#scintilla the bat

[izuizzy]

A NEW BATCH OF FAN KIDDOS!!!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

(both fenris and scintilla are not in the ultimate lifespawn AU as they clash with the pairings in that universe. so they are in different AUs)

[alphabetsoup-blogposts]

Ancient history...

Year-end 2013. Still one of the worst times of my life.

Did R then raise "my" point about a possible forthcoming conflict of interests? Yes. I want to be entirely honest with you. I would situate that observation, however, in the broader context of what I have called his worrying eager, over-interest in the job offer and my deliberations over it.

Did he give any actual advice on the point like "why don't you raise the point with ...?" Not that I recall, but I could be wrong. I did not at that time regard him as wholly off-putting, although the cumulative events that took place at the end of 2013 were undoubtedly the ones that got me halfway down the road.

Was I influenced by what he said? Yes and no:

Absolutely not if by that you mean to say that I took a novel point made by someone else and drove it home out of deference to the advice-giver, espousing the argument for ad hominem reasons. No. The entire character of that time was a surreal story of being offered a job by someone (F) who immediately made it clear—even before I had accepted the role—that he distrusted me and intended to do pretty much as he pleased. There was absolutely zero need for anyone to tell me that a real conflict of interests could (and would) arise.

What I do remember of my discussions with R was my repeatedly expressing reluctance, ambivalence and hesitation, leaning towards a declination despite the fact that it was obvious I needed the additional income. What I remember of his interest at the time was that he was particularly concerned with the financial aspects of the new role as a support for my continuing to... well, remain self-employed. He insisted that my role qua self-employed person would have "asset value", if not income value. At one point, before F had mentioned any salary, R asked "how much would you need to earn [to effectively subsidise remaining self-employed]?" Then, a short while later, F offered the amount I stipulated. That really gave me the heebie jeebies.

Later, at my second meeting with AV, in 2014, he (AV) began the luncheon encounter at his club (I never seemed to escape those damn clubs!) by saying abruptly "I hope you didn't negotiate your salary. I never want to hear that you negotiated your salary." I didn't (negotiate over the salary) of course—because I'm almost pathologically incapable of focusing on my own personal supply of the Lizzies—but the stipulation was extraordinarily aggressive. It left me in a state of shock. Later, I saw a pattern in all this... I don't know whether I was right to see connections between these supposedly unconnected parts of my life but... well, it remains a somewhat plausible explanation in my mind.

Then, when R insisted in 2015 that the career help he was inclined to offer was with an application to the Brotherhood, I wondered whether that was what "asset value" meant and I felt incredibly stupid and regretful. Had everything been transparent in 2013 when he first spoke of sacrifice as "asset value" it would have been the simplest thing in the world to say "Oh, I could never, ever be interested in the Brotherhood...honestly, it has something of the aura of an entombment for a would-be-contrarian like me...so, actually, there's no real 'asset value' in this after all."

But, maybe I was somewhat influenced by what he said... if by that you mean I became more confident that other authority figures would also see the potential conflict as self-evident. That gave me, perhaps, a scintilla more courage to continue talking through the situation. And so, I did not turn the opportunity down immediately but went to bat with FCUK in the hopes of restructuring the role. But it was misplaced courage and dangerously destructive in that I said to F, in effect: "If you agree to put this disagreement to FCUK and they don't see the exigency of my 'conflicts' objections, I will do the role as you envisage it." And, Dear Reader, that is the story of how I came to be encoffined.

[chriee]

I really do love baseball batting scintilla. Enjoy the PK Fire and another asterisked JV4.

[mcmansionhell]

Coronagrifting: A Design Phenomenon

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled content to bring you a critical essay on the design world. I promise you that this will also be funny. 

This morning, the design website Dezeen tweeted a link to one of its articles, depicting a plexiglass coronavirus shield that could be suspended above dining areas, with the caption “Reader comment: ‘Dezeen, please stop promoting this stupidity.’”

This, of course, filled many design people, including myself, with a kind of malicious glee. The tweet seemed to show that the website’s editorial (or at least social media) staff retained within themselves a scintilla of self-awareness regarding the spread a new kind of virus in its own right: cheap mockups of COVID-related design “solutions” filling the endlessly scrollable feeds of PR-beholden design websites such as Dezeen, ArchDaily, and designboom. I call this phenomenon: Coronagrifting. 

I’ll go into detail about what I mean by this, but first, I would like to presenet some (highly condensed) history. 

From Paper Architecture to PR-chitecture

Back in the headier days of architecture in the 1960s and 70s, a number of architectural avant gardes (such as Superstudio and Archizoom in Italy and Archigram in the UK) ceased producing, well, buildings, in favor of what critics came to regard as “paper architecture.” This “paper architecture” included everything from sprawling diagrams of megastructures, including cities that “walked” or “never stopped” - to playfully erotic collages involving Chicago’s Marina City. Occasionally, these theoretical and aesthetic explorations were accompanied by real-world productions of “anti-design” furniture that may or may not have involved foam fingers. 

Archigram’s Walking City (1964). Source.

Paper architecture, of course, still exists, but its original radical, critical, playful, (and, yes, even erotic) elements were shed when the last of the ultra-modernists were swallowed up by the emerging aesthetic hegemony of Postmodernism (which was much less invested in theoretical and aesthetic futurism) in the early 1980s. What remained were merely images, the production and consumption of which has only increased as the design world shifted away from print and towards the rapidly produced, easily digestible content of the internet and social media. 

Architect Bjarke Ingels’s “Oceanix” - a mockup of an ecomodernist, luxury city designed in response to rising sea levels from climate change. The city will never be built, and its critical interrogation amounts only to “city with solar panels that floats bc climate change is Serious”  - but it did get Ingels and his firm, BIG, a TED talk and circulation on all of the hottest blogs and websites. Meanwhile, Ingels has been in business talks with the right-wing climate change denialist president of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro. (Image via designboom) 

Design websites are increasingly dominated by text and mockups from the desks of a firm’s public relations departments, facilitating a transition from the paper-architecture-imaginary to what I have begun calling “PR-chitecture.” In short, PR-chitecture is architecture and design content that has been dreamed up from scratch to look good on instagram feeds or, more simply, for clicks.  It is only within this substance-less, critically lapsed media landscape that Coronagrifting can prosper.

Coronagrifting: An Evolution

As of this writing, the two greatest offenders of Coronagrifting are Dezeen, which has devoted an entire section of its website to the virus (itself offering twelve pages of content since February alone) and designboom, whose coronavirus tag contains no fewer than 159 articles. 

Certainly, a small handful of these stories demonstrate useful solutions to COVID-related problems (such as this one from designboom about a student who created a mask prototype that would allow D/deaf and hard of hearing people to read lips) most of the prototypes and the articles about them are, for a lack of a better word, insipid. 

But where, you may ask, did it all start?

One of the easiest (and, therefore, one of the earliest) Coronagrifts involves “new innovative, health-centric designs tackling problems at the intersection of wearables and personal mobility,” which is PR-chitecture speak for “body shields and masks.” 

Wearables and Post-ables

The first example came from Chinese architect Sun Dayong, back at the end of February 2020, when the virus was still isolated in China. Dayong submitted to Dezeen a prototype of a full mask and body-shield that “would protect a wearer during a coronavirus outbreak by using UV light to sterilise itself.” The project was titled “Be a Bat Man.” No, I am not making this up. 

Screenshot of Dayong’s “Be a Batman” as seen on the Dezeen website. 

Soon after, every artist, architect, designer, and sharp-eyed PR rep at firms and companies only tangentially related to design realized that, with the small investment of a Photoshop mockup and some B-minus marketing text, they too could end up on the front page of these websites boasting a large social media following and an air of legitimacy in the field. 

By April, companies like Apple and Nike were promising the use of existing facilities for producing or supplying an arms race’s worth of slick-tech face coverings. Starchitecture’s perennial PR-churners like Foster + Partners and Bjarke Ingels were repping “3D-printed face shields”, while other, lesser firms promised wearable vaporware like “grapheme filters,” branded “skincare LED masks for encouraging self-development” and “solar powered bubble shields.” 

While the mask Coronagrift continues to this day, the Coronagrifting phenomenon had, by early March, moved to other domains of design. 

Consider the barrage of asinine PR fluff that is the “Public Service Announcement” and by Public Service Announcement, I mean “A Designer Has Done Something Cute to Capitalize on Information Meant to Save Lives.” 

Some of the earliest offenders include cutesy posters featuring flags in the shape of houses, ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home;” a designer building a pyramid out of pillows ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home”; and Banksy making “lockdown artwork” that involved covering his bathroom in images of rats ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home.” 

Lol. Screenshot from Dezeen. 

You may be asking, “What’s the harm in all this, really, if it projects a good message?” And the answer is that people are plenty well encouraged to stay home due to the rampant spread of a deadly virus at the urging of the world’s health authorities, and that these tone-deaf art world creeps are using such a crisis for shameless self promotion and the generation of clicks and income, while providing little to no material benefit to those at risk and on the frontlines.

Of course, like the mask coronagrift, the Public Service Announcement coronagrift continues to this very day. 

The final iteration of Post-able and Wearable Coronagrifting genres are what I call “Passive Aggressive Social Distancing Initiatives” or PASDIs. Many of the first PASDIs were themselves PSAs and art grifts, my favorite of which being the designboom post titled “social distancing applied to iconic album covers like the beatle’s abbey road.” As you can see, we’re dealing with extremely deep stuff here. 

However, an even earlier and, in many ways more prescient and lucrative grift involves “social distancing wearables.” This can easily be summarized by the first example of this phenomenon, published March 19th, 2020 on designboom: 

Never wasting a single moment to capitalize on collective despair, all manner of brands have seized on the social distancing wearable trend, which, again, can best be seen in the last example of the phenomenon, published May 22nd, 2020 on designboom:

We truly, truly live in Hell. 

Which brings us, of course, to living. 

“Architectural Interventions” for a “Post-COVID World”

As soon as it became clear around late March and early April that the coronavirus (and its implications) would be sticking around longer than a few months, the architectural solutions to the problem came pouring in. These, like the virus itself, started at the scale of the individual and have since grown to the scale of the city. (Whether or not they will soon encompass the entire world remains to be seen.) 

The architectural Coronagrift began with accessories (like the designboom article about 3D-printed door-openers that enable one to open a door with one’s elbow, and the Dezeen article about a different 3D-printed door-opener that enables one to open a door with one’s elbow) which, in turn, evolved into “work from home” furniture (”Stykka designs cardboard #StayTheF***Home Desk for people working from home during self-isolation”) which, in turn, evolved into pop-up vaporware architecture for first responders (”opposite office proposes to turn berlin's brandenburg airport into COVID-19 'superhospital'”), which, in turn evolved into proposals for entire buildings (”studio prototype designs prefabricated 'vital house' to combat COVID-19″); which, finally, in turn evolved into “urban solutions” aimed at changing the city itself (a great article summarizing and criticizing said urban solutions was recently written by Curbed’s Alissa Walker).

There is something truly chilling about an architecture firm, in order to profit from attention seized by a global pandemic, logging on to their computers, opening photoshop, and drafting up some lazy, ineffectual, unsanitary mockup featuring figures in hazmat suits carrying a dying patient (macabrely set in an unfinished airport construction site) as a real, tangible solution to the problem of overcrowded hospitals; submitting it to their PR desk for copy, and sending it out to blogs and websites for clicks, knowing full well that the sole purpose of doing so consists of the hope that maybe someone with lots of money looking to commission health-related interiors will remember that one time there was a glossy airport hospital rendering on designboom and hire them. 

Enough, already. 

Frankly, after an endless barrage of cyberpunk mask designs, social distancing burger king crowns, foot-triggered crosswalk beg buttons that completely ignore accessibility concerns such as those of wheelchair users, cutesy “stay home uwu” projects from well-to-do art celebrities (who are certainly not suffering too greatly from the economic ramifications of this pandemic), I, like the reader featured in the Dezeen Tweet at the beginning of this post, have simply had enough of this bullshit. 

What’s most astounding to me about all of this (but especially about #brand crap like the burger king crowns) is that it is taken completely seriously by design establishments that, despite being under the purview of PR firms, should frankly know better. I’m sure that Bjarke Ingels and Burger King aren’t nearly as affected by the pandemic as those who have lost money, jobs, stability, homes, and even their lives at the hands of COVID-19 and the criminally inept national and international response to it. On the other hand, I’m sure that architects and designers are hard up for cash at a time when nobody is building and buying anything, and, as a result, many see resulting to PR-chitecture as one of the only solutions to financial problems. 

However, I’m also extremely sure that there are interventions that can be made at the social, political, and organizational level, such as campaigning for paid sick leave, organizing against layoffs and for decent severance or an expansion of public assistance, or generally fighting the rapidly accelerating encroachment of work into all aspects of everyday life – that would bring much more good and, dare I say, progress into the world than a cardboard desk captioned with the hashtag #StaytheF***Home. 

Hence, I’ve spent most of my Saturday penning this article on my blog, McMansion Hell. I’ve chosen to run this here because I myself have lost work as a freelance writer, and the gutting of publications down to a handful of editors means that, were I to publish this story on another platform, it would have resulted in at least a few more weeks worth of inflatable, wearable, plexiglass-laden Coronagrifting, something my sanity simply can no longer withstand. 

So please, Dezeen, designboom, others – I love that you keep daily tabs on what architects and designers are up to, a resource myself and other critics and design writers find invaluable – however, I am begging, begging you to start having some discretion with regards to the proposals submitted to you as “news” or “solutions” by brands and firms, and the cynical, ulterior motives behind them. If you’re looking for a guide on how to screen such content, please scroll up to the beginning of this page. 

----

If you enjoyed this article, please consider subscribing to my Patreon, as I didn’t get paid to write it.  

[natrogersfics]

After All - Chapter 1/5

Cover art by @faith2nyc​ Read on AO3

​In the history of work-life balances, The Daily’s has to be the most bizarre of any company, and Natasha knows that it has nothing to do with the reasonable work hours Pepper is a stickler for implementing. One would truly be hard-pressed to find another work environment where the people get along so seamlessly. Sure, they have their disagreements, and their instincts are always to engage in debate rather than shy away from it, but for the most part, the second the clock strikes five p.m., all spats are forgotten in lieu of brainstorming which watering hole to head to (Dalton’s, always Dalton’s).   

To say that her coworkers are like family seems like a banality on the surface, the type of line an HR Department would print in the welcome packet for a new employee before their first day on the job. But as she stands by the doorway of Tony and Pepper’s living room, watching the very people she works with on a daily basis joyously mingle with members of her actual family, she does not know how else she could possibly define them. These people are the best of the best in the respective subjects, their combined accomplishments the envy of anyone with even a scintilla of ambition to succeed in the media. And yet here they are, holding plates filled with rainbow cake and sporting unicorn party hats, all because these happen to be her daughter’s latest obsession and they’re all powerless to deny her – especially on her first birthday.

In some ways, she knew they would be fond of Isabel, but she never expected them to adore her quite like this – for Thor to bring her a strawberry cupcake every eleventh to celebrate each new month of her life, or for Stephen and Christine to insist that they come over so the latter can personally perform routine checkups, or for Tony to customize a double stroller for when he takes both Isabel and Maria to his workshop. What’s more, they’ve all rallied around her as well, none of them ever more than a text message away when she’s in need of anything, which proved invaluable as she navigated motherhood for the first time. 

This outpour of love from a group of people who are not by any stretch obligated to go so above and beyond is an anomaly, she knows. It’s going to take some kind of miracle for her to find another group of genuinely kind people who would go up to bat for her and Isabel. And it’s that very thought that wrests the sadness she’s been trying to keep at bay all day as she ponders how this may be the last time in a long while that they will gather like this. 

“Are you sure you have to go?”   

The question breaks her out of her reverie, and she turns to see Darcy next to her, holding up two forks in one hand and a plate of cake in the other. She chuckles, reaching for the other fork as they both take a bite and moan at the perfection that is Sarah Roger’s baking. “I already paid the security deposit on the flat we’re staying in,” she says. “So that’s going to be a yes.”

“Flat, huh? Look at you, getting in on the lingo,” Darcy teases before groaning. “But until your butt is officially across the pond, it is an apartment. And it is take-out, not take-away. Which, coincidentally, we happen to have the best of here. Where are you going to get your Nom Wah fix in London, Nat, huh? Where?”

“They have a Chinatown there too, last I checked,” she counters, laughing when Darcy rolls her eyes. “Besides, I have to go anyway on the account of me being out of a job. I do have a child to support, you know.”

“First of all, the only reason you’re out of a job is because you got a big promotion,” Darcy says matter-of-factly. “Stupid corporate ladder.”

“Big words coming from the newly minted editor of The Daily’s International section,” she says, suddenly brimming with pride.

“Only because I learned everything from you,” Darcy says quietly before sighing in concession. “Ugh! You better not forget us when you’re out there being a hotshot editor-in-chief. And you better make sure Boss Baby doesn’t forget who her favorite is!”

“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” she says, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of the first person to truly become her constant at work. “You are many things, but forgettable is not one of them.”

“Yeah, true,” Darcy concedes easily, causing them both to laugh.

“Speaking of the Boss Baby though,” she says, checking her watch. “It’s almost her bedtime, so I better go make sure none of her grandparents have let her eat all the icing.” 

“I think what you really have to be concerned about is an aunt and uncle helpless over her charms,” Darcy says, smiling knowingly. “Last I saw her she was in the kitchen with Bucky and Wanda.”

She’s about to thank her, but before she can, Darcy’s already running towards the center of the living room at Thor’s roaring announcement that a game of Pictionary is about to commence. For a second, she allows herself a moment to watch the pandemonium unfold as her friends – her fully grown adult friends, no less – vie for the positions of team captains. “Hooligans,” she says, shaking her head fondly before making a beeline for the kitchen. She pokes her head in, finding Bucky and Wanda poring over the cheese and cold cuts selection laid out on the island before knocking on the wall to get their attention. “Any of you know where Izzie is?”

“Nat!” Bucky exclaims, “you have to try this cheese. It smells like something died in it, but it’s so damn delicious!”

She tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth tugging up in amusement. “Maybe later, Buck.” 

“Ignore him. He’s inhaled too much cheese,” Wanda says over the rim of her wine glass before pointing upwards. “Steve took her upstairs for a diaper change.”

“Thank you,” she says, turning to leave. She makes it to the stairs, climbing it two steps at a time until she reaches the top and stops in front of the framed collage of Maria on the wall. As her eyes scan the plethora of pictures, she can’t help but smile. She’s seen this frame countless times before, can practically name where each photo was taken and how old her goddaughter is in every one of them, but for some reason, she finds herself lingering before it, as if she needs to recommit everything to her memory lest she forget. She gives herself another minute, and with a sigh, forces herself to look away and walk down the familiar path to the nursery.  

“Do you know how much Daddy loves you?”

Steve’s words stop her dead in her tracks, and through the door left cracked open, she catches a glimpse of him sitting on the rocking chair with Isabel across his lap, their daughter staring up at him as he feeds her a bottle. The sight of them gazing affectionately at each other punches the breath out of her lungs, and it’s only by instinct that she moves out of view, pressing her back against the nearest wall.

“I don’t even know if I have the right words to describe how much,” she hears Steve confess with a little chuckle, to which Isabel coos, and in her heart of hearts, she knows that she should not be eavesdropping on this moment – it isn’t hers, and yet, she finds herself unable to move. “I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t understand me all that well yet, so I have some time to figure them out...” He sighs, long and winded. “Though, if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I ever will. There couldn’t possibly be words in existence that will encapsulate how much I love every little inch of you.” Steve’s voice cracks by the end, followed closely by a sniffle. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, fig. And I’ll call you all the time, so please don’t forget Daddy while you’re over there, okay? You’re my whole world, baby girl…”   

The hallway and the stairs and the foyer are all a blur as she bolts, the air around her suddenly too thick. She makes it out the front door, but by the time she gets to the bottom step of the brownstone, her legs feel too heavy to keep herself upright and she slumps down, placing her head in her hands as the Summer night’s air blows by and the sound of the traffic on the Upper East Side rings ambiently around her. She sighs. Steve’s words weren’t even meant for her to hear. It shouldn’t affect her this way – shouldn’t hurt her this way – especially when they’re full of adulation for their daughter. And yet, it’s as if she’s taken another dagger to her already crippled heart.

“Natasha.”

She looks up in time to see her mother take a seat next to her, and in the warmth of Melinda’s embrace, she finally lets the tears fall. “Would you believe me if I said I was just tired?”

“Oh, Nat,” Melinda says, reaching over to thumb her tears away. “You don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”

“Only I do,” she says, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost immediately. “He’s had a year. Heck, he’s had more than that to say something, give me a sign.” Melinda’s expression softens at her words, and she knows that it’s because despite offering her a way out only moments ago, Melinda’s one of the few people who knows she’s right. It’s been too long since that fateful night she asked Steve if she had a reason to stay, only to be met by silence. It was damning then, and it’s even more so in the time that’s passed since they’d agreed to postpone both her move to London and the implementation of their custody agreement until Isabel turned one. If he wanted her, if he felt even a fraction for her of what she felt for him, he had countless opportunities and ample time to say so. But now here they are, their daughter past her first year of life, and a day away from each of them getting her six months out of the year. She shakes her head. “He loves her so much. That’s more than I could have ever asked for, and in some ways, that’s always been the deal.” She turns to Melinda, smiling sadly. “I can’t keep hoping anymore. I have to move on.”  

