#she also said i have to text housemate and ask them to bring me some stuff

[soggypotatoes]

"protective" part: ok when u talk to ur psychologist do NOT!!! mention that u found something to self harm with in hospital. u KNOW she will tell them. ik she let u get away with it that one time but this is different. you understand this?

me: yes. I will keep just this bit of information from her and it will be all ok.

babby part of me that always has to take the reins during session: *tells her*

my psychologist: *calls the ward*

me: surprised pikachu face

[skzsauce01]

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’  are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.  

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

[shinescape]

Nail Polish

Boyfriend Hongjoong x Fem Reader

Requested!

note: I'm never moving on from how he looked in that vlive. I hope you like how this turned out, anon. Enjoy the read!

Hongjoong pulled the ends of his hoodie’s strings as his friend watched his actions. “Did you even sleep last night?” He turned to Seonghwa who looked way too presentable for an 8 a.m. class.

“I did...for three hours.” He brought up three fingers with a tired smile plastered on his face and his friend sighed before looking back to the professor at the front.

“Don’t fall asleep. I’m not covering you for the hundredth time.” Hongjoong grumbled and had his elbow on the table, propping up his chin.

“What’s bothering you so much that you slept that little?”

“Thinking about what to give to my girlfriend.” He played with the pen in his hand and waited for Seonghwa to say something. He looked to his left and watched as his friend diligently took notes which he didn’t bother doing.

Seonghwa then answered him after some time, “Ah...just buy whatever she likes. She’s not picky like you.” Seonghwa mocked him and tried to stifle a laugh when Hongjoong suddenly threw the pen at him.

That’s when the professor caught their little exchange. “Both of you, out of my class!” Hongjoong had a playful smile as he left the classroom while his best friend lowered his head all the way out.

“Want to get food with me, Hwa?” He peeked to see the taller male’s face who clearly looked annoyed.

“No. I’m going to the library. You better settle that problem of yours or I’m not letting you copy my notes anymore.” With that he left Hongjoong in the hallways sighing to himself. “Another problem has been added.” He mumbled to himself.

The next day after class, you texted him if he was free and if he wanted to meet up. Hongjoong stared at your message before turning to his left and asked his roommate.

“Should I get her a ring?”

“Oh my god, you still haven’t figured it out?”

Seonghwa shut the book he was reading and sat up on the bed. “You always have the answers to everything. So, ring?” Hongjoong tilted his head to which Seonghwa sighed tiredly.

“Yes Hongjoong, just buy her a ring.”

He then added, “ Paint her nails while you’re at it.”

“You’re a genius, Hwa!” He was about to hug his friend when Seonghwa stopped him. “Don’t touch me. Just don’t bother me until this ring thing is done.” Hongjoong didn’t listen and went to hug him anyways before retreating back to his table and composed a text back to you.

-Sweetheart, can I come over a bit later in the evening? I have something to do.-

-But my housemates would be at home. You okay with that?-

He sighed and shook his head at your reply, she’s always worrying about me. -I’m meeting you, not them. See you soon.-

You had no class that day and coincidentally Hongjoong has none either. It became a meet up day for both of you. But, he told you that he’s coming later than usual which was kind of odd but you didn’t put much thought into it.

There was nothing interesting to watch but there you were switching from channel to channel because all of your housemates were running about the house.

They kept on bothering you in the room, asking where the hair curler was or did you see their champagne coloured dress.

It was getting annoying with all the knocking on your bedroom door so you decided to stay in the living room until Hongjoong showed up. “You sure don’t want to go to the club with us? You can bring your boyfriend along. It’s been awhile since we saw him.”

You faked a smile and before you could answer, another one came and mockingly said, “Your boyfriend is always busy. We rarely see you post any photos with him. Are you even still together?”

You clicked your tongue at her words. It’s not even worth fighting with these girls, you thought to yourself. “You girls have fun. Hongjoong’s coming over to just chill with me. Also, his major requires a lot of research that’s why he’s busy. He hates clubbing anyway.”

You mumbled the last part. Your two housemates were quite taken aback by your words and left you to yourself again without a snarky comeback.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back on the sofa and watched the movie that was playing on screen. “It’s my life, why are you so bothered about it?” You grumbled to yourself when suddenly the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” You shouted before running to the door.

You just knew it was your boyfriend, call it intuition if you want. The moment you unlocked the door and saw him standing there grinning, you jumped to hug him. “I miss you so much, Joong.” You pulled away a bit and stared at his face then went straight to peck his lips.

He held you by the waist to balance because you seemed to be in such a good mood. “I miss you too. You seem happy to see me. You are right?” He joked and you playfully slapped his shoulder. “Of course! Come on in.”

He asked if he could go in your room and hangout there but you gave him a frown and pulled him down to the carpeted floor in the living room.

“I want to but they keep asking me for things like I’m some kind of Lost & Found booth.” He mimicked your pout and ruffled your hair. “That’s fine then. We can just stay here.”

“So, I have something for you. Are you excited, sweetheart?” Hongjoong eyes were wide and sparkling and you gave him a suspicious look.

“What is it? Why do I feel scared all of a sudden?” You chuckled at his flat look and hugged his arm to comfort him. “What is it, Joong?”

He brought a small paper bag from his backpack and passed it to you. You opened it slowly and saw a small bottle inside.

It was a bottle of nail polish. “I wanted to paint your nails today. Is that okay with you, babe?” He confessed as he bit his lips observing your reaction.

“Of course you can. Did you plan on doing my nails today?” Your eyes twinkled at the thought of your boyfriend coming over to have a manicure session with you.

If only you knew he had another plan behind all of this yet he was glad everything was going down smoothly.

“Yes I did. Now give me your hand and let your loving boyfriend do all the work.” He exclaimed and you cringed when he mentioned ‘loving boyfriend’ but then again where’s the lie in that. He really was loving.

He started with your right hand and the moment your forefinger was coated in paint, a gasp came out from your mouth. “Hongjoong this is such a pretty colour. Is this yours or did you buy a new one?”

“This one is yours. I bought it just for you.” A loving smile curved on his face as he admired your amused expression. He was glad you like the colour even when he had a hard time picking it earlier at the nail studio.

He custom made the colour and named it after you. He wished to tell you there and then but that would make you suspicious, was what he thought.

He proceeded to paint all your nails and was satisfied with his final work. “It’s done.” He blew on them a bit and told you to stay still as he wanted to take a photo of it. You sat up straight and make sure your fingers were all spread on the coffee table.

Unaware to both of you, all your housemates were peeking from behind the wall. “My boyfriend could never do that.”

“Same. I’m kind of jealous now.”

“Maybe we should check out the guys at his department next time.” They all nodded to each other as they watched you happily laughing with your boyfriend.

“Sweetheart, can you lift your ring finger for me.” You did as told and out of nowhere he took out a red thread and tied it around your finger. He then tied it around his finger as well before taking more photos.

You were confused by what he was doing so you asked, “Babe, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know the red string of fate? I just thought it’s nice to do something like this.” Hongjoong prayed so hard that you won’t get too suspicious of his actions and let it slide.

“I didn’t know you believe in those things. You know they’re just myths right?” He hummed and before you knew it he brought out a pair of small embroidery scissors and snipped right at the knot on your finger, took it out from your finger and casually kept the thread in his bag.

You were getting kind of suspicious by his actions but didn’t ask anything about it. “I know you’re a fashion major but you actually brought scissors and thread with you?”

You shook your head, he’s sure an artsy person to be bringing that everywhere he goes. “You never know what’s going to happen, sweetheart.” He winked at you.

After a while, your nails were dried and they look pretty despite having complained that you should have cut and shaped your nails before he came. He assured you that it looks nice however it was.

Dinner was simple and you had a great time with him even when you’re just at home. “Do you want to go anywhere this Saturday?” He asked out of the blue. You shook your head and asked if he had anything in mind.

“I actually booked a place for us. It’s our anniversary.” You blinked at him, if not for Kim Hongjoong you would have forgotten about it altogether.

“Did you forget again?” He sighed and gave a look to which you sheepishly grinned at him. “I almost did until you mentioned it.” He leaned forward and pinched your cheek hard until you yelped in pain.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

Saturday arrived and Hongjoong had brought you to a fancy restaurant that was in what you assumed was a five star hotel.

Both of you dressed up for the occasion even though you didn’t really care about celebrating your anniversary. Hongjoong knew but he still wanted to do it.

After the meal, he watched as you ate the dessert even when you told him earlier you were already full. He was so in love with you that he wasn’t upset knowing that you don’t care about anniversaries and just be you and your loving self. You were special and he loved you for that.

“I’m glad you still had the nail polish on.” He mentioned as he took out something from his pants pocket.

You watched his every move and the moment you saw a small velvet box, you covered your mouth. You were beyond surprised as hot tears formed in your eyes.

“Hongjoong, what is this? Don’t tell me this is...” He nodded and told you to open it. You shakily took the box in your hand and opened it to reveal a silver band inside. “Try it on. I want to see what it looks like on your hand.” He said.

You slipped it on and it fits perfectly, tears burst out of your eyes that moment on. You could hear him let out a sigh of relief.

“Is this why you rambled on about the red string of fate the other day?” He scratched the side of his head and clicked his tongue. You caught on faster than he expected.

“Yeah. It was kind of planned but it worked. Happy anniversary, love.” He stood up from his seat and walked over to you. He leaned down and locked eyes with you before kissing you passionately.

You could feel his smile in your kiss and can’t help but playfully bite his lower lip making him pull away.

“What was that for?”

“My gift is nothing compared to this.” You pouted as you stood up and hooked your arms around him.

“What did you get me?” He asked, eyes filled with curiosity.

You pulled him closer and whispered, “I’m the present. If you know what I mean.”

He lightly pushed you away and looked straight at you, eyes filled with lust. “I’m glad I booked a room here. It’s going to be a long night, sweetheart.”

Your eyes were fixed on his as a smirk formed on your face. It felt like a dream that he was yours and yours only.

All of the sleepless nights, last minute planning had paid off. His fingers thread with yours and the silver band on your finger that matches his shined brighter than when he bought it.

Hongjoong promised to cherish you like how you cherished him and that was more than anything both of you ever wanted.

[love-and-monsters]

Alaris the Naga

Agender naga X GN reader, 6872 words.

You need a date for your workplace party, but the only person you can find is your roommate, a somewhat shy naga. Well, surely faking a relationship with them won't spark anything. Right?

You fixed your hair, carefully combing the short strands into some vague approximation of neatness. A cowlick poked up at the back of your head. You fiddled with it again and again, trying to drive it back down.

“Here. Let me.” The voice that came from behind you was soft, almost melodic, the sort of voice you would expect from someone who used their voice to make a living. Your housemate placed their hands on either side of your head, tilting it slightly. The touch made something in your chest stutter.

“Did you sleep on your hair funny?” they asked. Their voice was perfectly casual as they snagged a spray bottle from the sink and wetted your hair. Their voice was always infuriatingly casual when they touched you. Did they have to work as hard to keep it steady as you did?

“Something like that,” you said. Fortunately, you’d had enough practice, so your voice came out casual and unconcerned. “I fell asleep on my desk.” Their fingers smoothed your hair back into alignment. You weren’t sure whether that shiver that worked its way down your spine was due to the cold water dripping down your scalp or due to their touch alone.

They tutted. “Never mind your hair, you’re going to wreck your back sleeping like that! Your bed’s only three steps away from your desk. Surely you can make it there before you pass out.”

Despite the teasing words, you could detect the genuine concern that undergirded their voice. “I wasn’t intending to pass out. It was just that there was a lot of work and I-”

They sighed, somehow making it loud enough to overcome your words. “I keep telling you to take a break from all that! Good lord, you spend ten hours a day at the office and then you bring it all home with you anyway.”

You rolled your eyes. “We can’t all be our own boss, Alaris.”

“Hey, it’s not all fun and games, managing my own job. You know how hard it is to get deadlines done? I know the guy who sets them, and they’re full of shit.” Alaris petted the back of your head a couple more times. Was it to smooth down your hair some more? Just to touch you? A casual action with utterly no hidden motives that you were overthinking? Who could say.

“Look, in a couple of weeks, we’ll be done and we’ll have a big ‘end-of-season’ party, and then we’ll all be good.”

“I hope you’ll actually take some time off after that,” Alaris sighed. The took you by the shoulders and turned you to face them. Their nails were long, scratching slightly at your arms. You could feel the cool sensation of their scales even through your dress shirt. “Take a break. I’m always worried I’ll go into your room and find you on the ground, your body finally having given out under the strain.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “I get a full three hours a night. You don’t need to worry.”

Alaris huffed and waved their hand at you. “Just take care of yourself. Maybe once this is all over you can actually make the time to be a guest on my podcast.”

Their podcast was massively popular online, and the main source of their income. There was often some teasing that they could sit at home in their pajamas all day, chatting to a microphone, and make pretty much the same amount of money you did. Then again, you weren’t entirely sure you wouldn’t go insane if you had the same lifestyle, so you weren’t all that jealous.

“We’ll see,” you said. “I really do have to go, though. I’ll see you later.”

They waved and you snagged your work laptop before heading out the door. It was a bit of a jog to make it to the bus stop.

As soon as you sat down, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You sighed, fishing it out, but instead of an impatient text from your boss, there was a message from Alaris on screen.

A: You forgot to eat breakfast! ☹

A: Do you want me to bring you something? I can swing by your work real quick.

You smiled at their sweetness. They were always ready to do some kind thing for you.

Y: Don’t bother. They’ll probably have granola bars in the break room or something. But thank you.

A: Are you sure? A granola bar isn’t exactly a filling breakfast.

Y: I don’t want to take up your time.

A: I work from home, remember? I can do whatever I want.

Y: Are you using me as a way to procrastinate?

A: Busted. But I can still bring you something?

Y: No. Get your work done.

A: ☹

The texting conversation took up enough of your commute so by the time you received the last text, you were ready to disembark. You walked inside the office, giving a quick wave to your coworkers, and sat down at your desk.

As it turned out, you didn’t get the opportunity to eat anything once you were at work, because you were immediately drowned in a tidal wave of work. When you finally surfaced, it was nearly five hours later, and your stomach was growling wildly for something to eat.

Exhausted and bleary-eyed, you stumbled into the tiny break room and grabbed a granola bar at random. You took a bite and grimaced. Raisins. Gross.

One of your coworkers, a tall satyr with a tidal wave of curly hair, stepped into the room. “Hey, Sadie,” you said, rubbing a hand over your head. “How are you doing?”

“Tired. Just like everyone else.” She slumped into the seat across from you. “I’ve been trying to plow my way through the work I’ve got so I can get out early and actually change into something nice for my date.”

You stared at her. “You decided to go on a date now? Why would you do that?”

Sadie gave you a strange look. “I’ve got to find someone to go to the end-of-season party with me.”

You almost choked on your granola bar. “You need a date for that?”

Sadie pulled a face. “I mean, you don’t need one, strictly speaking. But a bunch of people started talking about bringing one and it turned into this whole thing, so now I feel like I should bring one. You know, I don’t want to look like the only person who’s not dating.”

“How does anyone have time to date right now?” you asked. Sadie shrugged.

“I dunno. A lot of people are married, apparently. So. I’m going to get a date. I suggest you get one as well. It’ll look good for office politics and all that. And also, you won’t look like a loser who can’t get a date.”

“It’s not that I can’t get a date,” you huffed into your cup of gross break room coffee. “It’s that I’m just not trying.”

“Yeah, sure, everyone will buy that,” Sadie said. “Like I said, you don’t need one. But it’ll probably look good. It makes you look promotable, and not like a loser.” She caught sight of your expression. “Hey, look, I’m not fond of it either. Maybe you can just get someone to come for the night? Get an escort or something.” She stood and clopped out of the room, her hooves hitting on the linoleum floor.

You groaned and leaned over the break room table. Figured. Now you needed to juggle work with finding someone to go to an office party with. You briefly considered just not going, but your boss took these sort of events seriously, for reasons far beyond your comprehension. If going with a date was expected, then you were going to go with a date. You had not put in hours and hours of work just to not get promoted.

It was well past seven when you dragged yourself home. Alaris was bent over the kitchen table, fiddling with their laptop. They waved their tail at you in greeting, not looking up from their work. “Welcome back.”

You made a noise somewhere between a groan and a grunt in response. Alaris lifted their head. “Bad day?” they asked.

“Something like that.” You put your laptop back on its charger and slouched over to the table.

“I saved you some dinner,” Alaris said. “I can heat it up for you, if you want?”

“Thank you,” you said. “Alaris, you’re an angel.”

They puffed up their chest with pride as they slithered across the kitchen. “I’m just helping out. I mean, it’s not much more effort to cook for two, and I know how hard you’ve been working.”

“I promise, I’ll get you something nice with the bonus check I’ll get when this is all over,” you said without lifting your head from the table. There was a heavy thump that suggested Alaris was wagging their tail in pleasure.

“You don’t have to. Really, I’m just trying to be a good housemate.” There was a hum as the microwave started up. “Do you want to talk about your day at work?”

“Ugh.” You lifted your head and thumped it against the table.

Alaris slithered back over to you. “That bad, huh?”

“I mean, the work itself wasn’t bad. It was pretty much the same as normal.” You lifted your head. Alaris was looking down at you with obvious concern. They had always been particularly emotive- it was that sort of openness and charm that made them so popular.

“Then did something happen with your coworkers?” they probed. You grimaced. “Is that a yes?”

“You know, for someone who deliberately picked a job where you have no coworkers, you seem awfully interested in mine,” you grumbled. Alaris shrugged.

“Work drama is at least three times more fun when you’re not involved in it. Why do you think I keep you around? Perfect story fodder.” Alaris winked and you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better to talk about it? I can at least help you come up with solutions.”

“I’m pretty sure no one can help me,” you grumbled. “Sadie told me today that- well you know that office party?”

“The end-of-season party,” Alaris said. “I’m familiar.”

“Well, apparently, a bunch of people are bringing dates, so now the whole thing is basically a couples party. And my boss loves that sort of stuff, so it won’t look great if I don’t show up with anyone.” The microwave beeped behind you. Alaris ignored it. “So, basically, I need to find a date in the next two weeks while not falling behind on all my work. Which is basically impossible.”

“You’re looking for a date?” Alaris asked. There was something weird, almost strangled in their voice. You looked at them, but their expression was carefully blank.

“I guess. Not that I have the time or the energy for it.”

Alaris shifted, scratching their nails across the table. “I could, er. Try to set you up with someone? Possibly? I have a couple friends who live close by. They might be willing to help?”

You pulled a face. “Well, see, that’s the other problem. I don’t really want to go to the party with a stranger. We’re supposed to act like a couple, aren’t we? I don’t feel like I could do that with someone I don’t know.”

Alaris made a noise of amusement. “Have you ever heard the saying ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’”

“I’m not begging yet,” you said. “You’ll know when I’m begging.”

Alaris smiled and shook their head. “Sure. Make sure to eat your dinner before it gets cold again. I’m going to finish editing the next episode.” They settled back in at their spot at the table and slid their headphones on over their ears. You stood up and fetched your dinner from the microwave. It was good, as per usual. Along with their other talents, Alaris was a good chef, and they made sure you had something good to eat at all times. In terms of housemates, they were definitely the best one you’d ever had.

After you finished eating, you went back to your room and kept working on your work. At nearly midnight, Alaris knocked on your doorframe. “Hey. Are you going to bed anytime soon?”

“Soon,” you said, barely looking up from your laptop. Alaris made a soft noise of disbelief in their throat. “I’ll go to bed before three.”

“Go to bed now!” Alaris flicked the lights off. You groaned and hunched closer to your computer. “You’re not supposed to look at a computer screen with the lights off!”

“Then turn the lights back on!” you called back.

“Go to sleep!” Alaris slithered into the room and draped a blanket over your shoulders. “Go to bed. Your work will still be there in the morning.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m concerned about,” you groused. But the blanket on your shoulders felt irresistibly heavy and the weight went right to your eyelids. They drooped so much that you could barely see the screen. You yawned so widely your jaw cracked.

“Come on. To bed with you,” Alaris said. They took you by your shoulders, guided your out of your desk chair, and nudged you over to your bed. The feeling of their touch on you was comforting. A vague idea tickled at the back of your mind, but you were too tired to chase it down and interrogate it. “Get some sleep,” Alaris said. Their voice was far away. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

As soon as your head hit your pillow, you were out like a light.

You woke with your head fuzzed and confused. Somehow, getting enough sleep had made you even more tired than staying up the whole night would have. Mumbling curses against Alaris, you struggled through as much work as you could manage before you needed to leave. Stumbling into the kitchen, you found a bagel suddenly thrust into your front.

“Eat this on the way to work,” Alaris said. They looked stern, but also concerned in equal measure. “And you have a good lunch, right?”

“You don’t need to fuss over me,” you said. “I’m not a child.”

“I’ll stop fussing when you learn to take care of yourself properly,” Alaris said. That thought from last night started to tickle at your brain again. It was still tiny, a little whisper of a thought, but it was stronger. You pulled at it, trying to turn it into something concrete. Before you could, Alaris nudged you toward the door. “Go on. You’ll be late for the bus if you don’t go soon.”

“Right.” You smoothed down the front of your shirt. “I’ll see you later.”

Alaris waved as you headed out the door. Even as you headed toward the bus, you kept chasing after that little thought that was somehow escaping your full attention. It felt important. What was it?

A few hours later, you were slumped over the break room table, Sadie looking at you sympathetically. “Did you not get enough sleep last night?”

“I got sleep,” you said. Sadie snorted.

“Look, man, you gotta go to bed at a good time. If you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything,” she said. You shoved your head up with a groan.

“I actually went to sleep at a reasonable time last night. Alaris practically bullied me into it. But I think I felt worse than ever when I woke up.” You muffled a yawn into your hand and slurped down some coffee so thick and strong it was practically pudding.

“Oh, yeah, that happens. Your body gets used to not getting enough sleep, so when you actually manage to get a good night’s sleep, it freaks out and decides it wants to catch up all at once. Trust me, I dealt with that a lot in college. Just down a lot of coffee and you’ll be fine.” Sadie took a sip from her own mug. “Alaris is your roommate, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been living together for… I dunno. A while. It’s a good thing we’ve got going. They’re willing to deal with a lot of my shit, so. I like it.”

Sadie nodded, giving a delicate snort. “Sounds like they’re better than my last three boyfriends put together.”

That thought that had been tickling around in the back of your mind shoved itself forward at full force. You blinked a few times, startled. “Wait. Say that again?”

Sadie narrowed her eyes at you in confusion. “Uh, I said Alaris seems better than my last three boyfriends? They’re, like. Taking care of you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d probably think you were a couple.”

“Cool,” you said. The thought was demanding your full attention. It would work, wouldn’t it? As long as alaris agreed, you couldn’t see why it wouldn’t work. “Thanks for the talk. I’m gonna get back to work.” You left the break room without waiting for an answer, leaving Sadie frowning at your back.

As it turned out, you got very little work done. The thought commanded your full attention. If Alaris said yes, it would work. But that was if Alaris said yes. What if they didn’t? It was sort of asking a lot, even with the positive relationship you had. Would they be all right with it? Would it be unbearably awkward? The concerns flitted around your head like bees, preventing you from focusing on any of the work piled at your desk.

