out to finally celebrate your new jobs and your introductions to the working force. And in Classic You form, you’d lost track of time and were now running late. As per usual.

The restaurants sign finally comes into view and you pick up the pace a little, maneuvering through the swarms of people that always seemed to crowd the city sidewalks. But especially directly after working hours, all the people moving to and from their jobs, their homes and various businesses along the streets. Going to meet friends, to grab coffee or just take a leisurely stroll.

You weren’t taking a leisurely stroll currently though, you were damn near throwing elbows to get to the restaurant in a timely manner. You weren’t super late, by any means, but late was late, and awarded you less time with your best friends. Which wasn’t okay, at all. Not lately at least, not with how little you’d seen either of them the last few weeks.

You’d planned this dinner with them a few weeks ago, to make sure you all were free and clear, and wouldn’t miss it for anything else. You’d made the guys swear to set reminders in their phones so no one forgot or made other conflicting plans tonight. Come hell or high water, you were having dinner with your friends, and then the three of you were returning to your place after, for a few drinks and a movie. There was no getting out of it this time, you needed a fun, relaxing night with your guys, desperately.

You reach the entrance to the restaurant and quickly pull open the door, finding a beautiful young woman standing behind a podium. She asks for the reservation name, and you give her yours as you’d set it up. She smiles, informing you that only one other person has arrived so far and then leads you to the back where the table is.

As your eyes scan the room quickly, they land on a glorious head of blonde hair and a large involuntary smile takes over your face. Stevie, you should have guessed he’d be here first, he was always on time, or in most cases, early.

You also shouldn’t have been so worried about being a few minutes late, as Bucky always showed up last. You were positive that the guy treated being fashionably late like it was a dang character trait. He took it seriously, and never showed up on time, not even remotely.

He ran on his own clock and you’d actually lied to him a few times over the years, giving him incorrect early start times for important things, so that he’d end up late for the fake start time, but right on time for the real one. He’d always chuckle the second he arrived and saw the smug and satisfied expressions on yours and Steve's faces at him accidentally, yet strategically, arriving on time. Though you couldn’t pull that trick too often, or it would cease to work, so you had to pick your battles, and only use it in important or dire situations.

You make your way towards the table, and Steve, admiring the unfairly beautiful angle, even if it was the back of his head. But that wasn’t a shock, the guy was gorgeous and looked outstanding from all sides. It was wholly unfair and a rather large piss off, if you were honest, the guy didn’t have a bad angle anywhere. All hard lines, muscles and taut tanned skin. Then his perfect blonde hair and mesmerizing deep blue eyes, he was the walking embodiment of perfection in your eyes, and probably in many other people's eyes as well.

As you get closer to the table, you notice he is hunched forward a little and looking down, and it doesn’t take a rocket doctor to guess that he probably has his illusive sketchbook out. You have always known, from early on, that Steve loved to draw. He took his sketchbook everywhere with him and pulled it out whenever he was waiting, or no one was watching. But you’d only ever seen a few of his sketches, he was very secretive about his artwork. He didn’t like to show it off and the odd time he did, he was always humble yet embarrassed by it. Saying that it either wasn’t finished yet, or wasn’t that good.

You’d praise the artwork every time though, and not because you were his best friend, but because it was genuinely always amazing. He had a real talent, if he could just get over his insecurities and actually show his work off to the world, he’d see just how honest your praises really were.

But he’d always shrink away at the mention of showing people, saying he didn’t draw for recognition, but instead just for him. It was his stress relief and he only drew whatever caught his eye or inspired him that day. Like little snapshots of his life that were just for his eyes, and his eyes only.

You gave up trying to persuade him to share his art with the world, hell, to even just share it with you and Buck. And instead you’d just leave the topic entirely alone, it wasn’t your place to demand anything from him, especially if it made him uncomfortable. Or felt like you were pulling teeth. So you’d dropped the whole art thing completely, and instead just left it up to him to decide what, and when, he shared it with you. And each time he’d show you a little something, you lapped it up with eager enjoyment and locked away the mental snapshot forever. Taking any little morsel he offered and loving it as brightly as you could.

The fact he even showed you anything, spoke volumes to you. Made you feel so immensely special to be one of the select few who got to actually set eyes on his artwork.

“Whatcha drawing, Stevie?” You asked abruptly as you reached the table, pointedly not looking at his sketchbook out of respect for his art privacy. You quickly took your jacket off, hanging it on the back of your chair before taking the seat across from him.