With a sad smile, Melinda drops a kiss to her temple. “Okay.” 

In the months leading up to this day, there were countless times Natasha had caught herself imaging how it would play out. She expected a tear or two to be shed – Sarah and Melinda being the most obvious culprits – but at the very least, she thought the massive crowds at JFK would prove a compelling enough reason for them to not only keep it together, but also to keep their goodbyes short and sweet. But here, on the tarmac in Teterboro, with the Stark Industries jet before her and her entire family close by, she realizes that this is quickly morphing into her worst-case scenario – drawn out goodbyes, too many sad eyes, and her heart feeling all too heavy in her chest.

“You tell T’Challa that I will never forgive him for this.”

Pepper’s words elicit a laugh from her. “Oh please,” she says, scoffing even as she wraps her arms tighter around Pepper and pretends not to feel the warmth of the tear that drips down to her shoulder. “If you were at all capable of holding a grudge, the three of us would’ve stopped being friends long ago.”

“That was before he plotted to steal my best friend from me,” Pepper mumbles, making them both laugh. “Do you realize that this is the first time since college that we’re not going to live within a subway’s ride from each other?”

“We’ll drop by for Christmas,” she offers quietly, unable to trust that her voice won’t falter if she dares answer the question directly. Over Pepper’s shoulder, her eyes quickly glance at the group by the stairs of the jet – Sarah, Nick and Melinda, and Bucky and Wanda all gathered around Steve and Isabel – and she finds herself relieved that she had already said her lengthy goodbyes to most of them last night. She takes a step back from Pepper as she says, “These next six months will fly by.”

“Alright, alright,” Tony interjects as he comes up next to them with Maria on his hip. “Let’s not act like there’s not going to be a Stark Industries emergency in the London office in two weeks that only the CEO can solve.” He eyes Pepper and then her knowingly before nodding towards the jet. “Best not to misuse company property more than we already are.”

She rolls her eyes, breaking away from Pepper’s embrace completely. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the one who insisted on this whole spectacle?”

“You were gonna fly commercial,” Tony says, his expression twisting in disgust. “We’re not savages, Red.”  

Her lips quirk up at that. To anyone else, Tony’s quip drips with arrogance and reeks of privilege from a life defined by exuberant wealth. But she’s known the man for over a decade now, and though most of the time his tact leaves much to be desired, she understands him enough to know how to read between the lines. Their friendship has never been defined by heartfelt tête-à-têtes, and part of her is glad that he doesn’t seem keen on starting that now. Nevertheless, she knows that making sure she and Isabel are nothing short of exceedingly comfortable on an already difficult trip, is Tony’s ultimate way of showing just how much he cares. 

“Come here,” she says, stepping forward to engulf both him and Maria in a hug.  

“Oh, we’re doing this?” Tony says. “Okay, we’re really doing this.” She ignores him, but it only takes a beat before she feels his free arm wrap around her as well, squeezing back. When they pull away, he has his signature smirk on his face. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She chuckles just as she drops a kiss to Maria’s forehead. “Bye sweetheart,” she tells her goddaughter before turning back to Tony, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does that list even exist?”

Tony winks at her, prompting Pepper to shake her head at the both of them. 

“Indeed, it does not,” Pepper says, linking arms with her. “Come on.”

The pit in her stomach that she’s been trying to ignore since she got up this morning rears its ugly head once more. It’s for the best, she reminds herself. These four words have become her mantra ever since she uttered them that night in Steve’s office when she had first given him the custody agreement, and though her heart had never felt as eviscerated as it had in that moment, the fact that she’s only minutes away from jetting off to a different continent is testament to the fact that there’s truth in it. That, despite all that she’d hoped would change, this is how their lives must play out if they are to make their arrangement work. She sucks in a breath at the thought, at the finality of it all, and as she huffs out, the reassuring squeeze from Pepper grounds her enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Sarah is the first to notice them as they near, and she’s quick to offer her a warm smile before turning to Steve, whispering in his ear and giving Isabel one last kiss. 

“Be safe, darling,” Sarah says when she makes her way over to her, cupping her face in her hands. “And please, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” she says, smiling earnestly. “Thank you, Sarah.” Sarah’s barely stepped away from her when she feels two pairs of arms wrap around her simultaneously, and she can’t help but laugh when she finds herself sandwiched between Nick and Melinda. “Sucking up all my oxygen here, guys.”

“Call us the second you land,” Melinda orders. “And not a second later, you hear? We have your flight plan.”

“Or by God, I will order an F-35 to come find you,” Nick adds.  

She scoffs. “You’ve been saying that since I was sixteen.”

“It was true then and it’s even truer now that you’re taking my grandbaby with you,” Nick says, eyeing her pointedly. “Don’t try me.”

“Fine,” she says, chuckling softly. “We’ll FaceTime you the second we land. How’s that?”

“Excellent,” Melinda says, hugging her tightly once more. “Our girl, we love you so.”  

“Love you too,” she says to each of them. Wanda and Bucky are last in line, and as she accepts a hug from the former and a kiss on the cheek from the latter, she begins to make her way towards the landing of the stairs where Steve stands cradling a sleeping Isabel. She stops a foot short of them, tucking her hands into her pockets and mustering the best smile she can. “We should get going.”  

Steve nods, turning to nuzzle the top of Isabel’s head. “Be a good girl for momma, okay?” he says, and she has to avert her gaze elsewhere at the way his voice breaks at the end. “Daddy loves you so much, fig.”

Just as she had the night before, she finds herself once again an intruder in a moment she has no business being a part of as she listens to Steve whisper sweet nothings to their daughter. But despite the feeling of being so unwelcome, so unwanted, she swallows it all down along with the lump that’s formed in her throat in an attempt to keep it together. It’s only when she hears Steve mutter a soft okay that she dares look back, watching as he steps forward to place Isabel into her arms. 

“Shh,” she says gently when Isabel stirs at the movement, carefully shifting her so she can rest her head on her shoulder before turning to Steve. “I’ll text you when we land and again when we get to our flat, so you know she’s safe.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, letting a beat pass before shaking his head. “Natasha…”  

For a moment, she can only stand there, letting his utterance of her name hang in the air between them. Where she finds the courage to look in his eyes, she isn’t certain, but she does. The pain in them is clear as the sky above them, but for whom it’s for, she can only surmise. Surely, for being separated for the next six months from their daughter, who’s oblivious to the loaded silence between them as she slumbers peacefully against her. And though she knows she shouldn’t, she lets herself wonder – wish, really – if only for a fraction of a second, and perhaps for the last time, that maybe that pain is for her, too. And that maybe, just maybe, now he would say the words she’s been longing to hear.

Steve sighs, and she holds her breath as he leans down to kiss her cheek. “Knock ‘em dead, Natasha Romanoff.”

Her eyes fall shut at that, and though he’s close enough that she can smell the familiar scent of his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin, they might as well be continents apart already. “Thanks,” she whispers, giving him a final nod before she turns to ascend the stairs.

There’s only the whirr of the jet taxiing towards the runway as she settles further back against the softness of the leather seat. Across her chest, Isabel sleeps peacefully, her curls glowing russet in the sunlight streaming through the window and her weight a welcome distraction from the hollowness burrowing deep inside of her, settling in. By now, she realizes, the sensation is just an old friend. She sighs, running her hand up and down Isabel’s back, holding her closer. “It’s just you and me, fig.”

I’m not freaking out, you are!

Steve’s brow arches as he reads the words in the blue bubble, and he does not waste time pressing down on the file attachment, eagerly waiting for the video to take up the entirety of the screen. Once it does, Isabel comes into view, sporting a gray Dodgers jersey with her hair pulled up in two symmetric pigtails as she clings onto the edge of a coffee table. The sight pulls his lips up into a beaming smile, all but threatening to split his face. 

“Come to momma, fig,” he hears Natasha encourage in the background. “You can do it!”

Despite Natasha’s message alluding to the fact that this had been a fruitful exercise, he finds himself holding his breath as he watches Isabel blink, her eyebrows furrowing in suspicion as if she’s contemplating her mother’s words. On the lower part of the screen, her foot inches forward ever so slightly, though whether it is to test the waters or tease her mother, he can only guess. But then her dubious expression fades as quickly as it had come, making way for a toothy grin, and then his eyes widen as he witnesses her take one wobbly step and then trot the rest of the way.

“Yay!” Natasha cheers, eliciting an elated giggle from Isabel, and he can’t help but laugh along as the camera flips to show Natasha with Isabel now on her lap. “We’re walking!”  

He types back a quick Yes! followed by But also, uh oh! 😬 before pressing play on the video once more, this time watching Isabel walk on her own without the nervousness that had plagued him only moments ago. It seems ridiculous – though he’s willing to bet that most parents feel the same way – but he feels pride surge right through him. Isabel was just beginning to get the hang of walking while her hands were being held up during her first birthday, and now, less than six months later, she’s already cruising along by herself. Time, he muses, truly does zip on by.

Placing his phone down on the counter, he stops to ponder his last thought. If there’s one thing he’s come to realize about time, it is that it can be a real conundrum – moving faster than you wish it would when you least want it to and slowing down to an agonizing crawl when you’re all but begging for it to fly. Only, these two facets seemed to be happening simultaneously in the last six months since his custody agreement with Natasha had taken effect. On one hand, Isabel is growing and changing faster than he can keep up with, becoming her own person with every day that passes. But at the same time, it feels as if his turn to have her, to witness these milestones unfold in real time, is an eternity away.

“I don’t like that face. Not one bit.”

He turns towards the sound of the voice, chuckling when he sees his mother walking into his kitchen, a box from her bakery in hand. “So much for a face only a mother can love.”

“Of course I love that face,” Sarah says, setting the box and her purse down on the island before hopping on the stool next to his. “I made it.” Sarah snickers as he rolls his eyes. “What I don’t love is when it’s all broody and scrunched up” – she points to his head – “means something’s going on up there.”   

With a sigh, he unlocks his phone, opening the video back up before pushing it towards Sarah. His mother squeals upon seeing her granddaughter, picking up the device to get a closer look. 

“She’s gotten so big!” she says, her eyes on the screen. “Goodness, she’s walking. Really walking!”

“She finally fit into the jersey Thor gave her before she was born, too,” he adds, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now it’s just right.” It’s probably the tone of his voice – crestfallen, though he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way – that causes Sarah to look at him, her eyes rueful. He waves off her concern. “I’m fine, ma. Some days are just harder than most. Technology’s great and all, but I still feel like I’m missing so much. And now...”

Sarah reaches over to place her hand over his. “I’m sorry they’re not going to make it for Christmas, darling.” 

“It’s fine,” he repeats. While he isn’t due to have Isabel until after New Years’, with some cajolery from Melinda, Nick, and Pepper, Natasha had agreed that she and Isabel would come visit for Christmas. That’d been the plan even before they left for London almost six months ago, and if he’s being completely honest, it’s been the day he’s been counting down to since. But then an emergency at Natasha’s work came up, preventing her and Isabel from traveling until after the holiday and successfully upending everything he had been looking forward to. He sighs. “It’s still technically Natasha’s time with her and she was being really magnanimous about sharing Izzie for Christmas anyway.” He swipes his hand out, as if to dismiss his melancholy, but even that is half-hearted. “I was just really looking forward to it, you know? Bucky already bought her a beanie with Reindeer antlers that light up and I thought maybe she could still see the Rockefeller tree.”

“Still might,” Sarah says, to which he gives a non-committal nod. “They don’t take it down right away anyway. But have you maybe considered asking Natasha if you can fly there for Christmas?”

“What?” he nearly spits out the word in surprise, tilting his head to the side as he looks at his mother like she’s grown three heads. “What’re- I mean, what in the world makes you think she’d agree to that?”

This time, it’s Sarah’s turn to look at him incredulously. “You two have been getting along great these past few months, haven’t you?”

“We text about Izzie,” he says, “and yes, Natasha’s there when we FaceTime too, but that’s because she has to hold up the phone on the account of Izzie wanting to put everything in her mouth. That is not the same as getting along great.” He sits up straighter, shaking his head. “Besides, spending Christmas together? In London? That’s not even remotely in our-”

“Oh please,” Sarah interrupts. “I don’t care what you two have written down in your contract-”

“Custody agreement,” he corrects.

“Semantics,” Sarah counters. “Like it or not, you and Natasha are forever bonded by the beautiful baby girl you two brought into this world. That makes you family, and families spend Christmas together.” Sarah shrugs, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and seemingly deliberating her next words. “Unless…”

He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. “Unless?”

“Steven, hon, you know I don’t like to pry,” Sarah says carefully. “But ever since… well, okay. I suppose I thought that maybe things between you and Natasha… especially after Izzie was born… I thought maybe you two would give it a chance. But then nothing happened, and I said I’d leave you two to it. It’s your lives. But now she’s over there, making a life for herself and you know what? Good on her. But then I see you, and I… It just seems to me like you’re stuck. And I feel like I’ve seen this before, so I have to ask… Do you maybe still have feelings for Natasha?”

His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “That is not what-”

“And that is not an answer.”

“I…” he begins, only to pause to collect his thoughts. “I have had the tremendous opportunity of curating for a successful gallery and overseeing its expansions. And that is on top of my day job at the paper and making sure I am pulling my weight as a co-parent. I’m barely in the same place for five minutes, so quite frankly, ma, by definition I think that’s the opposite of being stuck.” When Sarah’s pointed glance does not let up, he sighs. “Look… if the lack of two more seats at our Christmas table this year is any indication, I’d say my feelings weren’t any good on a one-way street. If I were stuck, I’d still be standing on it, but like I just said...”

Sarah puts her hands up. “Well, if all the hatchets are buried…” she says as she moves off the stool and slings her purse over her shoulder. “No harm in asking then, is there?” She reaches over to the counter, pushing his phone back to him and nodding towards the screen. “You don’t get any of these moments back, Steve. So if there’s any chance you can be a part of them instead of watching from afar, try.” With a smile, she leans in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you Sunday at brunch.”  

Sleep eludes him later that night as he watches the shadows dance across the ceiling, his mind replaying the conversation he had with Sarah. As he ruminates on its substance, he’s suddenly transported back to that night almost two years ago when Natasha had received her award from the Journalists’ Guild. At that point, their relationship had plunged into this strange and confusing pitfall. They had gone from living together as Natasha recovered from her awful fall, falling into domestic bliss as they did, to her serving him a custody agreement in his office seemingly in a blink of an eye. When he approached her that night for a dance, all he truly wanted was to erase the distance and the silence that had grown between them. But sometime in the middle of them swaying along to a soft string tune, she had informed him that she was going to take the job in London, and as he remembers how her words had made him feel then, hurt washes over him anew. She had pulled the rug from underneath him, sending him into free fall that, by the time she was accusing him of having never wanted their child in the first place, and asking him if she had a reason to stay, he was frozen. Speechless. Powerless to stop her from walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

Navigating their relationship after that night was incredibly difficult. They were both hurt, and understandably so, but giving each other space became nearly impossible when Natasha’s pregnancy spurned more health complications. They weren’t grave, thankfully, but it was enough to bring them to the sober realization that regardless of what had transpired between them, they couldn’t let their feelings get in the way of prioritizing the one thing that meant the world to the both of them. And by the time Isabel was born, the effort they’d both put in to make their circumstances work was so much that he told himself that it did not matter that his feelings for Natasha were not only lingering, but also brewing deep – rocking the boat was the last thing the three of them needed.

Further, what he had told his mother hadn’t been a lie. Feelings are no good on a one-way street. Perhaps there was a point where Natasha had felt the same way about him as he felt about her, but that was all moot now. In the end, she had gotten on the plane to London, and though he wanted nothing more than to tell her how he truly felt as they said their goodbyes at the airport, he still did not know with a certainty if that would have been enough. That, his love was a compelling enough reason for her to forego an opportunity that she’d been working towards her whole life. So instead, he told her the one thing he knew she’d do anyway – go and succeed. And if the reviews of the paper she’s helming and their cordial co-parenting relationship are anything to go by, it’s clear that staying mum was the right call. 

It’s then that the merit of Sarah’s earlier argument becomes clear. While spending Christmas together isn’t something they’ve ever discussed, with the both of them moving forward, perhaps there really was no harm in asking. Perhaps what’s in the past can stay in the past. Perhaps Christmas didn’t have to be so somber this year.Before he can change his mind, he reaches for his phone. 

Natasha holds her breath as she creeps out into the hallway, relief crashing down on her like a ton of bricks when she successfully clicks the door shut without hearing a cry. With a sigh, she brings a hand up to the bridge of her nose, pinching down and letting her eyes fall shut in exhaustion. Isabel’s been restless the last couple of days, waking up intermittently and distraught for reasons that she cannot seem to figure out. To top it all off, despite the holidays fast approaching, her workload only seems to grow exponentially, and with the recent lack of sleep, the fatigue is getting harder to stave off.With a heavy exhale, she straightens up, willing herself back to her living room and to where she left her laptop on the couch. 

The words on the open document on her screen are ones she’s read enough times that she can recite them verbatim from memory, and yet, as she tries to come up with the next sentence, her mind draws a blank. With a groan, she pushes her screen down shut. Writing has always been her outlet of choice, allowing her to clear her head by losing herself in the topic of her current piece, and for it to fail her now when she’s most in need of a catharsis, she can’t help but feel even more untethered.The ding of her phone cuts through the silence, and she looks towards where it’s resting on the cushion to see an email notification pop up. 

Picking it up, she glides a finger over the bubble on the screen and sighs when she sees the subject line read: 

URGENT – Meeting w/ PR tomorrow

Without reading the contents, she closes her email app, deciding that at two in the morning, she just does not have the mental bandwidth to deal with any more work woes. But as she does, her photo stream appears, and a video begins to play. The camera zooms in, showing Steve carefully lifting a six-month-old Isabel up to blow bubbles on her belly, and she stops to watch Isabel giggle. In her desperation to soothe Isabel tonight, she had decided to play the video as she rocked her to sleep, and much to her relief, it had worked. Within minutes, and with Steve’s voice on loop in the background, Isabel had finally gone to bed.It’s when the frame switches to Steve and Isabel playing peek-a-boo that she finds her throat tightening. When she had moved six months ago, she had believed that not only was it the right decision, but also that the challenge of a new job and readjusting to a different country would aid her in moving on. But as Isabel’s soft coos and Steve’s laughter from the video fills the room, the sounds only seem to further underscore how big and empty her flat feels.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the audio cutting off, and she glares at the screen in anticipation of another work-related email, but her eyes only widen in surprise when she sees a text from Steve.

Hey, do you have time to talk tomorrow morning (late afternoon your time)? Just had a question…

As she reads the text, her eyebrows furrow. While they communicate several times a week, it’s only so he can video chat with Isabel or so she can send him Isabel’s latest photo. It’s not like him to shoot her a text out of the blue, and it’s even more so unusual for him to be vague about the subject. She bites her lip as she contemplates a reply, typing something out only to delete it. By her fourth attempt, her mind begins to race with a deluge of questions. With a huff, she puts her phone down, and finds herself almost grateful when she catches the porch light next door flicker on through her window. Hurriedly, she gets up, running through her foyer and hastily throwing her door open just as her neighbor is about to place their key into the lock. “Any chance you’re up for a nightcap?” she asks, biting her lip. 

Her neighbor turns, looking every bit as tired as any reasonable person returning home at this hour should. Nevertheless, he smirks. “When you’re offering?” he asks. “Always.”

“Long week, huh?” she asks later on as they sit on her couch, each clutching a glass of wine.

“Endless,” he says as he angles to face her. “Two back-to-back shifts with a twelve-hour surgery somewhere in between that nearly went critical, to be exact.”

“Nothing the great Dr. Laufeyson couldn’t handle, I’m sure,” she says, eyeing him knowingly.

“The patient survived, if that’s what you’re alluding to,” Loki says, prompting them both to laugh.

Her gaze falls to her wine, watching the dark liquid swirl as she rotates the glass in her hand. “Must be nice, though,” she says, “knowing what you do saves lives.” She looks over at him as she adds, “That of children, especially.”

“It is,” he agrees. “They’re wonderful and pure, as I’m sure you know. Not yet privy to the trickery and harshness of the world at large like we adults are... But that’s a conversation for a different time.” He takes a sip of his wine before arching a brow at her. “So, tell me, Miss Romanoff. What is it that has you keeping me from my bed?”

She scoffs. “Didn’t realize I had the power to make you do things you didn’t want to do.”

“I’d do anything for you and that little angel of yours,” he says before shrugging. “You know that.”

Loki’s words bring a smile to her face. For all her struggles in the last six months, meeting and getting to know him has been one of the bright spots that’s kept her going. That, and the fact that he lives next door and is up at ungodly hours like she is, is convenient – especially on nights like this when she could really use someone to talk to. It’s with that reminder that she sighs and goes about catching him up on everything that’s been plaguing her mind since the last time she saw him. When she finally gets to Steve’s text, she hands him her phone. “I’m probably just over analyzing it,” she says. “For all I know, he probably just wants to FaceTime with Izzie more.”

“Then why not just get to it then?” Loki challenges. “Natasha, let’s be honest about what this is really about.”   

She shakes her head. “I just said that he-”

“I don’t mean about him,” Loki says, sighing when she stares confusedly at him. “You’ve basically just admitted to missing the man-”

“I said no such thing!” 