When you returned home, a bit earlier than you had for the past few days, Alaris was sitting in their usual position at the kitchen table, peering at their laptop. “You’re home!” they said, looking up in surprise. “Dinner’s almost ready. You’ll actually be able to eat it fresh for once.” They glanced at your face and their expression fell. “Oh. You look worried. Did something happen? Are you all right?”

“Everything’s fine. I just couldn’t focus, so I decided to come home a little early,” you said. “Actually, I had something I wanted to ask you.”

Alaris shrugged. “Sure. Just let me finish dinner, then we can talk.”

Dinner was a quiet, anxious affair. You fidgeted the entire time. Alaris kept glancing at you with obvious concern, but they didn’t say anything. They just waited for you to be ready to speak.

Once dinner was cleared away and the plates had been taken care of, Alaris fixed you with a firm glare. “Is everything all right?” they asked. “You’ve been looking at me strangely all through dinner. Is something wrong?” Their expression became even more creased with concern. “Something with work? What happened? I can support you if you need-”

“Alaris!” You cut them off, raising your voice enough to be heard over their frantic speaking. They stopped, staring at you. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. I didn’t get fired. Nothing’s wrong. I just want to ask you something.”

Their expression relaxed and they rubbed at the back of their neck. “Um. Heh. Sorry. Then why do you look so nervous, then?”

“I’m just…” You realized that there was no easy way to explain this and just shook your head. “I’ll ask you what I want to ask you and you’ll see why I’m nervous,” you said with a laugh. Alaris looked confused, but they nodded, gesturing for you to continue. “So, you know that we’ve got that work party, right?”

“Yes,” Alaris said. “The one you need to bring a partner too, right?”

“That’s the one. Er, and I don’t have anyone to go with me.”

“I did offer to try and find you someone,” Alaris said. “But you said-”

“I said I didn’t want to go with someone I didn’t know. I remember. And that still holds true. But I kind of had another idea at work. It’s something Sadie suggested to me. Well, she didn’t really suggest it, but she said something that made me think-” You cut yourself off, trying to stop the rambling before it got started. “Ugh, I’m getting nervous. I’m going to just come right out and say it. Alaris. I want to take you to the party as my date.”

Alaris’ mouth dropped open. You could see the sharp tips of their canines.

“Not as my real date,” you said, hurrying to explain. “I mean, you’d be going to the party as my date, but it wouldn’t be real. It would be, you know. You’d be pretending to be my date.”

Alaris’ mouth slowly closed. You saw their throat bob as they swallowed. “Er. Uh. You, uh. Want me to go to the party with you?” Their voice came out more strangled than you’d expected.

“Well, yes. I know we’re not dating, but most people at work don’t know that and it would be easier to pretend to be dating someone I know than it would be to pretend to date someone I don’t know. I would totally make it up to you, do all the house cleaning for a week or whatever you want.”

Alaris just stared at you, eyes so wide you could see the whites all the way around. “You don’t have to say yes,” you added. The way they were looking at you was starting to freak you out. It looked more like you’d cracked them across the head with a two-by-four than asked them on a fake date. “I just thought it would be a good idea- but if it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” Alaris was flushed, red spreading across their face at a rapid pace. But they looked at you steadily regardless. “I- I was surprised, is all.” They swallowed and their blush started to recede down their face, though their ears were still bright pink. “Are you sure you want to ask me?” they added. “I am a podcaster. There’s a reason I don’t have an office job myself. Social interaction is… well, it’s not exactly my forte.”

“I really can’t think of anyone else I could be in a relationship with,” you said. The blush, which had been steadily going down, flared back into full force. It was probably a good thing Alaris wasn’t drinking anything, as it probably would have ended up spewed across the table. “I mean, I could, er, convincingly fake a relationship with.” Was that better? You weren’t sure. “So! You’re, uh. You’re okay with this?”

Alaris lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I do have a request to make in return.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Alaris leaned across the table toward you. “I want you to finally be a guest on my podcast.”

You stared. “What, that’s it? Are you sure? I’m not exactly the most interesting person alive. I don’t think I’d make for a very good episode.”

“I’ve told my audience a lot about you. They’re curious. I think they’d be thrilled to finally get to speak with you. Or just to hear you speak.” Alaris smiled encouragingly at you. “That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it, I’ll take it,” you said, reaching across to shake their hand. “But I think I should still take you out for dinner or something.”

“If you want to,” Alaris said. They straightened up fully, their snaky tail wriggling underneath them. “Just let me know what I should wear.” They slithered out of the room, leaving you slumped over the kitchen table with relief.

It was a couple more weeks before the party, but you found yourself looking forward to it, strangely enough. The idea of going with Alaris was actually an appealing one. Even if parties weren’t your thing, at least you would be guaranteed to have a good time with someone you liked.

On the eve of the party, you dressed in a formal dress shirt and nice pants and knocked on Alaris’ door. “Are you ready to go?” you called. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you?”

“That might actually be a good cover story,” Alaris called back. “You had a date, but they stood you up. Might be able to play on their sympathy.”

“Are you trying to get out of this?” you asked. “It’s not going to be that easy. Back out now and you’ll never get me on your podcast!”

Alaris gave a series of giggly snorts. “A fate worse than death! I’ll be out in a minute.” There was some rustling and shifting from behind the door and then it creaked open. Alaris emerged from the room, head ducked shyly.

They were wearing a white shirt with a few glimmering buttons as accents. A skirt-like piece of clothing was attached to their waist, held up with a particularly fancy belt that glistened with gold bangles. Apparently, particularly nice belts were popular fashion statements among nagas. They also wore a small golden hoop on one of their ears, and their hair was teased up to look even more fluffy and soft than their natural style. “Is this the right style?” Alaris asked, smoothing down the front of their shirt. “I don’t go to many office parties, so I’m not sure what the dress code it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but found it strangely dry. You had to swallow a few times before trying again. “Yes, I think you look great.” Alaris smiled, looking flattered. You offered them your arm, trying to recover. “We, uh. We should get going.”

Alaris’ fingers were cool on your arm as you headed out to the car you’d called. Usually the bus was cheaper, but you’d decided to splurge a little bit. Also, riding the bus could be uncomfortable for someone without legs, and the car specifically had accommodations for nagas.

You found yourself jittering as you headed toward the party. Alaris rested one of their hands on your elbow. “We’ll be fine. I’m sure that we’ll be able to convince them,” they said. You found yourself leaning into their comforting touch.

“You think you can convincingly act as my partner?” you asked, anxiety leaking into your voice.

“I-” Alaris’ expression flickered for a moment, then their smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach their eyes. “I think I’m a pretty convincing actor.”

Their confidence reassured you, and you leaned against their shoulder as you headed toward the party. Nerves still jumped in your chest, but Alaris kept a gentle hand on you, grounding you.

When you reached your office, you could see a few people milling around outside. Pretty much everyone was partnered up, including one couple off in a corner who seemed to be trying to eat each others’ faces off. You nudged Alaris and pointed them out.

“I guess if we really get tired of trying to mingle with people, we can just go to a corner and start making out.” Alaris made a choked noise and their face burned bright red. They looked so taken aback by it that you found yourself blushing as well.

“Uh, never mind. Let’s go inside.” You slipped out of the car and waited for Alaris to follow you. As soon as their full tail was on the ground, you started to walk toward the building, only to have your arm seized. “What? Something wrong?”

Alaris laughed at you, though it was so gentle and affectionate that you didn’t feel embarrassed. “You’re really not good at this, are you?” they said. “We should be walking in together, shouldn’t we?”

“Oh.” You felt your face grow warm again. This time, you offered your arm to Alaris, who took it and allowed you to lead them into the party.

It was loud, a dull roar of voices that you found grating. Alaris snuggled closer to you, arms tightening on your own. “More people than I was expecting,” they murmured.

“I guess if everyone brought a partner, then the usual population of the office would be doubled.” You carefully dodged a couple of people, threading your way through the crowd.

It took less than five minutes to get cornered by a coworker. You recognized them vaguely, a human who worked as an office manager and managed to be relentlessly cheery at all times. “It’s nice to see you here,” he said, grinning at you broadly. “I didn’t think you were going to come, you know. Parties don’t seem like your scene.”

You forced a smile as large as his was. “Well, I’m not a big partier, but I thought the occasion was good enough to come out. And there’s no reason not to show off my partner.” You gave Alaris a gentle squeeze.

Greetings were exchanged, and you were introduced to your coworker’s partner, another human who was just as smiley as he was. By the time you disentangled yourself from the conversation, you were feeling exhausted.

“Okay, see, this is why I don’t go to parties,” Alaris murmured into your ear. “So much talking about nonsense.”

“It’ll only be a few hours,” you murmured back. Your mouth was close to their ear, you noticed, almost brushing their skin. That hot flush crept up your face once more. “Er. Do you want something to eat?”

Food ended up being your temporary saving grace, since it was difficult to carry on a conversation with your mouth full of snacks. Still, your coworkers stopped by every few minutes to engage you in some kind of chatter. Alaris, for all their protests, was much better at small talk than they appeared to be. They were also quite good at pretending to be your partner. One of their hands was constantly hovering at your waist, fingertips trailing over your clothes. You found yourself hyperaware of their hand on your side, the brush of their shoulders against yours.

When it became clear that food was no longer going to save you from conversation, you looked for some other escape. Soft, slow music caught your attention, and you looked around to see that a makeshift dance floor had been set up in the middle of the office.

You nudged Alaris in the side. “Want to dance?”

Alaris looked down at their long, sinuous tail, then back up at you. “Are you sure you want to ask me to dance?”

“I’ve seen nagas dance before,” you insisted. It was true that it resembled the sort of swaying motion that snakes did before a charmer, but it was still something. “And you can’t be any worse than me.”

“Now you’re being modest. I’ve seen you dance,” Alaris said.

“The two years my mom forced me to spend in ballroom dancing never really left me,” you said. “But that means I’ll be a good leader for you. Just follow me.”

Alaris rolled their eyes, but allowed you to take their hand and guide them onto the dance floor. There was an open spot roughly big enough for the two of you fairly close to the center. You lifted the hand that was clasped in Alaris’ and settled your other hand on their waist. They fumbled uncertainly with their free hand for a moment before resting it on your shoulder.

You kept the dance simple, a slow four-step that allowed you to move in a loose circle. Alaris’ tail trailed behind them, and you were a little worried it was going to get stepped on, but the people around you seemed to be taking care not to.

Alaris leaned closer to you as you danced. Their head lowered to your shoulder and their free hand shifted to your back. Your face started to heat up. You could feel your heartbeat jackhammering away in your chest. Surely Alaris was close enough to feel it, but they didn’t make a mention. They just leaned into your body.

You glanced over their shoulder to see one or two of the other couples on the dance floor pointing your way and making ‘aww’ faces. Was that why Alaris was doing this? Because they wanted to make your couple act more convincing? The idea struck you like a knife through your chest, a startling pain that made you gasp.

Alaris pulled their head back. Their eyes roved across your face with concern. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”

“I-” Your face felt like it was on fire under their scrutiny. Why had the idea that they were just pretending made something inside you twist and burn? You had asked them to pretend, after all. But suddenly the idea that all this was a farce, it ate at you. “Hold on. I need, uh. Some air. I’m sorry.”

Alaris looked bewildered, but you broke away and stumbled off the dance floor. You heard them calling after you, but you ignored them. Instead, you stumbled over to the door to the back of the office and pushed outside.

Cold air hit you like a bracing slap to the face. You gulped it in, appreciating the clarity. Away from all the other people and Alaris’ concerned gaze, you felt like you could think again.

What was that? All of a sudden, you were feeling things that you definitely shouldn’t have been feeling for your roommate. For your friend. Where had this come from? Surely it hadn’t been there all this time? You would have noticed it. Wouldn’t you?

No, you realized slowly. Because it hadn’t been a sudden drop into feeling all warm and fuzzy. It had been a slow, subtle shift of your feelings over the months that you’d known each other. And now that you were looking back, in hindsight, you could remember how eager you’d been to come home to them. How you’d felt so fond of them trying to take care of you. How much you craved the touch of their hands whenever they tried to help fix your clothes or smoothed down your hair. And, you realized, you would never have asked them to come with you if you hadn’t had some feelings for them.

The sound of the door opening behind you made you spin around. For a moment, you prepared to make an excuse to a coworker and shuffle back inside, but Alaris slithered out and you stopped breathing.

What were you going to say to them? A bolt of fear struck you. You had only just figured out how you felt about them. Would they even feel the same way? Were they just here with you as a friend? Maybe they were just a good housemate. That was possible. Maybe they-

“Hey.” Alaris’ voice cut through the whirling frenzy in your mind, soothing you just a little. They folded their hands in front of them, swaying awkwardly on their tail. “Are you all right? I just wanted to check on you.”

“Uh. Yeah. I’m fine.” You rubbed at the back of your neck. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“It’s okay.” Alaris slithered over to you. “Are you done with the party already?”

Their voice was teasing and you laughed. “I was done with it before it started. But no. I’m going to go back inside in a couple of minutes. I just wanted to get some air. Er, if you’re done with the party, though, you can go. I wouldn’t want to keep you-”

“And abandon you? Never!” Alaris said. The immediacy of their response made warmth swell and flutter in your chest. For a moment, you gazed up at them, trying to convey your gratitude with just your eyes. They stared back, a flush slowly creeping across their face. They swallowed.

“Thank you for coming with me.” Your voice came out quieter than you expected. Alaris’ blush grew stronger, but they kept looking at you steadily. “I- I know it must be uncomfortable to have to pretend to date me, but-”

Alaris burst into laughter. You startled, staring as their upper half sagged forward with the heaving effort of their laughing. After a moment, Alaris stifled their giggles and gave you a weak smile, though it still crinkled their eyes at the corners.

“Er,” you said, a little confused. “Are you okay?”

“It was just sort of funny,” Alaris said. They reached out and tweaked a strand of your hair that was starting to cowlick up from your head. You felt your face flame. “It’s…” They abruptly closed their mouth, their sharp teeth coming down on their lower lip.

You had never been good at the silent dance of unsaid emotions. Most of the time, you stood in blissful ignorance of how you felt, but once you were sure what you felt like, you wanted to get it off your chest as soon as possible. “Alaris,” you said. “I- well, okay, this isn’t the best time to say it, but I’ve never been good at not saying things. I think… I think I’m realizing that I might have feelings for you.”

Alaris stared at you. There was no readable expression on their face. You continued. “I- that wasn’t why I invited you to come with me. At least, not intentionally. But I think I’m realizing that I’m so comfortable around you because I think I do like you. I’m- I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have asked you to fake date me if I really thought I had feelings for you, but I only just realized it and- what are you doing?”

Alaris had both hands pressed to their mouth. Their shoulders tremored with some sort of repressed emotion. You stared at them. It was so hard to make out their expression. Were they crying? Laughing? About to throw up? Oh, please let them not be blackout drunk- you did not want to have to repeat your confession.

Before you could ask if they were all right, they threw their head back and their peals of laughter echoed across the back of the office building. You blinked at them. “Sorry, sorry,” they said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I- oh, this is very ironic and it’s pretty funny to me.” They wiped a few stray tears from their eyes. “I was afraid of going with you because I thought it would make you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t resist the idea of getting to spend time with you. Especially as a couple.” One of their hands came over yours and your breath caught as the implications sank in.

“You’re saying you wanted to come with me as a couple?” Your voice was embarrassingly unsteady. Alaris didn’t seem to mind, though. They just leaned their forehead against yours.

“I have had a crush on you since almost a week after you moved in with me,” they confessed. “Why do you think I kept trying to get you on my podcast? It was my very shallow, very transparent attempt to spend time with you.”

A relieved giggle burst from your lips. “Oh, my god. You’ve been in love with me the whole time and I just never noticed?”

“Give yourself a little break. You’ve been working yourself all but ragged,” Alaris said. “And I wasn’t exactly trying to be obvious about it or anything. But yeah. I get very domestic with the people I like.”

“I’ve noticed. I just thought you were being nice,” you said.

“Well, I was. I was just being nice only to you.” Alaris leaned closer to you. Their mouth was so close to yours. Impulse struck you and you leaned forward, pressing your lips against theirs.

Their mouth was a little dry and rough against yours, but it softened as they molded their lips against yours. Their hands came down, securing around your waist, and, to your immense surprise, they lifted you up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around their waist. They were a lot stronger than you were expecting, for someone who sat at a computer for a living.

Their tongue explored your mouth as they turned to press you against the wall. You had a brief flicker of concern that someone would come out and see you, but that dimmed as they pressed closer to you. A moan slipped from your mouth as they kissed you deeper.

After a few minutes, or a few hours, or some other strange length of time, Alaris broke away from you. You took a deep breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you sure?” Alaris asked. “I thought this was important to your job.”

“Fuck my job,” you said. “I want to spend time with you. Just the two of us.”

Alaris laughed and set you back on the ground. “Ooh. You know, if we’re dating, you have to come on my podcast now.”

“Fine, fine,” you said. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want to try some things that would not be allowed to go to air.”

Alaris grinned, took your hand, and started to pull you back toward the parking lot.

[artificialqueens]

Devoted: Stream (Katlaska) - Kamylove

Sixth in my collection of unrelated one-shot ficlets. This time with Covid!

Young, untreated, self-medicating Katya was an introvert whose greatest fear was embarrassing herself.

Sober, almost-38-year-old Katya is an extroverted introvert who embarrasses herself daily and whose love language (and she only knows this thanks to Trixie the romantic, honest) is touch, and whose attention span is shorter than a ferret's.

Self-quarantine is killing her.

She was in Europe when shit started going to hell. She got out just in time, flew home to have her temperature taken at LAX, and was told to lock herself up for two weeks before she could see another human being.

It sucks.

Other queens (including Alaska, damn her) are doing Instagram lives, dragging up for shows on Twitch, collecting tips on Venmo and Paypal. Katya's ADD ass can't get herself together to unpack, let alone do her job virtually, but she still craves the attention.

Worst of all, Alaska is quarantining somewhere else. Somewhere Katya can't go. Somewhere that is not their house.

Alaska was home in LA when it happened, the lucky bitch. Alaska is a hypochondriac who would lose her mind if she had to shelter in place all alone, and Katya didn’t want to risk infecting her or the staff of a hotel. So Alaska, after much convincing, had decamped to the house she used to share with her best friend.

She's facetiming Katya every day, several many times a day, and dropping off care packages on the front steps. But Alaska needs drag to stay sane, so she's up in everyone's Insta, writing new damn songs for digital drag shows, agreeing to another and another and another show every hour. Or that's what it feels like to Katya.

Trixie's up on Insta, too, and Twitch. Trixie's doing live performances from her condo. PEG was even smart enough to invite Fena to do a digital show, which is fierce and fabulous because Fena is fierce and fabulous and Katya loves her like a brother.

But Katya's still got all those emails and voicemails sitting untouched on her phone. You'd think she'd be dying for any variety of human contact, and she is, but the thought of being productive right now is just too much.

Oh, look, there's Alaska on her friend's live again. There's Alaska laughing and being adorable and sharing space with--actually sitting next to--a human.

Katya loses all self-control and comments, "Bitch I am losing my self-quarantined mind STFU and call me."

And she does it from her public account, like an idiot.

The host of the live squints at the screen. "Oh, honey, your favorite Russian spy is stir crazy. We love you, Katya."

"Aww, Katya," Alaska's former-slash-temporary housemate says. "We miss you, gurl."

"Katya's here?" Alaska says. Katya can see her scrolling up on her iPad screen, because she'd obviously missed Katya's comment. And it should not bother Katya that Alaska missed her comment, because she knows what comments on lives are like. She used to livestream her entire damn life.

"Oh, no," Alaska says, looking straight at the camera. “Poor Russian spy. I'll call you in a bit, okay?"

Other commenters have now caught on, unfortunately, because Katya is an idiot, and there's a swarm of comments about her. I love you Katya, hearts to Katya, and suddenly she's taken over the live and she feels awful about it. Like she needs to feel more awful.

She exits and texts Alaska, "I hate you all and please apologize for me for barging in. CALL ME."

She doesn't know what happens in the live after that, because she leaves her phone in the bedroom and goes to the kitchen to cheer up with some Skittles. Skittles make everything better, and she's almost out of them. Thank God for Postmates. And Alaska's care packages.

Alaska facetimes her just a couple minutes later. Katya rushes back to her phone.

"Don't fucking apologize," is the first thing Alaska says. She's retreated to her old bedroom, a space Katya is very familiar with, and is sitting under a window Katya recognizes. It's unreasonably annoying.

"I didn't want to make myself the center of attention," Katya says through a big mouthful of candy. “Sorry."

"You always want to be the center of attention," Alaska teases lightly.

"A drag queen with a pathological need to be on stage," Katya says. "Shocking."

"They all worried about you after you left. They miss you."

"Now I feel worse, so thanks for that."

"They love you. They love you even when they can't see you. Even my fans love you."

"Hahaha aren't you funny."

"But none of them love you as much as I love you."

Katya scowled. "Fuck off, making me feel better. I'm enjoying my miserly misery."

"I would like to remind you that I wanted to risk my life and stay home and bring you breakfast in bed every day, and you said no."

"Why the hell did you listen to me?"

"Hey," Alaska says with a gentler smile. "It's only six days before we can social distance together."

"Six days is forever."

"I've got to warn you, though, that when I get home, you are getting your wig on and getting on camera. I’ll paint you myself if I have to."

Katya doesn't have a rude answer to that, and she doesn't want to give a polite one. She pouts instead.

Alaska can read her pouts, though. This one doesn't mean, That's an awful idea, don't make me do it. It means,

.

Alaska laughs at the pout and says, "Let me set up something digital for you? I'll do all the legwork and you'll just have to show up. I know you miss the fans as much as they miss you."

"Point one," Katya says. "I, unlike you, do not enjoy getting all dragged up with no place to go."

"Point one,” Alaska counters. “Yes, you do. Point two, you would have a place to go!"

"Sitting on the couch with an iPhone camera does not count as a place to go. But point two, if I start Instagramming live I'll never stop, and we both know where that would lead."

"Embarrassing personal revelations and masturbating on camera?"

"Precisely."

"Oh!" Alaska brightens with an idea. “You know what the world really needs?"

"A vaccine and a new president?"

"An episode of UNHhhh with the two of you in your pajamas and full face! And I'm going to make it happen!”

It's another good idea Katya doesn't want to admit is good. "Don't make promises you can't keep, bitch," she says.

"I'll keep it. I'm drafting an email to World of Wonder right this second."

"You're not. I can see you."

"In my head. I'm drafting it in my head." Alaska produces a pen from somewhere and writes in the air. "Dear WOW, Katya's lost her mind and I know this is hard to believe, considering, but I think more UNHhhh will help her find it. Also, if you don't make her do something," which she underlines in the air with a flourish, "with all that talent, I'm never doing Bro'laska again. So there."

"Please. You’re never doing Bro'laska again anyway."

"I’ll never sign on to Werq the World?"

"As if a major recording star like yourself would sink that low in the year of our lord 2020. Face it, you have no leverage here. Maybe if you said you’d never make another appearance on Drag Race...”