Steve calmly, but promptly, shut the book and glanced up at you, no matter how many times you tried to startle him, it never worked. The guy had eyes on the back of his head, you swear. He smiled at you, before tucking the book and pencils away in his messenger bag. “Just the things around me. Ya know, the usual,” he shrugged.

You just nodded, averting your eyes to the menu in front of you, as you picked it up and glanced over the options. “Sorry I’m late, got tied up at work,” you pause, glancing around the table playfully before locking eyes with Steve and smirking. “But I see the Jerk is keeping up his personally appointed job of making me always feel on time,” you chuckled, and Steve did as well.

“Well, you know him, he always has to arrive last so we can all fully appreciate his outfit choice,” he grins and shakes his head, picking up his own menu also.

You both fall into a silence, it’s not exactly awkward, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. You and Steve have sort of drifted since he started dating Hailey, not so much physically but more mentally. You still hang out as a group, but no longer just the two of you. And you still talk, but no longer as deeply, it’s mainly surface stuff now. Your jobs, your families, your day to day lives.

He doesn’t talk about Hailey with you often, if at all, he keeps pretty mum about her actually. Barely even saying her name in your presence unless he absolutely has to. No lie, you're thankful for that, but also not at the same time, especially since their third date they’ve been damn near inseparable. Spending almost all their free time together, but he still makes the effort to join in on the group stuff. And luckily for you, he’s never once brought Hailey along, he’s never even asked, not once. He seems to understand and respect that your group time is just for your little circle of 3.

But it’s not that she wouldn’t be welcome to join, every once and awhile. You’d suck up your stupid jealous bullshit here and there, if you had to. She made Steve happy, from the small things you’d heard, and could perceive in your childhood best friend. So having her around the odd time, you could deal with, you weren’t a complete asshole. But yet you liked that he never brought her around, for the sake of your heart, but not that he did it for that reason. God no, he still had no clue of your feelings, and to this day, you’d still never voiced them aloud.

You guessed he never invited her more for the sake that you and Bucky were his friends, his best friends, and sometimes he just needed time away from Hailey. Time to just be a party of one, with people who truly knew him. He had his separate friends that he shared with Hailey, and she had her own friends that were entirely her own. It was a mutual thing for them, their own ways to escape and get the time they needed away from each other, so that the relationship didn’t feel smothering or overbearing. Little spaces here and there are so important, and needed to keep a relationship healthy and thriving. To keep it from turning toxic and becoming too codependent, because that was never a good thing.

Plus you figured he kept her separated because the three of you had so much history, that Hailey may have felt left out or like an outsider to, as she wasn’t around for most of your friendship. Nor was she present for many of the big, and memorable moments that you all reminisced about or brought up often.

Whatever his true reasonings were, you were just secretly thankful for them. And for the fact you had your guys entirely to yourself, whenever you got together. Yes, it was selfish, but most humans hate change, and with certain things, you weren’t any different. You were entirely human, after all.

“Works going okay?”

“Hmm?” You hum, lifting your eyes to find Steve studying you now, his focus no longer on his menu. How long was he staring at you? You have no clue. Are you positive that your slightly disheartened thoughts were clear as day on your face, and that he probably saw them all? Oh 100%, judging by the concerned look on his face currently. You clearly really needed to work on your poker face, it had obviously deteriorated in the last few weeks, what with your lack of needing to use it. “Oh, yeah,” you plaster on your signature fake smile. “Work is going great. How about you? How’s the prestigious MoMA treating you?”

His eyes light up, like they always do when he is excited about something. “It’s amazing, Y/N. Everyone has been so helpful and very knowledgeable. I’ve learned more in the last 4 weeks than I did in my entire time at school.” He chuckles, “or at least it feels like I have.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, Steve. I’m so happy you are enjoying it so much,” you smile fondly at him. This one a real smile for once. “No one deserves this experience as much as you, as you busted your ass in school.” You grin cheekily at him, “and I’d know, I was the one who had to drag you out of the library weekly, to force you to eat a real meal.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” He laughs at that, “did I ever properly thank you for single handedly keeping me alive back then?”

You place a finger on your chin as you hum, in feigned deep thought then shake your head. “Not that I can remember. But I take praise and apologizes in the form of baked goods, if you forgot.”

He smirks and shakes his head, “oh, I didn’t forget. Not for a damn second, not when a dozen cookies saved my ass more than a few times with you, throughout the years.”