Loki shoots her a withering look. “Do you’ve any idea how many parents deny how much sugar they’ve fed their kids as I hold the results of their child’s blood work in my hands?” He scoffs. “It’s easy to say things, Natasha, but you cannot deny what is so. I assume you sulking in the dark and watching videos of him and Izzie aren’t just because you’re feeling nostalgic.”

“What do you want me to say, Loki?” she asks. “That I’m freaking out about this because I’m... lonely? Tired? Tipsy?” She chuckles, but it’s humorless, hollow. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she adds, “or that moving thousands of miles away was for nothing seeing as I’m still so pathetically in love with someone who clearly doesn’t love me back and who can seemingly pull me apart with a single text?”

“Only if that’s the truth,” Loki says, making her shoulders sag in defeat. “Natasha, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He takes her hand in his, causing her to look at him. “I simply wanted you to be honest about what’s at play here.” He sighs. “I don’t claim to know what or how he feels. And for that matter, what you truly do, and I will not pry. But what I do know is that you are smart, strong, gorgeous, and any man would be lucky to have you. The ones that don’t see that? They’re idiots and they don’t deserve you.” Her lips quirk at that, and he smiles. “Remember that the next time you think one text from someone can pull you apart, hm?”

Loki punctuates his words with a gentle squeeze to her hand, and as she lets the gravity of his sentiment sink in, she nods. “Thanks,” she says, laughing when he only winks and brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles.  

By the time Loki bids her goodnight and she makes it to bed, her mind feels a little clearer. Maybe she’s right and that whatever it is Steve wants to ask her is something as small as wanting more time to talk to Isabel, but the reality is that she’ll never know if she doesn’t find out. And if it turns out to be something that takes a wrecking ball to her heart all over again, if what Loki said is anything to go by, then maybe she isn’t giving herself enough credit. She has made it this far – scars and all.

With that in mind, she reaches for her phone and searches for Steve’s message to type out her reply.

Sure! Talk to you then.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

[drabbles-of-writing]

Can we have more Four Years Camilia HCs please 🥺👉👈

You get both pre-reunion and post-reunion!

Camila, about a year after Luz went missing, started volunteering at a children’s home. It was part of her job at first, since she had gone by with some other friends to help out. But eventually it became something she did weekly, as a way to distract herself from Luz and also fill a bit of that empty-nest syndrome. None of the kids there know that Camila lost a daughter, and she never told them. The adults there know, though. And for the longest time they’d give her such pitiful looks in the hallways. Camila was known as ‘Aunt Camila’ among the kids. She didn’t stop doing this after reuniting with Luz, just less often since her crackhead family takes a lot of effort. A lot of Luz’s Human Project kids come from the children’s home. Not because the place is bad, but because those kids wouldn’t have too many people that would miss them.

Despite her ex-husband being out of the picture for at least a decade, the investigators still tracked him down in case he kidnapped or had any part in Luz’s disappearance. Camila very much doubted he did, but at this point, she’d try anything to get her daughter back. He, of course, had no idea about any of this and ended up calling Camila and asking how the hell she managed to lose and entire child. Camila hung up barely ten minutes in and never called him back.

Fun fact: that ‘scream’ Camila heard in Scintilla was Luz receiving that burn scar on the back of her neck :)) If Luz hadn’t killed Belos, Camila would have.

After the Reuniting, Eda and Camila have an enemies to lovers speedrun and that is the TEA. Eda is a literal con-artist and is the cause of a lot of trouble her daughter got into, no matter how much she cares. It was bound that Camila wouldn’t like her at first. Plus a tad bit of jealousy because Camila can tell right off the bat that Eda means a lot to Luz, which is to be expected after...everything.

Imagine finding your only daughter again and noticing near instantly the scars that riddled and mangled her skin, externally and internally. Even though Luz covers up the worst of them, Camila is still mortified at the few she can see. She visibly winces when she learns of the scars in Luz’s mouth and throat. Camila’s a nurse, she can tell that a lot of these scars would have been very faded or non-existent if treated properly. But due to the risk of using a hospital too often, they were unable to. And now her daughter has to wear the marks of battles and mistakes she made. It’s the X scar across her heart that scares her the most. Because that was a scar inflicted by Luz herself.

She hated looking in Luz’s room, but still found comfort from it. As the years went on, it became duller every time she looked in it. Her friends all told her she should move, or change the room into something else, since it was pretty obvious Luz wouldn’t be coming back. Camila couldn’t bring herself to do eithers. She had to stay in that house and leave the porch light on a night, just in case Luz came home.

Camila was allowed 1 hour to beat the shit out of Lilith after learning what she did. Lilith is honestly used to it at this point and Camila got most of her anger out in like 15-20 minutes.

[astertataricvs]

Hi, so I just wanna say I love your writing it’s just really beautiful and engaging! Keep it up! (*≧∀≦*) Also I was wondering if you could write a Kyōjurō x reader? Where they train together frequently and over time they realize they have feelings for each other? I would die of happiness if you wrote like this for Kyōjurō QWQ Thank you!!

Awwww, thank you so much! 🥰🥰💖💖💖 I hope this reaches your expectation 🙌🙌

Word count: 2.7k+ 

"Your sword skills are improving, (Name)!" Kyojuro cheered as he sheathes his sword on his waist.

"Well, you're better than me though," you chuckled. The Flame pillar merely gives you a pat on the head and indifferently tousled your hair.

"At least you're getting better."

That was Kyojuro's last remark and bestows you his radiating smile before turning his heels to leave the dojo, you knew that he's going to wash his hair and cool off his mind with the help of the water from the faucet. You give him a slight nod, taking an understanding with his words and afterwards you sheathe your sword to its cover.

Plopping on the wooden platforms of Kyojuro's dojo, you emitted a substantial breath then uplift your chin to look at the canopy.

Ever since the day when Kyojuro, the Flame pillar saw you training in the middle of the woods, that's the time where he started to train with you because of how he was moved to the blazing enthusiasm within your eyes that were also smeared with a scintilla of dauntlessness, similar to a phoenix howling through the vault of heaven while flapping it's majestical smoldering wings.

Although you're not his tsuguko and you're simply a mediocre demon hunter that he just coincidentally stumbled in the midst of the woodlands, he still aspired to approach you and tried to educate you with the fundamentals of swordsmanship, he also furnished you instructions for your breathing pattern so that you could conquer a demon without reaching the frontier of your vitality. You didn't even question if he can teach you but preferably, he's the one who requested you if he could train you and help you to enhance your abilities.

Of course, you were delighted hearing this from a pillar. Although you didn't know each other and you knew to yourself that you're not an ostentatious demon hunter that can grab the attention of any pillar, but guess what? God gave you a blessing by giving you a mentor and to be exact the Flame pillar himself!

No one-liners that Kyojuro's training was sure as hell exhausting and difficult. The way how he would spar with you without any forethought and gave you a diabolical practice to the point that you're going to succumb and regurgitate soon. Although you're becoming fatigued, Kyojuro was doing a magnificent job in motivating you with his salubrious speeches and how he would beam you his heart-melting smile saying that it's okay and you're halfway there, just keep moving.

You were indeed very grateful to the Flame pillar for training you to become a lucrative demon hunter. Thanks to his dreadful training, your skills were somewhat developing and every time you go to your missions, you won't have any complications from guillotining the demons and would immediately fulfil your job without a sweat.

Even though your sword skills are progressing, Kyojuro still trained with you when he has the time and he's done with his responsibilities. That's why you really owe him a lot and it was thanks to him that you're doing your missions splendidly.

It's been three months since you commenced training with Kyojuro and how you would oftentimes go to a mission together with him. You suspected that Oyakata-sama had already discovered that you're regularly training with him and he decided to partner up you both.

In those months that you're with Kyojuro, that's when you come to realize that the gravity had lured you towards him and hardly fell to the Flame pillar. You realised that you completely had fallen in love with the golden-eyed boy is when the time where you're both training in his dojo as usual and both of you went to have a break because of 3 straight hours of nonstop practice. Then upon eating a rice ball that his little brother had prepared for the both of you, Kyojuro caught you off guard by wiping the side of your lips with his thumb due to the rice that's sticking on it.

"You're a messy eater, (Name)."

Then his next move was the final blow; Kyojuro gave you a sincere and gentle smile that seems like the time had slowed down and your vision was only converged on the Flame pillar's handsome features. Added by the sun rays, defining his well-toned appearance and you could have sworn you could see sparkles looming around Kyojuro. Your heart was banging abnormally while gawking at him for some unknown reason.

Well, before you apprehended that you harboured romantic feelings for him, you already felt a tingling sensation in your stomach and how your face would instantly blush whenever he'd just simply pat you on the head or ruffle your hair. Before he's doing the exact same thing to you and you're not feeling those kinds of disturbances that you're undergoing right now and just feel ordinary with it. However, as time passes by, new feelings were starting to burgeon like flowers that were beginning to bud when the spring season had arrived.

And now that you finally verified your feelings, you just don't know how you will act natural around him, knowing the fact that you have feelings for Kyojuro right now. Is it even adequate to manifest romantic feelings for your mentor? Also, you're already aware, Kyojuro won't set his eyes on someone like you who's not in the same level as him.

But still... a part of you wants to tell him about your feelings... you just want your feelings to reach Kyojuro and be cognizant of it.

You hope that even if you confessed, the friendship between you both was not going to change.

Kyojuro was at the backyard of their house, sitting on the wooden floor of their home sightseeing the firmament ornamented with myriad microscopic spots sparkling in the night sky staring down upon him. The chilly evening wind passes through his physique as his long ombre golden and red locks danced in the air and inhaled the fragrance of the summer's eve of the night. It's already midnight yet he's still wide awake. He's supposed to be sleeping at this hour however, his mind would always gravitate to you which abstained him from sleeping.

It's been a week since he's being like this, Kyojuro couldn't get you off in his mind and he'd often find himself spacing out due to conceiving too much of your sumptuous face and the gentle grin that you were always showing him. Every time he took a glimpse at your figure, he couldn't help the smile painting his lips and his heart would erratically beat for some mysterious reason. Furthermore, he was constantly anticipating for your next training session that you will hold at his dojo and he doesn't know why he was feeling that way.

Kyojuro didn't hold these kinds of feelings before when he met you, he didn't even have this sentiment when you're training with him when he started to exercise your sword skills. But why is he having these new sensations like his heart is going to rupture soon and he couldn't get you off in his mind. It's really foreign for him specifically that these new feelings aren't exuding with peril and not corresponds with the gut feeling every time he confronted demons. So to make it clear, these new feelings were giving him a pleasant one and he actually likes it.

He searched deeper, he further investigates, he wants to know why he's feeling this way. Why is he always looking at you and whenever he does, his day would automatically be brightened up and his heart would pound in his chest capriciously. It appeared like every time he saw you cheerfully smiling, everything around him would instantly vanish and you're the only one he could see. Butterflies would flutter in his stomach as he stared at you with ardour apparent in his eyes; he was enthralled, he was mesmerized, it felt like you're the most beautiful and enchanting person that he encountered in his twenty-one years of existing in this world.

That's why he wanted to understand, he was too desirous to know these feelings he was possessing for you. And when the fateful day had finally arrived, it seemed like a spark of flame kindled his heart when you fell on top of him due to how you're too desperate to defeat him in your sparring session.

Both of your faces were only an inch away and he could smell the minty breath of yours that was hitting his nose. And when he could vividly examine the sparkling gorgeous (colour) irises staring into his golden ones, that's when Kyojuro became inebriated with your piercing deep (colour) eyes which resembled the waves of the ocean that could pull and drown him right off the bat. His heart already exploded inside his chest and it felt like his ears deafened from the sounds that produced around the vicinity.

"A-Ah! I'm sorry, Rengoku-san!"

The way how you tore your eyes away from him and pink hues brandished your pulchritudinous face; Kyojuro couldn't help but smile faintly as he scrutinized your bashful state. He was fascinated at gawking at you and he couldn't thwart his eyes away due to how he's amazed to you for being frantic and blushing because of the awkward situation that you two got in.

Kyojuro concluded, the new feelings that were developing within him, he already knew that he fell in love with you. Because you're the only person who could give him such feelings that he didn't even have before.

A genuine chuckle slips out from his lips as he stared at the bedtime scenery before him.

"I do love (Name)."

Two people under the same sky but far away from one another.

Two people staring at the night sky with sincere smiles crept on their faces.

Two people harboured the same feelings they had for each other.

And two people that's also thinking the same thing:

'Please let my feelings reach her/him.'

After the intense training that you both had, Kyojuro insisted that he's going to accompany you to your house. It rendered you speechless and you couldn't construct a word to say to him since this is the first time he said it to you. Hence, the first thing that came out from your mouth is that he didn't have to since your house is not that far away from theirs and also, you could handle yourself.

However, Kyojuro being resolute about his proposition, didn’t give you much of a choice but to accept his offer since he won't stop until you accept it. But you already know that even if you rejected him, he would still accompany you in the end.

Currently, you two both walk noiselessly to your house and Kyojuro was being silent that was really peculiar of him to do so. Because every time you two would roam around and go to your missions, Kyojuro would always be the one who would initiate a conversation and wouldn't pass a time without saying anything. More importantly, he likes talking a lot and he's the mellifluous type of guy, so Kyojuro being quiet, you couldn't help the anxiousness creeping up to you and it surely bothered you a lot.

Taking a side glance to see him, you saw how Kyojuro's face embellished in sedateness and the usual smile that he was wearing was now out of sight. Biting your lower lip, you hang your head low since you're not used to your mentor giving that kind of countenance, specifically that you're already used to seeing his dazzling and lively face.

Your heart plummeted upon seeing him like that, did you do something wrong that upset him? But you can't recall anything doing something bad and anything that displeased him. Therefore, you kept your mouth shut until you two reached your home.

Kyojuro flashes you a faint smile before nodding, "I'll see you tomorrow, (Name)."

You also nodded, "Yes, I really appreciate you accompanying me all the way here."

"I'll leave now," The Flame pillar gave you a pat on the head before turning his heels to walk back to his home.

You felt your heart leapt once you felt the warmth of Kyojuro's hand on top of your head. The normal gesture that he would invariably give you, your heart would resolutely beat for him and it felt like you couldn't breathe.

Watching him walk away, you feel your heart clench and your fist congeals. Kyojuro was slowly disappearing into your sight as he keeps walking farther and farther.

You bit your lower lip and your mind was in turbulence. Your mind was debating whether you tell him your feelings right now since these overwhelming emotions you had for the Flame pillar was driving you insane. Moreover, the uneasiness you had whenever you're close with him, you want to stop it now, you want to unload your feelings and you don't want to conceal it anymore. You want Kyojuro to be aware of your feelings, you want to confess to him, you really love him so much that your heart was a mess.

Without reluctance, you rapidly run towards the path where Kyojuro had walked off. You hope that he still didn't get that far.

'Please, let my feelings reach him!'

Turning to the corner of the street, you immediately paused from your tracks when you saw Kyojuro running also towards your direction. He also stopped running when he saw you on the path. You two were panting as you stared into the eyes of each other with obtrusive astonishment. You're 5 meters away from the Flame pillar and once you catch your breath, you gathered all your obstinacy to tell him your feelings.

"I like you, Rengoku-san!"

"I like you, (Name)!"

Both of your eyes widened upon hearing the declaration you both announced at the same time. You look at each other with a dumbfounded expression as your lips quivered and eyes stung due to the tears building up.

You couldn't comprehend his words, your mind was hazy. Are your ears kidding with you right now or you really heard it right? Did Kyojuro also tell you that he likes you? Did he actually even?

Gulping your saliva, your mouth was agape as you only gaze at him. You prevent the tears that were threatening to fall and inhaled a sharp breath.

Due to so much shock, you only pointed at yourself while jaw-dropping since you couldn't utter a single word.

Kyojuro's lips pursed and nodded in response. "I like you, (Name)... I really like you."

The surreal words that escaped from his mouth, that's when your body moves on its own and dashed towards him to run into his arms and give him a bone-crushing hug. Kyojuro took your action by spreading his arms and engulfed you with a tight embrace once you run into him.

The Flame pillar feels your clutch on his uniform as you bury your face into his chest. Kyojuro's heart erupted like a firework exploding in New Year, his embrace on you contracts and nuzzled his face into your head. This warmth you're giving him, he couldn't help but want to feel it more in the future.

Discerning that you have mutual feelings for each other, that's the last string where he could melt at this current moment. He couldn't express the ecstasy he's feeling right now, it feels like his whole existence was blown away towards nirvana.

Pushing you ever so softly, Kyojuro grinned at you before cupping your cheeks with his hefty hands, gently drawing circles on your cheekbones. He dipped down to look at your bright eyes that were intoxicating him and he loves it how your eyes congregated at one another.

"I like you so much, (Name)."

Kyojuro's lips lock to yours as you encircled your arms around him to return his passionate kiss.

It feels so surreal, it feels like a fantasy and you don't want to wake up from it forever. You want to feel his hug and kisses that even if it's your first time doing this, you're now addicted to it. It was alluring you closer to him as if you're like a piece of magnet. If the other magnet is Kyojuro, then you're willingly going to propel yourself to him.

You just love this man, he's such a gentleman and a ray of sunshine.

Breaking the kiss, you flutter your eyes open and saw Kyojuro's face irradiating in the rays of the sunset, defining his handsome features.

"I like you too, Rengoku-san."

You both smiled at each other and embraced once again since you want to feel the warmth you're both giving off and cherish this moment.

The feelings you both have... it finally reached to one another

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Questions and Answers Part 1/2 (DonnyxFem!Reader)

@owba-chan @inglourious-jules @war-obsessed​

Let me know if you want me to tag you in these! :)

It was a cool night. The grass was damp. The campfire was welcoming. The coffee was....disgusting.

Just like every other night.

Aldo was laughing, Omar was telling a story. They all were. It was about their little....conquests...around Europe... a few basterds listened cheekily, thinking of the one true love they had waiting at home.

"What about you, Donny?"

Donny chuckled as he took a drink of whiskey. He started to laugh about the fun he had since he got deployed.

Hirschberg was unimpressed, "Yeah, yeah, but what about home?" Donny took a drink. 

He stood still, and shook his head once. "I'm a free man. Don't gotta girl to worry about," he laughed as he passed the bottle to Wicki.

Donny could hear everything the basterds were saying, but he wasn't listening.

He was remembering.

He dropped you off at college in September of 1936. He kissed you once, and smiled in pride as he watched you go up the steps. His heart sang when you waved to him. You knew he was upset you wouldn't spend every day together anymore. You promised to visit soon... And you did. But you knew it wasn't the same. Donny wasn't the same with you than with other girls. You knew he wouldn't step up...and it hurt you. Donny caught a glimmer of that sudden heartbreak the last moment your eyes met. He drove back home. He didn't listen to the radio. He went straight up to his room...

He missed you.

MIT wasn't too far from home, but he always felt too far from you. He had spent most of the days of his life with you. You'd gone to the same schools since you were toddlers. You snuck into the same bars and clubs together. You had been best friends from the moment you could speak...

In the end, that didn't matter.

He lost you.

Donny was splashing some water on his face that night, after the laughter and fire died down. He looked at the small crooked, cracked mirror.

All he saw was you. He could see you smiling, the rays of sunlight fleeting through your hair on a summer day in Boston.

He smiled for a split second, then it faded with the memory.

He saw Aldo's reflection behind him, "Boy, I know you got something to get off your chest."

"What?" Donny scoffed, "Come on, Aldo, it's nothing."

Aldo sighed, shifted his weight on one leg, and he shook his head once, "I may be old, but I sure as hell know a thing or two, son."

Donny sighed, "There is....there was a girl...once."

"Yeah, I just about figured." Aldo chuckled as he took a seat.

"I dropped her off at college back in '36... she...she was going places ya know?" Donny smiled with pride, which warmed Aldo's heart as he listened to the lovestruck sergeant.

"I knew her all my life. Every day, I'd tell myself I'd tell her I loved her tomorrow. Never did." He tossed his boot aside and untied the other one.

"I never did. I never called her, I never even wrote to her." Donny felt like screaming at himself every time he remembered it. "She'd come around to see me when she visited her family, almost every weekend...she was a good kid, ya know. She'd come down the other side of the neighborhood, say hi to my mom, stop by my old man's barber shop, just to say hi to him,...see me if I was in working. I didn’t talk to her like I should’ve. I didn’t go out wiht her, I didn’t do the things I should’ve... Eventually...she just... she stopped coming around." He sighed again, looked down at his clasped hands, "Can't blame her."

Aldo frowned...that wasn't the Donny he knew... sure, that was quite a few years ago. And Donny was older now, and a sergeant. Aldo didn't doubt that Donny might've changed, and grown up a little since then, but...he was still Donny Donowitz. He just couldn't believe that. "And you never went back to see her?"

"No." His voice was stern, just like a sergeant, but his heart was broken, like only his could be. 

He was scared to confront you, you weren't like the other girls you he went out with. You knew him. 

 Well...everyone knew Donny Donowitz in your town. He was a star ball player in school. The neighborhood boys loved rallying around him. The girls just adored him...

But you...

You knew his favorite color. 

It was that fleeting scintilla of salmon streaks in the sky, just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. 

You knew his favorite food. 

It was a secret. He couldn't bear to break his mother's heart. His favorite food was  the risotto from Mama Allegra's italian restaurant. 

You knew his favorite season. It was winter because the smell of firewood made him feel at home. You knew his favorite song, (though he had lied to you about the reason).