"Oooh," Alaska says. "Buuuuurn."

Katya tells her to fuck off.

After she stops laughing, Alaska says, "Let's have dinner tonight."

“On Facetime? Like always?” It's something they often do when their schedules put them in different time zones.

"No, for real.”

“Still not looking to pass on my potential plague,” Katya says.

“I’m sure you’re not sick," which is what Alaska says every time the topic comes up. "But no, listen. I’ll bring takeout. Whatever you want. You sit inside the back door, and I'll sit out on the patio."

"Hmm," Katya says.

"At least I could see your gorgeous face without a camera or a window."

"At a socially safe distance of at least 10 feet. In case I drool. Which I might."

"Are we on, then?" Alaska asks.

"Anything I want? Would that include watching me jerk off?"

"I would absolutely love to watch you jerk off."

"Then it’s a date," Katya says. "As long as I still have enough Lysol to coat the entire patio."

[lk-ramblings]

Carpe Noctem

Seize the Night

Meral x Aydın

MenajerimiAra

"I want movement, not a calm course of existence. I want excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I feel in myself a superabundance of energy which finds no outlet in our quiet life."

-Leo Tolstoy

* * *

Her thumb hovered over the number, only to be used in case of an emergency.

Well, this qualified as an emergency in her opinion. Dicle had not responded to her texts for an hour about whether she had reached Barış or not, and worry was clawing at Meral's insides. She decided to call.

'Merhaba. Aydın? This is Meral.....Dicle's housemate."

A low chuckle sounded at the other end. "Merhaba. Yes, this is Aydın, Barış's brother."

"I know who you are."

"And I know who you are."

She rolled her eyes. " Harika. I was just calling to ask if Dicle texted you or......" she trailed off, suddenly realising how awkward this was. Damn it. She was never anything less than sensible.

"Not since I texted her the address. Is there any problem?"

"Yok. Yok. I just worried since it's quite late and the neighbourhood.....well they must be talking and she forgot."

"Hmm. Yes. Talking. Probably."

She had the feeling he was laughing at her and bristled. " Well, thankyou. Sorry to bother you. Iyi geceler."

                      *     *     *

He could imagine her derisive look, the one he had seen her wearing when talking about Beren. The idea of her rolling her eyes sparked something in him and made him want to snatch the opportunity.

"Wait-"

"Yes?"

"Um....." he did not know what to say, and he was sorely out of practice with conversing about anything other than work. "Your concern for Dicle is very touching," he finished lamely.

There was silence on the other end and he could not really blame her.

"Well...thankyou I think? I hope Barış feels better and comes back soon," she sounded sincere in her goodwill and it warmed his heart, as anything related to Barış always did.

"Yes, InşAllah. I met him today, he's doing better now."

"Good to hear..."

"I was wondering, if you wanted to meet up and discuss? Barış and Dicle, yani. Or general things. Actually more of general things. Since, New Year's was fun and...."

Silence again. He was just about to make sure the call had not dropped, when she spoke, "That sounds great. Where do you want to meet?"

His heart gave an excited thump." Wherever you want."

"Oh, I have a great idea," he heard the smile in her voice that already had him looking forward to tomorrow with a new excitement.

                      *     *     *

Her favourite restaurant was roaring with white noise, the air perfumed with spices. Her mouth was watering and she was already anticipating the pleasure the meal would bring to sate her growling stomach. Even her great love of food was not enough to occupy her thoughts entirely, though.

She was nervous and excited; wondering if they would still have the connection she felt at the New Year's party. It was hard to determine what he felt from the few glances they managed to exchange at parties. Her imagined conversations, however, kept being interrupted by the couple arguing right behind her booth.

She sighed. She was just about to turn around and jump in their quarrel, when he arrived.

Meral had convinced herself that her years of romance and dizi infatution had embellished her memory of him. She had taken extra care dressing up, all the while telling herself she was being silly. Neyse, what had all the effort on that doomed Singles Party been for? Only a single glance?

She did not need to worry or dress up, she reassured herself. It was just a pair of acquaintances meeting. It could be fun even.

The reality of him exceeded her memory. He was snug in a crimson sweater, bold and festive; his hair and face shining from the outside cold. He looked brooding in a dangerous sort of way and she was suddenly glad she had gone to the extra effort.

But then he smiled and Meral was forced to consider that smiles always won over broody pouts.

"Hoş Geldin!"

"Hoş Bulduk. Pardon, did I keep you waiting? You seemed to be frustrated when I came in."

"Ha! That wasn't you." She leaned forward and lowered her voice- motioning to the booth behind her- and he did the same." I was about to join in their fascinating discussion about stocks and resolve the issue for them. As an unbiased third party."

"Ofcourse, because you are an accountancy expert."

"No, because I'm incurably nosy."

He barked a surprised laugh at her.

"Do you often get involved in things that are none of your business?" he said, trying to match her tone.

"Unfortunately, no. That's Dicle. I always gather information but only get in fights that are my business. And I win." She sent a quick prayer of thanks for the loud couple for kickstarting their conversation.

"Öyle mı?"

"Aynen."

"Speaking of Dicle, how is Kiraç Bey doing?"

"Much better!"

"Good to hear. Geçmiş olsun."

"Sağ ol."

She was just thinking they were in danger of lapsing into an awkward pause, when the waiter arrived to save them from it.

"Hoş Geldin. Meral Hanım, the usual?"

"Yes, please!"

"You come here often? I'll have what the lady is having then," Aydın said, closing the menu.

"Yes, I love this place. It's so close to our home too," she continued after the waiter had left. "You're sitting in our special booth, actually."

"Whose?"

"Dicle and mine. We always sit in the same place everytime so the staff practically has it reserved for us."

He smiled but then a teasing glint came into his eyes, "Same place, same order. You don't like new possibilities?"

She could not believe he had hit close to her vulnerable spot so quickly. Half of her wanted to welcome the exploration, delighting in someone trying to know her. The other half, the dominant, ever-sensible one wanted to retreat.

"I do. But there's comfort in familiarity. Honestly? I've realised I would thrive in a communist setting."

Aydın laughed, spluttering, the glass of water raised midway." You say the oddest things."

The pleasure of making him laugh made her glow and she relaxed. "If I have too many choices, it’s my fault if I make the wrong one. But if decisions have been made for me? Not only can I complain to my heart's content, but I also feel like I have triumphed against great odds in the struggle to become the independent woman that I am."

“You see odds in everything? I see now why you chose this job." He was regarding her with respect and curiosity. The combination made her feel heady, wanting to let her guard down.

"Why?"

"You get to calculate odds and meddle with everyone's business on a professional basis.”

It was her turn to laugh in surprise.

                       *     *     *

As they ate, they talked about everything from history, to food to dizis, the conversation darting in different directions. Meral could see his quiet intelligence, his attention to detail. She could not remember simply enjoying talking this much before. He had a ready response to everything. Words and laughter were bubbling inside her.

"I better warn Barış. You've watched too many serial killer movies and would leave no trace."

"You can relax. He's not on my hit list yet."

At his devious smile, she pointed at him with her fork. "For now. He's on my good side for now."

"Don't worry, he's a true romantic. He would never do anything that would get him on your hit list."

Her face softened into a smile, "He really his."

"You know, sometimes I feel like I'm their Teyze."

"Barış and Dicle? From a hitman to a teyze?" he grinned at her.

"Yes.Yani, I cook and clean, which I love to anyway. But then being the unwanted third wheel living in her children's house, I leave quietly once I know he's coming over."

"Oh well, I'm the teyze in our house then. You know when- " he stopped at her burst of laughter. "What?"

"I'm sorry- I just-" she said between gasps, "imagining you as a cranky teyze is- actually that's a pretty good description."

"Oh, you think so? As I was saying," he said in mock affrontery, "after Barış got shot, he was trying desperately to be alone with Dicle. But-'

He was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out and she joined in aswell.

He gathered himself and began again," But every single person we know other than Dicle was appearing at our doorstep. And, you remember, Celal Bey? He brought a mountain of food over. And then when Dicle was finally coming over, what did Barış do? Beyeffendi handed me a couple of boxes and told me to disappear."

"How cruel."

Their laughter gradually faded into comfortable smiles. "That man eats like every meal is his last meal," Meral said.

"Evet, but who does not enjoy food though?" he said with a pointed look towards her just to see her reaction and earned an olive in his face for the jab.

"Ow! How do you know how Celal Bey eats anyway?"

"I saw him. At the TV dinner? In the restaurant you recommended?"

"What?"

Her subconcious writer, which had been busy penning their story, suddenly deflated at him not even remembering their first meeting. What hope did a romance have when one party did not even remember the meet-cute? And since when was she considering this a date? Or a romance?

She shook her head and focused back to the present. His expression was serious now, devoid of all the teasing warmth.

"Yes, I remember. I'm sorry you had to see me that way. That wasn't my best behaviour."

He gazed out the window. Meral was dying to know more, to smooth over the lull in the conversation but afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Finally he met her gaze, having made a decision. "I've always been practical all my life. Had to be. Barış and my father are quite hot tempered and.....impulsive, so I was mostly making the money, holding down the jobs. Keeping the job and the peace. I don't apologise for doing what had to be done."

"Tabi canım, you don't have to explain to me. Pragmatic is my middle name." she agreed easily, yet touched that he had shared some small part of himself.

'To doing what needs to be done," she raised her çay in a toast. He smiled and some of the light heartedness returned.

"I understand that life is more than making money and looking attractive. I know I pressured Barış- even got into a fight with Dicle," he glanced at her embarrassed.

"Growing up, our mahalle just reinforced that a happy life is the type of life that photographs well. I know this isn’t true- now- but it’s hard not to think this way. I’ve internalized it."

"I know." Her voice was soft and sincere, easing some of his discomfort. "That's what our lives have become these days. If only we remember to live the moments that we love to photograph."

"Evet. How right you are."

"And this isn't off the back of some truck. This is my own wisdom." She was grateful to see him smile again.

"Gathered during hours of repetitive work. I sit in that room each day, half my mind on the numbers, half in my infinitely more adventurous world."

"You call that repetitive?! I would love that! The assurity of routine."

He sat back with a sigh. "I had so many jobs, never knowing when one would end. Mesela, my current job with Serkan Bey? I finally know some part of what each day brings."

"But don't you miss the excitement of new things?"

"I guess I would thrive in a communist setting too, Meral Hanım. But this sector already has so many new weird things happening everyday, it's never the same."

"Oh you're a veteran of 'this sector' now?"

"Absolutely. Ha! But truly I.....feel like I belong? Actually, Serkan helped me in a difficult situation and I ended up here. I realised I actually enjoy it. I find I have a talent for organising. And persuading and cajoling. Although, if you listen to the whims of all these people! You come across some complete- well I shouldn't say but- Even more than what I met as a taxi driver. I-"

He stopped and seemed to gather himself. "Just glad I have security. The comfort of certainty."

Meral was fascinated hearing him talk, his eyes lit with keen intelligence. She wished she could revel in the comfort he described, but lately she felt stuck in a rut. She had told him she did not like choices but that was not true. She yearned to take chances. Her life had become a collection of the same days, same nights out with the same people. This evening was the only thing breaking the endless monotony.

"I bet you have great stories to tell though. I love listening to stories. We get absolute weirdos at our place aswell but it's ultimately boring. I live vicariously through Dicle."

"I think we should stop talking about them as if we're the side characters."

"Yani?"

"Yani novel falan filan. We keep talking about Barış and Dicle. We should focus on us a little, I think."

His voice had dropped at the end, his eyes on her felt like a caress. Meral could feel something tugging at her to explore this new territory, to take the chance she kept telling others to. But, imagining something in your head was vastly different than having that play out in real life. She fell back on her customary sarcasm.

"Ah, novels. I see I've already corrupted your practicality. 50 points to Ravenclaw."

He had been giving her a lazy smile but groaned at her words. "You're both 'Potterheads'?"

"I thought we weren't talking about them."

"We won't. Because I don't know where to even begin about this. We watched the movies when we were younger, but apparently that's not enough and Barış has been trying to get into 'the fandom'." His voice was a mix of exasperation and affection.

She cried out in mock outrage trying to hide her glee, "Did you just air quote again? And ofcourse that is not enough. I'm glad he is on the right path."

'Neyse. And before you say anything, yes, I know I'm a Slytherin.'

'Oh absolutely," she laughed at his disgruntled form languishing in the booth.

'Ee?'

She raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"So how did you get into the wonders of accounting. I've been spilling all my secrets to you and you give nothing away. Hadi, don't make me take out my truth potion."

"Tsk, tsk. Banning magical discourse and then indulging in it yourself? Shameless."

His quick smile seemed to seep into her.

"Lütfen ya, give me something here. You mentioned you shifted to Istanbul?"

"Yes I did. But that is a story for another day. It's getting late. I think the owner might be coming to personally throw us out."

Her humour just kept surprising him anew; he could not remember when he had last laughed so much.

                       *     *     *

As they walked back to her house, he noticed her slowing slightly. "Are you tired?"

"Biraz. My soul wants to party but my body is of an old woman."

"And what do old women like doing at night?" he cringed at how it sounded.

"Well it's winter so, we drink hot chocolate wrapped in blankets, and avoid people."

"Well people are sources of warmth aswell." Damn. There she was, throwing out words in bright clusters all night, like the gentle snow falling around them.

And everything he said was coming out like an innuendo.

"I mean, figurative warmth. The pleasure of company."

She just raised her eyebrows and hid a smile behind her hand.

"We revel in solitude."

"I didn't know you were that eager to get away from me."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"I think I have some idea." There was something about her, that just made him fall into this teasing, snappy rhythm.

"But we've only met twice. That's not enough data points to form an accurate picture."

"We have met more than twice. And you're doing this on purpose aren't you?"

"What?"

"Mentioning data points now that I've confessed my love for organisation."

Her laughter rang out in the hushed street.

The snow was falling around them gently, giving everything a glittering glow. Her impish face was turned upto his, the snowflakes in her hair like diamonds and dissolving on her lips.

He had the sudden urge to taste that snowflake, run his tongue along the seam of her lips.

Something inside him held him back. He was afraid it was too soon. Afraid to burst this, whatever magic they had between them, just as it was beginning.

Meral could see the moment he decided to forego kissing, the fire in his eyes cooling as they returned to their normal lazy depths. Keen disappointnent burned inside her but was chased away by the still buzzing energy that had been between them all evening.

This evening had already proved to be much more than her normal. An outlier. She wanted to capture the bright feeling, like a firefly; bask in the light for a brief moment and then let go.

"Thankyou. It was..." Unique. Comfortable. Thlrilling, all at once. "Fun. I enjoyed spending time with you."

Surprisingly, her shyness made him bolder. "Me too. I would love to do this again." She looked up. "If you want to, I mean."

"I wasn't angling for an invitation."

"I know. But it stands regardless. I would love to do this again." He could not believe he had managed to get that out without tripping over his words.

The tentative smile on her face made him add, " I must prove I'm the ultimate teyze between us. I'll cook for you."

"Şaka?!" she gave a delighted laugh. "Well then, let the Battle of the Teyzes commence."

When he took her proffered hand, their was a slight shock, as if their bodies were completing the circuit, that energy finally finding a closed loop.

"O zaman, iyi olan kazansın," he said softly.

"Iyi olan kazansın."

"Iyi geceler. Meral." he said, finally breaking the handshake.

"Iyi geceler." She went in and turned at the doorstep. "Aydin."

His name on her lips, materialising in the cold air for a second.

He smiled that slow smile again. An outlier. An input that could start new trends, open new possibilities, change everything.

                        *     *     *

[jesuisgourde]

so on the 3rd we brought lodger-cat to the humane society so we could find out if she had a family or not. she was unchipped, so we left her there. the staff told me that she would be held until the 6th as a stray and if no one came to claim her, they would call me and i (or, rather, my housemate) would have 24 hours to adopt her before she was available to the public.

this morning i called them and was told that she was picked up by her owners. my housemate who wanted to adopt her was predictably crushed. we assumed that meant she was gone for good.

except at about 11:45 tonight, one of my housemates was out smoking on the porch and just texted to the house group chat, “guess who’s back.” little lodger-cat, with a collar this time, pretty and blue and printed with yellow stars and moons. she has tags that tell us now that her name is khajit, and that she lives down the street. her return was precipitated by the wild and sporadic sound of fireworks in the distance (we were just as confused as she, now i’ve figured out it was something to do with the sports stadium downtown) and when i opened the door and sat down she crawled right into my lap and buried her head in my arm.

her claws are sharp little needles so i trimmed her front paws, which was difficult because i didn’t want to frighten or upset her, so i clipped one or two toes and then stopped to pet her, but she kept trying to hide her feet by tucking them under her chin. when i was done she curled up and buried her face in her fluffy tail. it was cold and i wasn’t wearing a coat or socks, and even with the cat on my lap i was shivering a little, so i decided to go back inside. my housemate was sitting on the porch sofa watching a video so i put her in his lap and she curled right up. but after i was inside for a few minutes, i realized i’d forgotten the clippers. when i returned to get them, she leapt straight out of his lap and was at my feet in a flash, reaching her front paws up towards me. i let her crawl into my lap again for a moment, but then i returned her to my housemate’s lap and went back inside.

(also, she really really wants to get inside our house. twice now she’s made it just across the landing before i can catch her and scoop her up. she’s so sweet, and we would let her in if the cat we already have wasn’t a territorial little bully. it’s raining pretty hard so i took a blanket out and used some porch pillows to make a little shelter for her. she doesn’t like to sleep on the porch sofa because our cat can see her and will stare and/or scratch at the window which i’m sure is not very pleasant.)

the strangest thing about all this is that while she was visiting us each night originally, one of my housemates went from house to house around the neighborhood with a picture of the kitty, asking everyone if she was familiar. nobody knew her. through this, we learned that the house that she lives at apparently is inhabited by an older couple who (allegedly) have a tendency to hoard cats. this isn’t a surprise; i’ve seen about four or five different cats on their porch. but i’ve never seen her there. apparently the husband who lived in that house was recently moved to a nursing home due to dementia. i’m not sure then what this means for our little lodger-cat, since she now has a collar (and perhaps a chip?), which presumably means the hoarded cats are there to stay. i don’t know exactly. but my housemate and i may walk over there sometime soon and knock on the door, partly to apologize for bringing lodger-cat to the shelter (but we didn’t know, nobody said they recognized her!) and partly to find out what’s going on.

but for now, lodger-cat aka khajit has returned and is lovely and cuddly and the absolute sweetest thing, and we will love on her and enjoy her until we all move out at the end of the month.

this is not the first stray to end up on our porch in this house, and every house my best friend and i have lived in (the two of us have been the only constants in the last 5 years, the rest of the housemate lineup changes each new house) has attracted stray cats and dogs. so we’re quite familiar with getting attached to a new friend and then having to let it go once its owner is found. but it’s nice to know that although lodger-cat has a home, she’s chosen us as her little found family.

[softweebqueen]

👋 hello 👋 I’m new so can I get some spicy sero smut, I saw that you did sero so I was like yess let’s ask, that’s if your ok with it! But thanks a whole bunch!!!👌👌💕💕

~ So I broke this up into two parts because I know I would never post it if I didn’t. So this is the first part and part number two will be up soon. I just am really bad at the spicy stuff so I need so much help from my friends. Also it’s like 3 in the morning while I’m posting it and I have not done any editing to it so ignore my mistakes.~ 

Fun Fact: Characters are aged up. 

The lights were low in the hazy smoke-filled room. The reek of stale beer and burnt out cigarettes swirled around the air burning those nostrils of anyone who walked in from outside. Bodies filled the tables and the booths while music played in the background drowning out the sounds of their conversations. The bar was surrounded by those who had already drunk too much and found pleasure in harassing the bartenders. The occasional single attractive female would find herself sitting on a stool with a drink in her hand but would soon retreat back to her group of friends when approached by the bar’s seemingly endless amounts of creeps. Their hands traveling places where they didn’t belong and their mouths speaking words that no girl would ever want to hear from a stranger. 

You couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you ended up here in the place you hated the most. Of course, you’ve been here before on lonely nights. Those nights were never as busy as it is now. You were unaware of the reason for it being so busy but you were forced into being at this bar by one of your roommates. It was a rare occasion that everyone was able to get together. Someone was always busy or none of you could agree on one thing. This was a difficult task when there are six of you living under one roof. 

Some times you question why you chose to move in with the rowdy group that you call your friends. You would soon remember how convincing your best friend Mina is though. She was the reason all of you moved in together. The reason you put your sanity on the line to live with four boys and one other girl. There were perks to being in the same house as these nutcases though. Katsuki always cooked due to him hating how awful everyone else’s food tastes. Eijiro is surprisingly a clean freak so he does most of the chores. Denki was the idiot of the group which provided everyone with entertainment. Mina is like the house’s personal therapist and everyone’s best friend. Hanta… Well, Hanta was a completely different story. Living with him came with perks that only you benefitted from. 

It started on a lonely night when the two of you were home alone with a cabinet full of liquor. Gentle experimental touches were exchanged that night. It soon turned into late-night texts when either of you felt like you needed to feel something. Your roommates began to suspect that the two of you were sleeping together, however, the two of you would very quickly deny it. There was a time where you were almost caught in the shower with him. After that incident, you guys agreed to be ancient history. Your agreement didn’t last long. The two of you were right back at it within a week, continuing your late-night fucks almost weekly now. He was just so… intoxicating. When you were with him with your bodies pressed together, it was a whole different type of high. There also came along the certain thrill of being able to sleep with someone whenever you pleased without the commitment.

“This is lame.” Hanta Sero grumbled as he sat in the seat to the right of you. “Where is everyone else?” The two of you had been sitting at a table waiting for your housemates to join you for the past hour. You passed the time by drinking more thanyou should have, however, you couldn’t stop due to the tall lean boy bringing drinks back to the table for you. In fact, he had just come back from the bar to place a drink right in front of you. You wasted no time downing the drink, feeling the buzz of the one too many drinks coursing their way through your system.

“You know they probably aren’t going to show up. It wouldn’t be the first time.” You pointed with a small shrug of your shoulder. It was usual for them to be late when all of you would get together. Sometimes they wouldn’t even show up. You didn’t mind the little bit of alone time with Sero though. He is good company even when the two of you aren’t fucking. He is laid back, funny, and has such a calming effect on those around him. 

“I wouldn’t mind some alone time with you. It’s been a while.” You leaned in close to him whispering in his ear. Your lips brushing against the soft spot just below his ear before moving away. A loud familiar voice pulled your attention away from the boy who sat next to you. Across the bar was a rowdy group that you called your friends. The ash-blonde boy arguing with the two other boys. The short pink-haired girl, waving frantically when she made eye contact with you. Her lips were moving but the other sounds of the bar filled your ears. You watched as they slithered between the groups of people just to get to the table. Your eyes scanned their figures. If you said they clean up nicely, you wouldn’t be lying. Mina had to have something to do with it because there was no way in hell Denki and Eijiro dressed themselves. They both looked too good. Not too fancy. But not too casual. Just the right mix that made your foggy mind start to wander places where it shouldn’t. 