“That they did,” you laugh, nodding in agreement to his words. “How’s Hailey?” The words slip from your mouth unfiltered and you want to kick yourself. Yet, you are curious how things are with them, you just should have waited till Bucky was here to act as a buffer. Because your conflicting thoughts on the topic of Steve's relationship caused you to do and say the dumbest things when she was occasionally brought up.

You were happy that he was, you truly wanted the best for him. But you still carried this ridiculous torch for him, and it hurt a little every time she was brought up. You were selfishly jealous of her, or maybe less of her, and more of the man she got to call her own. The one man you always wanted that privilege with, but would never get. You knew that, but just couldn’t fully come to terms with it. Maybe one day you would, maybe one day she could be brought up and you wouldn’t cringe internally and feel your heart crack a little more each time.

“Ah, good. She’s good,” he nods, focusing back on his menu. “What looks good here?”

You take a silent deep breath in, your abrupt question luckily not sullying the mood. “I was thinking the Cordon Bleu Chicken Burger sounds fantastic,” you hum, glancing over the options, “but then the Teriyaki Chicken Rice Bowl looks amazing as well.” You groan, “ugh, why can I never just pick one? Why do I always get stuck between two choices, and then literally have to decide when the waitress appears and asks what I want?”

Steve chuckles, “and then you instantly regret your choice the second the waitress walks away.”

You are just about to refute that, but a new voice joins the mix. “But then once the food arrives, she goes on and on about how good of a choice she made. And how great the food is.”

You snap your eyes over and see a grinning Bucky walking towards your table. He takes his jacket off and hangs it on the back of his chair before taking a seat in the spot beside Steve.

“Okay, I’m not that bad,” you defend and playfully roll your eyes at the guys chuckling and shaking their head in disagreement of your words.

“Oh, you totally are,” Bucky reaffirms for good measure.

Which causes you to laugh, “okay, fine, maybe I am. But just a little.”

“Try a lot,” Steve corrects and you sigh deeply, jokingly. Which causes you all to laugh before exchanging your fond hello’s, and asking Bucky the basic life update questions, before you all focus on the menu to make your selections before the waitress appears.

Once the food is ordered, you having once again left the choice to the last minute and then just threw your pick at the waitress like always, the three of you fall into a comfortable and familiar conversation. Taking about the ‘good old days’ and the more in-depth topics.

The food arrives and you all enjoy it, immensely. And once again, you are completely happy with your choice, like the guys mentioned, and your momentary panic for possibly ordering the wrong thing, also like they mentioned, flies out the window. Like every other time, which is so Classically You—as Bucky had pointed out directly after you’d all finished eating. Causing Steve to laugh and you to glare fondly at the large brunette.

Dinner goes well but just as the three of you are paying your separate bills, Steve’s phone rings and he pulls it from his bag, apologizing for forgetting to put it on silent. As was the Rule for group night, that being put in place back in high school when Bucky’s phone had gone off damn near the entire night and he’d ended up essentially ignoring you and Steve to reply to all his ‘fans’ as you’d dubbed them. So you’d implemented a silent phone policy, which basically meant no phones allowed on BFMMN™.

He steps away for a moment, saying it’s Hailey and promising to be quick. You sigh quietly to yourself and stand with Bucky, waiting for Steve to return.

“Hopefully everything’s okay,” you comment softly, slightly irked for the interruption to group night, but also a little worried as Hailey is usually super respectful of your group time. She normally never bothers Steve while he is with you, another thing you are really thankful for. You’re happy he found someone who isn’t overly intrusive or overbearing, she is good for him, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s the truth.

“I’m sure it is, she probably just can’t find the TV remote again,” Bucky shakes his head and his words cause you to furrow your brows and glance up at him.

“What?” You ask confused. Why would she call for something like that? “What do you mean?”

Bucky purses his lips, looking like he just realized he said too much. But why would he feel like that? “Ah, it’s nothing, really. She does it all the time,” he shrugs it off.

What the hell? “Does what all the time? Loses the TV remote?”

“No,” he sighs, scratching the side of his head, it’s a nervous tick of his, he does it whenever he is trying to find the right words. Which only intrigues you more. “Constantly calls him for silly little pointless things. I think she does it to ‘check in’ on him. Make sure he is where he says he is. I’ve mentioned my thoughts about it to Steve, but he just waves them off and says she is just forgetful.”

“Wait, wait,” you put up a hand as if to pause the conversation. “What are you going on about? She doesn’t call all the time. She’s never called him on group nights in the past.”