It was How Deep is the Ocean, but only if Paul Whiteman was singing it. He said it was because he saw the ocean 'so many goddamn times.' The truth was it was because you walked with him around the docks and the beach more often than not, nearly every day of his life since he could remember, and it reminded him of you...

You knew Donny.

And it scared him. 

It scared him because he thought that maybe you wouldn't like him because of that. Because you knew him, you knew his flaws. You knew he was an angry young man, you knew he held grudges. You knew every name of every person that ever wronged him because he never let anything go... You didn’t know he put his own name on that list, and would never forgive himself for letting you slip away. You knew what he was scared of. You knew he was scared of losing people he loved... you didn't know he was scared that maybe the one person that didn't love him was the one he absolutely needed...

He was angry at himself for letting you be the one that got away.

You were just so perfect to him. Even though every dough boy said that about the loves they had back home, it was the absolute truth to him. The way you laughed was always music to his ears, even if you sometimes snorted...it brought him joy, knowing he'd been the one that made you laugh. Your eyes were brighter than the moon on the darkest night. Every time he saw you come around, you absolutely never failed to make him smile.

He missed Boston, he missed his family, and the Red Sox...but he missed you most of all.

He'd missed you since before the war. He'd missed you from the second he understood he lost you...

It all just happened so slowly, but somehow all at once, and it scared him.

It had just been so long...

"Ever?" Aldo was in disbelief. He knew his boys. They always gave it their all, especially Donny.

"I enlisted the day after we got into the war. I got shipped out in January... I was gonna say goodbye to her the night before. She hadn’t seen me in a year or two by then..."

"And you didn't go..." Aldo didn't believe that. Donny always gave everything one last hit.

"I found out she was with a sailor. Someone else had the balls to tell her the things I should've."

Aldo crossed his arms as he listened. He didn't hesitate to tell his boys what he was thinking. "You should go see where when this is all over, Donowitz. Sounds like a real special girl." He never saw Donny get so worked up about a girl before.

Aldo smiled a little, wishing nothing but the best for the young sergeant in the end.

"What?"

"Well, what the fuck else you gonna do?"

"I can't." Donny shook his head.

"Why the fuck not?"

"I don't want to see her with somebody else," he held onto his bat, looked down at it, and then set it aside as he clenched his teeth, wondering what he would do...

"That ain't the Donny I know."

"I dont wanna go back to Boston, show up to a nice house that got a fuckin' Cadillac in the driveway, kid running around, and a fucking  sailor opening the door, and getting pissed cause I asked about his wife."

"You dont know that."

Donny looked back in the mirror to avoid looking at his lieutenant. "I know she loved him."

"You ain't even talked to her, son. How'd you know a thing like that?"

"I saw them. She loved him." Donny sighed, wishing he could go back in time. "Nice guy, ya know. Went to school together. Name was Samuel...she called him Sammy. He used to make her laugh. He was a good looking guy. A boxer when we were young. He joined the navy right after high school. Why wouldn't she?"

Aldo smiled a little, "Well, that don't mean she forgot about you."

Wicki and Hugo walked in, and Aldo changed the subject, Donny glanced at him gratefully. Sometimes, Aldo wasn't the most tact person, but he was a good lieutenant, and a better friend.

Still, he wasn't Donny's best friend.

That elusive title somehow still belonged to you after all these years.

It wasn't the only title that belonged to you either.

You were a trained pilot, and an aero-space engineer. In 1935, you were only 17, and "Donny's girl" to most of Boston, but he never was yours, at least not in your eyes. By 1936, you were just a college kid, expected to drop out. No one thought you'd be one of the 3% of women to get a degree then. Especially not from MIT. By 1940, you were an aero-space engineer, in your own right. By 1942, you were designing and building planes for the military.

It was 1943, and you were flying them.

It was 1943, and you were flying over nazi-occupied France.

It was 1943, and your life, and the life of everyone on your bomber, was about to change...

You were shot down, the radio stopped working. No one knew where you were.

That wasn't the thing that worried you and your girls.

It was the fire devouring the wings you had designed yourselves, the bullets firing through the metal you welded yourselves, the debris stripping off the plane you had built yourselves.

The nazis picked off those that survived, and interrogated you all.

You lost crew members to the nazis’ sadism as they lost their patience.

Eventually it was just you.

The only reason they didn't kill you too was because they still needed information.

A week had gone by, and somehow, you managed to get through it all. You couldn't imagine the war without your girls...

Sometimes you couldn't imagine the world without war. 

It had just been so long...

They spat at you, and beat you, they screamed at you in German, in broken English, but they never broke you.

They'd never have that satisfaction.

"FOTZE."

The right side of your face slammed against the hard, cool soil, littered with twigs and the fallen green leaves of summer.

It was getting harder and harder to get up.

You were still for a moment longer than you'd been the first thousand times.

Blood dripped from your nose and mouth. Your eyes wandered beyond the trees' highest branches, toward the blue sky you loved.

You waited defiantly in silence for the next hit and the next question. The mocking and shouting contorted into one sick distorted blare. It took you a few moments to realize that they were screaming, but not at you.

You laid flat on your back, your arms sprawled out. You didn't care what was happening. You couldn't remember the last time you ate, or had clean water, or slept. You couldn't remember what it was like to not be in pain. You could barely stand before the final beating. Every part of you was either numb or in pain. Your heart was aching for the ones you couldn't save...

You closed your eyes, listening in on the indecipherable nightmare...

That was...until you heard English.

 A perfect, good old....southern accent?

 It was an American. It had to be... "Wicki, ask em who they got with em."

"Wer ist in deinem Lager?" Wicki held a rifle in his hands, and a steady glare.

"Sechs weitere Gefreite und ein Sergeant"

Wicki looked back at Aldo,  "Six other privates and a sergeant."

Aldo narrowed his eyes, spotting tattered and bloody cloth, strips that he suspected to be parachutes, hastily covered by leaves and dirt.

A silver ray of light caught his eye, and he glanced beyond the bloodied, brutal, untimely burial, toward the nazis' supplies.

Dog tags.

American dog tags and boots strewn around carelessly.

Aldo picked one of the boots up. It was a little smaller than he expected. He looked back at Wicki, "Ask em again...." He looked to the rest of the basterds, "Boys..."

The Basterds then called on one Sergeant Donny Donowitz, and employed his presence as a scare tactic. He raised his bat.

In sheer terror of facing the wrath of the one and only Bear Jew, he screamed "A GIRL. THERE'S A GIRL."

Aldo nodded as he walked toward the nazi shielding himself from Donny's bat. "You speak English."

He was laying on the ground, curled up on his side, and covering his head, shaking in terror. "YES."

Aldo stood over him, and pushed him over with the heel of his boot, and looked him in the eye, "You gon' tell me bout them parachutes, boy. You gon' tell me bout the girl. And you gon' tell me right now."

"That girl. There." He pointed beyond a line of trees over a small ridge. The smoke from the dying fire was still flitting around. "We shot down an enemy plane. One crew member. It was only her aboard."

Aldo and the basterds glared at the coward in suspicion. They doubted that a bomber flying that deep behind enemy lines would be manned by one woman.

Omar collected the dog tags and read the names...

Rachel Cohen Gina Sorrentino Reyna Ruiz Jacqueline Brown Jessica Vuong Alana Stan Teresa Kennedy Katherine Li Pearl Rosenberg

He looked at Utivich. He was a pilot in the army before he was a basterd. "It takes 10 to fly a B-17 over enemy lines." His eyes narrowed in on a spare part the nazis had kept as a trophy. "I'm assuming it was a B-17... those take ten. There's one missing."

Aldo crouched by the Nazi again, "Tell me bout the one girl, son."

The nazi glanced at the Bear Jew towering over him and shook as he gulped back his terror, as he lied again. "She flew a screaming helldiver! No one else was onboard!"

Aldo narrowed his eyes, "The fuck's that??"

Hugo stood by them, "It's what they call a North American A-36 Apache."

The nazi nodded gratefully, hoping that his lie would be his salvation.

Aldo glanced at Donny, then back at the coward before them. Aldo rested his boot over his chest until something popped. " Trust me, I know a thing or two 'bout apaches if I do say so myself. And them Apaches," he pointed to the sky, "only get one crew member, and one only. Now, son, correct me if I'm wrong, but I see nine dog tags over there. You aint shoot down no Apache, you aint get just one goddamn fly-boy. Where's the crew?"

Struggling to breath, he coughed, "Alright! Alright!"

Aldo stepped off his chest, and the nazi told the truth, "My sergeant tried to intimidate the crew, get answers and interrogate them. All ten of them. They never said anything. He wanted to scare the crew, killed them off one at a time, but no one said anything. They never would. He realized that when there was only one!"

Aldo squinted, "The one you tried to pass off as the sole crew member of the A-36?"

He nodded, gasping for breath as he clutched his possibly shattered ribs.  "We have the pilot, by the fire! She's alive!"

Aldo nodded. He looked back and nodded, "Smitty, go check it out. Take Omar and Hirschberg with you. Tell me if what this nazi shithead says is true."

Moments later, Hirschberg tumbled through the trees, "She's alive."

Aldo smirked as he took out his knife and looked down at the nazi. "Well, boy, you're in luck. Got us a soldier back there hurt real bad. But she's alive. It's only fair we leave one of you alive. You run on back and tell em nazi fuckers what you seen. Go ahead. Take one good look around."

He shakily raised his head, and eyed his dead team.

He'd heard the rumors...

He watched in defeat as Aldo's blade hovered over his forehead. He clenched his jaw, and gripped the grass below him as he felt the tip of the blade sink into his flesh.

You heard an agonizing shriek as you struggled to get on your feet. Two sets of steady hands wrapped around your arms.

"You feel ok? Can you walk?"

"I can walk..." You smiled weakly as you looked into the soldier's worried eyes.

The youngest basterd smiled, gestured to the patch on your jumpsuit, "82nd Airborne Division?"

You nodded. What else could you say?

Smitty smiled kindly, "101st Airborne Division."

One of the other ones, the one they called Omar spoke up, with a chuckle, "He's a basterd now. We all are."

"Bastard?"

The third man, Hirschberg, smirked "The Basterds."

You understood then. They were The Basterds.

As far as you knew, they were just a rumor.

As far as you knew, you were dreaming.

Or worse.

They led you beyond the trees, pulled your arms around their shoulders as you shivered, splattered in your own blood.

It was definitely worse.

Because there stood the one and only basterd you ever made the mistake of letting into your life.

Sergeant Donny Donowitz.

"Donny?"

He turned away from his lieutenant, mid compliment about the latest carving, and slowly lost grip of his bat.

He managed to murmur, "Y/n..." he took a step forward, "Is that really you?"

You never thought you'd be so happy to see anyone. You never thought you'd miss hearing a Boston accent...

You never thought you'd miss Donny... You'd denied it for so long, yet there you were.

  Smiling... Smiling after everything...

Without your realizing it, his arms were wrapped around you, and you were quite a few inches off the ground as he swung you in a circle.

Just like the summer of 1936...

And every year before that.

It didn't change the fact that you lost your team, or that you could hardly stand on your own...

But you saw the look in his eyes.

It was like nothing ever changed. The years hadn't gone by. The war hadn't sent both of you away.

Almost as if nothing ever changed.

"Donny..."

He took a step back, realizing how ridiculous it was of him to somehow expect everything to be back to normal.

It almost wasn't too ridiculous.

Not in war.

It seemed almost ridiculous that you finally got an answer to a question you had been asking yourself for seven years: What would you do if you ever saw that basterd again?

You'd asked yourself that from the moment you decided you'd stop visiting him, stop hoping he'd call you, and stopped wishing he'd do right. Seven years passed, and you finally had an answer...

The answer was: You smiled.

Now, after seven years you asked yourself a new question...

"Why?"

To be continued...

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

MC using an enchanted strap on Xenia? What it does is up to you 👀

Ahhhhh, yes, finally a smutty request; I’ve been super thirsty as of late and this is a straight up remedy lol. Thanks for your request and I hope you enjoy, anon!

Another thing to note: I went on another tangent and this is now over 2,000 words in length help I’m thirsty asf lol 😳

Summary: MC is able to receive a special treat just for Xenia to help her let loose and temporarily enter a paradise where there are no noble responsibilities. Though Xenia prefers command, the enchantment lacing her gift is just too enticing to decline after a long day...

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MC viewed herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to see how she looked. The strap that she had acquired was bound to her freckled hips, lightly swinging this way and that as she models it. The heir’s face is alight with bashfulness. She had never been this... observant for something meant for the bedroom. But if I’m to please Xenia in this, I must give a tempting first impression. I want nothing but the best for my Spymistress. Speaking of the illustrious woman, she was to be arriving back to her home soon. MC was giddy with both anticipation and nervousness, a juxtaposition for the heat that was pressed against cool plastic. Plus the enchantment I ordered to be cast on this will really put the spice in our osculation. That was the second thing she was anticipating most of all: experiencing the enchantment with Xenia. If the person I trusted to do this was true to their words and their abilities, then there’s pleasure to be had between the both of us... MC settles onto the edge of Xenia’s bed, relishing the luxurious cushion it gives her. Mindlessly, her fingers skim the length of the strap, sensing the slight buzz of magic billowing from the onyx-tinged toy. Just brushing the plastic has a flounder of warmth flutter through her belly--a jolt that singed her pleasantly. Oh frost, this is going to get interesting.

She awaits for her spymaster in tight silence, the air tense with the looming potential of Xenia whirling in through the door. The heir wasn’t sure if she could handle it--the anticipation of seeing Xenia’s reaction. And that’s not even factoring in what is to come when she does join me into the equation... Every once and a while, MC will feather her fingertips across her body just to assure that she’ll be ready for the moment Xenia arrives. Who am I kidding? I’ve always been ready for Xenia. There hasn’t ever been a time where I wasn’t. The moment comes much later than she expected--a staggering hour and a half--and when Xenia arrives, she hardly even notices MC lounging on her bed. The spymaster uses two of her hands to massage her temples and she sighs heavily. MC’s coy expression creases when she takes in the expression on Xenia’s face. The stress and fatigue that structured her beautiful face made MC second guess her choices. Maybe now isn’t the best time to... Then Xenia’s eyes focus on MC and the thought disintegrates like a cloud of ash dispersing. Her beautiful white irises lock on MC, landing on the strap before wandering up to her barren chest--then back down to the strap before finally reaching her eyes. The spymaster’s eyes feel as though they’re touching her skin with each glance, as if dozens of invisible fingers were caressing MC’s curves and exploring her with ease. A case of tangible adopyopsis, perhaps? A grand blush infects her face, turning the ashen complexion of her skin rosy, and Xenia quickly shuts the door behind her. “MC, what are you... is that a... are you...?” The words seem to catch in Xenia’s throat and she clears her throat awkwardly, her eyes hooded as they escape MC’s emerald gaze. Aw, flustered Xenia is so cute. I should’ve done something of this nature sooner.

“What is the meaning of this, dear?” Xenia demands softly, her posture so stiff that MC feared she’d pull a muscle just maintaining it. But MC quickly notes that her face says the opposite message her body gave off. Spymistress likes what she sees, hmm? The heir’s mouth contorts into a benevolent grin as her fingertip skates across her hip--and her grin heightens when she watches Xenia’s eyes trace her finger eagerly. “Do I need to explain, Mistress Xenia? I believe the meaning is open for you to discern all by yourself.” She intentionally keeps her voice light but low in timbre, wanting to express her naive innocence while also utilizing her flirtatious desire. The best of both worlds for only the best. In the next moment, Xenia is at the foot of her bed--as if MC’s words were permission to pursue her further. “That may be true, my Queen, but it is always a pleasure to hear the definition come from your lips,” one of her hands toy with the necklace strung around her neck, drawing MC’s attention to her glorious cleavage--just as the spymaster seemingly wanted, “nothing is more blessing than that of you declaring your desires. You should know that I do so love to please my Queen.” In spite of herself, MC tinges a shade similar to the one embracing Xenia’s face. Using that talk of pleasing her queen! How dirty!

But MC doesn’t allow Xenia to overrule her that easily. She rises from her position and sits on her folded legs, motioning to Xenia with a an eyebrow cocked. “Come then, Mistress Xenia,” MC gently teases, “come please your Queen.” There wasn’t another word to be said that would persuade Xenia more. She moves to crawl up the bed to her awaiting queen before she hesitates, expression deepening mischievously. Her tongue rolls over her lips and MC’s pulse quickens. “Seeing as you are so demanding of me, wouldn’t you much prefer the convenience of having me service you nude? I have noticed how much you seem to enjoy me when I am bare to you.” Xenia’s arms move in tandem with her words, slowly circling around to remove her dress. Of course, why didn’t I think of that? “Excellent idea,” MC parades with a smile, “strip with haste; don’t keep me waiting, Mistress Xenia.” Her eyes sweep over Xenia’s body--which is broadcasted magnificently between the magenta straps wrapped around her ashen shoulders. It was almost criminal how much of her bosom Xenia left out for the whole of Altadellys to partake in viewing; so much so that MC has the urge to tackle the vendetta with her queenly authority. If I ordered Xenia to reserve that dress for a private game of dress up in my quarters, I have a feeling she’d be thrilled to do so.

Xenia undresses much faster than MC anticipates and within moments, the Spymistress is barren before the heir’s cherishing green eyes. There wasn’t a place on her curvy physique that MC couldn’t avoid even if she wanted to; every ounce of Xenia looked as though she was carved out of marble and sculpted to absolute perfection. The spymaster’s face is crooked with a grin as she makes her way up the bedsheets and stops before MC, her position mirroring MC’s--legs folded beneath her and arms tucked neatly in her lap, dark eyes gentle as they examine MC’s features. The heir slides over to allow Xenia more room and rises a hand, pointing to the barren sheets with a red eyebrow poised. “Lie on your back,” she commands, tonality rich yet soft as if it were a request rather than a demand, “allow your Queen the pleasure of touching you however she wishes.” Xenia doesn’t mask the trifle of shock that intersects her face--along with the scintilla of pleasure that her cheeks flourish. She gives a solemn nod--almost identical to a bow--and follows MC’s orders, sprawling herself so that every inch of her was on display. Like a starved patron at a bakery, MC’s eyes devour the grey selection and dance with mild delirium. There was so much she could do with Xenia with her obedient and nurturing--wanting to satisfy her Queen before herself. 

“Good, good,” MC gently praises, “you are off to a fine start, Mistress Xenia.” Her hands find the soft curve of Xenia’s cheek first and she drags a honed fingertip down the swell--a delicate vow of gratitude. That finger delves lower, across Xenia’s jugular, and down to the crown of her chest and the illustrious Xenia shivers. It’s a barely noticeable movement but it’s enough to catch MC’s eye. Making Xenia fluster will never grow old. “May I?” MC murmurs as her head bows close to Xenia’s chest, her breath fanning over grey flesh. With a spliced grin, Xenia nods. “You may, my Queen.” MC doesn’t waste another moment, pressing her starved mouth against Xenia and kissing her with fervor, decorating worship on her in hot stamps. She continues down further to the dip in her stomach, tracing the solid lines down to her swerved hips and shimmering heat. MC tucks a finger into Xenia, feeling the velvet wetness wrapping around her finger and grins when the Spymistress bucks to meet her touch. As if MC was magnetic and Xenia a metal, the spymaster pulls herself toward the heir as she extracts her finger, marveling the luster her skin had gained. “You are far more ready than I first expected you to be, Mistress Xenia,” the heir cheekily flaunts, “beautiful. I could not have asked for someone more reliant.”

Satisfied, MC wanders back up Xenia’s body with a sinister smirk on her mouth. That smirk is quickly chased away when one of Xenia’s hands brush the strap and antagonize the enchantment coursing through it. MC jolts as that same stab of pleasure wracks her body. Xenia’s brow arches. “Have I done something you like? It seems there’s been a change in your queenly behavior, Your Majesty.” As if sensing the magic, a knowing look passes her face and melds with the molten desire, trickling heavier as two of her hands grope the strap. “Ah, ah... y-yes, yes indeed, you are so good-!” Her reply chokes into a plea as Xenia moves just a touch quicker, strengthening the waves of pleasure that lap her insides. Oh frost, just how talented was that contact for this enchantment to be this... vocally provoking? Flustered, MC bats away Xenia’s probing hands and instead nudges apart her thighs. She settles between them easily but attention is drawn up to Xenia as she sharply inhales, soot-tinged face alighting red. Her eyes were tailored to MC, watching with anticipation that MC want to push into her right at that moment. But the heir pauses and levels the spymaster with a gentle smile; one so soft and caring that it seemed to break the mold their mood had been curated in. “You are ready, I presume?” Two of Xenia’s arms unfurl to curl around her waist while the other two remain sprawled at her side. With a smile matching MC’s, Xenia nods.

“For my Queen? I have always been prepared for you.”