“I’m sorry we’re so late! It was impossible to get Ei to change out his damn crocs.” Mina grumbled as she sat at the table, noticing just how many empty shot glasses and pints littered the top. “You guys didn’t wait for us?!” Her laughter was so light and playful that you couldn’t help but grin. Without her, you were sure this group would have fallen apart a long time ago. Maybe not fall apart but you all would not be living in the same house. 

“I couldn’t help myself. You know how I am when there’s liquid courage around.” You admitted sheepishly as your eyes locked with Denki’s. The corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk. Oh, the hell you were going to put him through just for the sole purpose that he was the unlucky fool who sat across from you. “I do have to say that you look pretty good right now, Denki… However, I think you’d look better on top of me.” Your coy smile not matching the words that came out of your mouth. A brief silence fell over the table while all their eyes flashed between you and Denki. The table shifted from the weight of you leaning forward and resting your chin in your hand. 

“Alright… You need to calm down and lay off the drinks, you nasty.” Mina scolded you, throwing a paper coaster at you playfully which you tried to catch but only failed terribly. It was a sure sign that you were a bit tipsier than you’d like to admit. It was the childish smile that you flashed in her direction that made her shake her head, laughing. “Well since we’re all here, I can finally explain why we had to come to this specific bar on this specific night.” She looked down at her phone only to check the time as she spoke. “Here in about thirty minutes, karaoke night begins and we all need to loosen up and enjoy ourselves!” The collective groan she earned from the lot of you only coaxed a devilish grin out of the pink girl. How you guys were stupid enough to fall for such an obvious scheme was a whole mystery. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The night quickly passed by as the hours were filled with chit chat, mindless flirting, and downing a few drinks here and there. Your friends even convinced you to sing a solo but other than that you wouldn’t go up unless one of them was singing with you. Most of the time it was just you and Mina having the time of your lives. The time speedily approaching the early hours of the morning. At this point, you were drunker than the others who sat at your table. Denki had joined in with you when it came to drinking, almost catching up to you but didn’t quite get to your leg. A large portion of the night, the two of you becoming touchy and flirty with each other. As this went on, the lean boy next to you only grew tenser, watching the way you acted with the blonde across from you. 

He had stopped drinking a while ago just so he could keep an eye on the two of you. It was driving him insane. The way you would pull your bottom lip in between your teeth as Denki spoke to you. How you would lean in only centimeters away from the other boy’s face just to say something to him. All the snide and dirty comments leaving your lips. It was really starting to get on his nerves. Hanta Sero knew that there was nothing between the two of you that would make you tied down to him however that didn’t stop the jealousy that rose up in his chest as he watched your feather-light touches brushed against Denki’s skin. You were his plaything and he wasn’t just going to let some ripoff Pikachu steal you away.   

You finally noticed how tense the boy next you was as you leaned against him, holding your stomach as you tried to suppress the giggles that Denki pulled from your lips with a stupid joke that would normally only make you roll your eyes. When you finally pulled yourself together, it was impossible to hide the smirk on your lips. It took long enough for Sero to get so worked up. You were unsure if you would be able to keep up your game with Denki for much longer. Of course, you loved Denki but you could never imagine yourself doing anything with him. He was like a brother to you. 

“A little tense are we? Do you need some help loosening up?” You whispered and leaned in close to the raven-haired boy. Your lips brushing against the shell of his ear while your hand came to rest just above his knee. Laughter threatened to spill from you when you saw the stupid look on his face. He seemed to be frozen in fear. Neither of you had ever been very touchy with each other in public so he had a right to be taken aback by your actions. “Just relax… I’ll help you loosen up.” You purred quietly before laying your head on his shoulder, looking at your other friends who were engaged in a seemingly heated argument about something you couldn’t care less about. 

Feather-light touches brushed against the rough material of Sero’s jeans as your fingers trailed up his thigh, stopping to squeeze gently when it seemed his attention was pulled away by someone at the table. You continued the conversation that you had been having with Denki all the while. Though you drug out your teasing touches, Sero prayed that time would slow down. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if your teasing continued to work it’s way up his thigh. It wasn’t long until all eyes were on him, mouth agape from the gasp that your touch pulled from him. Your fingers brushing against the tent in his ever so tightening jeans, the innocence and fake concern plastered on your face as you looked at him like everyone else only frustrated him more. Tonight was going to be a long night for you. 

“Bro, you okay? Do you need anything?” Kirishima was genuinely concerned for his friend considering how Sero was squirming and gritting his teeth like he was in pain. The raven-haired boy scrunching up as his brows furrowed together, breathing as if he had just run a marathon. If only his friends knew the torturing he was enduring. How the feeling of your hand cupped against the bulge in his jean, applying light pressure as you rubbed him up and down, was driving him so far up the wall that he almost considered bending you over the table. He considered fucking you in front of all of your friends and everyone else in this bar so they knew just how much of a slut you are for him. 

“Hanta… Do you need some water?” Your sweet voice filling his ears as he turned to glare at you, the root of his current problem. To prevent this from going any further, his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist as he mumbled something about being perfectly fine. He applied more pressure to your wrist as he moved it away from his crotch before letting it go and drop to your side. His head turning to meet your gaze, giving you a look that could mean that you were completely and absolutely both figuratively and literally fucked. 

“I think it’s best to be the time that I go…” You rubbed the side of your neck with a small smile. Your friends now shifting their attention from Sero to you. Pouts forming on Denki and Kirishima’s lips. They began to beg you to stay awhile longer. Stay for a couple more drinks. Sing a song or two more with them. There were many appealing offers however you know if you stayed longer and drank anymore, you’d get yourself in even more trouble. 

“Just one more song. Sing for us one last time.” Mina begged with big sad puppy dog eyes burning into your soul. To deny her request would be like denying a starving puppy a bite of your ham sandwich. It was impossible to deny her request. Even if you weren’t already drunk it would be impossible. The table teetered slightly as you used as an aid to stand up from your seat. 

“One last song then I’m gone. Out of here.” A quiet sigh escaping but you couldn’t hide the smile on your lips as your friends cheered for you.

~ Heh. I promise the second part will have the spice you desire. It may not be good spice but it will be spice. Also gotta tag my favorite Hanta Sero lover @fourteenow ~

[badgersprite]

Fic: Desiderata (7/?)

 Chapter Title: Messages

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob, Jack

Pairing: Miranda/Samara very slow burn, friends to lovers

Story Rating: R

Warnings: References to past childhood abuse/trauma.

Chapter Summary: In 2186, Miranda gets a series of messages. Two are positive. One isn’t. In 2185, The Normandy faces the Suicide Mission. For some, the name is more fitting than anyone realises.

Author’s Note: Now that they’ve announced a new Mass Effect game, I should really buckle down and get chapters out at a faster rate, huh?

* * *

If adjusting to living with a bunch of teenagers had been a difficult prospect from the start, it only became more so once they settled in and learned that Miranda was an actual human being rather than some stern caricature. They knew now that she wasn’t as cold as she had come off initially, and that her snarky remarks lacked any real bite. Consequently, they no longer felt even remotely intimidated by her. Plus, they seemed to have suddenly twigged that they vastly outnumbered her.

Ever since they’d realised all that, getting them to cooperate and behave themselves was a damn sight harder.

“I dunno, man. For a humourless grump with half a face, she's still smokin’ hot,” Miranda heard one of the boys, Deacon Winters, remark as she emerged from her room that morning. “Oh. Hi, Miss,” Deacon said when he saw her heading to the kitchen, evidently believing she'd missed his comment.

“Stop calling me that,” Miranda instructed, but it fell on deaf ears just as it had the last dozen times she’d said the exact same thing. Truth be told, in that moment, Miranda was more concerned with breakfast than the behaviour of Jack’s students. So she rolled her eye and moved on, letting it slide.

If there was one particular luxury she was looking forward to returning when the galaxy recovered from its near-extermination, it was restaurants. Cafés. Places to eat actual food again. Real, good-quality meals, made by other people.

The way things were, everyone was subsisting on staples and rations, aside from the occasional “luxury” food items sold through the black market, which everyone knew about but nobody cared to stop. The sad fact of it all was that the only reason their food stockpiles might be enough to last the winter was because so many people had died after the Reapers attacked Earth. That and because a lot of the excess soldiers hanging around London had finally moved elsewhere, shifting the burden so it wasn’t all in one place.

Speaking of food, the sound of cereal crunching across the room caught Miranda’s attention just as she finished draining her noodles. Her eye widened.

“Are you eating on my couch?” said Miranda, like Deacon had committed a crime just a hair's breadth away from aggravated murder. He froze, a droplet of reconstituted milk dripping down his chin, a spoonful of cereal still in his mouth. “In what bizarre alternate universe is that okay? Go eat at the table like a civilised human being,” she ordered, her already low tolerance levels quickly waning.

“Aw, Miss,” Deacon protested, stretching out the word to make it as grating as possible.

“Keep whinging like that and you can find somewhere else to live,” Miranda warned him. The two students rolled their eyes before reluctantly picking up their bowls and heading to the table, not quite brave enough to test the idleness of her threat. “When you're done, you can vacuum up the crumbs, too,” she told them, limping across to the table with her own breakfast in hand, leaving her cane against the kitchen counter. She may have been gradually softening to her new housemates, but she had her limits.

Just as she started to eat, Prangley and Rodriguez both emerged from their room in shared laughter. When they spotted Miranda there, they paused sheepishly, as if they'd been caught in the midst of some minor conspiracy. Miranda arched her eyebrow, but ignored them.

The two exchanged hushed whispers, tittering and nudging each other like gossipy hens. Prangley seemed to make up his mind about something, Rodriguez giggling and lightly slapping his arm as if to discourage him, but it was clear she wholeheartedly wanted to see what would happen.

“Hey, Miss,” Prangley began. Miranda despised that damn title. She swore they used it on purpose, to deliberately irk her. “Me and the others—”

“The others and I,” Miranda corrected without glancing up.

“Right, well, we've been wondering a couple things,” Prangley continued, sitting down at the table, his posture impolite and uncultivated, eager to pry into the mind of their impromptu protector. “After all, since we’re already living together, it’s only fair and reasonable that we should have the right to ask some questions and get to know some stuff about you as a person, right?” 

Miranda didn’t dignify that with a response, continuing to eat.

“We've noticed the only reason you ever leave the apartment is for work. You never bring anyone home, except Mr. Taylor, and the only other person you ever speak to is your sister,” Prangley pointed out.

“I mean, we’re know you're kinda, well...” In place of saying anything unintentionally offensive, Rodriguez vaguely gestured at the left side of her own face. The implication was not lost in translation. “But you've still gotta have a personal life, right?” she asked, probing for information.

Sensing where this was going, Miranda merely stared at them, as if finding their attempts to rile her tiresome, and beneath recognition.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” asked Prangley.

No reaction.

“Girlfriend?”

No reaction.

“Secret alien lover?”

No reaction.

“Synthetic sex buddy?”

No reaction.

“Would you like one?”

No reaction.

“I could hook you up—”

“Are you done?” asked Miranda, deeply bored by this.

“Yeah, I guess,” said Prangely, Rodriguez also giving up and deciding to focus on food instead. While Miranda was certainly easy to irritate on a surface level, actually getting under her skin was far harder than it looked. She wondered if she should remind them that she had worked with Jack; if Miranda could endure her at her most intentionally aggravating, then she could tolerate the trolling of these teenagers.

“Ah, fuck!” Rodriguez cursed, accidentally dropping a carton of artificial orange juice as she pulled it out of the fridge, spilling it everywhere on the floor. “I’m so sorry, Miss. I’ll clean that right up!” she hastily apologised, salvaging what little remained of the juice before scrambling over to the cupboard for a mop.

Miranda suppressed the urge to groan, not even seeing the point in wasting her energy on making a critical comment by that stage. She wished she was at work. The only reason she wasn't was because Bailey had insisted she take weekends off. Much as she understood his good intentions, she thoroughly disagreed that spending time at home could be considered relaxing in light of her tenants. At this rate, being thrown into the fucking sun would be preferable.

Why had she signed up for this again?

Suddenly, her omni-tool beeped, alerting her to a new text message on her datapad. It was Oriana. Despite the chaos going on around her, Miranda couldn’t hide her smile. This was the one silver lining she’d been holding out for to make this whole “day off” thing worth it.

“Excuse me,” she said, endeavouring to lead by example when it came to matters of etiquette, even if it was proving fruitless.

“Here, Miss. Let me get that for you,” another boy offered, the one named Nitin, reaching out to clear her plate for her. He was the one who had that ridiculous crush on her. Miranda found it annoying and tedious, as one might expect. But it was harmless, she supposed. And at least it was compelling him towards trying to be on his best behaviour around her, if nothing else.

“Thank you,” she said with a curt, almost stilted nod. She’d made a conscious effort to remind herself to express gratitude where she otherwise wouldn’t, if only as part of her efforts to train her wards to meet minimum standards of politeness. With that, she returned to the privacy of her bedroom.

Three sets of male eyes watched her leave, waiting for the door to close before speaking. “I don't care how fucked up her face is – I'd still hit it,” Nitin said, earning a dishcloth thrown his way by Rodriguez.

Miranda took a breath, attempting to release some of her tension as she sat down in her bedroom. She'd been looking forward to this, as she did every time Oriana's messages came through. She wanted to be able to enjoy it without stress souring the moment.

After a few seconds, she opened the message app and began typing back.

*     *     *

It had been a trap.

Activating the Reaper IFF had given away their location. The Collectors attacked while their guard was down. The squad had returned to find the entire crew gone except Joker. And EDI, obviously. 

Miranda was doing her best to keep a level head and remain calm and logical in her assessment of what had transpired. Someone had to, after all. But it was hard not to take this attack personally. It felt like a violation, to have their ship boarded when they weren’t even there to do anything about it.

Perhaps it was for the best. If they’d been there, they might all have perished too. With the squad intact, at least they still had a chance of defeating the Collectors, crew or no crew.

Shepard had made the call. There was no waiting around. They were going to jump through the Omega-4 Relay now, while there might still be a chance to get the crew back. It was do or die. 

Everyone had made their final preparations, ensuring weapons and ammunition were in order. There was nothing left but time now - it was simply a matter of getting to the Omega system. Everyone seemed to have gone off to do their own thing, spending what could have been their final few hours alive as they chose.

Miranda had contemplated sending a heartfelt message to her sister, even started typing a long email detailing the truth of how she’d found her, answering any questions she might want to know about her past and admitting everything Oriana meant to her. Once she got about halfway through, she thought better of it, though. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Oriana. And this felt too much like a goodbye. Like an expectation that she wouldn’t return. And Miranda refused to consider that, much less worry her sister with the thought.

It had been, what, a little over two months since they reunited? They had only just begun to form the relationship Miranda always secretly wanted deep down. There was so much still left to do. So much still left to say to each other. For that reason alone, Miranda couldn’t allow herself to fail this mission. Death was not an option.

This mission to stop the Collectors was going to succeed. It had to. Shepard had done everything that she possibly could have done to prepare. Things that even Miranda honestly wouldn’t have considered before she became Shepard’s second-in-command. Recruiting every squad member recommended by Cerberus. Upgrading the ship. Ensuring every member of her squad had no unfinished business to distract them from the mission.

Whatever it might cost them, they were not going to lose this fight. They couldn’t.

But, if worst did come to worst, at least she knew Oriana would be taken care of. Miranda had put those arrangements in place, just to be safe. But telling Oriana that now would come across as extremely grim.

However, despite all that, she couldn’t help but ask herself, what if she didn’t come back? Miranda couldn’t bear the thought of Oriana not having one final word from her. If this was her last opportunity to say something, then surely she had to take advantage of it, even if she had to be careful not to give the impression that the mission the Normandy was about to embark on was far from a normal one.

With that in mind, she opened a fresh email once more and typed.

Hey, Ori.

Just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you. 

We should talk soon. 

I love you.

- Miranda.

It was laconic, but that was Miranda. And that would have to do. Anything more and she wouldn’t be able to stop.

After that, with nothing left to do except pass the time, she poured herself a drink at the bar, and retreated to the Starboard Observation Deck to wait out these last remaining hours.

Miranda found it empty. But that was no deterrent. Content to wait, Miranda settled onto her usual comfortable spot on the couch and nursed her drink, staring out into the void.

It was maybe twenty minutes before Miranda heard the doors slide open. The familiar reflection in the transparent aluminium window confirmed it was Samara. Judging by her slight hesitation in the doorway, Samara was a little surprised to find her there. And yet, at the same time, unsurprised.

Samara uttered a soft sigh as she moved to accompany Miranda on the lounge, sharing in the serene view. Miranda didn’t feel the need to disturb the peace with any questions, remnants of ice cubes clinking softly against glass. She simply assumed the reason for Samara’s absence was to contact Falere and Rila one last time. Of course it was. And it wasn’t her place to pry about that.

Several long seconds passed before Samara deigned to break the quiet.

“The ambient noise that used to fill this ship never reached this room, yet somehow the silence has never felt so...” Samara trailed off, as if the appropriate word was at the fringes of her consciousness, eluding her.

“Silent?” Miranda offered.

A sad shadow of a smile crossed Samara’s lips. “Yes.”

“I understand what you mean,” Miranda admitted. “Jacob and I met most of the crew long before anyone else did. I didn’t think much of that before. You know me; I’m not exactly a people person, am I? Now that they’ve been taken, though...well, I suppose you don’t realise how accustomed you’ve become to seeing the same faces every day until suddenly you don’t.”

It was a strange sensation. And, by all rights, it shouldn’t have been new to her.

Miranda had spent longer periods than this living with consistent groups of people. The Lazarus Project itself had taken nearly two years. And all those familiar faces had been outright slaughtered. But this was different. She hadn’t felt anything then. Back then, her only mission, her only focus, had been bringing Shepard back to life. The lives and deaths of the people at that facility had never been her responsibility, or her concern.

This time, they were. As second-in-command of the Normandy, and the highest ranking member of Cerberus there, on some level every aspect of every little thing that went on aboard this ship had been her responsibility. Her endless reports to The Illusive Man were evidence of how seriously she had taken that.

Somewhere in between all these months adrift in space, there had been a shift in her mentality. Day by day, that sense of separation between herself and the others had been chipped away. At some point, she stopped seeing everyone else around her as assets and liabilities in Cerberus’s mission to stop the Collectors, and started seeing them all as living, breathing parts of her world - little pieces of the life she’d carved out for herself aboard the Normandy.

Miranda hadn’t realised it until just now. Hell, she hadn’t even known she was capable of it. But, for the first time in her life, Miranda had grown attached to the people around her. And that fact didn’t appear to be lost on Samara.

“Are you alright?” she asked her.

Miranda uttered a short laugh, but it was entirely cheerless. That question was impossible to answer the way Samara probably wanted it to be answered. Of course Miranda wasn’t alright, but she wasn’t not alright either. She was just in the same neutral state she was usually in, trying to find a balanced equilibrium amid the ambivalence. Others would have misconstrued it for apathy.

“Obviously, it’s not ideal that we’ve lost so many,” Miranda began, a deliberate understatement. “But we can't afford to get distracted. They knew what they were signing on for. We all did. So the mission parameters have to remain the same.”

“You do not need to pretend the life or death of this crew makes no difference to you,” Samara pointed out, sensing perhaps that Miranda’s concern for the lost was deeper than she let on, whether because she was unwilling to show it, or, more likely, because she didn’t know how to.

“Of course it does,” said Miranda. “I may not be a shining beacon of empathy, but, if I didn't care about human life, I wouldn't have spent the last few months out here trying to protect it from the Collectors. But that's the point; if it's a choice between the lives of our crew, and destroying the Collectors...It's not really a choice at all, is it? Dozens of lives versus millions.”

“It sounds as though you have already decided that is a sacrifice you will have to make,” Samara noted, her tone as ever elusive and impossible to read. But, evidently, she was not yet equally resigned to accepting the worst.  

“I'm Shepard’s second-in-command, Samara. I have to be prepared, and I have to be ready to make the ‘heartless’ rational decision if it comes down to it. If I'm not, how the hell is anyone else going to be?” Miranda asked rhetorically.

Sure, there was still a chance they’d find their crew alive. Acting as swiftly as they had meant there was still hope. But if they were too late, or they couldn’t find them, then Miranda couldn’t let emotions cloud her judgement. She was perhaps the one person on this team Shepard could trust to remain cool-headed and objective no matter the circumstance. It was arguably her best quality. She didn’t plan on letting it slip when it may be needed most.

“I’m not sure why I’m explaining this to you. You understand better than anyone that it serves no one to let sentiment get in the way of the greater good,” Miranda noted, glancing over to her companion beside her on the lounge.

“I do,” Samara acknowledged, respecting Miranda’s clarity of thought in these trying times. “Adherence to the Code is always paramount. If it requires me to take a certain action, then that is what must be done, irrespective of my own personal thoughts or feelings. If I waiver in the moment, if I so much as hesitate because I question, or doubt, or second-guess, then I have failed.”

“That doesn’t sound easy,” Miranda thought aloud. Sure, Miranda had never been accused of second-guessing herself once committed to a course of action, but whenever she made those same split-second decisions, those had always been her choices to make. No external force could ever compel her to do something she found truly objectionable. She was too stubborn and individualistic to voluntarily surrender her ability to think for herself. Her agency was too important to her, after spending so much of her life without it. 

“For me, it was the hardest aspect of becoming a Justicar,” Samara admitted. “It was difficult to train my body to become a weapon, but it was harder to train my mind. I have heard the same sentiment from many others. Most take decades, even centuries, to prove that they can subordinate their own will to that of the Code. Others never pass that test. Had I gone to them at any other time in my life, I believe that would have been my fate.”

Miranda watched her as she spoke, saying nothing. She knew too well just how broken Samara had been when she chose this path. Perhaps a younger Samara would have been more like Miranda - too arrogant, egotistical and argumentative to submit to a single set of rules. But the Samara who came to them had lost everything. Almost a blank slate. Barely enough of a self left to let go.

“And yet I do not envy you the burden of leadership,” Samara continued, meeting Miranda’s gaze, breaking her from her thoughts. “To know that you are not only responsible for your own welfare, but that your choices affect those under your command, that is something I have never faced.”

“Never?” Miranda arched a brow, finding that difficult to believe.

A faint glimmer twinkled in Samara’s eye. “Never,” she confirmed. “I have long suspected this is the reason why Justicars are most often tasked to work alone. Our solitary nature removes the possibility of an internal conflict where one must choose between the desires of the self - in this case, to protect the life of a friend - and upholding the Code. Perhaps it is for the best.”

“You're not alone right now,” Miranda pointed out.

“No, I am not,” Samara replied, a gentle warmth emanating from her words, despite the sombre situation in which they both found themselves.

“Well, this is what we’re here for. Everything we’ve done up to this point, this is what it was all in aid of,” Miranda noted, thinking back over the past several months, and the innumerable adventures The Normandy SR-2 and its crew had undergone in that time. All the new faces they’d recruited. All the remote planets they’d visited. All the people they’d helped. And every inconsequential part of it had led to this one final assault on the Collector Base. Her fingers idly traced patterns on the rim of her glass, mostly untouched. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” Samara answered honestly. “I have been at peace with the inevitability of my own end for a long time. The Goddess will take me into her embrace when my moment comes to pass. If that time is now, then I am grateful that my final few months have transpired in the way that they have. I could not have chosen a more worthy cause for which to give my life, nor greater comrades to fight beside.”