Bucky gives you a weird assessing look, “yes, she has. Every time, and multiple times per night. But Steve is usually really good with shutting his phone off before he joins us, so that it doesn’t go off constantly while we are all together.” He grins and in Classic Bucky form, he tries to fix the strange awkward atmosphere with humour. “I think you scared the Jesus out of him—or into him, whichever, when you snapped at me that one time for my phone going off all night. Since that night, he’s made it his life’s mission to never be on the receiving end of your cranky outbursts about phone etiquette during group time,” he chuckles. Then jokingly cringes, “You’re scary as hell when you're mad.”

“I had no idea,” you say quietly. Here you’d just finished praising the woman in your mind for her ‘respect’ for group night. When really, that clearly isn’t the case. How did you never know about this?

“I think that was kind of the point.”

“Why does she check in on him so much?” You ask curiously.

“I don’t know. I suspect it might have something to do with you, though.”

“Me?” You quickly ask, “what the hell? Why?”

“She has always had this weird fixation on you, for some reason she thinks there is something more between Steve and you.”

Leave it to Bucky to always give you the real tea, he may not come out and say it right away, but if it ever comes up and you ask him about it, he never lies or avoids the truth. He always tells you how he sees it, how it is, and you’ve always adored that about him. There’s no sugarcoating, and no bullshit, it’s just his own honest opinions on things.

“But we are just friends?” You asked confused, though it’s less a question and more a statement. “What could she possibly be worried about? There are no feelings like that between us.” Which is partially true, from Steve’s side at least. However it’s a complete and blatant lie from yours, but no one knows that—for sure—aside from you. Bucky raises a disbelieving brow at you, but doesn’t comment on your words.

“She seems to think otherwise.” He shakes his head, “But don’t worry too much about it, it’s always been this way and her insecurities are her own. Ya know, since both you and Steve have always been so adamant that you’re just friends.” He pauses, giving you a little side eye before continuing, once again making you aware that he probably does know of your true feelings for Steve. “She’ll either come to realize that, eventually, or she won’t, but that’s on her. Not you. And at the end of the day, it’s between her and Steve, they have to work it out themselves. Don’t stress too much about the things you can’t control.”

You nod, feeling a little guilty for possibly causing an issue in Steve’s relationship. But also slightly irked at the fact you’re just finding out about this now. And at the new realization that she doesn’t come around because she most likely doesn’t like you, when you’ve never done a damn thing to her. Or to warrant her disliking you that much. How fucking rude is that? You may not exactly like her either, but at least you’d suck it up and be civil, you do respect her and Steve’s relationship, and would never interfere with it. Ever. In any form.

Yet, she doesn’t seem to hold those same sentiments, as it turns out, and she tries to interfere with your friend time often. Go figure, you’d have never known that, if it weren’t for Steve forgetting to turn his phone off this time. Before you can think any further on this all, Steve returns looking for a split second like he is exhausted.

But the second his drained eyes meet yours, a light flickers in them and he smiles at you. It almost looks fake at first to your knowledgeable eyes, but you shake your head and ignore that thought as he approaches you both.

“Sorry about that, Hailey just had a quick question.”

Bucky scoffs quietly and you elbow him, giving him a warning look to zip it. “All good, Steve,” you smile at him. Deciding to not pull on this proverbial string for once, because you may not like where it ends up, and you fear that bringing this up to him will only stand to put more of a riff between you two.

“Should we head out?” You ask, glancing between the two guys, receiving nods then the three of you exit the restaurant and head towards your apartment.

Throughout the night, you keep your mouth shut on the topic of Hailey, Steve is never really forthcoming with you about her, and you’re realizing that it’s probably because of her insecurities about you. About your friendship with him, and you can’t be sure of this, but you're willing to bet that anytime you’re brought up, she probably has something to say about it. Or maybe he doesn’t bring you up at all, he’s never been dumb by any means, and he is probably aware of her feelings towards you. And maybe because he filters you out of his conversations with her, he just unconsciously does the same in reverse. Filtering out her from his conversations with you.

Shit, but who honestly knows? You’re so sick of overthinking every little thing in your friendship with Steve, solely because you refuse to ask him about it. You refuse to bring any of it up. But also mainly because you refuse to add anymore stress onto him. Especially this sort of unnecessary and pointless stress.

The last thing you want to do, is to drive him away, or push him away, because he can’t handle the questions and issues from both sides. Do you deserve more answers? Of course. Are you going to press Steve for them? Fuck no. So instead, you’ll just harass Bucky about it later, privately. But Steve will never know any of it, he’ll never know that you know about any of this.

Cause he’s the one that you can't lose. But he’s the one that you can't win.

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

@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers

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