And just like that, the final barrier separating them disintegrated and there was no more doubt or worry or even apprehension; just feverous passion. MC presses the tip of the strap against Xenia--gasping at the flood of hot warmth that embraces her lower stomach--and propels her hips forward. The strap slides easily within the Spymistress and in almost synonymous unison, the two women sigh. MC could feel the comforting heat of Xenia as she slid in further--sense the glove of ruched velvet that hugged her, or rather the strap, so perfectly. It was a dizzying sensation that made her body flush and jerk. The two arms slung around her waist cling tighter and lure her onward even as the pleasure threatens to drown her totally. MC’s palms brace herself on either side of Xenia’s torso and level her as she starts a staccato that’s soft but hasty; a rhythm she could hardly keep up with. MC’s head swam with the sensations groping her, eliciting noises that should’ve been coming from Xenia’s. Not that I don’t mind... I believe that Xenia garners some satisfaction from hearing how good she pleases me. “MC... I am thrilled to be of this worth to you... Your Maj-My Majesty.” Xenia corrects, stilted, as she grips MC tighter--closer. The heir’s already thudding heart stomps louder against her chest. My Majesty... Pleasure aside, Xenia would be her poison and MC wasn’t sure she would be angry at that. As if on cue, Xenia’s legs wind around MC’s hips and lure her even closer, burying her deeper in her wetland paradise.

I am so glad that I ordered for this enchantment!

She continues to move, thrusting into Xenia with all the strength she could muster, hoping that Xenia felt as much pleasure as she did. Judging from the ten nails prickling her sides, MC believed there was some permit to that wish. When the two of them neared their end, they held each other tight--like they’re seeking refuge from the wave that would crash into them. When it does crash, it’s like a burst of stars in their bodies, blinding and white hot that flows through them pleasantly. By end, they crumple together like they were just fed a drowsy elixir; sapped.

Xenia ushers MC into her arms with her own four, smiling like the most sated fool in the entire world.

And to her credit, MC felt it too; the glow that didn’t seem like it fit with anyone else.

Just tailored to their love and no one else’s; beautifully selfish.

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

Thanks again for your request! I really loved writing this for you and I hope it was worth the wait!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

[pollylynn]

Blackwing 602: Chapter 7—A Season 2 Caskett Multi-Chap, Now Complete

A/N: End of Saga. It’s only taken nearly two-and-a-half years, and the gift didn’t end up being quite what I thought it would be. I will, I think, eventually post this as a stand-alone multi-chap on AO3. For the moment, though, Chapter 1 is on AO3  and the other chapters are here on Tumblr  If you don’t want to read the first part, all you need to know is that in “A Chill Goes Through Her Veins” (1 x 05), Beckett pockets what turns out to be a very expensive pencil when she’s in Castle’s office. This part is set at the end of Sucker Punch (2 x 13)

Title: Blackwing 602, Chpater 7 WC: 1500

“Just so you know,” Vincent begins, “I am under strict orders from Lanie to give you grief for not giving in to her hard-sell tactics over the summer.” 

Kate silently opens and closes her mouth at the other end of the line. 

“. . . or–orders discharged?” she stammers when she finally finds her voice again. 

“Due diligence done.” Vincent, far more merciful than their mutual friend, laughs. “So tell me about the material. Lanie said it’s a 602?” 

“It is.” The response comes out with a little more starch in it than is reasonable, but she hears the skepticism shading the artist’s voice. She hears, and she can’t help being childishly offended. “Genuine, not a reproduction.” 

There’s a minute pause. Vincent is a stranger to her, but it doesn’t take an experienced Detective to pick up on the fact that her pushback has provoked the aural equivalent of an eye roll. “Could I get a few pictures of it? Phone camera snaps are fine.”

“Sure. Of course. Just a second.” 

The blush of embarrassment catches up to her. It’s a ridiculous thing to get defensive about, and she’s glad enough to have some busywork until she recovers herself. She retrieves the pencil from where it rests, safely back in its magician’s box now that it’s back at home with her, and sets up the shot. The pale wood of the desk is a good enough backdrop for the first shot, but she takes the barrel in hand for the second, wanting to bring the bevel with the lettering into sharp focus. 

“Coming through now,” she says, quickly hitting send before any self-consciousness about the curiously intimate image of the pencil resting lightly between her fingers can overtake her. 

“Yes, I see the thumbnails. The lettering does look vintage. Just let me—” There’s an abrupt silence on the end of the phone. She thinks for a second that the call has dropped. When Vincent speaks again, he sounds something more than surprised. “It’s used.” 

“Yeah.” A feeling of dread settles on her. “Yes. It’s—is that a . . . a problem?” 

It might be a problem. The thought hadn’t occurred to her, and in that moment, she’s suddenly aware just how attached she’s grown to this scheme of hers. She’s suddenly aware what a blow it would be to have to give it simply back to him, as is, minus half a dozen strokes in her own hand. 

“No,” Vincent says slowly. “It’s not a problem for me. And it does seem to be an original. Based on lettering and some of the details on the ferrule, I’d say it’s most likely on the early end of the Eberhard years.” There’s another pause that just might kill her. “I’m just curious how much a used one of these set you back. Purely professional curiosity. If you’re not comfortable—” 

“It’s not mine,” she blurts. “It’s—it belongs to a colleague.” She cringes at the word, but she’s not about to spend any amount of time trying to find a better one with Vincent, The Artist She Is Not At All Interested In on the line. “I wound up with it by . . . mistake, and I didn’t realize—and now it’s been so long, I feel like I can’t just . . .” 

She trails off, but Vincent, The More Merciful Than Lanie, steps into the breach. “You can’t send the casserole dish back empty.” 

“Exactly.” She laughs a little too hard, a little too loudly, but it’s genuine. “That’s exactly it.” 

****************************

The process takes forever, but it’s also done in no time at all. It starts with sketches Vincent sends her of the various options. She thinks, at first, that the most dramatic is the obvious choice—wings spread to their maximum extension, one capacious ear rotated far away from the other. But she’s drawn, suddenly and certainly, to something far simpler, the wings wrapped tightly around the body, the ears perked up, and the gaze straight on, bearing the suggestion of a secret joke. 

After the sketches, there’s the hand off. Vincent is easy going and cute. He’s funny, and skews decidedly nerdy at the prospect of working in such a prized medium. He vibes decided interest in her, but rolls with it when she projects Not At All Interested back at him. 

And she hands it off in its plain, stiff-sided box—this thing she has held on to and ostentatiously forgotten about without ever forgetting about it—and it’s hard. It takes forever. And it’s done in no time at all. 

It’s exquisite. Vincent shows it to her with pride and there’s no need to manufacture even a scintilla of her appreciation. It’s simply exquisite. 

She transfers the careful bed of gauzy packing material back to the magician’s box. She flips up the four sides and taps the lid in place. She ties an intricate bow, and the whole thing makes one last trip in her bag and back into her desk drawer. 

She’s calm about it now that it’s done—now that it’s perfect. She doesn’t try to map out the perfect moment to give it to him. She doesn’t even really wonder when that might be. She simply tucks it into the drawer and knows she’ll know when the moment arrives. 

She does know. 

Dick Coonan is dead. Dick Coonan has been dead and no one but her—no one but him—seems to remember where on the scuffed tiles the blood of her mother’s killer pooled. No one but her—no one but him—seems to think her hands look any different. 

She’s been on desk duty while the shooting clears. He has been . . . not quite absent. He calls. He texts her things. He comes by for flying visits, and when he’s there, he talks nonstop. He keeps his eyes averted from the exact spot on the scuffed tiles that Dick Coonan’s blood pooled. He keeps his eyes averted from her hands. 

And then the shooting clears and there he is, laden down with bags and cartons and containers full of every food imaginable. There he is, talking nonstop until she quietly tells her it wasn’t his fault—until he solemnly tells her that he is going. 

But he isn’t going. He can’t go, and she tells him just that. She tells him that this job is hard—that it was hard long before there phantom blood stains on the tiles, on her hands. She tells him that she’s used to him, that he has to stay. And he says he will. He’ll stay. 

She doesn’t give it to him right then. They share a meal first. They share several meals, mixed and matched. But she does give it to him later, not with a flourish, but with a simple, matter-of-fact push across the stretch of her desk that they’re sharing. 

He gives her a curious look, but he’s too much the kid to delay satisfaction with questions. He studies the watered-silk oblong for a moment, then tugs at the ribbon.Delight spreads over his face as the magician’s box sides fall away. He takes a long moment to appreciate the artistry, then reach eagerly for the gauzy packing material. 

She sees realization dawn even as as he pulling the gleaming ebony barrel free. His eyes go wide, and the tip of his thumb finds what is obviously the still-familiar bevel on the eraser. His fingers roam, eager to familiarize themselves all over again, but their movements hardly last half a second. 

They stop absolutely when he spies the sculpture, the minute, painstakingly detailed figure of a bat, with its wings wrapped tight around its own body, peering straight out of an intelligent, mischievous face as though it would like to share a secret joke. 

“This is amazing,” he says in the end—he says simply as he folds his palm gently around it and brings it close to his heart. “Kate. It’s amazing.” 

He doesn’t ask . . .  anything. He just holds it close to his heart, and she sees the threads of more stories than she can count spinning out between them. 

She sees herself punk-ing him, faking him out with harrowing tales pencil adventures that never, ever happened. She sees him falling for it, wanting to fall for every word. She sees him leaning forward, eager, with his knuckles pressed against his lips as she doles out the whole story—eventually doles it out—in minuscule increments.  

“Is there—?” He trails off, enraptured with the gift. It’s an effort of will to bring his attention back to her, but she’s fine with that. She’s absolutely fine with the way his fingers open so he can take quick peeks at the little bat, then close greedily around it again. “Did I miss an occasion?” 

“No,” she says, smiling to herself—smiling at him like she has a secret joke she’s willing to share. No, he hasn’t missed an occasion. He won’t miss any. 

He’s staying.  A/N: Thanks for reading. I’m sorry—especially at this moment in time—that I wrote something like 8000 words about a pencil. 

[franzpalermo-blog]

L’infanzia di Franz(ia)

Quando avevo otto anni ero, a mia insaputa, il protagonista di un romanzo di formazione. Il degrado, quello vero, lo assapori dai particolari, dalle sfumature. Tra le varie cose:

-Staccavo i rametti degli alberi e me li fumavo. Promotore di nuove tendenze, passai il "vizio" a tutta la comitiva di allegri prepuberali. Un amichetto di cui non ricordo il nome, che aveva due o tre anni più di me, dopo il primo tiro alla mia trovata la definì una "droga potente" con tutta l'eleganza del materano puro. Probabilmente, nessuno sapeva di che stava parlando. Ah, la mia prima sigaretta l'avevo fumata un paio di mesi prima, forse: ne avevo fumate un paio e non m'era piaciuto, probabilmente perché preferivo un modo più naturale d'intossicazione. -Avevo un edicolante senza scrupoli che ci vendeva i pornazzi. Eh, sì, oggigiorno c'è l'internet e s'è persa tutta la ritualità dell'esperienza, la preparazione della casa libera con videoregistratore, la riunione con gli amici, roba del genere. Ah, inutile dire che dall'edicolante ci andavo io perché ero il più faccia-di-cazzo del gruppo. Non giudicate male il povero edicolante, però, perché noi eravamo piccoli e neanche conoscevamo la masturbazione, quindi la nostra era una visione esclusivamente platonica. Il raspone-di-gruppo sarebbe arrivato in seguito, comunque, mica ce lo siamo perso! -Leggevo "Topolino", "Alan Ford", "Piccoli Brividi" e qualche altro libretto sparpagliato. All'apice di una creatività infantile, di un'immaginazione insuperabile e con un'esperienza nulla, cominciai a scrivere un romanzetto noir-thriller-erotico intitolato "Il violentatore fantasma". Rimpiango d'averlo perduto nel tempo, perché certe perle d'idiozia è un peccato non conservarle. -Giocavo con i cani randagi e li amavo, quando oggi, se parlo di pancia, dico che li detesto; poi però ci ragiono e realizzo che odio i padroni, non i cani. -Ero mingherlino, avevo la vocina, il nasino, indossavo gli slip, ero un angioletto, non sapevo fare a botte. Tra gli amichetti della mia comitiva ero senz'altro quello con la "fedina penale" più immacolata, ma tutti dicevano che, tra loro, il più depravato ero io. Su molti livelli. -Nel mio condominio mi chiamavano "Il piromane di Viale Italia". Giocavo col fuoco, mi piaceva appiccarlo lentamente, vederlo nascere piano piano da una scintilla e poi espandersi. Certe volte è diventato troppo tardi per controllarlo. -Una delle poche volte in cui mio padre mi picchiò davvero (e forse doveva farlo più spesso) fu quando mi beccò con un cacciavite a praticare un'apertura sempre più grande nella parete di cartongesso della mia cameretta. Volevo farmi la Bat-Caverna personale.

Poi sono cambiato, sono diventato più gestibile. Prima del cambiamento, non ero mai stato innamorato. Be', devo dire che il sentimento s'è portato via la parte migliore di me! :'(

[poiseandpatience]

Lost and Found

@pura-scintilla (closed)

When Drift proved able to turn the device that kept track of the ship Lockdown had stolen into a proper tracking device so he could hunt down where it had gone off to he was ecstatic. Half tempted to reach out to the others and tell them the location, but with how far away it was Drift knew it’d take seemingly forever to get there. It’d already taken them days to pull off getting the device rigged up and ready.

No. Instead they decided it best to take off first-- leave them information a while out already so they could find it (if it stayed put) had something managed to happen to Drift along the way. But the ship had been filled with other creatures of varying types and Drift couldn’t leave them to potentially starve to death. Especially considering the possibility of more Cybertronians being tucked away on board.

With the beacon the ship was relatively easy to find out in the middle of nowhere where it had cloaked itself in multiple ways to avoid being found. Tucked away so well it’d likely have been very difficult to find had it not been for his device. And with a fair bit of snooping, Drift soon found his way inside and pulled his swords quietly from their sheathes. The ex-Decepticon couldn’t be certain whether or not he would run into left over men from Lockdown’s crew or perhaps even rowdy and aggressive prisoners who had managed to free themselves.

For the most part, what Drift saw off the bat appeared to be either dead or dying-- creatures of all walks of life and types. Creatures he wasn’t quite convinced would be wise to release. Creatures he ignored best he could, knowing that if he tried to save most of these dangerous beats it’d prove to be a bad idea.

There had to be something or someone on this ship that made it worthwhile.

[taesthetes]

scintilla.

noun : a tiny trace or spark of a specified quality or feeling

exercise makes your heart palpitate faster, but so does the cute boy at the gym’s front desk.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader genre: fluff type: college au word count: 1,366 words warnings: none author’s note: based on true events – shout out to the boy at the gym desk who’s super nice and very forgiving of my oblivious self!!!

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

For two hours every day, you force yourself to go to the gym. It is absolute torture, and you are probably being really masochistic, but you keep reminding yourself that you don’t want end up dying prematurely from your overindulgence of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and xxtra flamin’ hot Cheetos. You swear to God that when you die, you are going to find out that hell is a gym. Satan is probably going to be some sort of P90X Insanity Body workout instructor.

And today, well, you were going to skip your daily workout in favor of going to the ice cream and churro hangout, but Jennie had managed to guilt trip you into coming to the hell on earth. Sometimes, you really hate having a gym junkie as your roommate and best friend.

“Okay, so we’re going to do an hour of elliptical training, thirty minutes with cycling, and the last thirty minutes with weight lifting. Sounds good?” asks Jennie, grinning at you as she tugs your arm towards your doom.

“Sounds like death,” you mumble, and she merely laughs, linking your arms together. She pulls the door open and enters the gym. You shuffle in behind her, taking out your access ID card from the wallet case hanging on your lanyard wrapped around your wrist.

Jennie greets the student sitting behind the front desk, handing him her access card so she can get in. And when you get a closer look at the boy, your mind short circuits.

Because wow.

Gym is definitely not hell if there are angels like him around.

“Hey!” The boy gives you a wide smile that practically contains every single ray of sunshine, and you are momentarily blinded. You may have tripped a little, too.

“Hi,” you offer him a friendly smile, handing him your access card, and he swipes it for you. After pressing a few buttons on the keyboard, he gives it back to you with another grin. Thanking him, you take it from his hand before unzipping your wallet. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side a bit as a smile plays on his lips.

“So, are you tired? Because you’ve been running through my mind.”

“Wait, what?” You are very confused and a little distracted, trying to tuck your card back into your wallet. “No, but I just got to the gym. I didn’t even exercise yet.”

You move towards the gym, and Jennie is completely immobile and slack jawed. You brush past her, grabbing her arm and towing her towards the workout machines. A few seconds later, she snaps out of it and punches your arm.

“Ow! What the heck, Jennie?” You glare at her, rubbing the now sore spot. That is definitely going to bruise.

“You completely ignored his pick-up line!” she whisper-screams, jabbing her finger in the direction of the boy at the front desk before waving her arms a bit for emphasis. “I can’t believe you did that! Taehyung is totally cute and sweet!”

“What are you talking about?” you hiss quietly, glancing back at the oblivious boy. Taehyung is idly fiddling with a pen, leaning back in the office chair. Suddenly fumbling with the ballpoint, he accidentally drops it and flails for a moment in his chair, trying to catch the pen before it hits the ground. He quickly rights himself up in his seat after grabbing the pen. Unmindful to his surroundings, he continues playing around with the ballpoint happily.

You let out a quiet laugh. How cute.

Jennie sighs exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. “He said ‘are you tired? Because you’ve been running through my mind’—which is really cheesy, but anyway—you replied with some stupid answer about not exercising yet!”

“What? No, I—oh. Oh.” Your eyes grow round when you replay the past events and realize that you have truly, royally messed up. “Well, shoot. I ruined it, didn’t I?”

Jennie finally takes pity on you, seeing your crestfallen expression, as she pats you consolingly on the back. “It’s okay. Maybe you can explain it to him when we leave the gym because right now, we gotta start our workout. And hey, we’re at the treadmills. They’re right behind the water fountains, so we can get a good look at cute boys’ butts. That’ll make you feel better, right?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

With a grin and a wink from her, you step onto the treadmill and thus, the journey to your ideal summer body begins.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Hey. Want to go to the gym with me?”

You nudge Jennie’s foot as she is sprawled out comfortably on her bed, watching Netflix on her laptop. She rolls over to face you, scrunching her nose in response. “No thanks. Besides, I thought you didn’t like gymming.”

“I… do… Exercise is great.” You try to give her your best convincing smile, but she snorts, “You suddenly love exercise for the past week? This is just about Taehyung, isn’t it?”

Already changed into a tank top, gym shorts, and sneakers, you slump down against your bed adjacent to hers. “Alright, fine. I feel really bad about it, and I’ve been going to the gym every day to see if I can apologize and hopefully, he doesn’t hate me for ignoring him.”

“After all the times I had to bribe you to come to the gym with me, who knew a cute boy would be the only motivation you need?” Jennie muses, and you punch her in the arm in response, cheeks burning. She merely laughs, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get him, tiger.”

Taehyung is sitting behind the gym desk this time. Oh, thank god. Sure, it was nice to see Seokjin, your university’s golden boy, all the other times, but it is definitely not worth dying on the elliptical machines every day and suffering through post-gym muscle aches.

You walk over to the gym desk, pulling out your access card and handing it to Taehyung timidly.

“Hey.”

Taehyung looks up from the computer screen and smiles brightly at you, grabbing your card. “Hi!”

He quickly swipes your card and clears you for entry, flashing you another sunny smile as he hands it back to you. Taking it back from him, you return his smile with a nervous one of your own before saying, “So are you cardio? Because you make my heart race.”

The wide grin that spreads on Taehyung’s face nearly blinds you as he laughs, his eyes scrunching into the prettiest crescents and his teeth on display, and you can only let out a sigh of relief before laughing along with him.

“I just really wanted to apologize for accidentally ignoring your pick up line last time. I swear I didn’t mean to,” you sheepishly explain, and he waves you off good naturedly.

“It’s fine, don’t worry! Besides, you coming to the gym every day for me makes up for it.” His eyes twinkle as you look wide-eyed at his sudden confession.

“How did you know…”

“…That you came in everyday? Jin told me. He said you always looked disappointed whenever you saw him instead, and that offended him the first time, you know.” Taehyung says, twirling a pen between his fingers before beaming at you. “So… would you be up for a date sometime?”

“Definitely.”

He gives you a mischievous look. “Should we do one of those couple gym sessions they’re offering here? I get employee discount.”

“If I wanted a gym buddy, I would’ve asked Jennie,” you deadpan.

Taehyung bats his eyelashes at you, his face perched on his hands. “But would she tell you cute gym pick up lines?”

You bite your lip, hiding a smile, before you start to walk off. “More like lame pick up lines.”

“Hey! They’re good pick up lines! Here, listen, kissing burns 6.4 calories per minute. Wanna work out?”

“…”

“So, we’re still on for a date though, right? … Wait, _______! No, come back! Wait!”

You and Taehyung do go on a date. And another. And another. And another. But Taehyung still has yet to convince you to go on a double date with Jungkook and his girlfriend at the gym.