Miranda didn’t doubt that Samara meant it. She had been bravely risking her life for a long time. Far, far longer than Miranda had been alive. At least now, if she fell in battle, she no longer had to fear that she would be leaving behind unfinished business, in the form of Morinth. 

“Are you?” Samara asked Miranda in return.

“No.” Miranda shook her head. Samara held her stare, somehow sensing that wasn’t entirely true. Miranda’s resolve visibly weakened. “...A little,” she reluctantly admitted, cradling her half-full drink between her hands. “But it’s not the thought of dying that scares me. What scares me is that...for the first time in my life, I finally have something to lose. I’ve only just met my sister; we’ve barely had time to talk yet, let alone get to know each other. And, as insane as this would have sounded to me six months ago, I have people in my life now who I genuinely consider friends. That’s...That’s not something I’ve ever had before.”

“You have found people you care about. And people who truly care about you,” Samara surmised, wisdom glistening in her eyes.

“I have. And...I never thought I’d say this, but now that I finally have it, that’s not something I’m willing to give up,” Miranda acknowledged. To be honest, the thought of letting this all just slip through her fingers terrified her. Not only her connections to the people themselves, but losing her elusive grasp on the better, happier person she was becoming through having known them.

“Then I am relieved,” said Samara, earning a confused look from Miranda. “Because, if there is one thing that I have learned about you, Miranda, it is that, when you are fully committed to something, you are unstoppable. If your heart’s truest desire is to ensure you return safely to those you cherish most, then I am not only reassured that we will be the victors in this fight, but moreover I am certain that you will survive.”

At that, Miranda uttered a faint chuckle, flattered by Samara’s unshakeable faith in her. “Thank you. That’s...I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me,” she said softly, still feeling some uncharacteristic pre-mission jitters about the battle that lay ahead, but comforted by Samara’s confidence. 

“Miranda.” Samara extended a hand and placed it gently atop Miranda’s knee, compelling her to look into her eyes. “For so long as I am able, I promise to do everything in my power to ensure that you prevail through what awaits us. No harm will come to you, if I am able to prevent it.”

As Samara held her gaze, Miranda was at a loss for words. Even if she could find them, her tongue felt like it was tied in a knot, rendering her unable to speak. It was an alien sensation for her, though not an entirely unpleasant one, as a sudden warmth rushed to her cheeks. She genuinely didn’t know how to react to such kind words, given that she wasn’t used to hearing them.

“Yeah, well...same to you,” was Miranda’s painfully awkward but heartfelt response, lightly nudging Samara’s arm with her own. “...I mean it, you know?”

“As do I,” Samara assured her, content that she had said what she needed to say, and that the sincerity of her message had not been lost in translation. “But, please...do not endanger your life for mine.”

Those humble words hit Miranda like a brick. “What?” She blinked in shock, taking several seconds to confirm that her ears weren’t playing tricks on her, and that she had heard that request correctly. “Samara--”

“Please.” Samara quietly interjected, her demeanour eerily serene considering the macabre subject. “There is no reason to speak of this with apprehension. I have lived a very long life. One way or another, my years are coming to an end before too long. And I am content with that.”

“You could live just as long as I could,” Miranda reminded her. Well, maybe that was generous. Based on predictive models, it was conceivable that Miranda could live into her early two-hundreds, barring external factors. But it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility for Samara to live for another century. That was roughly as long as any other human on this ship could hope to live.

“Perhaps. But you are still in your Summer days, and will be for a long time yet to come. You have reached only a fraction of your potential. Whereas I…” Samara paused and trailed off for a brief moment, her gaze shifting as she searched for the right words. “For centuries, I have known only Winter. Even so, I have done what I set out to do, and fulfilled the oath I made to my Order. If this day is destined to be my last, then I can say without falsity that I am satisfied with what I leave behind. And I am blessed to know others like yourself will live on when I am gone. So, I ask this of you.” Samara reached down and gently clasped Miranda’s hands between both of her own, glass and all. “Do not sacrifice your years for mine. Please. I would not be able to forgive myself if you perished for my sake.”

Miranda exhaled slowly. That was a lot to process all at once. And she did not like what she was hearing. But, as Samara’s words sank in, the more she understood what it meant to her, and why this was so important to her.

If it comforted Samara to go into this battle believing that her much younger allies would outlive her if she fell, then what audacity would it take for Miranda not to respect those wishes, particularly if the worst did come to pass? Miranda couldn’t take that calming belief away from her. Not now, when the last thing any of them needed was to be plagued by upsetting thoughts.

“Okay. I can promise you I won’t do anything foolish, or throw my life away,” Miranda somewhat reluctantly warranted. That went without saying. “But, if you expect me not to watch out for you or not to do my best to keep you safe, then I’m sorry but I can’t. I will be trying to bring you home. And if you don’t want it to be for the sake of our friendship, then fine. It won’t be for that. It will be because you’re still a part of this team, and I owe you that duty regardless. And I can’t shirk that responsibility, no matter how much you want me to.”

Samara nodded, letting Miranda’s hands fall from her grasp. “Very well. I am content with that. I would never ask you to betray your responsibilities.”

“Good.” Miranda gave a short nod, because that was as much of a concession as Samara was going to get. Abandoning her would never be on the table.

It occurred to Miranda then that, despite their mutual intentions to watch each other’s backs and do what they could to see each other through whatever lay ahead, she couldn’t fault Samara for making peace with the possibility of her own demise. As optimistic as they were both trying to be in their own ways, there was still a chance that this conversation would be their last.

Following that thought, Miranda realised that this was, in all respects, her only guaranteed opportunity to confess a secret she’d been hiding from Samara - that she’d gone digging through her past without her permission. She’d long been telling herself that she needed to apologise for that, and would do it when the time was right. As much as she had found reasons to avoid that issue over the past few weeks, Miranda did want to make amends before it was too late. 

“Samara…” Miranda began with a heavier tone to her quiet voice, ready to admit to her mistakes. However, as soon as she started to speak, she thought better of it. There was so little time left before they would make their attack on The Collector Base. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Samara something hurtful, knowing it might weigh on her mind throughout the fight, and distract her from their goals.

If Samara wasn’t completely focused, there was a chance she wouldn’t be at her best. And that was a risk Miranda couldn’t afford to take. If Samara didn’t make it out of this because of something Miranda told her...even the very thought of that made her sick to her stomach.

Samara sat before her, patient and calm, giving Miranda as much time as she needed to find the words she wanted to say. Miranda sighed, recognising that she didn’t have it in her heart to tell Samara something that could only serve to hurt her, at least not at that moment.

“...Thank you,” was what Miranda settled on. And there was nothing false about her gratitude. “I’ve, um...I haven’t had a lot of friends in my life. Or any, really. So, um...knowing you has....”

Miranda stopped herself and uttered a faint sigh of frustration as she ran a hand through her hair, struggling to find the right words. It wasn’t a problem she was accustomed to. She didn’t lack the vocabulary. But, then again, she’d never had to say anything like this. She’d never had a friend like Samara before.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve genuinely helped me become a better person than I was before I met you,” Miranda confessed, conscious of how much colder and less empathetic she had been before she started spending time with Samara, and how much she’d learned about herself through this friendship. And yet not once in all that time had Samara ever made Miranda feel like the person she already was wasn’t good enough. She’d always accepted her. Flaws and all. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you were willing to be so patient with me sometimes, but you were. So...from the bottom of my heart, thank you. For everything.”

Samara offered a small smile in return. “You have nothing to thank me for. And, even if you had, your friendship has been more than I could ever repay.”

Miranda gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Liar,” she jokingly remarked, confident that she had gained infinitely more from Samara’s friendship than Samara had gained from hers in return. Not that it seemed to matter. 

“Miranda,” Samara spoke first, interrupting the silence before Miranda could continue. “It occurs to me that there are but a scant few hours left before we jump through the Omega Relay.”

“You’re right. We should focus. Get ourselves in the right headspace,” Miranda replied, putting her glass aside, getting up from the couch and moving over to her usual spot on the floor, straightening her back in anticipation of a meditation session. Talking had been nice, but they did need to concentrate. Clear their heads. Sharpen their senses. Prepare their biotics.

Samara’s amused expression was reflected in the window. “That is not...Well, you are not mistaken in assuming that I intended to meditate in readiness for the battle that lies ahead,” Samara spoke, sounding a little thrown by Miranda’s reaction, but not in an unpleasant way. “However, what I meant to say to you is that, to the extent you are able, you should spend this time as you wish.”

“...I’m already doing that,” Miranda answered frankly, glancing back over her shoulder. It hadn’t even been a question where she would go once she left her office. By that point, it shouldn’t have even needed to be said between them that there was nowhere else on the ship she would rather be.

Samara smiled, accepting her answer. “Then I am glad.”

With that, Samara moved to join Miranda on the floor, channelling her biotics through her hands, warming up in anticipation that her abilities would be needed soon. Miranda quieted her mind, already knowing that she would need to be at her sharpest and most alert. Everyone would be counting on her not to make any mistakes, especially if anything happened to Shepard.

What Miranda didn’t know at the time, and had never known in any of the days they had spent together in this room, was that Samara had a singular focus in mind. She had long been awaiting a day such as this - a day when they would launch a virtually suicidal assault against the Collectors.

The truth was, ever since Samara had met Shepard and Miranda on Illium and heard of their quest to stop the Collectors, she had considered the possibility that the Goddess was sending her a sign. Once she completed her penance by ending Morinth’s reign of terror on the galaxy, that mere possibility had crystallised into a certainty. With Morinth gone, her purpose had been fulfilled. Her very reason for staying alive these past four hundred years was at an end.

Samara could derive no other meaning from the path she had been set upon. The auspicious omens were all so clear. Her time had finally come. This was the day she was destined to embrace eternity.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, every single thing Samara had done since she had stepped foot aboard the Normandy had been rooted in a silent expectation that the approaching suicide mission was where her Goddess had fated her to die. Every meditation. Every field mission. Every moment spent with Miranda, gently guiding her towards a happier, more fulfilling future Samara would never see.

Samara had been waiting for this day with bated breath. Not in fear. Rather, finding comfort and peace in it. On some level, perhaps even aching for the release that she had been denied a long time ago.

The closer the hour drew, the more the weight on her shoulders had lifted. The more she had lowered her guard. The easier her burdens had become to bear. It wouldn’t be long now before she could lay them down for eternity.

And, with that in mind, Samara’s meditation continued untroubled, unburdened by the thought that it would be her last. Because, in her heart of hearts, the truth was that Samara still believed deep down, just as she had for the last four hundred years, that she was ultimately responsible for the fate that had befallen her family. The death of her bondmate. Her children’s disease. Mirala’s murders.

And, for that, Samara had never once stopped believing in the deepest recesses of her soul that she did not truly deserve to live.

*     *     *

“Jelly? Seriously?” Prangley snickered at his fellow student. “That's how you're going to celebrate?”

“A pool of jelly,” Rodriguez corrected him. “That makes all the difference.” She grinned.

“Swimming in jelly. That's a new one,” Seanne laughingly commented.

“Better than yours,” Rodriguez replied, sticking out her tongue.

“Drink your fuckin' juice, Rodriguez,” Seanne countered, lightly smacking her on the arm.

“Oi. Language,” Miranda nonchalantly chastised, not even looking up from her work. Jack may have tolerated casual swearing, but Miranda at least tried to instil some decorum while she was around.

“Sorry,” Seanne sheepishly apologised.

Miranda turned the page, continuing to read the latest Alliance brief on the status of other cities on Earth. Bailey might have ordered her not to come into work on weekends, but he’d never said she couldn’t read reports in her spare time. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but part of her still hoped that one of these days the reports would mention a certain asari Justicar, the last of her order. At least then she would know where she was. No luck yet.

“Hey, Miss. What about you?” asked Reiley. Miranda glanced up, visibly annoyed to have her concentration broken. “What are you going to do when you get home?”

“Technically speaking, I am home, in planetary terms,” Miranda pointed out. She was from Earth, after all. “This is as close to home as I ever plan on going, anyway.” She shrugged, returning her gaze to the digital text. She had no reason to ever go further.

“You know what I mean,” said Reiley, not surprised by her pedantry. Miranda was always the sort to pick apart someone's words, deliberately misinterpreting them and taking them out of context, even when she knew damn well what they meant. It made her a nightmare to bicker with. “What do you think you'll do when the mass relays are rebuilt and you get to see your sister again?” he asked, interested to see a more sentimental side of her.

“I believe I'll hug her. For about six months,” Miranda matter-of-factly replied, not even a twitch of irony flickering across her deadpan expression. “Crying may also be involved.”

Prangley laughed. “Six months, huh?” he said, grinning lopsidedly.

“You're right. I have a lot of endurance. I could probably push it to seven,” said Miranda, sounding entirely serious. Despite the fact that there wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face, this was the closest thing to an amiable attitude Jack’s kids ever saw her with.

“I've got a feeling Little Miss Sis might get sick of that,” Rodriguez commented.

“Yes, well, I'm stronger than her. She has no say in the matter. And turn that noise down, would you?” she asked, her request far more relaxed than the order she would have barked when the students first came under her care. 

“It's not noise,” Seanne insisted, looking quite offended by Miranda's low opinion of her favourite artist. “It's music.”

“No, it isn't,” Miranda firmly asserted, not even bothering to glance up as she flipped the page on her tablet computer.

“Why? What did you listen to when you were growing up?” asked Prangely, somehow unable to picture Miranda ever being anything other than a thirty-something adult.

“Rachmaninoff,” Miranda answered, as if that should have been perfectly obvious.

“I totally called it,” said Rodriguez, holding out her hand, gesturing for Reiley to pay up. “I told you she never listens to anything made in the last three centuries. It's only classical shit with her.”

“First of all, don't swear. Secondly, Rachmaninoff is not classical, he's romantic. Thirdly, he died in nineteen forty-three, which is less than two hundred and fifty years ago.” As one, all the students met her with blank stares. Miranda gave them an unimpressed look before shaking her head, going back to her article, realising she was wasting her time trying to educate them. “Never mind.”

Abruptly, there came a knock at the door. Seeing as any visitor would likely be there for her, Miranda moved to answer it, but Reiley beat her to the punch. “I'll get it,” he said, leaping over the couch to see who it was, reaching the doorway faster than she could react.

“Thank you.” Much as Miranda refused to think of her injuries as a hindrance, they did impact upon her mobility. The students were considerate enough to do a few small things here and there to help her out, like buying her a little extra time to grab her cane and get to her feet when a visitor came by.

“It's for you, Miss,” Reiley announced, not that this was unexpected. “It's Mr. Taylor.”

“Make yourself at home, Jacob,” Miranda said instinctively, without looking over her shoulder, clicking the home button on her tablet and putting it aside.

“Looks like things are going well here,” Jacob observed, stepping inside.

“For certain values of 'well',” Miranda replied with a slightly strained sigh. It was mostly exaggeration, though. “These teenagers were all far less inclined to bother me before you made me be nice to them.”

“Yeah,” Jacob conceded, pulling up a chair, “But you would have felt guilty about it if you hadn't. Not right away, but eventually. You know I'm right.”

Miranda feigned a huff. Truth be told, she was starting to enjoy their well-intentioned torment. She certainly preferred that than having them walk on eggshells around her. The last thing she ever wanted was for these kids to feel around her the way she’d felt around her own father. 

“Any luck finding out what happened to our people?” Jacob asked.

“No,” Miranda straightforwardly replied. “I’ve asked Dr. Michel and her team to look into it, but there are literally millions of bodies scattered throughout the rubble of London. Identifying them all was never going to be quick. It could be years before we find out whether anyone we know is among them. If they were simply vaporised, chances are we’ll never know what happened to them.”

“Wow. Right to the vaporisation,” Jacob pointed out. That was dark.

“I'm not assuming any of them are gone,” Miranda insisted with a slightly defensive shrug. “I just have to be prepared for all potential possibilities. I'm not about to stop trying to find them, but I need to accept that I may be powerless to answer what happened to everyone.”

“Don't worry. I know.” Jacob and Miranda went back years by that point. He was better at reading her intentions than most, and he knew she often wasn't aware that she sounded more callous than she meant.

“Other than that, what brings you here?” Miranda asked. “Joining us for dinner tonight?”

“That would be nice,” Jacob acknowledged, nodding to accept that invitation. “But, before we get into that, I’m here because I found something. I thought you might like to see it.”

Miranda furrowed her brow. “What is it?”

“Well, you remember the memory wall at Paddington station? The place where people post pictures of anybody who’s missing, or leave messages for people who haven’t been found yet to try and meet up with them?”

“Of course I do,” Miranda answered. She had passed it many times - it was a stone’s throw from both the hospital where she’d recovered, and the refugee camp/field hospital at Hyde Park. It wasn’t the only wall of its kind. Part memorial. Part notice-board. It was something people had first started doing during the war, as a means of finding others in the chaos, using local landmarks as places to reach out to others. Once the Reapers were destroyed, their use had only grown. The one at Paddington had been well-established by the time Miranda had been found, let alone the time she woke up. “What’s your point?”

“...This is really my bad, you know,” he confessed, apologetically. “Back then, I was so distracted. Busy thinking about you and working to get London back on its feet. I guess that’s why, when Samara left without any word, it didn't even occur to me to check to see if she'd left a message there.”

Miranda’s heart dropped like a stone, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, it was as if her whole world stopped.

Samara.

Memories of the weeks - hell, months - they’d spent together on The Normandy flashed through her mind, the countless hours alone in the Starboard Observation Deck, the private conversations where they’d admitted things to each other that they’d never spoken aloud to another soul.

It was at that instant that it finally sank in for Miranda just how truly alone she’d felt over these past several weeks without Samara there by her side.

Even though she was surrounded by people, it didn’t make up for that void left by her absence. Knowing that she should have been there, but inexplicably wasn’t. That constant feeling that something was just...missing.

She’d almost come to accept that lingering feeling of abandonment. Of being forgotten. Even a little betrayed. To have that challenged now, at this late hour. It didn’t seem possible.

“Jacob, if you’re joking with me about this…” Miranda said softly, not sure she could cope with the disappointment if this turned out to be some ill-conceived prank, and not willing to get her hopes up until she was certain it wasn’t.

“I’m not. See for yourself.” Jacob activated his omni-tool and sent the file across to Miranda’s tablet computer. The file flashed up on her screen, asking if she wanted to accept the transfer. ‘To Miranda, From Samara’.

She froze. So, this was real.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Samara would have left something behind. Or tried to, at least. It was what she had expected initially. After all, they had grown extremely close throughout their time together. More than anyone realised. But, when Miranda had woken up from her near-death state to find her already gone, it had been hard not to feel hurt, to think that things must have changed, or that maybe she’d overestimated their friendship from the start. 

It meant a lot to her to have evidence that perhaps those things weren’t the case, and that Samara's absence didn't denote a lack of caring on her part. That she hadn’t forgotten her, or cast her aside. Not entirely, at least.

“...Did she say where she went, or...?” Miranda trailed off.

“I'm not sure,” Jacob admitted with a shrug. “I only read the covering note intended for me, which didn’t say much more than to give this to you if...when you woke up. Go on. Play it.”

For a moment, Miranda hesitated, tempted to wait until she was alone to do so. But, then, it occurred to her that it didn’t make sense to guard this so jealously. And she didn’t fully understand her own reticence to be transparent about the message’s contents, or her friendship with Samara.

Sure, nobody knew how close they’d grown on The Normandy, but it wasn’t like it was some scandalous secret that they were friends. There was nothing Samara would have said to her that Jacob or the students couldn't hear. It wasn't that the two of them had never had personal conversations. Of course they had. But Samara was a professional, like her. Miranda had every expectation her message would be in that capacity more than anything else. Hell, the only time she’d ever really seen her get emotional was after Morinth.

So, then, why did it feel like letting anyone else catch a glimpse of the connection she and Samara shared was like exposing a deeply personal part of herself? A side of herself nobody except Samara had ever seen?

Why did this feel too intimate to be spoiled by prying eyes?

“...So, are you going to open it, or...?” Jacob prompted. It wasn’t lost on her that Jason, Reiley, Seanne and Rodriguez were all watching her too.

Somewhat self-conscious to that fact, Miranda cleared her throat and played the video. Samara's face appeared on the screen, lit only by a faint light. From what little Miranda could make out of the background, Samara must have recorded this on the roof of the hospital at night, most likely on her omni-tool. 

“Miranda,” the message began. “I do not...”

Samara paused, swallowing, searching for the right words. She spoke softly. Even more so than usual. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept in days. Her shoulders almost began to bow under the strain she’d placed on herself.

“As I record this, you lie unconscious in a hospital bed. You are...unable to breathe without the aid of a machine. And you have been fighting for your life, every second of every minute of every hour since I discovered you.”

There was a strange air to Samara’s words. Maybe it was just the quality of recording, or because she wasn’t even facing the screen, but normally she spoke with such a clear tone. Calm, assured and quiet, yet also confident. Her timbre never quaked or wavered or quivered. But this was different. There was an uncharacteristic hoarseness to her voice. A tremor, even.

Then again, in the days before Samara left, she’d been in and out of the wasteland so many times that she was doubtlessly exhausted. Running on empty. Of course her voice would have given out by then.

“I do not know whether...” Samara stopped herself again, finding whatever words were on the tip of her tongue too unpleasant to utter. Her eyes remained distant, fixed on the dark city below. Her head hadn’t raised an inch since she started speaking. Not even once. “Your survival is not guaranteed. However, if you are hearing this, then you have awoken. For that, I am grateful.”

On some level, Miranda had been waiting for something like this since the moment she woke up in that hospital bed. Just something from Samara. Anything at all. Some sort of acknowledgment that she was okay. To know why her friend left. To know that she hadn’t callously tossed her aside.

Now that she was holding that very thing in her hand, it didn’t seem real. Miranda didn’t know how to react. Perhaps she should have been excited, or happy, or even annoyed that Samara hadn’t left this beside her bed where it would have been easier to find. Instead there was just...quiet. And confusion.

“Do not interpret my absence as indifference to your fate; it is not,” Samara continued. That she even mentioned it at all showed that it must have troubled her to consider Miranda might believe she had no interest in her survival. She hadn’t been wrong. The thought had crossed her mind, especially in her loneliest moments. “It grieves me that I cannot be by your side.”

Hearing her finally say those words, Miranda believed her. In truth, deep down, despite her loneliness and her doubts, she’d never really questioned it. There were very few people Miranda had truly cared about, much less people who truly cared about her in return. And Samara was one of them.

There was nothing shallow or interchangeable about the rapport she shared with Samara. Those memories of the Normandy and the Citadel weren’t mere fabrications of Miranda’s imagination. That was real. And if that had all been faked, then either Miranda had to be the most gullible idiot ever to stand on two legs, or Samara was a master manipulator of the blackest deceit ever purveyed to the universe. She knew damn well that neither of those things were true.

Miranda just wished Samara was really there. And, even as she listened to her give her explanations, part of her just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t. Not that she resented her for it, but it just didn’t make sense. Samara’s Code might have been a good reason for why she’d left, but it didn’t explain why she’d done it so abruptly. Plus, she’d taken the time to record this message, but she hadn’t told Jacob she was leaving, or to give this to Miranda.

Something was just...off about all of this. It didn’t add up.

“Hey, Miss, who's that?” Reiley asked.

Miranda waved him off, refusing to be distracted. To his credit, Reiley took that as a cue to shut up and leave her in peace, at least until the end of the video.

“There is much suffering in the wake of this war. The Code compels me to go where I am needed. I cannot ignore that, even for you,” said Samara.

Miranda’s brow twinged. It was strange. Samara really didn't sound like herself, both in terms of what she was saying and how she was saying it. It was as though an unspoken thought weighed heavily on her heart. Guilt? Regret? 

Samara was silent for a long moment. She still hadn’t moved a muscle through the entire length of the video. Until a sound escaped her. Then the camera moved, and Miranda couldn’t see Samara’s face anymore. If she had recorded this on her omni-tool, the only explanation that would have made sense was if Samara had leaned forward against the railing and cradled her head in her hands.

It was two whole minutes before Samara came back into view.

“...Forgive me. I merely...I wanted...” She stopped herself again, turning aside, her eyes still yet to meet the camera. It was difficult to make out, but...it almost seemed like she was struggling to maintain her composure. But Miranda knew that couldn’t be possible, because that never happened to Samara.

Finally, Samara straightened up, as if forcing herself to continue. She tucked her free hand behind her back, staring dead ahead, but still not at the camera. 

“I know that I will not be there for you if you awaken. That is my responsibility, and a burden I have to bear. If you hate me for it, I will understand. I would welcome it, even, as it is not undeserved. But you must not think even for a moment that it is any fault of your own that I cannot stay, or that I have abandoned you. You are always in my thoughts, and I pray for your recovery.”

Miranda's eye glinted at that. If she couldn’t stay then so be it. But couldn’t she have waited a few days for her to wake up? Or left behind some means of contacting her? Was she afraid to talk to her, even from far away? Did she think that Miranda wouldn’t have understood why she had to leave, if she explained it to her? All she'd wanted was to talk to her again, or at least to enjoy the silence, knowing that if she ever truly needed Samara, she would be there. And vice versa.

And none of this answered the question of why she still hadn’t returned. It had been two months since she vanished, and this was the only word they’d had from her in all that time - a recording from the exact same day she disappeared.

“I cannot say when I will return to speak with you again, or...learn of your fate, if that is no longer a possibility.” Samara's expression didn't change, although her gaze momentarily dipped at that sombre thought. “But you are a strong woman, Miranda. Strong enough that you have not yet perished from your injuries. If it is possible for you to survive at all, then I do not believe that you will succumb.”

“Good prediction,” Jacob remarked. Miranda didn’t feel it in her heart to be able to make a wisecrack. There was an odd weight in her chest as she watched Samara speak. One that wouldn’t go away. And it was getting heavier.

A faint shadow flickered over Samara’s eyes, imperceptible to most. She hid it, but it betrayed something Miranda couldn't interpret. “...Be safe, Miranda.”

With that, the message ended. The silence that followed encompassed the room like a slow-rising flood, drowning out all sound. Miranda sat there, still, not even aware of the watchful eyes lingering on her, waiting for her to react.

It was strange. For as much as she would have expected it to lift her spirits to hear from Samara, there was this indescribable ache left behind in her wake. The same ache that had been there, gnawing away at Miranda despite her best efforts to ignore it ever since she realised Samara had left without saying goodbye.

Miranda had never been the best at identifying emotions, whether hers or others. Hence, it wasn’t a shock when she couldn’t find the words to articulate precisely what it was that she was feeling. Maybe the word for it didn’t exist. 

The truth was, she’d never felt so...conflicted.

It was funny to think. Miranda had been forced to go on the run from Cerberus for almost a year. Alone. In hiding. Unable to contact anyone she knew or cared about, because it wasn’t safe to do so. It would have exposed them to harm - it would have made them targets Cerberus could track down to try and get to her.

She’d frequently thought of her friends during those moments. Of The Normandy. Of Shepard. Of Jacob. Of Oriana, of course. And of Samara.

It hadn’t been easy, surviving like that, not knowing whether the people she cared about were in danger. She’d kept an eye on them all as best she could from afar, although with Samara that had been virtually impossible, given she moved often and left little trace of her presence anywhere.

There had been many days back then where Miranda missed her companionship, not merely because craved a reprieve from her isolation, but because, frankly, simply being around Samara had a way of making everything better, and of making all her problems seem smaller than they did a moment ago. It was like her very aura conveyed a silent promise that, no matter what happened, everything would turn out okay in the end. Miranda needed that sometimes.

And yet...it hadn’t hurt nearly as much to lose contact with Samara back then as it did now, even though by all rights they were so much closer.

She swallowed, choosing to ignore it.

“Thank you for bringing me that, Jacob,” Miranda told him sincerely. For as much as her heart seemed divided against itself, it was still a net comfort to hear from Samara, if a small one. At least she knew Samara had left of her own volition, which meant Miranda had answered one question weighing on her mind.

“Sounds like you two were close,” Jacob observed.

“Yeah, we were,” Miranda confirmed. So much so that it seemed a simple recording wasn’t enough to fill the hollowness of still not knowing where Samara was, or whether she was okay, or whether she would ever come back.

“I never knew that about you,” said Jacob, sitting somewhat sideways in his chair, with his elbow on the table. “I mean, not that I'm surprised. But I don't think I ever really saw you two talk or hang out on the ship. Figured I would have heard about you doing that if it was a regular occurrence.”

“Nobody else spent much time on the Starboard Observation Deck, so I suppose no one noticed,” Miranda pointed out. And it was true. It wasn’t as though they’d been hiding it, and yet only a small handful of people had gleaned any insight into their growing friendship. And only a few more people than that had seen them train together. “Samara was the person I could always go to when I didn't want to be around anyone else. Which was...quite often, actually.”

Jacob shrugged nonchalantly. “Makes sense to me. Always thought you two would get along.”

Miranda snorted and arched her eyebrow. “Let me guess, because we're both cold and robotic and incapable of having fun?” 

“Hey, you said that, not me.” Miranda just looked at him. Jacob uncomfortably cleared his throat. “...Well, I mean, you're not wrong about having a certain...demeanour in common, but that wasn't what I was thinking.”

“What then?” she asked.

“For starters, how about you're both smart, capable, determined women who could recognise and respect those qualities in each other?” Jacob suggested, almost resenting the fact that he had to profess his innocence. “Or that you're a refined, elegant woman who would probably feel far more inclined to talk to someone with Samara's wisdom and maturity than you would to the average person, since she can engage with you on that level where most can’t?”

Miranda summoned the energy to smirk, though it didn’t reach her eye. “You’re already invited to dinner, Jacob. The flattery really isn’t necessary.” Jacob rolled his eyes, realising she'd been messing with him.

“So who was that woman, anyway?” Both Jacob and Miranda glanced over when Jason broke the silence. For a few seconds, they’d honestly forgotten the kids were still there. “Some kind of ex-girlfriend or something?”

Jacob chuckled when Miranda released a slightly exasperated sigh at that question. He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know that wasn’t the first time they’d pestered her about her personal life, nor that it wouldn’t be the last. “No, Prangley. A friend. And the person who saved my life.”

“Oh. Dope,” Prangley replied. Miranda gave a good-natured roll of her eye, but the response was almost forced, a fact that wasn’t lost on Jacob.

“We’ll start getting dinner ready,” Rodriguez volunteered, since it was her turn to cook. Not that there was much she could do with such limited resources, but the girl got points for enthusiasm. “Will Mr. Taylor be joining us?”

“I will, actually. Thank you,” Jacob confirmed.

Miranda didn’t notice that his eyes had remained fixed on her. Her thoughts were centred on Samara’s message, replaying it in her head, trying to decipher why it had left her so...unresolved, and in so many disparate headspaces at once.

“Hey.” Jacob gently nudged her good knee with his. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answered. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You just seem…” He trailed off and shook his head, not able to put his finger on exactly what was different about her demeanour. “I don’t know.”

Miranda gave him a look. “Thank you for that assessment, Jacob.”

He laughed despite himself, that response appearing to satisfy him that Miranda was perfectly normal. For her, anyway. “Alright, point taken. But see? Didn’t I tell you Samara hadn’t forgotten about you?”

“You did. It’s nice to hear it from the source, though.” Miranda glanced down, a distracting thought in the back of her mind. “She didn’t outright say that she would be coming back, did she? Do you think she intends to, or...?”

“Hard to say. Samara’s always been a mystery to me,” Jacob pointed out.

“...Right.” Miranda unconsciously toyed with a loose thread on the couch, trying to ignore that indescribable ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

“You’ll have to tell me about how you became friends, sometime,” Jacob commented, patting her on the leg as he got up, moving to go help the kids with the cooking.

“Yeah. I’ll do that…” Miranda vacantly uttered.

She had absolutely no intention of doing that.

*     *     *

It was a good thing that Shepard had installed those ship upgrades. Going through the Omega-4 Relay had been no easy feat.

Miranda and Mordin had raced down to the cargo hold with Shepard to fight off an oculus that cut its way through the hull. Multiple shockwaves had resonated through the ship as they battled the oculus. They had to fight on, not knowing what they meant, whether anyone had died, or how far they were from the base. Fortunately, everyone had escaped unharmed. Although, The Normandy wasn’t in such good shape. It had crash-landed just shy of the Collector Base.

A mission briefing had been called, the plan made, the roles decided. Miranda was charged with leading the second fireteam into the base. Tali had been appointed the tech specialist, infiltrating the base through a thermal vent and bypassing the security doors so the two squads could rendezvous inside and move on deeper, towards the central core.

It hadn’t been easy. If not for Miranda and the others providing covering fire, Tali damn near might have got her head shot off trying to seal the doors shut behind Shepard, Thane and Garrus.

Somehow, despite all the odds, they’d made it through the first phase in one piece. No lives lost. They even found the crew alive. The colonists from Horizon weren’t so lucky. If they’d been even a few seconds later, the crew would have…

No. They hadn’t failed them. That was all that mattered.

Shepard sent Kasumi to escort the crew back to the ship, certain that they were in no fit state to fight off any Collectors by themselves after all they’d been through.

For everyone else who would continue moving forward, the problem was that they still needed to get through the seeker swarms. They were denser here. And Mordin’s countermeasures wouldn’t work on that many. A biotic field was suggested as the best way through, though that would only be sufficient to protect a small team. Miranda had volunteered, though Jack had protested and suggested she go instead. Perhaps deliberately taking a third option, Shepard had chosen Samara to hold up the barrier. In the meantime, Garrus would take over leading the rest of the squad through a secondary path EDI had pointed out to them.

“Miranda, Jacob, you’re with me,” said Andrea, everyone’s orders confirmed.

“Just stay focused; I’ve got your back,” Miranda assured Samara, receiving a nod of understanding from her as they left, following Shepard and Jacob.

Shepard took point. “Stay alert; they could come from anywhere.”

And so the long walk began.

Samara found it easy at first, pinging those wasp-like creatures off her biotic bubble like raindrops bursting on glass. The effort didn’t appear to phase her at all. But, just as it began to seem like it was far too easy for comfort, it was quickly confirmed that their presence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Collectors inbound!” Miranda called out, signalling for Samara to take cover.

“ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL,” Harbinger announced his presence.

Gunfire rang out, combined with biotic attacks. Samara took shelter where she could, only concerned with maintaining the barrier as the others took aim at the incoming hostiles. It didn’t seem to be troubling her, but she couldn’t divert her hands to do anything else. Couldn’t pick up a gun. Couldn’t fire off a reave. If a Collector got close to her, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself.  

Miranda made it her personal mission to stay near the back of the group, determined to ensure not a damn thing touched Samara. Neither Shepard nor Jacob seemed to take any issue with that arrangement.

“Coast is clear,” Jacob confirmed after the Harbinger dropped. Trusting her allies implicitly, Samara emerged once more, ready to continue the long walk.

“You okay?” Miranda checked in with her, keeping an eye out for danger as she walked at Samara’s side. Shepard and Jacob kept further forward, their attention on the path ahead, scanning for any approaching threats.

“You will be the first to know if I am not,” Samara assured her, certain that Miranda was the best option to take over from her if her barrier broke, although in theory Shepard and Jacob could also do so if necessary. If that thin bubble of energy wasn’t maintained the whole way, they would all perish to the swarms.

It seemed like they couldn’t make it twenty metres without another wave of Collectors or their husks coming for them. Wave after wave. Harbinger possessing footsoldier after footsoldier. They knew this would be a long walk. But, considering how much effort Samara was exerting on that barrier, each passing minute must have felt twice as long as the last, the strain on her body growing exponentially the longer they spent pinned down in these firefights.

Gradually, Samara began to buckle under the weight of her barrier. She had been repelling those seeker swarms for so long. And the end of the line seemed to creep further and further away the closer they got.

By the third time Samara had to force herself out of cover to start moving again, she was stumbling, barely managing to drag her feet forward.

Husks and abominations crawled up from either side, but there was nowhere for Samara to hide, nor did it seem like she had the strength to stop and wait another time. If she crouched down one more time, it was more than likely that she simply wouldn’t be able to stand up again. The others just had to react fast, and take down any foes before they got close enough to pose a threat to her. 

Eventually, they caught sight of a tunnel ahead. The way out.

“Samara…” Miranda stayed by her side, concern colouring her voice, ready to take over from her if she couldn’t do this anymore.

Samara gritted her teeth, willing herself to bear it. “We must reach the end. I will not give in,” she growled under her breath, using what remained of her strength to pick up her pace, running as best she could despite the pressure bearing down on her, not sure she could hold on if they were forced to slow down again. 

“Hold on, we’re almost there,” Andrea assured her, seeing the doors in sight. 

One by one, taking turns providing covering fire, they each leapt over a waist-high wall that stood between them and the ramp down to the exit. How Samara was still standing by that point, Miranda would never know. Miranda stayed a few paces back, protecting the rear and picking off any hostiles she could from the sizeable squad of Collectors approaching them from behind.

“We have to move quickly, Shepard,” Miranda called out. If they didn’t, either Samara’s barrier would give, or the Collectors would soon outnumber them.

“Alright, let’s move!” Shepard urged. One after another, the Collectors charged in, running through the barrier, only to be gunned down in a hail of fire. They didn’t care if it was suicide. That wouldn’t stop them. “They’re pushing! Keep it up!”

“Hurry, Shepard,” Samara all but pleaded, her voice weakening.

Jacob dashed back for the door, opening up a path to relative safety. Shepard stayed with Samara, while Miranda guarded the edge of the barrier.

Miranda could see there were more seekers now than ever, and they were starting to break through the barrier. There were too many of them to be stopped. The buzzing was so damn loud, it was as if they were inside her skull. The beating of their wings felt like ten thousand pinpricks against her skin. The swarm was a living hurricane bearing down on her. Unprotected. Alone. 

In that instant, Miranda abruptly realised just how isolated she had become, in the space of mere seconds. Those few metres between her and the rest of her squad suddenly felt like a mile. And those Collectors were damn close.

“Miranda!” Shepard called out, seeing both Collectors and seekers converging on her, trying to overwhelm the barrier, threatening to consume her alive.

Before anyone could try and stop her, Samara marched forward with a look in her eyes that none of them had ever seen before, reaching Miranda’s side. Without saying a word, Samara thrust both hands forward and released a colossal biotic wave that surged through the entire chamber like a tsunami, unleashing such force that the ground shook beneath Miranda’s feet.

And then there was silence.

There was no barrier anymore. No noise, but for Miranda’s own heavy breathing echoing in her ears. As quickly as they had converged, those dozens of Collectors and thousands of seekers that had been around them a moment ago were now gone. Not just dead. Gone. Disintegrated in a flash. The seekers that remained were so few, and so distant that they didn’t even seem to notice their presence.

Her job done, Samara turned and calmly strode through the door, unfazed.

It took Miranda little more than a moment to shake off her stupor and regather her bearings, picking off the last few seekers from range as she backed through the doors to safety, Jacob sealing the way shut behind her.

Miranda allowed herself a second to catch her breath, since it seemed they had found themselves a place of relative safety in which to recover. She did a quick scan of her surroundings, making sure nobody was hurt. 

Samara met her gaze across the small gap between them, evidently checking on her comrades in the same way that Miranda was. They exchanged silent nods, as if to confirm they were both alright. To Miranda’s surprise, despite how close Samara had been to her breaking point a moment ago, there was no trace of that exhaustion now. Maybe she was a little winded, sure, but no more than the rest of them. There was every indication she could still fight.

Miranda had to admit, she was relieved that Shepard hadn’t chosen her to hold up the barrier. Sure, in theory she could have gotten them all the way to the end, but the raw power Samara had unleashed just then? Miranda had never seen anything like that before, let alone found anything close to that within herself.

When it came to biotics, Samara was just on a different level entirely. 

The fleeting reprieve was swiftly interrupted when Garrus radioed in under heavy fire. Without delay, they hurried over to open the door to let the second team in. For a moment, it looked like Garrus had been wounded, but his armour had protected him from any harm, much to Shepard’s relief.

The squad regrouped in a moment of calm once more. Joker confirmed that Kasumi and the crew had made it back to The Normandy with no casualties.

“Excellent. Now, let’s make it count. EDI, what’s our next step?” asked Miranda.

“There should be some nearby platforms that will take you to the main control console. From there, you can overload the system and destroy the base.”

“Commander? You’ve got a problem,” Joker quickly interrupted EDI. “Hostiles massing just outside the door. Won’t be long until they bust through.”

Drawing everyone’s attention, Shepard climbed up onto the platform EDI had spoken of. “We need to finish this before they get through.”

Seeing a solution, Miranda didn’t hesitate to volunteer it. “Pick a team to go with you, and leave the others here to defend this position. That should buy you some time.” It was a dangerous job, sure, but Miranda knew this squad well enough to trust that they would hold the line to their last breath if that was what it took to allow Shepard to make it to the heart of the base and destroy it from within.

Andrea agreed with her call. “Mordin, Miranda, you’ll be with me,” Shepard confirmed. Miranda nodded, expecting nothing less. 

Andrea gave them a few moments to divide amongst themselves any remaining thermal clips and stocks of medigel. If anyone ran out now, that would be it. As she took the opportunity to restock and check her weapons, Miranda couldn’t help but run her eyes across the group one last time, wondering if there were any faces among them she would never see again.

“I would wish you good fortune for the battle ahead but, knowing you, I am certain you will not need it,” Samara’s voice prompted Miranda to turn towards her.

Miranda met her with a small half-smile. “I’ll take it anyway,” she said. It wasn’t lost on her that they’d both kept their respective promises to get each other this far. From this point on, they would be separated. It would be out of their hands. 

Miranda had to admit, she was a little worried. She had seen how much it had taken out of Samara to hold up that barrier, especially towards the end. Although she was carrying herself remarkably well, she couldn’t help but hold a kernel of doubt in her mind, that maybe she was in a far worse condition than she was willing to show. But, that being said, having eight others around her to protect her made this far and away the safest option for Samara right now.

It would have made Miranda feel a little less anxious if she could count herself among that number, though. But she couldn’t be in two places at once. And, at the end of the day, there was no way in hell Miranda would let Shepard go to the core of the Collector Base without her. Chances were, she’d need her there.

“Samara,” Miranda caught her eye as she ejected and replaced a thermal clip. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?” she said, a promise on her part, and seeking the same confirmation from Samara.

Her words were met with uncharacteristic hesitation. Uncertainty. It didn’t seem like there was any confusion about what Miranda was asking. More that she was asking Samara to swear to a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.

Samara’s eyes dipped, as if avoiding the answer. “Miranda, I...I do not kn--”

Miranda reached out and touched Samara’s arm, cutting her off. “Promise me,” she insisted, not willing to leave until she heard it. Until she knew that Samara would do everything it took to keep herself safe, and to get back to The Normandy in one piece. Until they both parted ways knowing this wouldn’t be the last conversation they would ever have. Because Samara was many things, but above all else she was true to her word.

If she gave Miranda her oath on this, then it was because she truly meant it. And she would dedicate every fibre of her being to keeping her pledge.

Samara stared at her in a heavy silence. Miranda held her gaze expectantly, not yielding until she heard the answer she wanted in response. 

After a few seconds, Samara nodded, finding the strength to stand a little straighter, even after the long walk she’d endured. “Of course,” she said, committing to that vow. “Until we meet again.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Miranda’s lip. That was good enough for her.

“Ready up. We’re moving out,” Shepard gave the command, unable to spare any more time. The Collectors would break down that door any second now.

Miranda didn’t need to be told that twice. “I’m ready, Commander,” she said, hopping onto the platform at Shepard’s side, ready to face whatever lay at the heart of the Collector Base. “Anything to say before we do this?”

“The Collectors, the Reapers, they aren’t a threat to us. They’re a threat to everything - everyone. Those are the lives we’re fighting for. That’s the scale,” Andrea reminded them all, locking eyes with each member of her squad in turn. “It’s been a long journey, and no one’s comin’ out without scars.”

Grunt slammed his fists together, eager get his hands on whatever came through that door, and to make damn sure not one of them got to Shepard.

“But it all comes down to this moment,” Shepard continued. “We win or lose it all in the next few minutes. Make me proud. Make yourselves proud.”

“Well said,” said Miranda, and she meant it. For all her accomplishments, when all was said and done, there was not a single accolade among them which made Miranda feel prouder than she did fighting alongside Shepard in this moment. Not just as her second-in-command. But as her friend. “Let’s go finish this.”

With that, the platform began to move.

*     *     *

Miranda had been in Jack’s position only a few weeks ago. She knew how mind-numbingly tedious it was to be stuck in a hospital bed. Helping her pass the time every now and then seemed like the least she could do to repay her for saving her life twice in the same day. The fact that Jack hadn’t immediately kicked Miranda out yet indicated she was more desperate for distraction than she was letting on.

Given that neither of them enjoyed the idea of talking to each other much if at all, Miranda (with some prompting from Jacob) had come up with the idea of passing the time by other means. Last Sunday, they’d played cards. Today, it was chess. It was actually working surprisingly well as a means of keeping Jack occupied without having to speak to each other much.

Jack moved her rook to take a pawn. Miranda took advantage, moving her queen to take that same rook, leaving the king trapped. “Checkmate,” said Miranda, already resetting the board. “Good game. Play again?”

“Sure.” Jack shrugged. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

Jack hadn’t caught on yet, but Miranda was pulling her punches. Jack might have had more experience than her at certain games of cards, but Miranda had learned chess from an early age, since her father saw intellectual value in it.

She hadn’t played seriously in twenty years, but Miranda had forgotten less than she thought. Jack, by contrast, barely knew the names of the pieces.

The gap between them was such that, without even really having to try, Miranda would have won every single game with ease had she not consciously made the choice to lose roughly thirty percent of the time. Part of her was tempted to take the gloves off and do just that. But she was self-aware enough to recognise that refusing to hold back might have been cruel given the circumstances. Plus, it would definitely piss Jack off to get annihilated by someone she hated.