[1800-seungshine]

birthday tears.

member: park woojin genre(s): fluff, romance, best friend!woojin summary: another year means another birthday to go all out and this time you were certain that you were going to make woojin cry but somehow, you find the tables have turned because after the long wait of seeing each other, you missed him. a lot more than you imagined. (requested - bullet point format) word count: 2.2k note: dedicated to life ruiner, cute snaggletooth baby park woojin ;; wheezes it’s his birthday today and so what better way to celebrate than to write!! goodness gracious i swear scintilla’s becoming woojin-centric, step aside ong someone’s taking over this damn lane jk jk. oh oh and thank you woojin anon for requesting < 33 it means so much

p.s. y’ALL IM SHOOK I DIDN’T EXPECT GETTING GOING OVER 100 NOTES FOR ‘IN LOCKED WITH YOU’ LIKE WHATDA- THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REBLOGS, LIKES AND FOLLOWS ;;; < 33 

you’ve been best friends with woojin for a long time 

no one knows him better than you 

bc you both had each other for practically all your life

were you and woojin the definition of bff goals?? hek yeah 

you’ve always been his number one supporter 

from his decision to being an idol 

to going with him during superstarK auditions 

to encouraging him when he was a jyp trainee and even when he transferred to bnm 

to never missing an episode of produce 101 and always voting for him

all the way till he joined wanna one 

you’re always there for him and you always will be 

and vice-versa

you’ve both leaned on each other through all the hard times

laughed during the good times

and everything in between 

back then as kids and before he decided to pursue the career of being an idol, it was you who depended on him

he was always the first person you ran to 

he was the one who you cried to 

he was your go-to when you were feeling down 

he was first when it came to everything and anything 

even love 

you didn’t expect falling for park woojin - the guy you knew all your life, the one who you grew up with, the person you considered a close friend, so close that you believed he was like family 

but circumstances changed, feelings grew and your perspective broaden

to the point where you had no choice but to accept that you were falling for your best friend

yet you didn’t want to selfishly hold him back when you knew how much he wanted to pursue his dream 

so woojin was your first love 

the first love you never confided to

and the first love you had let go 

whilst you both matured as you grew up, you eventually pushed your feelings aside as the tables began to turn

bc unlike before, woojin depended on you 

you were the one he first calls 

you were the person he leaned on

you were his go-to when things got too hard and the hardships of trying to reach his dream became overwhelming 

wowowow this sounds so sad and sappy okay gonna light up the mood from now on i promise 

but forget christmas, forget new years day, forget your own birthday 

november second is your favourite day 

why?? bc that was the day the lord decided to give you the best of friend you could ever ask for 

every year you two would go super extra to celebrate one another’s birthday 

like last year on your birthday, you came home with everything decorated and there was this huge teddy bear sitting on the corner of the living room

you knew it was from woojin bc duh who else would it be from 

but what you didnt know was that he was hiding inside the teddy bear 

and honestly you wouldn’t have suspected a single thing 

if the damn stuff toy didn’t begin to move 

you legit screamed and grabbed your baseball bat in case some weird ass munted hoe bursted through 

but jokes on you it was just woojin screaming “hAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” whilst popping streamers and throwing confetti 

his goal was to surprise you 

and he did it so damn well you began crying 

not tears of joy

just tears bc wth man why would you do that? 

but dont chu worry boo his ass got kicked 

his ass was further forgiven after he took you to the amusement park and treated you food 

so with that in mind, you had the goal of making him shed a tear as revenge 

doesn’t matter what kind of tear it is as long as that tear duct come into use 

dang you were so excited to go all out 

that you prepared everything one month prior his birthday

so with the help of the wanna one boys in sneaking woojin out

woojin ends up in this dance studio that you hired for the day 

everything was dimly lit by these candles placed all over the room 

and there’s this vcr that plays the slideshow you created with all your photos together since you were babies all the way till now 

you also added photos that brought back his dark past to get him embarrassed 

anndd then a video pops up of you with a breath-taking smile on your face, excitedly holding this ‘happy birthday’ banner

“about 18 years ago on this very day, some weird kid popped out into the world. can you guess who? that’s right! it’s you.” the video begins, showing you chuckling a little

“i swear i wasn’t planning to make this sappy but i’m going to anyway; i just want to thank you for putting up with my ass all these years - never have i faced a time where you weren’t there for me and i’m really really thankful to have you by my side. i know that you’re really busy and we haven’t seen each other but you can always run to me, you can always call me and i promise that i’ll try my hardest to be there for you, every step of the way like we always have and hopefully, like we always will. happy birthday idiot and take care of yourself.” 

woojin starts feeling touched, remembering all the good times you two have 

you two weren’t the type to verbalise things and instead expressed it through actions 

yet hearing your words makes him even more grateful for all the times that you’ve been there 

because even if you weren’t feeling the greatest, you pushed it aside in order to listen to his problems and help him 

no matter what time of day it was, you always picked up his call

remembering all this reminds him that he couldn’t ask for anything more 

because you were in his life 

and you always will be 

“happy birthday to you....happy birthday to you...” 

a chorus of voices interrupt his thoughts and he spins around to see you and the rest of the wanna one members entering through the door with a cake in jisung’s hands

tears well up in his eyes as all the emotions overwhelm him 

yet once his eyes meet yours, the world freezes almost as if time was slowing down

it’s been a long while since you saw him face to face

and he realises in that very moment how much he really missed you

bc despite all his offers of hanging out, you were cautious and worried that you’d cause trouble to his skyrocketing career

and you’d decline it even if you knew it was tempting and you knew he was disappointed every time you said no

there’s a slight hint of tiredness on his face but it doesn’t change the fact that seeing you made him brighter 

meanwhile you were unable to breathe; he grew more handsome than he already was before and that snaggletoothed smile, you grew up seeing and loving, adorned on his face melted your heart once more

now that you’ve met face to face after a time that felt like eternity

you couldn’t help but to run to him 

and he welcomed you with open arms as you snaked your arms around his waist 

who cares if the wanna one members will use this later on to tease him

having you right in front of me makes him forget about everything else

and like a child, you begin to cry as you’re engulfed in his embrace

“yah, are you crying...?” woojin teasingly asks you as his hand reaches up to your head, stroking your hair gently while your bury your head in his chest 

“s-shut up, meanie. i’m not crying!” you pull away before you look at him for a few seconds before bursting into tears once again

“ahhh this idiot, you’re such a crybaby.” he replies, wiping your tears with his sleeves. “and how am i mean? i’m offended.”

“i’ve seen you go through all the hard times, i’ve seen you cry because you wanted to give up and i’ve seen you push yourself over the limit for this dream and you’re telling me off for being a crybaby?” you say between sniffles before you try your hardest to manage a glare at his way

“and yes, you’re mean - you’re so mean for making my heart melt, you’re so mean for giving me butterflies in my stomach, you’re so mean for holding my hand and hugging me all the time without knowing how i feel, you’re so mean because no matter how much i try to hide my feelings, they continue to grow and it’s all your fault, park woojin.” 

you suddenly quiet down as you realise what you’ve been rambling. “oh my god, my mouth went a bit too far.” you mutter as you harshly wipe your tears away 

there’s silence between you two yet the rest of the wanna one members begin to snicker lightly to themselves

“this isn’t funny!” you whine before trying not to cry again bc you just exposed your own whipped ass 

you avoid woojin’s gaze by hiding behind jisung who subsequently came in the middle of you two, still holding the cake 

“so woojin! do you wanna blow the candles now before it ends up completely melting? but you have to make a wish first!” 

woojin clears his throat, taking his eyes away from you “a-ah yes hyung,” he says before closing his eyes for a few seconds and opening them again to blow the candles 

the rest of the guys, to lighten the slight tension in the atmosphere begin to clap and cheer, “happy birthday woojin!!” 

but yknow it aint complete yet until someone gets teased 

hence enter ong seongwoo’s ass (i love putting seongwoo everywhere, anywhere as you can tell by now)

“sO WOOJIN, WHAT DID YA WISH FOR BUDDY? ;)” 

“yeah what did you wish for?” jisung grins cheekily at the younger guy 

woojin’s ears start to go red, looking around before his gaze naturally land on you, “i just wished for something very very important.” 

“OK YEH WHICH IS??”  WINK WINK HONK HONK 

“for y/n to always be by my side.” woojin shyly mumbles 

sungwoon then joins in on the fun with a wide grin on his face, bringing his ear close to woojin, “sorry, what? can you speak up a little louder? we couldn’t hear.” 

“yeah i’m a little deaf, hyung.” guanlin adds before a number of agreements and remarks gets thrown around the room causing noise 

woojin simply sighs before yelling, “I SAID I WISHED FOR Y/N TO ALWAYS BE BY SIDE.” 

much cringe. v cheese. im writing this and i cant even handle wowow

there’s just silence in the room before the wanna one members all grin happily at one another. 

“oH wOw lOoK aT tHe TiMe - okay kids, time to go! we’ll see you later woojin byeeee.” minhyun calls out as he exits the door with the rest following beside him, not forgetting to snicker and tease

and then there was two 

you and woojin

“so,,, what do you say?” he initiates, feeling a little nervous than usual bc good lord he’s liked you all this time since you two were little and every year he’d wish for that you’d like him back 

you simply continue looking down, still avoiding his gaze; “you’re not kidding right...?” 

“does it sound like i am?” 

“no.” 

“so....? i like you, you like me. the feelings’ mutual.” 

“but what about-”

“don’t think about the but’s nor the if’s because i don’t care about those. i’ve liked you for as long as i’ve known you and honestly, i can risk everything and anything so long as you’re here. there’s no park woojin without y/n. i’m basically nothing without you.” 

you look up as you send him a judging look, “did you just promote your upcoming comeback whilst confessing...?” 

“that totally wasn’t intentional but what do you say?” woojin says to you grinning rather happily as his arms are wide open for you. 

and having a soft spot for him, you eventually let out a sigh, “well if you put it that way...i don’t seem to have a choice, do i?” you say before going into his arms once more. 

“this has got to be my best birthday present ever.” woojin sighs in content

“don’t think i’m still not done yet from my rant- do you know how much i wanted to vote for other trainees? yah, park woojin i voted for you every single performance - i wanted to vote for jihoon but because i liked you so much and you’re my best friend, i kept being loyal but here you were teasing me and calling me a crybaby. i’m not even kidding, oh my god- the amount of suffering i went through because of you; you should be glad i like you.”

“yes yes, i’m sorry. i won’t tease you again, crybaby.” 

“it hasn’t even been a minute and you’re seriously tempting me to leave you for jihoon.” 

“ah i was just kidding, y/n. don’t break up with me for my other pink sausage duo-” 

“nOPE BYE WHERE’S THE DIVORCE PAPERS.” 

“AWE COME ON I WAS KIDDING.”

[ukulelewrites]

Scintilla

A/N: This monster of a fic is finally finished and i’m actually crying tears of joy rn bc this was such a long fic to write. plus it’s about my favorite underrated trainee from pd101, kim donghan @smols-n-tols bc they know how much pain i’ve been over this fic lmao

Pairing: PD101′s Kim Donghan x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Humor/Friends to Lovers!AU

Word Count: Roughly 11k (almost made it to 12k r i p)

Scintilla, noun: a barely visible trace

Your friendship with Donghan was based off of a mere competition of who could be the bigger shit. On Saturdays, it would usually be Donghan as he wastes the day sleeping in his bed while you pound on his door screaming at him to accompany you to the mall. On Tuesdays, it’d be you as you poke him incessantly in the back with your pencil, begging him to let you copy off of his worksheet. On Fridays, it’d be a constant competition between the two of you as you guys argued over the last carton of banana milk in your fridge, over the movie you’d be watching on obligatory “best friends movie day,” and over who had a higher chance of dating whichever actor or actress popped up on the screen. “Okay, listen, there is no way, in any sense of mind, will Keira Knightley choose to date you over dating me,” Donghan complained with a mouthful of popcorn one Friday night as the two of you sprawled yourself on the couch watching Begin Again for the sixth time upon your request. 

“I don’t know, Donghan, at least I have the decency to talk when my mouth isn’t full,” you shot back. 

He pouted at your words before quickly shooting back, “Okay. but my visuals are, like, ten times better than yours, so Keira would definitely choose me over you.” 

You stared at his face for a solid minute before replying, “I can’t argue about your visuals, but my personality is twenty times better than yours, so I think we all know who’d win at the end of the day,” and with a sense of finality, you returned your focus back onto the screen.

The two of you have finally reached the third movie of the night when Donghan’s phone buzzed. As his beloved, nosy best friend, you lunged forward to his side of the couch; he let out a puff of air the moment you landed on him. “Y/N, get off of me,” he huffed as his thumbs typed away furiously on his phone. 

You rested your arms on his chest and propped your head up, “Not until you tell me who you’re texting, Donghan.” He rolled onto his side, causing you to fall onto the floor. 

“I’m texting Kenta-hyung, Y/N, don’t worry about it,” he grumbled as he tried moving his phone away from your prying hands. However, you knew his weakness, so your fingers quickly found their way onto his stomach to tickle him. Donghan’s eyes widened in realization, but it was too late, you were definitely going to get the phone now. He squirmed under your attacks, pulling his phone closer to his chest, and turning his body away from you. However, he was no match to you once you climbed up on him, forcing him to stay in place. “Y/N, s-stop it!” he cried pathetically. 

You only shot him a sadistic smile as you continued the assault, “Only if you give me the phone, Donghannie. Maybe then I’ll stop.” Letting out a cry of defeat, Donghan thrusted his phone towards you, practically begging you to stop. You snatched the phone from him and patted his head, “Good boy!” you said as he glared up at you. You typed in his passcode, your birthday, and found yourself looking at a conversation between him and Umji, the girl who sat at the lab table behind yours and Donghan’s. Your fingers found themselves busy as you scrolled through the slightly suggestive texts communicated between the two of them; however, one text caught your eye, “You’re going on a date with Umji next Saturday?” 

Donghan only looked up at you boredly, “Yeah? And?” 

You hit him on the chest, ignoring the groan that left his lips, “You can’t!” 

He was irritated by now, “And why not? Also, as you’re answering this question, please, for the love of God, get off of me. My leg’s been asleep for the past three minutes.” 

You rolled your eyes at him as you climbed off of him, “Next Saturday is my birthday, dumbass. If you haven’t forgotten, it’s the passcode to your phone.” 

He sat up at your words, “Well, I’ll hang out with you at night! The date’s only supposed to be in the afternoon since we’re just going to the aquarium. C’mon, Y/N,” he grabbed the hem of your shirt, “you understand right? I might actually get with the girl I’ve been crushing on since the beginning of the school year.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “How come you didn’t tell me about this crush? After all, I am your best friend; my mother has the pictures of us bathing together when we were 2 to prove it.” 

He chuckled at the scowl you were now wearing and placed his hands on your face, trying to force you into smiling, “Because my beloved best friend and bath companion from our fetus days, it’s a guy thing. Plus, don’t be too upset about the birthday thing, I’m pretty sure you’d forget mine too if all that was on your mind was a cute guy.” 

You scoffed at his words and removed his hands from your face, “Your birthday is July 3rd. I would know; it’s my passcode. And yeah, I’m sorry, crushes are strictly a ‘guy thing,’ something you definitely cannot share with your best friend from birth.”

You stomped into the kitchen, grumbling curses under your breath. “Y/N,” you heard him whine as he followed you, “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d try to meddle again.” You halted your rummaging in the fridge to turn to him with a confused look on your face. Donghan only let out a sigh before speaking, “Remember sophomore year? You had ‘Operation Get Walnut-Head with Irene unnie’ which ended up having me vomit up cheap beer in her parents’ bathroom as she ended up flirting with you the whole night? Or how about ‘Operation Get Walnut-Head with Kyulkyung’ which ended up with me getting a concussion as she flirted with you on the ice rink before you two ended up dating for a good six months before she had to go back to China? Or what about-” You chucked a water bottle at his head before he could finish listing off all the other failed attempts of your wingmanning.

“Okay, okay, I’m a shitty wingman, but you could’ve just told me that, and I would’ve just let you be while being informed of your massive crush on Umji,” you leaned over the kitchen counter to pout at him before he smacked you on the face.

“I have been telling you that since 3rd grade when you thought the best way to help me confess to Dahyun was to hide a frog in her lunchbox,” Donghan deadpanned. 

You rubbed your face, “Ah yes, ‘Operation Get Walnut-Head with Dahyun Via Froggie McFrogsen’ is a classic.” 

He only rolled his eyes at you before he retreated back to the couch, “Y/N,” he called, “are your parents okay with me sleeping in the guest room?” You shouted back an affirmation before plopping yourself down on the couch next to him, ready for the next movie of the night.

It was Monday morning, and there was way too little caffeine in your bloodstream to function. “Y/N!” you turned around to see your friend, Jisoo, running up to you, “did you know Donghan and Umji are dating?” 

You shot her a questioning look, “Uh, they’re not dating; they’re going on a date. There’s a definite difference between the two. Plus of course I know they’re going on a date, I’m Donghan’s best friend since birth!” 

Jisoo grabbed your hand as it was reaching for your Biology textbook, “Y/N, they’re dating. As in, they’ve been together for almost six months now, and this Saturday is their anniversary; I pretty much had to sit through Umji’s speech on how beautiful Donghan’s facial structure is all day yesterday as we worked on that stupid literature project.” 

You slammed your locker with much more force than intended as you turned to Jisoo, “Well, yes, Donghan’s facial structure is quite exquisite. However, Donghan told me himself that they’re going on their first date Saturday to the aquarium, and that he’ll be at my birthday party at night. He also told me, his best friend, that he’s been crushing on Umji since forever, and this is his chance of getting with her, so, no, they’re not dating.” 

You started walking down the hallway at a fast pace as Jisoo trailed behind you, “Maybe he didn’t tell you they were dating? After all, we knows what happens to the girls Donghan dates,” you whirled around to face her, the accusatory tone of her statement rubbing you the wrong way. “Y/N, I love you, and you know that, but, you have a way of getting in the way of Donghan’s love life,” she quickly added more as your eyes narrowed at her, “It’s not purposefully, of course! You just end up scaring them off, that’s all.” 

You could only look at her confused, “Like how?” 

She halted her steps as she gave you a look, “Like how? Y/N, please, everyone can practically tell you’re in love with the guy. How would a girl feels if her boyfriend’s best friend who’s madly in love with him spends almost every waking moment with him? Intimidated, that’s how she would feel because she’s not the only girl that her boyfriend loves; she also has to deal with the other girl with a longer established history with him that’s trying to steal him away.” 

You let out a laugh after she finished talking, “Me? In love with Donghan? Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you to spout complete bullshit off the bat like that; I knew I was rubbing off on you!” you wiped away the tears from the corners of your eyes, “Anyways, I have to get to bio; see ya, Jisoo!”

“Donghan, let me tell you this wild story,” you said the moment you placed your books down onto the lab station. He looked up from his worksheet, expecting you to continue. “So Jisoo just told me that you’ve been dating Umji for like, six months now, and you never told me because I always end up ruining your relationships? Which makes no sense because I never even interact with your girlfriends? Anyways, she also has this weird theory that I’m madly in love with you and hellbent on ruining all of your relationships, so yeah, wild story numero uno of the day!” Donghan only looked up at you, apprehension riddling his expression. 

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand before speaking, “Well, Y/N, it’s not like she’s 100% wrong.” 

You sat there in your seat for a minute trying to let the words sink in before jumping up out of your seat and sending him an accusatory finger, “I’m not in love with you!” 

He only facepalmed, “Not that part, idiot. The part where I’ve been dating Umji for six months now is true, but I only didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out, and Umji didn’t want anyone to know.” 

You rested a hand on his shoulder before taking it back, remembering Umji sitting behind you two, “You could’ve just told me. I wouldn’t have force you to be my lab partner if I knew.” 

Donghan only looked at you, doubting your words, “Okay, if you mean that, I’ll go sit with Umji right now.” 

You tried not to let your smile falter, “Okay, that’s fine. I’ve always been able to work by myself in bio.” 

He began moving his stuff to the table behind yours, “Also, I don’t think I can make it to your birthday party Saturday either. Umji wants to go to her family’s lake house for our six months anniversary and all that.” 

You tried not to apply too much pressure on your pencil, “Yeah, six months is a big deal, you can just make it up to me afterwards.” 

He hesitated before grabbing Sir Droopy, the origami crane the two of you made out of boredom one day in class, and also moving it to the table behind you, “Also if it’s okay with you, Umji wants us to dial down on the Friday movie nights. She’s not comfortable with the idea of me sleeping over at your house.” 

Your pencil snapped just as you got to the notes on RNA replication, “Yeah, it’s fine, I’m just peachy.”

“Why does Umji hate me so much?” you asked as you stabbed violently at your spaghetti, imagining Umji’s perfectly beautiful face in its place. 

“It’s because she, along with almost everyone else in the student body, believes you’re in love with Donghan. So by establishing boundaries, which in my opinion are perfectly fine since you spend way too much time with him anyways, she’s ensuring you won’t try to steal him away from her. Plus, everyone in the school wanted the two of you to end up together, so once word got around Umji and Donghan were going to her family’s lake house to ‘enjoy’ each other’s company, people were not happy,” Jisoo said, not even looking up once from her book. You could only grumble in agreement; it’s impossible to deny that you did spend a lot of time with Donghan since you share almost all the same classes, lived two houses down from each other, and always had a schedule of things to do on the weekend. 

“But did she have to take away movie night?” you sighed, now idly sipping away at your banana milk. 

At this point Rena joined your table, “So I hear Umji has finally come to her senses and established boundaries between Donghan and Y/N?” You glared at her. “What? It’d be good for you two to not be so dependent on each other. Plus, now that Donghan is off the market, all the boys are gonna come flocking to you!” 