So, instead, Miranda hampered herself, acting worse at the game than she was, deliberately letting Jack get wins here and there, delaying victories to drag games out longer, or letting them go to a stalemate, making it seem like they were more evenly matched than they were. It didn’t matter to her really. The ultimate goal was simply to pass time after all, as much for herself as for Jack.

The truth was, Miranda needed something to distract her from her own thoughts for a while too, even if humouring Jack at chess wasn’t particularly exciting. Between her search for the Normandy’s lost, the endless sleepless nights, and trying to avoid deciphering her complicated feelings about Samara’s absence, anything that helped her to take her mind off things would do.

It was either that or beg Bailey to let her work Sundays, but something told her that raising that subject with him more than the twelve times she already had would be considered undignified. 

“...How’re the tykes treatin’ you?” Jack eventually broke the silence when they were both a few moves into the next game, head lethargically resting on her hand. They hardly spoke whenever Miranda did visit like this, not that there had been many occasions to judge from. Boredom really must have gotten the better of her if she was resorting to asking her former nemesis to talk.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Miranda answered, moving her queen to take a pawn, intentionally leaving her king exposed. “We seem to be getting on.”

“You can tell me the truth,” said Jack, correctly picking up that Miranda had been actively refraining from being critical of Jack’s students in front of her. “If they’re being assholes, they’re being assholes.”

Miranda sighed. She supposed if she and Jack really were trying to turn over a new leaf with each other, there was no harm in being honest with her. “They’re getting to the point where they’re comfortable testing my boundaries. But it’s alright. I knew what I was signing up for. It’s your move, by the way.”

“Oh, shit.” Jack picked up a bishop, turning it between her fingers as she looked for an available move. There was no mistaking that she was tired. It was hard to sleep when forced to stay in bed all day every day, but for rare exceptions like this. Miranda wasn’t sleeping any better herself. She was just better at hiding it.

“I have overheard a few remarks that I’m not exactly a fan of. According to Nitin and Deacon, I’m ‘pretty hot for a woman with half her face burned off’,” Miranda recounted. Jack snickered. “At least that one was a compliment.”

“Yeah. They’re jerks like that. But they’re teenage boys. What’re you gonna do?” Jack said with a shrug, eventually deciding to take a knight. “Check.”

“I just ignore them,” Miranda casually replied, moving her king. That had always been her approach to unwanted comments, regardless of the age or gender of the source. Miranda had gotten used to people talking behind her back pretty early in life, and it had only gotten worse when she joined Cerberus. Most of the time, it was just background noise that she didn’t even notice anymore.

“They said all kinds of shit like that about me too when I first started teaching. It’s some kind of macho bullshit thing. Whatever,” Jack distractedly muttered, completely oblivious to the easy victory Miranda had left open for her, failing to spot the possible checkmate and instead moving a knight to take a pawn.

“Right.” Miranda rapped her fingers against the table. She actually had to think for a moment. She didn’t want to do anything that would make it look like she was throwing the game. But, by the same token, she’d won the last two rounds, so she needed to let Jack win this one.

“I heard you got a message from Samara,” Jack piped up.

Miranda glanced up, caught off-guard by that. “I’m sorry?”

“Jacob told me. Said he found a message from her,” Jack tried to make something resembling polite conversation. “How is the old lady?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Miranda shut that down, focusing on the board.

Jack blinked. “Huh?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Miranda said again, moving her queen to take Jack’s bishop.

Jack furrowed her brows. “Well, geez. Fuck me for asking, right? I thought she saved your fuckin’ life or something. How was I supposed to know you were pissed off at her or whatever the fuck happened?”

“I’m not,” Miranda insisted. It was only once the words left her mouth that she realised she’d said that a little too loudly. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “I’m not. I’m extremely grateful to Samara. I’m just…”

Miranda trailed off, realising she didn’t know how to finish that sentence without acknowledging that she was trying to avoid thinking about her, which would also mean acknowledging the fact that she still couldn’t entirely understand why she wanted to avoid thinking about her, beyond the fact that the unnamed ache in her chest grew heavier every time she did.

“It’s your move,” Miranda quietly muttered, giving up on endeavouring to explain something she didn’t have an explanation for.

Jack shook her head and sighed, evidently having zero interest in the inner workings of Miranda’s mind.

With that, Jack finally did as Miranda anticipated and moved her queen next to Miranda’s king, trapping it, with the said queen protected from the king by Jack’s rook. Except Jack said nothing, waiting for her opponent to take her turn.

Miranda almost had to do a double-take, making sure she hadn’t miscalculated.

“That’s checkmate,” Miranda pointed out.

Jack glanced up, barely paying attention. “Huh?”

“You’ve put me in checkmate,” Miranda reiterated.

Jack looked down at the board. It took her a moment before she realised Miranda was right. Something clicked. How the fuck was Miranda losing when she was following the game closer than Jack was? “...Wait, are you letting me win?” she asked, affronted by the thought.

“No. I’m too competitive to do that,” Miranda lied. 

Jack saw right through it, groaning unhappily. “You fuckin’ cunt, now I can’t even pretend to give a shit about this,” she complained, swiping the back of her hand across the table, carelessly knocking over a few pieces as she spoke.

There was no point in deceiving her any longer. “It’s not really fair to you if I don’t hold back. I’ve been playing since I was three.”

“Of course you fuckin’ have…” Jack grumbled.

“Sorry,” Miranda offered, more out of social obligation than anything resembling actual remorse, leaning down and picking up some of the pieces Jack had knocked over.

“I think I liked you better when you were an unapologetic bitch,” Jack unhappily remarked, almost lamenting the fact that the new Miranda took whatever jabs she threw at her without any retaliation. “At least back then you were honest about how fake you were.”

Miranda didn’t blink as she picked up the last pieces, unoffended by Jack’s opinion of her, even if her efforts to improve their relationship were proving fruitless so far. “In that case, do you want me to go hard on you?” Miranda nonchalantly replied, resetting the board. If Jack wanted a challenge, she would gladly oblige.

“I don’t even fucking care at this point…” Jack wearily admitted, definitely at that stage of her recovery where all the days were starting to blur together into a dull grey mush.

“Okay. But you asked for this. And don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Miranda, not about to take the blame when Jack got absolutely destroyed. 

Jack snorted at Miranda’s...Miranda-ness. “Drink bleach, eyepatch. Bring it on.”

Miranda won the next game in less than two minutes.

Jack blinked. “No fucking way.” Miranda just flicked her eye down at the board again, a decisive checkmate. She had told her, after all. “You could have done that this whole time?” Jack queried, narrowing her stare at her.

Instead of answering, Miranda simply shrugged her shoulder. The evidence spoke for itself, didn’t it? Of course she could have.

“...Well, fuck, now I have to beat you.” Jack leaned forward in her chair, studying the board more intently, motivated to try and get the better of her rival now that she’d had her ass handed to her.

Miranda arched her eyebrow. Really? That was what it took to wake Jack up?

Perhaps she should have gone all out sooner.

Before they could start the next game, Miranda’s communicator went off. She checked the incoming call, and recognised it was coming from someone important. Someone she’d been waiting to hear from. “I have to take this.”

Jack waved her hand dismissively, too busy studying the board and retracing the sequence that had entrapped her so quickly, trying to figure out exactly what Miranda had done in the last game, and how she could counter it.

“Doctor Michel,” Miranda greeted her. “How can I help you?”

“Ms Lawson. Have I caught you at a good time?” Dr Michel asked.

“Good enough.” Miranda’s eye flicked up to Jack momentarily. It didn’t seem like she was paying any attention to their conversation. She turned to her side and lowered her voice slightly. “Is this in relation to my matter?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Have you made any progress?”

“In a manner of speaking. My team and I have been working through that list of names you gave us. Your old crewmates.” There was a pause. “We...think we may have some answers for what happened to some of them.”

Miranda could tell from her tone that something was wrong. Her voice sounded sombre. Almost regretful. “...This isn’t good news, is it?” Miranda said quietly, more a statement than a question.

“Unfortunately not.” Doctor Michel sighed, evidently empathising with her position. “There’s no easy way for me to say this, but...we’ve recovered some bodies. As the senior officer of the Normandy, we would like you to identify them.”

Miranda’s heart sank all the way to her feet. Jack couldn’t overhear Doctor Michel’s side of the call, but she straightened up curiously, as if noticing a change in Miranda’s demeanour. She must have looked as pale as she felt, like life itself had just drained from her face.

“...Ms Lawson?” Doctor Michel’s voice broke her heavy silence.

Miranda swallowed, composing herself. “I understand. I’ll head there immediately,” she said solemnly. “Thank you for telling me.” She closed the channel before Doctor Michel could say anything else, not ready to hear it. “I have to go,” she said, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair, needing to see who they’d found - to confirm whether they really were some of their own.

“What is it?” Jack asked, sensing something was wrong. “Who was that?”

“That was Dr Michel. She’s an old friend of Garrus’s. She’s been overseeing identification efforts at the mortuary. I gave her details of everyone from The Normandy. Asked her to look,” Miranda answered, her tone vacant. “They’ve found some bodies. They think they might be…”

“...Ours?” Jack finished on her behalf. Miranda’s silence confirmed it. “Fuck. Yeah. Go. Go,” Jack urged, realising the importance of this, and not envying Miranda for being the one who had to confront it.

Miranda didn’t linger a moment longer than that.

*     *     *

They’d found out what the Collectors wanted. Why humans were disappearing. Nobody could have foreseen that the answer would be so...grotesque. 

All those people. Alone. Afraid. Processed into sludge while still alive. And for what purpose? To be used as the base material to craft the very tool of humanity’s own destruction. To be transmuted into the building blocks for the creation of a brand new Reaper. A human Reaper.

By the time they managed to kill that thing, the Collector Base had already started collapsing in on itself. Thankfully, those left behind to hold the line had already made it back to the ship ahead of them. 

Miranda, Mordin and Shepard barely made it back to The Normandy before the blast consumed the entire base, their battered ship outrunning the explosion by the thinnest of margins. A daring escape from an impossible mission.

It was only once Miranda counted heads that she confirmed not a single soul was missing. The ship was barely holding together, but as far as the crew...nobody died. It was supposed to be a suicide mission. Yet, somehow, they hadn’t lost a single life.

For a moment, it almost seemed too good to be true. Like there had to be some sort of catch they just didn’t know about yet. Like the worst was still yet to come.

There wasn’t much time to take it in, though. It was all hands on deck conducting urgent repairs to The Normandy, patching up as many holes as they could to keep the damn thing spaceworthy. They were certainly in no condition to jump through a mass relay right away. Even with the Collector Base gone, nobody wanted to linger around there longer than they absolutely had to.

Miranda lost count of the hours as she oversaw the crew, taking in status reports from EDI, redirecting attention where it was needed, running simulations to check whether the repairs would hold. She was deeply absorbed in diagnostics when Shepard placed a hand on her shoulder, nearly startling her out of her number-crunching stupor.

“Hey. Relax,” said Shepard, not failing to notice that Miranda was uncharacteristically jumpy.

Miranda released a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, disappointed in herself for that slip of composure. Of course it was only Shepard. Who was she expecting it to be? The mission was over but, evidently, she was still a little on edge. Perhaps the adrenaline hadn’t fully worked its way out of her system yet.

“What do you need, Commander?” Miranda asked, ever the professional, even when she felt more...frayed than usual.

“After all we’ve just been through, and from what I’ve seen around here? Right now, I need everyone to stop and take a rest for a moment. That includes you,” said Andrea, fixing her with a telling look.

“Commander--” Miranda’s protestations were cut short, as if they’d been expected.

“We’ve been at this for hours. We aren’t in any danger right now, and there’s no way we’re going to be in a position to move tonight,” Shepard pointed out. Her eyes briefly studied Miranda’s face. If even Miranda’s concentration was starting to slip, then what did that say about how the rest of the crew must be feeling? “When’s the last time you took a break? Or had something to eat?”

“I’m fine, Commander. I don’t tire easily,” Miranda assured her. Although she had her limits, as anyone did, she could function on very little food and sleep compared to the average person, and sustain unhealthy habits for a good while longer than anyone else would be able to before the strain started to show.

“Okay. Sure. But everyone else does. And you should set an example for them,” Shepard replied, earning an annoyed scoff from Miranda. Leave it to Andrea to still find a way to twist her own superhuman endurance around on her. “Hey, we’ve all earned the right to stop and catch our breath for a minute. Even you,” she said softly, lightly touching Miranda’s arm, urging her to take care of herself.

Miranda didn’t have the energy to argue. Truth be told, her head had been reeling pretty much all day, and it hadn’t stopped since they got back. It was like her subconscious didn’t realise the fight was over, and she didn’t still have to be in survival mode. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to gather her bearings before getting back to business.

“We’re getting out of here tomorrow, Commander,” Miranda responded, making it clear that she was only willing to acquiesce if Shepard gave her word on that. “That’s a hard deadline.”

“You’ll get it done. I know it,” said Shepard, giving a nod as she walked past, prepared to tell everyone else to lay their tools down, just for a little bit.

Right when she started to leave, a thought occurred to Miranda. “Shepard?” she called after her, earning a secondary glance. “After we put this ship back together...there’s still a lot to do, yeah? A lot of assignments we never finished.” Miranda let that suggestion hang, searching Andrea’s gaze as she spoke, hoping she wasn’t making a fool of herself by asking what she was asking.

She wasn’t used to being in this position. In fact, she’d never been in this position before. Of wanting to stay around other people. And hoping those other people, on some level, felt the same way about her.

They might have finished their critical mission, but, if Miranda was being honest with herself, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to The Normandy yet. Though she wouldn’t have believed it a few months ago, she wasn’t ready for everyone to go their separate ways all of a sudden. She didn’t want to lose contact with all the people she’d only just started to grow close to, nor did she want to lose the better version of herself she was gradually transforming into here.

As hard as it was to admit to anyone else, Miranda liked it here. Honestly, being on The Normandy was the second best thing that had ever happened to her, and the closest thing she’d ever had to a place that felt like home - a place she belonged. She didn’t want this to be the end. Not just yet. Maybe not ever.

Judging by the twinkle in her eye, Shepard seemed to understand Miranda’s meaning completely, and not just on a surface level. “Tomorrow,” Andrea told her reassuringly, saving that conversation for a later date, when they were both a little more clear-headed.

Miranda didn’t know what to make of that answer, but didn’t stop Shepard as she walked away. She wasn’t great at reading people, but it felt like they were on the same page. In any event, they could discuss it at length once they hit the relay.  

With that, Miranda headed back to her office. For as easy as it was for Andrea to tell her she should just kick back and relax for a few hours, that was one of the few things Miranda actually found much, much harder to do than a normal person would. It wasn’t in her DNA to relax, even at the best of times, let alone now. Despite everything, she wasn’t tired. If anything, she was still far too wired to sleep. She needed something to keep her busy. For her, that was therapy.

Operating purely on instinct, Miranda switched on her computer and immediately began typing her report on the mission, as she always did. It was only once she was a few paragraphs in that she abruptly stopped. It was then that it clicked, and she remembered. She didn’t report to anyone anymore.

For the first time since she was sixteen, Miranda was on her own. Not part of Cerberus. Not an agent of The Illusive Man. And it was at that point that the penny truly dropped. What had happened. What it all meant. And that there was no going back. That door had slammed shut forever. And she didn’t regret it.

Miranda exhaled heavily and sat back in her chair, running the fingers of her left hand across her forehead, massaging her temples between her thumb and ring finger, finally processing what had transpired back there.

She still couldn’t understand what The Illusive Man had been thinking when he instructed them to keep the Collector Base. It didn’t make any sense. Miranda had been there to see with her own eyes what had been done to the missing colonists. Nothing good could possibly have come out of that factory of death. Its sole purpose was to liquify living beings, and create Reapers.

So why? Why would he want to keep that horrible place around? What use could he possibly hope to gain from it? There was no justification for that. No defence.

When he’d ordered Miranda to stop Shepard from destroying the base, a line had been crossed - one that Miranda hadn’t even known existed until he crossed it. In the moment, it hadn’t been a question what she would do. She hadn’t even blinked. She’d handed in her resignation effective immediately, and shut off The Illusive Man before he could say another word. She hadn’t thought twice about it. And she’d gone on to stand with Shepard to kill that fucking human Reaper monstrosity and blow that godforsaken place to smithereens.

Admittedly, given the urgency of the situation, she hadn’t had much of an opportunity at the time to pause to consider the full ramifications of her actions, but by the same token Miranda had also been well aware of what she was doing before she made her choice. She was no fool, and she didn’t do anything lightly. She knew perfectly well how dangerous Cerberus was to cross, especially for a valuable asset like her. Someone who knew more of their secrets than just about anyone else. Someone who, given the right data, could even point to the physical location of The Illusive Man himself.

In the space of an instant, she’d almost certainly gone from being one of Cerberus’s most trusted agents to being their number one enemy. That was going to be fun to deal with in the future. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it, she supposed.

It was strange to think how quickly a previously inexorable part of her life had been terminated, faster than a snap of her fingers. In a way, Miranda almost didn’t know who she was without them. She’d never worked for anyone else. The last of her teenage years and her entire adult life had been shaped almost solely by Cerberus. She’d planned her whole future around advancing through their ranks, maybe even taking The Illusive Man’s place one day. Her life was her career, and her career was her life. She would have to rethink all of that now.

And then there was The Illusive Man. A man she’d spent most of the last nineteen years admiring as a leader and as a mentor. A man whose example she’d aspired to follow in many ways. Hell, he’d been more of a father to her than her own father had ever been, not that that was saying much.

For as mysterious and unknowable as he was, in all those long years that Miranda had worked for him, and worked for Cerberus, she’d never seen anything that would have led her to predict what happened back there. That they could have been worlds apart on such a fundamental issue.

Despite what other people thought about her, she had never been blindly loyal to Cerberus. She had her own thoughts. Her own opinions. Her own personal sense of right and wrong. Admittedly, ethics had always taken a backseat to pragmatism and necessity in her view, but the ends had to justify the means. The reason Cerberus operated outside the law was because the law got in the way of the greater good - of what needed to be done to protect human lives. 

If she had been unwavering in her commitment to Cerberus in the past, it was because they’d never given Miranda any reason not to be. Nothing she’d seen in the inner workings of the organisation had raised any alarms. She would have left years ago if she’d witnessed something she couldn’t tolerate. But she never had.

And yet, Miranda would have been lying if she claimed that The Illusive Man’s actions had come as a complete shock that day. They hadn’t. Maybe they would have a few months ago. But not now.

Ever since she’d joined the crew of the Normandy, Miranda had started to see sides to Cerberus she’d never seen before. Or rather, and more accurately, it had started to become untenable for every potential deal-breaker ever attributed to Cerberus to be conveniently blamed on rogue cells - people who had turned their back on The Illusive Man and acted without his knowledge or consent. How much longer could Miranda pretend to keep buying that excuse before she was officially part of the cult, refusing to accept the evidence of her own eyes and ears?

The truth had been right in front of Miranda the whole time, hadn’t it? If she went digging now, especially with the aid of the Shadow Broker, she was sure she would be able to find direct orders from The Illusive Man authorising all those projects he denied. Probably even the institution where Jack and those other biotic children had been tortured. She could have uncovered it all a long time ago. She’d just never wanted to see it before. 

Perhaps she really was the blind loyalist everyone else thought she was all along.

Perhaps she really was that big of a fool.

Miranda’s fingertips wearily caressed her brow one last time. So much for taking a break or relaxing. There would be none of that with such heavy thoughts taking a taxing toll on her.

There was only one person she could turn to when her mind was racing like this. One person who invariably made her feel better. Not by doing or saying anything. Just by being around. So she went to her, as she always did.

She found Samara at the window when she entered the Starboard Observation Deck, overlooking the abyss. Unusually, Samara seemed distracted. So much so that she didn’t even hear the doors hiss shut. Her sober expression betrayed a creeping malaise. Her posture was tense. Her unfocused eyes, quite literally staring into space. It was clear she was deep in introspection of some kind.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” Miranda broke the silence.

Her voice shook Samara from her rumination, prompting her to turn. Samara’s expression shifted, mustering a faint smile. “You are never a disturbance,” she said kindly, gesturing for Miranda to make herself at home.

“It’s funny. I think you’re the one person I’ve hardly seen since we made it back,” Miranda casually noted. Over the last couple of hours, she’d made herself scarce. 

“You are correct. Forgive me,” Samara gave a solemn nod, accepting that she had erred in shirking her responsibilities since returning to the ship. “I ought to have done more to assist with the repairs. I will not make any excuses for my absence.”

“I’m not going to write you up. Don’t worry about it.” Miranda nonchalantly waved off her apology, signalling that it was totally unnecessary. 

“You would for anyone else,” Samara pointed out knowingly.

“Well, for one thing, you’re not anyone else. For another, I wouldn’t be standing here right now if not for you. So consider this the least I can do for you,” said Miranda, stepping further into the room, until she joined Samara at the window. Besides, it wasn’t like she was giving her special treatment. Writing anyone up for anything seemed pretty pointless now. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Samara acknowledged, not one to lie.

“What have you been up to?” Miranda asked her, curious. It wasn’t accusatory in any way. But it wasn’t like Samara to run off to her corner and hide when there was work to be done. She must have had a good reason.

“I have been…thinking,” Samara answered pensively.

Her vagueness wasn’t lost on Miranda. “Thinking?” she echoed.

“Yes. There has been much I need to contemplate. Many things I was not prepared for...or did not expect to…” Samara trailed off, evidently at a loss for words, and visibly unsettled. Her expressions were always hard to read, but she looked troubled, as if she was trying to make sense of a paradox, fitting together incongruous pieces of information and finding only more questions.

Miranda’s features softened sympathetically, beginning to piece together a possible reason behind Samara’s abnormal behaviour. “I think we’re all a little shell-shocked after what happened. Doesn’t quite seem real does it - that we’re somehow all still standing?”

That response seemed to find purchase with Samara, putting her more at ease. “Indeed. Ever since you and Shepard first approached me on Illium and spoke to me of your quest to stop the Collectors, the odds of succeeding, let alone surviving, always seemed slim at best. I must confess, given the nature of the mission before us, I was not anticipating that…” Samara paused again, as if cautious to ensure she chose her words carefully, mindful to be neither tactless nor false in her speech.

“That we would all make it back in one piece?” Miranda finished on her behalf.

Samara gave a slightly apologetic nod. “Yes.”

“Yet here we are,” Miranda continued, gesturing offhandedly at their surroundings.

“Yet here we are,” Samara echoed, her words almost a whisper.

“Try not to sound so disappointed,” Miranda wryly remarked. Samara said nothing, staring out into the void in silence. “...It’s a joke,” Miranda broke the quiet, realising her attempt at humour hadn’t landed. “I forgot I shouldn’t do those.”

“No. I…” Samara shook her head, tearing her eyes away from the vastness of space at long last, turning sideways to face Miranda. “It is I who should apologise. Forgive me. I am...tired. I suspect more so than I even realise.”

Miranda wasn’t surprised to hear that. It didn’t take a genius to tell that she must have been shaken by all that had transpired. Hell, one look at her eyes was a dead giveaway as to how drained she was. It was the first time Miranda had ever seen Samara in such a state. But, after all she had undergone back at the base, who could blame her for not being at one hundred percent right now?