You only shot her a pointed look before setting your milk down, “I understand where she’s coming from, I really do. But the fact that she, along with the entire student body, is assuming, I repeat, assuming, I have this giant crush on Donghan, is their own fault considering I don’t. Also, I’m not vindictive enough to do something like, I don’t know, steal someone else’s boyfriend away from them? The fact she thinks so poorly of me already makes me angry; everyone in this school knows I’m all for girls supporting girls. So in conclusion, this has nothing to do with my ‘so-called crush on Donghan’ and more so with Umji’s crippling lack of confidence and her obvious distrust in me. After all, she’s hated me since “Operation Go-Go Worm” in freshman year.” Rena and Jisoo snorted at the memory of the time you snuck worms into the food of the student council protesting their destruction of a section of the school’s forest for another tennis court. “But contrary to popular belief, I’m not going to hate her because that’s what everyone is expecting. I’ll take this in stride and agree to her boundaries, even if she did steal my best friend away from me for my birthday and Friday movie nights. After all, it’s also what Donghan wants, and who am I to deny my best friend’s wishes?”

It was hell trying to distance yourself from Donghan, but hell, you applauded the effort you put into “Operation Distance From Walnut-Head.” Throughout the week, you didn’t even talk to Donghan in class; you had let her surround him in her talks about tennis and volunteering at animal shelters as you took detailed notes on bee reproduction. On Friday, you dealt with watching movies by yourself and observing through Donghan’s Snapchat story his date with her at the cafe, even telling him you thought the two of them looked cute. And when Saturday came, you didn’t even text him or call him, leaving your phone on silent in your room as you, Rena, and Jisoo set up the bar for your birthday. 

“So, he’s not coming at all?” Rena asked as she dragged the cooler of ice into the kitchen. 

You were pouring chips, notably Donghan’s favorite, into a bowl, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s on his way to the lake house at this point? I don’t know; I haven’t really checked what he’s been up to for the past day.” 

Jisoo looked at you concerned, “Not even a ‘Happy Birthday, Best Friend’ text?” 

You had moved on to pouring the pretzels into a bowl, “I didn’t see anything at midnight, but that’s probably because he went to bed early, so he wouldn’t be tired today. I’m pretty sure he sent one.” Your two friends stared at you worriedly before resuming their work. You slipped away upstairs to check your phone and saw you had one message from Donghan. You unlocked your phone to see a lonesome “hbd” from him. “It’s okay, he’s probably busy. I’m not going to freak out, because if I do, I’ll just make things worse, and we don’t want that, right, Y/N?” You threw your phone back onto your bed, and ran back downstairs once you heard the doorbell ring.

“Kenta oppa! Sanggyun oppa! Hyunbin oppa! You guys came!” you said before running to envelop each of them in a hug. 

Hyunbin ruffled your hair, “You’re turning 18, a certified legal adult now. It seemed like just yesterday you were chasing butterflies and hiding frogs in innocent children’s lunchboxes.” You laughed at his nostalgic tone. 

“Where’s Donghan? I thought he’d be here for your big adulthood initiation,” Kenta said as he walked with you into the kitchen. 

“Huh, oh he’s out celebrating his six months anniversary with his girlfriend. I gave him my blessing to skip.” 

Sanggyun raised an eyebrow at you, “Is he not coming later? It’s not like him to skip his best friend’s birthday.” 

You threw on the biggest smile you could before turning to them, “Donghan is currently having sex with his girlfriend at her family’s lake house and since he’s madly in love with her, and I’m trying to prove to everyone that I’m not madly in love with him, which I’m not, I have decided to let him enjoy his little sexcapade because at the end of the day, who cares about their best friend when they have a perfect girlfriend. Anyone want a drink?” No one said anything, watching you warily. You poured yourself a cup of whatever and went to go get the door. 

“Noona, happy birthday!” Seonho yelled as you opened the door. Guanlin, Jinyoung, Xiyeon, and Kyla trailed in behind him; all of them giving you a hug and wishing you a happy birthday. You directed them towards the drinks and scolded them lightly about not drinking too much before waving them off and welcoming the rest of your guests.

You had retreated to your room for a minute to look at your phone again. However, in the past two hours, you had not received another message from Donghan. “He’s just busy…having sex…for two hours. I’m going to be a super chill best friend and try not to freak out about it. After all it’s only been a week of not seeing him, I’ll live, and I’ll see him at school Monday, and he still owes me a present for my birthday…” Your thoughts trailed off as you laid there on your bed with your arm over your eyes. However, the sudden opening of your door caused you to sit up straight; you saw Kenta standing there in your doorway, and you motioned for him to come in and close the door behind him. 

He sat on the floor in front of you, “Bummed about Donghan not being here?” 

You scoffed at his statement, putting on a mask of nonchalance, “Donghan? Not at all, he’s allowed to hang out with his girlfriend whenever he wants; it’s not like I have any say in his relationships.”

 Kenta just laughed, “Y/N, trust me, it’s okay for you to feel the way you do, okay?” 

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

He rested his arms on his knees before placing his head onto his palm, “Well, you’ve been a major part of Donghan’s life since forever, so suddenly being forced out of it, whether that be on your part or his, is jarring. And honestly, if you’re his best friend, he’d understand if you weren’t happy with what’s going on right now.” 

You hummed, going over what he just said, “I’d agree with that, but I’m the one who’s been distancing themselves, so I don’t really have a right to be upset with him if the whole cutting out part was because of me, ya know?”

Kenta frowned at your response, “Well, why did you try distancing yourself from him anyways? It’s definitely not because you thought it’d be a fun thing to do.” 

You laid back down onto the bed, “I did it because I didn’t want another one of his relationships to end because of me. Especially not this one since he seems to like her so much. I’d rather Donghan be happy than for me to see him everyday.” 

Kenta had moved to your chair by now, “But he dated her for six months without anyone knowing, and you guys being perfectly normal. Why is it now she chooses to make their relationship public along with enforcing boundaries between you and Donghan. And why is Donghan okay with it?” You laid there in silence for a bit, trying to piece back the last six months, finding an answer to his questions. 

“Well,” you started, “Donghan really likes her, and he’s always said I’m the clingy one in the friendship, so I guess he’s more okay with not seeing me than me not seeing him. And, the reason why she made it public now is because,” you tried to think of that weekend, the weekend before it went public. Suddenly you sat up on your bed, “The Friday before they went public he slept at my house when my parents weren’t there. Oh my god, she probably thought we slept together or something. You ran your fingers through your hair, “Kenta oppa, can you try asking Donghan if he mentioned any of that to Umji?” 

He nodded from your chair, “Yeah, only if you return back to the party; we’re bringing the cake out in ten minutes.”

Sunday afternoon you got a one-worded text from Kenta, “yes.” You clambered up Donghan’s stairs later that day. When you reached his bedroom door, you started pounding on it until it opened, revealing your shirtless best friend. “Tell her we didn’t sleep together,” you said as you stepped into his room.

“Excuse you, what?” he asked, trying to find a clean shirt to wear. 

“Umji, tell her we didn’t sleep together because that has to be the reason why she hates me and wants us to restrict our friendship time. She thought we slept together that Friday night you slept over when my parents weren’t home!” You looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction; however, there was nothing. 

Donghan exhaled, “Y/N, please just go home. I have a date today.” 

You looked at him in confusion, “What, why?” 

Donghan had already opened the door for you, “Because not everything is about you! Umji doesn’t hate you, unlike whatever vindictive version of her that twisted brain of you made up. And for your information, the reason why she decided to go public is because she finally wanted to take things seriously, something I’ve been wanting since the fifth date. So no, not everything has to revolve around you or include you, Y/N. See you in school tomorrow.” 

Before he could finally get you out the door you blurted out, “What about my birthday? You still owe me!” 

He only looked at you before his gaze softened, chuckling to himself, “I’ll bring it to school tomorrow, brat. Don’t worry, I’m not that bad of a best friend.”

You sat in the corner booth of the pizza parlor with Rena and Jisoo, devouring your fifth slice. “‘Not everything revolves around you, Y/N.’ ‘hbd.’ ‘I’m not that bad of a best friend.’ For fuck’s sakes, Donghan, you are! I can’t believe he changed so quickly after one week! This was the guy who’d go skydiving with me, okay? Now he won’t even let me stand in his room for more than five minutes? Honestly, what the fuck? I just, can’t deal with whatever puberty shit he’s going through right now.” 

Rena looked at you sympathetically, “Well, maybe the birthday present tomorrow will make up for it? After all, he always gets you something you really want!” Jisoo nodded along to Rena’s statement. 

“Well if I’m basing it off of ‘hbd’ I highly doubt it. Plus he’s been so busy with Umji, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave me something average this year. But it’s okay because I’m a good best friend that doesn’t complain.” You went for another piece. 

“I don’t know, Y/N, the guy’s still your best friend, I’m pretty sure he’ll get you something cool.”

“I was busy all last week, so Umji helped me pick something out for you yesterday. There, I made it up to you okay, Y/N? Happy belated birthday,” Donghan said to you in Biology, dropping a bag on your table. 

You smiled at him warmly, “Thanks, Donghan, all is forgiven.” His shoulders relaxed, and he went to sit next to Umji. You ended up pulling out an assortment of gift cards, all to your favorite places; you tried not to let the disappointment show on your face as you turned around to the couple. “Thanks Umji for picking these out!” you said. 

She shot you a dazzling smile and said sweetly, “Don’t worry, Y/N, Donghan told me you were running low on cash, so I hope that’s enough to last you a month.” You turned back to face the front of the class, focusing on the reproductive cycle of viruses.

Friday, this time, no movie night; Donghan texted you back after fifty billion years to inform you he had another date with Umji, a recurring theme between you two for the past week. This time, you went over to Donghan’s house and hung out with his mom.

“Y/N can you chop up the onions for me?” You instantly grabbed a cutting board and knife, smiling at the memories of cooking with his mom to destress. “How are your parents?” she asked as she washed the vegetables. 

“They’re fine, just another business trip in Japan for a couple of weeks. They’ll be home by tomorrow” She nodded at your answer before humming a tune for the two of you to work to. 

Soon enough she asked you, “Why aren’t you with Donghan? Shouldn’t the two of you be watching movies right now at your house?” 

You paused your chopping, willing yourself not to cry, “Ah, he’s on a date with his girlfriend, so I thought since I haven’t visited for awhile I should come over and help you cook dinner.” Then you heard the door open and close; Donghan’s brother came home from work. “Oppa, I haven’t seen you in so long!” you placed down the knife as you ran up to give him a hug. 

He ruffled your hair, “So how’s my sister-in-law been?” 

You scowled at his question, “Don’t make those kind of jokes. Donghan has a serious girlfriend now.” 

He let out a small laugh, “That Umji girl? He still hasn’t brought her around to meet the family. Plus, I bet she doesn’t cook as well as you do. That’s an instant -1000 points.” 

Donghan’s mom laughed at the comment, “Go shower, dinner will be ready soon.” And, even though you think you imagined it, Donghan’s mom winked at you.

Donghan’s dad came home shortly before dinner began, giving you a hug as you set the table. “Thank you for the meal!” You said before digging in. Donghan’s mom kept piling more food onto your plate as his brother entertained you with stories from work. 

Halfway through dinner, Donghan came home. “Uh, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously. 

His mom spoke up before you could, “I’ve invited her over for dinner.” This conversation felt foreign; you never had to defend why you were at his house before. 

“Uh, I finished eating. I’ll wash my dishes and head home,” you said quietly, getting up from your seat.

His brother piped up this time, “Nonsense, you can hang around. I still have another story to tell you.” 

You politely smiled, “No, it’s fine. I still have some laundry to do.” 

Then his dad spoke, “Well, it’s dark out. Donghan, walk Y/N home.” 

You were scurrying into the kitchen at this point, “I only live two houses down it’s really oka-” You heard Donghan agree, and a small sense of relief filled your stomach; at least you knew he still cared a little bit. After you’ve washed your bowl and said goodbye to everyone, you embarked home with Donghan.

“I’m sorry,” you said as the two of you stood on your porch. He looked taken aback. “I shouldn’t have just went to your house without your permission,” however, you knew you had more to say, “ even if that would’ve been okay before. I’m also sorry for giving away the gift cards you gave me for my birthday because they were such shitty gifts. And I’m the most sorry for myself for actually wanting to still be your best friend because you so obviously don’t. I hope you enjoy your relationship with Umji, but I hope you know; I wish to have no part in it.” All of this was said with a smile as you turned to enter your house. 

However, Donghan grabbed your arm and turned you back around, “Y/N, you’re not jealous of me and Umji, right?” 

Your eyes turned steely, and you cooling shook his hand off, “No, I’m just done with your bullshit, so good night Donghan. See you in school Monday.”

Donghan sat in the corner booth of the pizza parlor with Kenta and Sanggyun, devouring his fifth slice. “‘And I’m the most sorry for myself for actually wanting to still be your best friend because you so obviously don’t. I hope you enjoy your relationship with Umji, but I hope you know; I wish to have no part in it.’ Can you believe her? What kind of entitled brat says that?” Kenta was scrolling through his phone, and Sanggyun was distracted by the waitress that came by their table every so often. “Are you guys even listening to me?” he asked, glaring at his two friends. 

Kenta looked up from his phone, “Yeah we are, but we’re choosing not to acknowledge it.” Sanggyun nodded along with him. 

Donghan crossed his arms over his chest, “And why not?” 

Sanggyun sighed, “Dude, we love you, but you’re honestly being an asshole right now.” 

Donghan scoffed, “How?” 

Kenta raised an eyebrow, “Well, let’s go all the way back to when you skipped Y/N’s 18th birthday and sent her a ‘hbd’ text instead of the usual extra text you always send her at midnight, and not,” Kenta looked down at his phone, “2:34pm. And then you proceed to give her gift cards for her birthday, that you skipped, which is equally as fucked up,” Sanggyun nodded to that, “And then you pretty much kick her out of your room without letting her finish talking to you, while accusing her of being self-centered. What else did he do?” 

Kenta turned to Sanggyun and the latter took up the challenge of finishing the list, “You also pretty much stopped talking to her at school and even stopped hanging out with her. Also, you,” Sanggyun took Kenta’s phone to look at the screen, “made her feel unwelcome in your home. And that’s where it ends.” 

Donghan could only look at his friend in mild amusement, “You guys made a list?”

Kenta frowned, “No, Y/N texting me all day today about how much she hates you now, and it just so happened she covered every single wrong you committed.”

Donghan defended himself, “Well, she knows I have a serious girlfriend, so she maybe needs to stop being so clingy and dependent on me. She has other friends, ya know! And she was okay with me skipping on her birthday and the hangout days. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with gift cards! They’re a reasonable gift.”

“You got me a one-of-a-kind teddy bear for my 15th birthday, a signed copy of my favorite book for my 16th, and concert tickets to my favorite band for my 17th; I’m sorry if I didn’t enjoy your reasonable gift.” Donghan whipped his head around to see you there, tears brimming in your eyes. You took another step towards him, “And wow, I didn’t know how much of a pain in the ass it was for you to hang out with me. I’m so sorry for filling your past 18 years with nothing but my annoying presence, and yeah, you’re right, I do have other friends, but you’re my best friend, okay? And I thought that actually meant something, but no, once again I was wrong. So yeah, it’s good to know you feel that way.” You grabbed your pizza box and stormed out of the parlor. 

Donghan turned back to face his friends, “Did you guys just set me up?” The two of them shook their heads. 

Kenta spoke up, “Nope, Y/N probably just really wanted pizza.” Donghan slammed his head back into the seat. He royally screwed up.

“Y/N!” Donghan called as he continued banging on your front door, panting from exertion after running here from the parlor “Y/N!” Suddenly your door swung open to reveal your mom, still in her business attire. “Oh, uh, hi Mrs. L/N, is Y/N home?” 

She looked at him confused, “Y/N? I haven’t seen her since I’ve gotten back from the airport. She’s probably at Rena’s or Jisoo’s house.” 

Donghan straightened up at the word airport, “Did you just get back from somewhere, Mrs. L/N?” 

Your mom looked at him curiously, “Y/N didn’t tell you? My husband and I have been in Japan for the past month, and based off of the trash, Y/N been living off of takeout,” she laughed at that comment, “However, I’m grateful that your mom let her eat something other than pizza and Chinese last night.” 

Donghan scratched at the back of his neck, “Oh, n-no problem.” 

Your mom beamed, “Thank her for me! Tell her we’ll be over for dinner soon.” He nodded, and she shut the door as he was walking down the front steps.

You found Donghan sitting at your table in Biology and Umji glaring at you as you walked in. You hesitantly sat down next to him, but quickly buried your focus into note taking. “Psst, Y/N,” Donghan whispered as he poked your arm with a pencil, “psst.” 

You turned to glared at him, “What do you want?” you hissed. He slipped you a piece of paper. You opened it to see “I’m sorry” written on it in his usual chicken scratch. You scrawled something on it and slip it back to him. “Go away,” you wrote, trying to be as blunt as you can. He wrote back, “I will if you forgive me.” You tilted your head before putting down, “Never.” Then the bell rang, allowing you a quick escape.

You briskly walked to your locker, put in the combination, and as you opened it, a balloon flew out. You grasped the card that hung from the end of the balloon and read it to yourself, “Sorry for being an asshat, let me explain everything to you over dinner at the pizza place you like at 7. If you don’t show up, I’m climbing through your window tonight. Don’t try to lock it, I still remember the trick to get it open. Your Best Friend, Donghan.” 

Suddenly Rena and Jisoo popped up behind you, “Is that from Donghan?” they asked as Rena plucked the note from your hand, reading it over before passing it to Jisoo. 

Before they could say anything else, Seonho approached you, “Y/N, Donghan told me to give these to you,” he handed you a bouquet of forget-me-nots. 

“Uh, thanks, Seonho,” you said, practically hearing your friends squeal in excitement behind you. You turned around to face them after Seonho walked away, “What are you two so happy about?” 

Rena grinned ear to ear, “Because a friendship is repairing itself!” Jisoo just went to go swing her arm around your shoulder, “Because you can stop moping in your house everyday now and revert back to the happy Y/N we all know and love.”

It was 6:58, and you anxiously waited in the back corner booth of the pizza parlor, tugging at the end of your hoodie. “Maybe he just wants to tell me to get out of his life entirely. Oh my god, what if he’s gonna tell me him and Umji are getting married and having adorable little children, and I won’t get to be a part of their lives. Oh, what if-” your thoughts got cut off by the sudden presence of a shadow over you. You looked up to see Donghan.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before sitting across from you. You waved to him before focusing your gaze onto the napkin dispenser. “Well, I guess I should start off with an apology, so I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, pleading you with his eyes to look at him. You focused your gaze onto your straw next as you swirled it around your cup of lemonade. He folded his hand together and placed them on the table, “Okay, Y/N, I’ve been an asshole for the past two weeks, and it’s not excusable how rude I’ve been. It’s just, Umji’s so amazingly perfect, and I really didn’t want to ruin it with her. And she’s always been a bit skeptical of our relationship, so I had to show her we were just friends.” 

You flickered your eyes to look at him once before speaking, “And that excuses your asshole-ness, how?” 

You noticed the sigh of relief he exhaled when he realized you at least looked at him once, “It doesn’t, and honestly, I went to the extremes to ensure we kept things as just friends. Honestly, it was hard for me too not hanging out with you everyday; I can only handle so much talk about tennis before my eyes cross,” his eyes crinkled when he noticed you trying to suppress a giggle, “I missed us debating which of us had a higher chance of dating an actor, even though the answer is always me. I missed you being a little shit and making me watch those weird musical movies every single movie night. I missed us fighting over who could eat the most slices of pizza even though you always win every single time. I just missed hanging out with you. I missed my best friend.” 

You looked at him now, keeping your gaze on him this time, “Then why did you ignore me? Why did you go so far out of your way to avoid me? Like, I know I tried giving you some space like you wanted the first week, but you pretty much alienated me last week.” 

Donghan let out a sigh and ruffled his hair before speaking, “It sounds stupid, but like, I knew if I saw you, I would’ve dropped plans with Umji.” You tilted your head, confused at his statement. “Honestly, the day you barged into my room demanding I tell Umji we didn’t sleep together, I was ready to cancel all my plans with her the moment you whined at me. But I couldn’t do that because I’ve cancelled so many dates before just so I could have movie night with you, just so we can catch that new animated film you wanted to go see, just so I can go shopping with you and tell you how cute you look in oversized clothes. So I willed myself not to talk to you or text you because I know the moment you call my name, or smile at me, or even cry, I’d come running.” 

Your eyes teared up at his words, and in a small voice, you asked, “Really?” 

He let out a relieved chuckle, “The day you ran out of the parlor crying because of me, I went to your house right afterwards to talk, but you weren’t home then.” You tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie this time, covering your hands with the sleeves. Donghan cracked a smile, “Isn’t that my hoodie?” 

You looked down and realized that the hoodie was quite big on you, “Um, yeah, I should probably give it back soon.” 

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, when did I ever restrict you from borrowing my clothes before?” 

You pondered over his question, “Well, never really, but won’t Umji be-” 

He cut you off, “I talked to Umji, and I pretty much told her you’re gonna be my best friend no matter what, so if she really did like me, she’ll understand that we’re just best friends.” You smiled at his comment, and he beamed back at you. The waitress came back with your pizza, you came here so often they knew your order by heart, and as you grabbed a slice, Donghan spoke up, “Also, in the final act of ‘Operation Make Y/N Forgive Walnut-Head,’ you are cordially invited to a birthday party for yourself this Friday night at Hyunbin’s house to make up for the shitty gift cards I gave you when I was trying to prove to Umji we were just friends.” 

You giggled at his statement, “Okay, Walnut-Head, you’re forgiven. Especially since Hyunbin’s house has a full bar.”

Friday came quickly, and you stood in front of your closet, trying to pick something to wear as Jisoo and Rena lounged on your bed, scrolling through their phones. Rena looked up to see you pouting at her, so she got off of your bed and assisted you in searching for an outfit. “What about this black skirt with this top?” she asked, modelling the outfit for you. 

“The black skirt’s too short,” you replied, proceeding to dig through your drawers now for something. 

Then Jisoo spoke up from the bed, “Wear the white dress with the denim jacket over it paired with your red Converse.”

The three of you wove through the crowded room as the bass reverberated through your bones. Soon Rena and Jisoo abandoned you to find the alcohol, and you found yourself looking for Donghan. “Have you seen Donghan?” you yelled over the music to Sanggyun who was currently in the middle of flirting. He pointed over to the basement door before waving you off. You let him flirt in peace and went down the stairs to the basement.

It was significantly quieter in the basement than it was upstairs. You found Donghan sipping on his drink as Umji sat on his lap. She saw you first and waved you over; her eyes sparkling as she wished you a late happy birthday. You mumbled a thanks before finding a seat on the floor between Seonho and Kenta; the latter handing you a water bottle. You nodded your head in thanks as you looked up to watch Umji whisper into Donghan’s ear. You took a sip of your water and rested your head against Kenta’s shoulder. The moment you laid your head down; Donghan sat up straight, “Let’s play a game, everyone!” 

As he said those words, Jisoo and Rena came down the stairs, “What about truth or dare? Every time you skip, you drink!,” Rena said as she stumbled down the steps before plopping herself onto the carpet. 

Jisoo sat down next to her; a wicked glint flickered across her eyes, “How about the birthday girl go first?” Donghan shot a glare at Jisoo, but she brushed it off. 

Rena leaned forward, “Truth or dare, Y/N?” 

You tapped your finger against your chin, pretending to be deep in thought, “Dare.” The circle oohed at your choice. 

“I dare you to kiss Seonho,” Jisoo said; her lips forming a smirk as she snuck a peek towards Donghan’s direction.

“My child? You’re daring me to kiss my child?” you asked, feigning horror as you turned to face Seonho, cupping his cheek, and pulling his face forward so you could meet his lips with yours. Everyone cheered the moment your lips made impact, and you flashed the crowd a smile after you pulled your lips away. Donghan chugged the rest of his cup and chucked it away, grabbing a beer from someone’s outstretched hand in the process. He then chugged all of that too and accepted another one. 

“Donghan,” he looked up from his bottle to see Jisoo smiling at him, “truth or dare?” 

He only looked at her blankly, “Truth.”

The glint returned to her eyes, “Do you love Y/N?” 

He smiled at her question, “Of course, she’s my best friend.” You shot him a heart from your seat, and he felt his smile grow. The room groaned at his answer, obviously expecting more. 

This time, Kenta called his name, “Donghan, truth or dare?” 

Donghan looked at his friend in confusion; Kenta barely initiated in these kind of games. “Dare,” Donghan said, looking Kenta in the eye. 

“I dare you to switch seats with me,” Kenta calmly spoke, already standing up. Donghan was perplexed at the simple dare, but complied, leaving Umji’s side to sit next to you. This time the room was silent, watching the small game of Truth or Dare unfold. 

You spoke up this time, “Umji, truth or dare?” 

She looked shocked when you called her name, “Truth, I guess?” 

Your grip tightened around your bottle, “Where do you buy your highlighter because it’s blinding right now.” The tension in the room dissipated at your question, and Donghan couldn’t help but laugh.

The game continued on, and Donghan found himself drinking more and more, trying to evade dares that would get him naked or arrested. At one point he found himself resting his head against your shoulder as the room spun around him. You nudged him off at first, but he resisted; your shoulders were a nice place to rest. “Donghan, get off of me! Umji’s glaring at you right now,” you hissed. He only nudged his head against your shoulder, and he found his hand wandering until they found your hand, interlocking your fingers together. You looked down in shock; he hasn’t held your hand since his relationship went public. You tried shaking him off, but he wouldn’t budge. You looked up to see Umji gone from her seat. Jisoo pointed towards the stairs. “Okay, Donghan, if you get off of me for just one minute, I’ll pay for our pizza days for the next month.” His head perked up at that, and he sleepily got off of you. You rushed up the stairs and bumped through the mass of people to the restroom, the place all sad party-goers go to cry.

You knocked on the door, “Umji? Umji? It’s me, Y/N.” The door flew open to reveal a mascara-streaked Umji.

“What do you want?” she shot at you. You entered the restroom, closing the door behind you. 

“Whatever happened back there was just because we’re friends, okay? Donghan’s a clingy drunk, and I just happened to be the one sitting next to him.” 

She looked at you, unconvinced, “Really now? Because he’s never done that with me.” 

You hopped up onto the counter, “I know what you’re implying, but Donghan usually doesn’t get drunk. Trust me, last time he was this bad, he wouldn’t leave Kenta alone for the entire night.” 

She sat down on the toilet, “Honestly Y/N, are you oblivious or something?” You looked down at her and tilted your head. She rested her head on her palms, “Like, I don’t know how you haven’t noticed it, but I think Donghan’s in love with you.” 

You awkwardly laughed at that statement, “Umji, he’s your boyfriend. Why would he be in love with me?” You rubbed at the back of your neck, trying to avoid her gaze. 

“When we went to the lake house, he noticed I had a copy of Begin Again, and he wouldn’t stop talking about how that’s one of your favorite movies. He even proceeded to list all of your favorite songs from the movie along with all the scenes you cried at because I quote ‘she’s like a little kitten when she cries, kinda pathetic, but it’s cute.’ When we went out to buy your birthday present, and I suggested gift cards; he proceeded to list off every single one of your favorite stores, plus what you buy from each of them. When he took me to that pizza parlor, the waitress immediately placed a pizza at our table because that’s yours and his regular order. And the one time he asked me to text you a quick happy birthday message to you for him, he told me that his phone password was your birthday.” You focused your gaze on the shower curtains behind her.

“He probably never got around to changing it,” you offered weakly. 

She let out a laugh, “I’ve been dating him for six months, and he’s never gotten around to changing his phone password? Yeah right. Don’t take the fall for this or anything, but I can’t take it anymore. I’m breaking up with him.” 

Your eyes widened at her words, and you jumped off the counter, blocking the door with your body, “You can’t! Donghan loves you!” 

She rolled her eyes before pushing you to the side, “I don’t know how much longer the two of you are gonna delude yourselves for, but trust me, Y/N, whatever Donghan feels for me, it’s not love.” She left the restroom, and your eyes trailed after her as she left the party.

Donghan slept peacefully in your passenger seat as you parked your car in your driveway. You poked his face, “Donghan, Donghan, Walnut-Head,” he woke up at that one, “get out of my car so I can let you sleep in an actual bed and not a faux leather seat.” He groaned but complied, unbuckling himself and stumbling out of the car. You helped him walk up the steps to your porch. 

“Your hair smells nice, Y/N,” Donghan said sleepily as you guided him to the guest bedroom. You held back a smile at his drunken compliment, and dropped him onto the bed. 

“Okay, I’ll be back with some water and an aspirin, don’t die while I’m gone.” He sat up and lazily saluted you before flopping back onto the bed. You returned with the medicine and placed it on the bedside table, “Okay, good night Donghan, I’m going to sleep now.” You tried shuffling out of the room, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you on top of him. You couldn’t hide the shock written across your face as you looked down at his face, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight. You laid there on top of him frozen as you felt his arm wrap around your waist and his other hand making its way slowly up your back. You shivered slightly as he made contact with your neck. 

His hand found purchase in your hair, stroking it, and murmuring, “You have soft hair, Y/N.” You smiled softly at him and instinctively started stroking his hair too. He leaned into your touch and spoke again, “You have soft, nice smelling hair and a really pretty smile, Y/N. You’re like an angel.” You blushed at his words, trying to find something else to look at instead of his face. But Donghan had other plans; his hand stayed nestled in your hair, and he started to lean up. Before your mind could decipher what was happening, his lips were on yours. Your first instinct was to push yourself away; however, a small voice in the back of your head kept you rooted there, on top of Donghan, kissing him. You don’t know how much time the two of you spent there kissing, it could’ve been ten seconds or ten minutes, but eventually Donghan pulled his head back to lay back down onto the bed. A slow smile crept its way across his face as his eyes closed, and he drifted to sleep.

“Wait, can you repeat what you just said again? It’s too early in the morning for you to be talking that fast,” Jisoo yawned over the phone. 

You inhaled sharply before repeating, “Well, Donghan kissed me last night while he was intoxicated, but I didn’t really pull away because his lips were really, really soft, and honestly, the kiss was just really nice? And yeah, so he kissed me last night, and I don’t know what to do now because he’s going to wake up in,” you looked at your clock, “approximately 7 minutes. Jisoo, help me please.” 

You could practically hear her facepalm over the phone, “Okay, Y/N, calm down. Maybe just ask him if he remembers anything from last night? The guy was drunk.” 

You ran your hand through your hair, “But what if he says yes?” 

Jisoo sighed softly over the phone, “Then you talk it out with him. The two of you have been best friends forever, and honestly, if the guy kissed you, then it means something right? You guys are gonna have to talk about what happens now. If you guys are gonna start dating or maybe just stay friends, ya know.” 

Uncertainty filled your voice when you replied, “Dating? Me and Donghan?” 

Jisoo chuckled, “C’mon, Y/N, just think about it. Anyways, I have work in an hour, so I gotta go.” You softly said goodbye and hung up the phone. The room filled with silence as you stood there, thinking of the possibility of dating Donghan. There’s no way you could possibly date him! He’s a slob, always shows up late to plans due to his indecisiveness over what to wear or how to style his hair, and he never listened to you unless you whined and pouted your way into his view. However, you couldn’t shake of the warm feeling that bubbled in the pit of your stomach when you imagined going on dates with Donghan, holding his hand, maybe even giving him kisses when he starts pouting… You shook your head, trying to move all thoughts of Donghan back into the little friend compartment. For heaven’s sakes, you’ve bathed in the same bathtub as him as little babies; you defended him from the mean fifth graders on the bus when the two of you were little toddling kindergarteners; heck, you listened to him gush about his first kiss for two hours on the phone in the seventh grade. You’ve been with the guy since day 1, so why is it now there are fluttering feelings stirring in the depths of your mind?

“Morning, Y/N,” Donghan greeted you sleepily, still sporting his bedhead. 

You couldn’t help but softly smile at the sight from the kitchen counter; you cleared your throat before speaking, “I, uh, made some of my mom’s hangover tea if you want some.” He shot you a lazy smile, causing a burst of warmth to hit your face, before heading to the kettle and pouring himself a mug. He situated himself next to you, leaning onto the counter, sipping his tea next to you, enjoying the silence of the morning. Before you could stop yourself, you lifted your hand to his head, trying to fix his hair. Donghan leaned himself into your touch, and for the next few seconds, it was just you fixing his hair, and him looking at you with a soft smile. When you pulled your hand away, the both you turned to face forward, blush erupting on both of your cheeks. Your fingers tapped against your mug, “Um, Donghan, do you remember anything that happened last night?” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his eyebrows wrinkle in concentration, “I remember drinking a lot, playing truth or dare, and you helping me into your house. Nothing happened after that? No Hyunbin’s 17th birthday part 2?” You smiled at the memory of a drunken Donghan rummaging through your drawer and emerging with a bra on his head. 

“Ah, no, just wanted to gauge how drunk you were,” you said, focusing on your tea. 

“Oh, okay, that’s good. I’m gonna call Umji and tell her I’m not dead,” he said, ruffling your hair as he walked out of the kitchen. You were relieved that he didn’t remember the kiss that transpired between you two, but why did you feel a sudden weight settle on your shoulders?

Donghan came back into the room, running his fingers through his hair frustrated. You cocked an eyebrow at him from over your mug. “Umji just broke up with me.” 

You spat out your drink, looking up at him in alarm, “What! Why?” 

He just shrugged, “I don’t know. She just scoffed and said that if I really didn’t figure out why after last night, I must be dumber than she expected.” 

You shifted uneasily, and your feet suddenly looked very interesting, “I’m sorry, Donghan. I should’ve just taken you straight to your house.” 

He looked at you confused, “Okay, Y/N, you ruin a lot of my relationships, but this is definitely not one of those times,” you shot him a hurt look, “I kid, I kid. I’ll just stop by her house today to talk to her. You okay without me?” 

You tried to shoot him your brightest smile, “Yeah, fix your relationship! Don’t worry about me.” 

He watched you for a second before laughing, “Don’t be so eager to get rid of me. I’ll text you when I’m done, and then we can hang out.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you sighed as you slammed your head against the table in the back corner of the pizza parlor. Jisoo sipped on her lemonade, and Rena was already on her second slice. 

Jisoo looked up at you, “Well, let’s ask the first question. Do you have feelings for Donghan, even a smidge?” You were about to open your mouth and protest, but you nodded your head before any words could tumble out. 

Rena finished her slice and leaned forwards, “Well, just tell him how you feel.” 

You shot her a pointed look, “He’s at Umji’s house right now talking to her, and you want me to tell him how I feel? High chance once she realizes he has no feelings for me, they’ll go back to being a couple.” You crossed your arms and leaned back into the booth. 

“But, the kiss had to come from somewhere right? Like, alcohol makes us brave, maybe he was drunk enough to realize his feelings for you, and then, poof, he kissed you,” Jisoo tried reasoning. 

Rena hummed in agreement, “After all, the guy looks at you like your his moon and stars. Kenta even told me he looked ragged as hell during your two week separation.” 

You groaned, “If he liked me, he wouldn’t be at Umji’s house right now. And can you guys stop making out this epic love story between the two of us? I pretty much just figured I might be in love with my best friend.” 

Jisoo blankly looked at you, “Well, maybe Donghan’s like you and blurred the lines between friendship and love a little bit too much to tell the difference. Trust me, he would not save every single one of his Friday night, even skipping dates if needed, to hang out with you if he didn’t love you.” 

You tried retorting, “Well, maybe he loves me like a friend?” 

Rena scoffed, “Friends don’t tell their friends they have nice hair and a nice smile and call them an angel before kissing them.”

Donghan didn’t text you for the rest of the weekend, but for once, you were okay without his presence, fearing that you might blurt out your true feelings if he did come around. When Monday came rolling in, you hid yourself in the restrooms all morning before the bell rang, just in case you might run into him and Umji making out in the hallway. However, the bell rung too soon, and you trudged your way to bio. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Donghan greeted, already seated at your table. You stood there at the door like a deer in headlights before someone pushed you in. 

“Uh, hey,” you placed your notebook and pencils on the table, keeping your gaze away from him to the best of your ability. 

“You free tomorrow?” he asked, twirling his pen. 

Your voice caught in your throat for a moment, “Uh, I have some studying to do for psych, so I can’t.” 

His smile dropped, “Oh, I figured my best friend could comfort me after being dumped,” all of this was said with a pout, something you tried very hard to ignore. 

“So, you and Umji aren’t a thing anymore?” you asked slowly, copying down the words on the board intently. He pointed towards the opposite side of the room where Umji now sat. You let out a small “oh” before getting back to work, “Maybe some other time Donghan, I’m kind of busy tomorrow.” He stared at you for a split second longer before nodding and focusing back onto his work.

“Hyung, it’s been 4 days, 10 hours, and 27 minutes since Y/N talked to me, and she hasn’t called or texted me since,” Donghan groaned; he was currently splayed out starfish style on the carpet in Hyunbin’s basement. 

Sanggyun didn’t look up from his phone when he spoke, “And nothing from Umji?” 

Donghan rolled onto his stomach, “Well, she dumped me because I supposedly am in love with Y/N, and whoever thinks that is obviously crazy. You guys know I don’t deal with crazy, not after that summer fling with that BDSM enthusiast.” 

Hyunbin was playing some video game, but he still chimed in, “So all your feelings for Umji just disappeared? Like overnight?” 

Donghan pondered the question, “It’s not like it magically dissipated into thin air. It’s just, it doesn’t hurt as much being dumped by her as-” he stopped talking there, unsure at the direction his statement was going. 

Kenta looked down at him from the couch, “As? As what?” 

Donghan played the words in his mind again, “Well, as not being with Y/N. Like, I think I felt ten times worst during the separation period between me and Y/N than I do now separated from Umji? It makes sense right? Y/N’s my best friend, and Umji’s just another one of my, now ex, girlfriends.” The three boys exchanged a look at the youngest’s statement. 

“Is it possible, just a little bit possible, that you might like, maybe even love, Y/N more than a friend?” Kenta asked. 

Donghan scoffed, “Y/N? As a girlfriend? Guys, this is the girl that organizes my desk every time she comes over, which misplaces all of my stuff. She’s always complaining about me being late when she obviously knows that my handsomeness isn’t accomplished by half-hearted styling. And she’s the one that I love to annoy by pretending I’m not listening just so she can start whining and pouting, and it’s honestly the cutest thing, and I-” Donghan sat up straight, “Shit, I think I might have feelings for Y/N.” Sanggyun slipped Kenta a $20. 

Hyunbin paused his video game, “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” Donghan sat there on the floor of Hyunbin’s basement, for the first time, lost on the matter of you. He could easily tell people what your favorite movie to watch on Friday nights are (anything Studio Ghibli or Begin Again); he could easily tell people what age you lost your first tooth (5, it was because you ran into a doorknob); hell, he could tell people what your biggest dream in life is (“just get out of this small town and do something amazing with my life. Adopt an elephant or two, just something.”), but in the matters of if you felt the same way for him he did for you, that was a different story. 

“Honestly Donghan, just tell her. Y/N’s a big enough girl to handle the truth, and I hope she’s mature enough to not let this get in the way of your friendship,” Kenta said. 

Sanggyun piped in, “Plus, it’s obvious she really likes you, even if she hasn’t noticed it yet.” 

Hyunbin unpaused his video game, “Dude, just go to her.”

His hands were shaking as he knocked on your door. “Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out,” he repeated to himself. Then the door opened to reveal you, still in your pajamas, which he noted was an old hoodie of his and leggings. 

“Uh, hey, Donghan. Can I help you?” you asked, scratching the back of your neck, averting your gaze onto the potted plant by his feet. 

He took a deep breath in, “Can we talk?” 

Suddenly, fear flooded your eyes, you knew this was the moment he remembered the kiss and decides to drop you as a friend forever. “Uh, um, well, I think I have to walk my plant, so, uh, bye!” 

You tried shutting the door, but Donghan stopped it with his foot, “Y/N, just let me in.” You sighed before opening the door wide, letting your best friend in. He found his way to the couch and sat down in his spot. 

“Look about the kiss, I know you were drunk, and honestly, I should’ve pulled away, but I couldn’t. And you can’t stop being my friend because you started it and-” you stopped rambling the moment you saw Donghan’s confused face, “shit.” He stood up and walked to you hesitantly; once he reached you he placed his hands on both of your arms, 

“So, we kissed?” he asked. 

You meekly looked to the ground, shielding your reddening cheeks with your hair, “Y-yeah, last Friday night when you were really drunk.” 

Donghan let out a relieved sigh, “So you weren’t avoiding me because you hated me? You avoided me because we kissed?” 

You nodded, “I might hate you because we kissed.” 

He tensed at your words, “And why is that?” he asked, fearful of your answer. The look on your face was not what he had expected when you looked up. His best friend’s eyes were glossy with tears, her cheeks dusted pink, and her full lips trembling. 

“Because the kiss made me realized I loved you, loved you more than a friend,” you shook his hands off of you, and you backed away from him, “And I don’t even know how long I’ve been liking you in that way, but I have, Donghan, for a while now, and I just now realized it. But I know to you, I’m just going to be your friend, and I think in my subconscious, I’ve always accepted that, so I never even thought of playing with the idea of loving you in that way, of being yours. And I hate it, because I was fine then, but you and your really soft and skilled lips had to come and ruin everything!”

 Donghan stood there in shock before breaking out into a smirk, “Soft and skilled lips, huh?” 

You ran your hands through your hair, “It’s not time to be a little shit right now, I pretty much told you how I felt!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, pouting when he caught it. 

Donghan advanced towards you, “And how do you know I don’t feel the same?” you looked like a cornered bunny the moment he got right in front of you. You peered up at him, tensing when he placed his hands on your arms again, “You know what I realized during the past four days? I realized that it hurts a lot more being separated from you than it does being dumped by Umji, and for a while, I couldn’t figure out why. Eventually everything clicked into place for me because yes, you’re a little shit. Okay? But you’re my little shit, and honestly, you drive me crazy. Every time you sing along to those Disney movies you like so much, I automatically smile because you’re just so damn happy over a kids’ movie. And every time you pout, I always have to fight the urge to suddenly just kiss it away. And every time you’re sad or angry or just upset with me, I’d kick myself a hundred times over, just for you to forgive me. I realized that yeah, you’re my best friend, but what I’m feeling right now? What I’ve been feeling for a while now? It’s something more than that, Y/N. I think I love you more than a friend.”

 The two of you stood there in the middle of your living room, tension building like water droplets accumulating on a penny. Suddenly, the last drop came down, and the tension burst. You slipped your arms up around his neck, and his hands found purchase on your waist. And like something out of a movie scene, the two of you kissed. It could’ve been ten seconds or ten years for all you cared. However, it all came to an end when Donghan mumbled against your lips, “Today’s Friday right?” you hummed in reply, “What movie do you want to watch?” 

You pulled away and pushed him onto the couch, climbing on top of him, “I’d rather not watch a movie today, Donghan. Are you okay with that?”