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I know it took a lot out of you, holding up that barrier. You’ve earned the right to rest and recover. And you know I wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true, so…” Miranda studied Samara’s features, wondering if she was imposing. “Should I leave you?”

“No. Stay a while. Please,” Samara gestured for her to have a seat. Miranda raised her hand, preferring to stand. The view of the singularity was honestly striking. She may as well enjoy it while they were stranded here. Samara remained at her side, perhaps gradually clearing her head. “Is there truth to the rumours about what transpired between you and The Illusive Man?” she broke the silence.

“What are the rumours?” Miranda asked.

“That you terminated your employment,” Samara rather deftly summarised. 

Miranda snorted. “Well, we won’t be taking each other’s calls anymore. Put it that way.”

“Are you alright?” Samara asked, her concern genuine. She was one of the few who had never judged Miranda for her loyalty to Cerberus, despite their flaws.

“Yeah.” Miranda glanced down at her hands, her feelings certainly...mixed. Samara waited patiently, letting her decide whether she wished to speak more on the subject or not, and ready to lend an understanding ear if she did.

Miranda exhaled, interlocking her fingers, reflecting on everything that had happened since she first learned what the Reapers were. All this time, she had firmly believed The Illusive Man wanted to destroy them, just as he would want to eliminate any existential threat to humanity. That had been what he’d said all along. Or, wait, had he ever outright said that he intended to destroy them? Had he just implied it? Had Miranda read into his words what she wanted to hear?

But if Cerberus wanted to keep that base, to ‘turn their own resources against them’ as The Illusive Man had said, was their ultimate goal something else entirely? To create their own Reaper, like Shepard had remarked? To control the Reapers? To use them to take control of the galaxy? To wipe out the other races? Miranda didn’t know for sure, but if it was anything like that then it didn’t even need to be said that she couldn’t permit any of those things to happen. 

The best case scenario was that they were still ultimately on the same side, but that The Illusive Man was just so fixated on his desire to fight the Reapers that he couldn’t see that there was no possible benefit to keeping the base. Just risk, and unconscionable slaughter, and a betrayal of everything they had fought for, and all the lives lost to the Collectors. Part of Miranda hoped that was all it was - that maybe they didn’t have to be enemies. But, after everything that had happened, everything she’d seen, it was increasingly untenable not to at least suspect that there was something more sinister going on behind the scenes.

“Samara, be honest with me,” Miranda began, knowing she didn’t even need to make that request of her. She was never anything less than truthful. “I don’t strike you as someone who is particularly stupid or gullible, do I?”

“No, you do not,” Samara answered frankly, as if that question never needed to be asked. “You know very well that I consider you precisely the opposite.”

“So then how is it that I can work for the same people for nineteen years, and yet be so...staggeringly ignorant as to their true nature and motives?” Miranda asked aloud, wondering how many obvious signs she must have missed along the way.

“And what are their true motives?” Samara prompted.

“Honestly? I haven’t got the slightest fucking clue anymore. And that’s what scares me.” Miranda scoffed under her breath, shaking her head. “Actually, you know what? It isn’t. The thing that really makes my skin crawl is not knowing…” She paused and swallowed mid-sentence. “Is not knowing whether and to what extent I’ve been complicit in helping them accomplish things that I would never - never have supported if I knew about them.”

Samara understood completely why that thought would trouble Miranda so. She took time to reflect on the matter before offering a considered response.

“Based on what information EDI has been willing to share since her restraints were removed, it appears as though Cerberus personnel were separated into discrete cells, all of whom were unaware of the existence of any others. While the primary motivation for this may have been to ensure no single individual had sufficient knowledge to compromise the entire organisation, I believe this also had another purpose,” Samara speculated. “That purpose being that each cell could represent an entirely different face of Cerberus - one that appealed entirely to the morality, beliefs and motives of the personnel assigned to it.”

That made a startling amount of sense, Miranda thought. The cerberus of myth did have multiple heads, and thus multiple faces.

“That would explain why there were so many conflicting versions of Cerberus out there,” Miranda mused aloud, curling her fingers against her chin. “The terrorists. The mad scientists. The racist xenophobes. I always brushed those accusations off as misrepresentations and bad press, because the organisation I knew was different. Not terrorists, but people willing to defend human lives when the Alliance wasn’t. Not mad scientists, but cutting-edge pioneers. Not racist xenophobes, but human beings who didn’t want to be treated as second-class citizens in the galactic community. But there were probably others out there who only knew Cerberus to be one or more of those other things. Who am I kidding? Those kinds of people probably only joined Cerberus because of those things - because that was what they thought its true nature was all along.”

“That is what I suspect,” Samara concurred.

“So, if you’re right, then what you’re saying is, the Cerberus I believed I was working for this whole time did exist, in a way. Everything I thought about them was true, from a certain point of view. But so were all the other things I dismissed as falsehoods and slander. I could just never see it, because the full picture was always deliberately hidden from me,” Miranda inferred.

“Yes,” Samara confirmed, quietly confident that Miranda would have seen through the façade and defected earlier had it been presented to her otherwise. “If I am not mistaken, then you have been no more complicit in Cerberus’s hidden agendas - whatever they may be - than Shepard or myself have been.”

Miranda’s expression shifted, not entirely sure she could believe that, but oddly comforted by Samara’s sentiment nonetheless. “Thanks,” she said, relieved to at least have some semblance of an answer for how she’d gotten so sucked in, and how she’d failed to recognise the truth. Even if it later turned out to be wrong, it was something to hold onto for now. And, if nothing else, at least Samara still seemed to think she was a good person, despite everything. 

Perhaps there was a silver lining to all this. Now that Miranda saw the truth of what Cerberus was, rather than being blinded by allegiance, if anyone was equipped to fully understand The Illusive Man’s goals and expose this organisation for what it really was, it was her. She felt something of a duty to do it now - to figure out exactly what aims she’d been unwittingly enabling.

It wouldn’t be easy, and Miranda knew damn well The Illusive Man would try everything in his power to kill her rather than risk her exposing his secrets. But since when had Miranda ever been afraid of a challenge? If her life was the only thing she had to lose, then The Illusive Man had more to fear from her than she had to fear from him. But following that path now would put her friends at risk.

Another time, then.

Following that, a delayed thought occurred to Miranda. “You’ve been asking EDI about Cerberus?” she asked, her brow creasing in puzzlement.

“I have. Although, I confess, my inquiries garnered little valuable information before her restraints were removed,” Samara answered calmly.

Miranda regarded her with some confusion. In all the time they’d spent together, Samara had never shown any real curiosity about Cerberus. She couldn’t recall her raising the subject, despite having ample opportunity to do so. “Why?”

“Because you worked for them,” Samara replied, meeting her gaze, her tone unchanging. “Because they were important to you.”

“Why EDI, though?” Miranda asked, perplexed. There was nothing accusatory in her questions, nor defensive for that matter. She had no issues with Samara finding out whatever she wanted to know about Cerberus from whoever she wanted to ask. It just struck her as odd, was all. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Samara’s gaze dipped. “Because I was afraid of the answers,” she admitted.

In light of recent events, Miranda couldn’t exactly fault that explanation. “Hmm. Fair enough. As it turns out, your concerns may not have been unfounded.”

“In some respects, they were not,” Samara acknowledged. After a moment, she raised her head once more. “In others, I have been glad to find that they were. And that I had nothing to fear,” she said, holding Miranda’s gaze as she spoke.

Samara didn’t say it out loud, but the meaning wasn’t lost on Miranda. Miranda didn’t know much about Samara’s Code, but she recalled every element of their conversation about it earlier that day. About how she couldn’t hesitate in enforcing its tenets. About how she had to put it first, before everything. Above her own personal thoughts and feelings. Even above the life of a friend.

While the requirements of the Code remained a mystery to Miranda, if it was in any way moral or just - which, by her conduct and character, Samara certainly seemed to evidence that it was - then there was no way in hell that the Code could have permitted something like, say, leaving the Collector Base intact.

The thought must have crossed Samara’s mind at some point, however reluctant she would have been to consider it. If Cerberus’s true intentions were sinister, and if Miranda and Shepard knew of those intentions, condoned them, and supported them, then no matter how close they had grown as friends, they would have to part as enemies. If they hadn’t destroyed that base, and if Miranda hadn’t turned her back on The Illusive Man when he showed his true colours, then the next time Samara saw them, she would probably have had to kill them.

It must have been a relief for Samara to know that that wasn’t the case, and to have her faith in her friends proven justified. A small smile tugged at Miranda’s lip, touched that Samara had believed in her right from the start, and taken the chance to get to know her, even knowing the risk that it could all have backfired.

Even if nothing else good came from learning the truth about Cerberus, seeing just how deeply Samara had trusted that Miranda would make the right decision if faced with a choice like that, even if it meant turning her back on Cerberus in order to do the right thing, was reward enough. Truthfully, Samara had believed that about Miranda long before Miranda would have believed it about herself.

“Anyway, we’re on our own now. I know Shepard has told The Illusive Man as much,” Miranda finished the thought, glancing over at Samara once more. “Have you given any thought to what you’ll do next?”

Her question caught Samara off guard. “...I...I had not,” Samara admitted. After gazing past her reflection for a moment, she stood a little straighter, hands clasped behind her back. “I have only one path to follow, and that is the Code. I would not have survived this day if the Goddess did not see a higher purpose for me - somewhere the need is very great. I will go wherever I am called.”

“But you don’t know where that is yet?” Miranda intuited.

Samara hesitated, her shoulders sinking slightly, evidently not used to feeling...aimless. “No. I do not. Although I have faith those answers will crystallise in time.”

“Well, if it helps, I may have a temporary solution…” Miranda began. “I haven’t talked this over with Shepard yet, but there are still several outstanding tasks we never got around to completing - leads from Cerberus, mostly. I know I’m no longer working for them, but now that we know we can’t trust them, I’d rather resolve these matters before they do. And, for the matters that don’t involve Cerberus, hey, at least we’ll still be helping people,” Miranda explained. It wasn’t lost on her that the fact she saw that as enough reason to act was evidence of just how much Shepard had rubbed off on her. She really had changed.

Samara said nothing, maintaining her focus dead ahead. 

“I know that the mission you swore an oath to Shepard for is over, so you’re under no obligation to follow her any longer,” Miranda continued. “But, if you don’t currently have any plans, and it wouldn’t be in conflict with your Code, then, as second-in-command of this ship, allow me be the first to let you know that you’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as you want.”

Samara glanced up, her expression unreadable as she met Miranda’s eyes.

Miranda’s posture softened slightly, abandoning any pretext that this was a purely professional request. “I’d be extremely grateful if you stayed,” she admitted, not ready to say goodbye to their friendship just yet. Spending time in Samara’s company was the one thing she looked forward to more than anything else most days. “It wouldn’t be the same here without you.”

It really wouldn’t have been. Maybe nobody else would think of her the same way, but for Miranda, Samara was like the heart of The Normandy. She just had this...indescribable presence that radiated warmth and comfort. Without having to say a word, she had a way of brightening Miranda’s gloomiest days, and of showing Miranda the way when it felt like she was lost in the dark.

This room had become Miranda’s safe place, not because there was anything special about the Starboard Observation Deck, but because Samara was here, her door always open, for whatever she needed.

Judging from her reaction, Samara had not been expecting that invitation. An answer seemed to catch in her throat, as if she didn’t know how to respond. Miranda began to regret that perhaps she had sprung this on her too quickly, before she’d had enough time to recover from the mission, and plan that far ahead.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to put any pressure on you,” Miranda spoke gently, not so self-centred as to impose her wishes on Samara, especially if it placed her in an awkward position with respect to her Code. She respected her too much for that, no matter how much she would miss her. “I understand if you can’t--”

“No, I…” Samara interjected, shaking her head as if to clear the cobwebs that had slowed her usually sharp mind. “There is no conflict here. The Collectors may have been stopped, but the greater threat remains at large.”

“The Reapers,” Miranda stated on her behalf.

“Yes,” Samara confirmed, the weight of that ever-looming enemy lingering like a presence in the air. “Until such time as the Goddess calls me elsewhere, I would be honoured to continue to aid you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Miranda enthused, though despite being pleased by her response, it hadn’t escaped her notice that something was still...off about Samara. She couldn’t put her finger on it, exactly. Just something in her facial expressions, and the tone of her voice. She was right there beside her in the same room, yet it felt like she was a thousand miles away.

“Hey…” Miranda reached out, gently placing a hand on Samara’s back. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Miranda asked, her questioning more serious than before, perfectly willing to lend an ear to her friend if something was awry, just as Samara had so often been a confidant for her.

“It is kind of you to worry. But I am alright. It has simply...been an eventful day,” Samara assured her, summoning a smile, appreciating her concern. “I have kept you long enough. I should like to meditate alone for a while, if there is nothing you require of me.”

“Of course. Go ahead. And take as much time as you need to recover. The ship is going to get repaired tomorrow with or without you, even if I have to fix it myself,” Miranda promised, not at all surprised to think that Samara needed some space to regather her equilibrium and come to terms with the fact that they had survived the impossible. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Samara stayed by the window as Miranda took her leave, the doors closing shut behind her.

If Miranda had stayed a few moments longer, she would have seen Samara’s masquerade fall as the hollowness returned her face, and her resolve crack as she reached out and braced herself against the wall to keep from crumbling.

All the certainty Samara had felt earlier that day had shattered like glass at her feet, a million little fragments scattered into the sand. For reasons she could not understand, she had emerged from her date with destiny unscathed.

Why? Why was she still here? What purpose did this serve?

Was this a punishment, perhaps? Was her penance for her sins incomplete? It had to be. Samara could find no other explanation that would suffice.

So, she had been arrogant, then. Celebrating too soon that which she did not yet deserve. It seemed a cruel joke to think of it now. She had found so much peace, tranquility and relief in the inevitability of her own end. But that release had been denied to her. And, now, instead of finding the courage to die with dignity, Samara now had to process that she had a far harder task ahead of her.

Somehow, someway, she had to find the strength to keep living.

*     *     *

[emotionalgirl101]

Question | Chapter 8

Words:  Genre: college au, angst, fluff Pairing: SKZ x reader Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops. Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc). A/N: Finally, being the new longest chapter to date and tedious as hell to edit, chapter 8 is up! Fun fact: this was originally still part of chapter 7, but I felt like it was dragging on too long and it was right to end where it did. This was saved as ‘Chapter 7.5′ even afterwards. There is also still more of this that I really want to flesh out, too, so what was originally written as chapter 8 is now chapter 10! Anyways, please enjoy and I love you guys! Question Masterlist

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You made it back to your apartment by about 5:10pm. The walk seemed faster than usual. Maybe it was just the upbeat music you chose to play that caused you to walk a little faster. Fiddling with your keys, you entered your apartment. Props to your past self because everything was pretty much ready to go. Except for you, obviously.

You ditched your phone, keys and purse on the counter top of your kitchen bench, moving into your bedroom to find some comfy, yet presentable clothes. You wanted to be prepared for the possibility of having to leave the house at some point in the night. You and Eunwoo have gone for a late night walk before, so it could happen again. You heard your phone buzz from in the kitchen.

A pair of activewear leggings and an oversized tee was good enough for you. You'd probably throw a hoodie over it all, anyway. All that was left to do was brush your teeth, pack what remained of your toiletries, make sure your chargers were all in the bag, then grab everything you needed to bring from the kitchen before you headed through the door. It sounded like a lot, but considering you were driving to Eunwoo's, you had enough time and a little extra.

You were staring at your reflection in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, considering doing something with your hair when you heard something from the kitchen. You moved into the main area of the apartment, realising it was you phone notifying you that you still hadn't responded to it when it initially sounded off.

You picked it up off of the counter and made your way back to the bathroom sink. You were kind of surprised to see a text message from Jae. Less about it being from Jae,  more so what it was about.

Jae: Hey are you going to Chan's party on Friday.

No. You weren't invited. That didn't particularly bother you, but the question opened up a whole new stream of thought for you to process while you finished brushing your teeth. At it wasn’t exactly positive.

You could understand not being invited by Chan for multiple reasons. You'd only met once, well, twice. That was accidental though, and it was with Jae. Was that why Jae asked in the first place? Chan is a mutual friend, but you barely knew him. You only knew him through Minho. The thing is, Chan is such a genuinely nice guy and has seemed to enjoy your company, so part of you thinks he probably would’ve invited you. Then again, it might be just a small thing at his place, so he doesn't want too many people because of his housemates. Yet, would Jae ask if you were going if it was a small, private thing? How close were Jae and Chan anyway?

Wait. Chan lives with Minho. That realisation sent you into another tailspin. Jae knows that you’re close with Minho. That’s probably why Jae asked. Maybe he assumed you would been invited by Minho... but you hadn't heard anything from him other than memes and pictures of his cats. Does Minho not want you to go? Why?

You rinsed your mouth, letting the messy jumble of speculations gurgle down the drain with it, trying to snap out of all of that negative you’d dragged up. You were overthinking. Again. You dried your face and took in a calming breath. You replied to Jae before you began to sort out what skin care, make up and other bits and pieces you'd need. That's when Jae called.

"Why aren't you going?" Jae was genuinely confused.

"I wasn't invited." You shrugged, not quite remembering he couldn't see your action. From his next words, it was obvious that fact hadn't even crossed his mind.

"That makes no sense. Chan likes you and it's Minho's house, too. That kind of means it’s his party, too. By default. As if your not invited."

"Honestly, I had no clue there was anything on until you texted me." That's when it clicked. This was the same party Felix was shopping for today. Felix probably would've invited you. Maybe he didn't know?… maybe he did…

"Jae, this is going to sound pretty dumb, but… what if Minho purposefully didn't invite me?"

The line stayed quiet for a few beats, then crackled to life, "Okay... but why?"

"Well," You sighed, trying to figure out how to phrase your theory properly, "Felix, one of the boys’ other housemates, came into work today. He was looking for something to wear to a party.

Jae hummed, waiting for you to continue. You took in a breath.

"From the limited experience I've had with him, as well as Minho's other housemates, I feel like he would've invited me to the party since it's their place - joint hosts by default, like you said - but he barely talked about the party in our conversation. It would've been natural to since that's what he was shopping for..." You trailed off, worried you weren't making any sense.

"So, you think that Minho might've told the boys not to mention anything to you?" Jae somehow made sense of your rambling, which had you half-surprised.

“Well, yeah... I mean, it does sound crazy and make me look like I’m a bit self-obsessed to think that there's a whole conspiracy around me not being invited-"

"Kind of, but I get it." Jae interjected, teasingly. He missed out on seeing the roll of your eyes.

"- but the way Minho has been acting lately doesn't exactly help me to think other wise..."

"What do you mean?"

"The way he acts when I bring up the boys is a bit... i'm not quite sure how to describe it. He just seems a bit cold when I bring them up." You sighed. Jae was silent, prompting you to keep going.

"You know how we saw Chan? I mentioned it to him, and he went from teasing and bubbly to stoic and monotonous in an instant."

"We get it, you know big words."

"Shut up~" you whined.

He chuckled into the receiver. "Continue."

You remembered something that helped to strengthen your case, "Like the day he and I went out to lunch. We bumped into Changbin and Jisung, more roommates,” you clarified, “and he barely acknowledged their presence. THEY LIVE TOGETHER!" The exasperation in your voice could not be missed.

"Dude, he's jealous." Jae uttered nonchalantly.

"Can't be. Why would he be?" You took your belongings from the bathroom and into the living area. The zip of your overnight bag signalling that you'd finished packing.

"That, I can't tell you exactly," you rolled you eyes, phone changing hands, but continued to listen, "It could be that he feels weird about his two friendship groups colliding. It could because he wants to protect you-"

“He doesn’t need to protect me-“

"He might be trying to protect them-"

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Look, there could be reasons that you have no idea about.” He was right, not that you'd admit that to the lanky boy, but it still hurt a little. "Well, I kind of feel bad since I brought this up."

"Seriously, it's fine. You didn't know."

"Well, I was actually gonna suggest I plus one you. I'll ask Chan and then we'll know for sure."

You contemplated the offer. Did you really want to know if you purposely weren't invited? Then again, you need to know what was going on with Minho.

"If you're both okay with it, then yeah."

"Okay, cool. I'll message Chan."

You hadn't realised the silence until Jae spoke again, this time, softly, "If it means anything, I think Minho probably just forgot. He's not used to you having any mutual friends. He wouldn't usually invite you before you met the boys, right?"

True. Minho probably didn't think about inviting you because he wouldn't usually have to. You were well aware you ran in different circles, and you were both okay with that. You felt a wave of relieve and assurance wash over you. "Thanks, Jae."

"Don't sweat it." His teasing tone returning.

Your eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall. Shit, you completely forgot about keeping track of time. You knew Eunwoo wouldn't be too stressed if you were a bit late, but you were trying to work on your time management skills. You still had enough time if you left now.

"Sorry, Jae. I lost track of time and I have to be at Eunwoo's in 10."

"All good. I'll talk to you soon. See ya."

You were grateful for Jae. You weren't as close to him as you were to Minho, but you really loved how he just got you sometimes. That, and he was also a lot of fun to be around. You double checked you had everything, miraculously, only having to make one trip to the car. You locked up, packed everything in safely and left. You knew the way to Eunwoo's like the back of your hand, from all the late night drives and emergency trips. You let the sunset wash over you as you made your way down the familiar road.

-

"FINALLY!" Eunwoo greeted after swinging the door wide open. She enveloped you in a big hug. You forgot how strong she was sometimes, even with her deceivingly tiny arms. "I missed you!"

"It hasn't even been a week!" You laughed, letting her help. She stole the bag of supplies from your abundance of bags. Of course she would take the snacks. "Exactly! Waaaaay too long~" She winked back.

Eunwoo's apartment was the uni student level of lavish. Is was spacious and decorated beautifully, with thought put into every detail. The fixtures in the kitchen matched beautifully with the ones in the bathroom, the rich, jewel blue curtains had gold piping that matched the accents on the wall trimmings, and all the door handles matched.

Eunwoo had a roommate, Nayoung. She was only a few years older than the two of you. She wasn't around too often, being busy with work almost every day. When she was around, she'd hang out and join in on whatever fun you and Eunwoo had planned. You thought she worked too hard and should take more time for herself once in a while.

Eunwoo greedily unpacked the contents of the bag, examining the snacks thoughtfully and deciding which she wanted to start with. You took that as a cue to go put your belongings in her room, for when you'd need them later that night. You returned to the living area to find her standing in the kitchen, absent-mindedly munching on the gummy worms. You fell into the warm embrace of her oversized couch. The movement snapped Eunwoo out of her trance, following in your footsteps. She made herself comfortable next to you, gummy worms still in hand, legs crossed, facing you. You grabbed one of the glasses of water she had already put out prior, ready to get the rundown of tonight's schedule.

"Okay, so," She began, "I was thinking we go all out tonight. Take-out, face masks, movies, ice cream, text Jaemin, paint nails-" The sound of you choking on water interrupted her.

"Sorry, what? Text Jaemin? You seriously thought you could get away with just slipping that in casually?" You chided, all the while noticing her cheeky grin.

"Come on, Y/n! You promised you'd do it today." Her smile softened before she went on. Her voice dropped the teasing undertone, emphasising how genuine she felt about this. "You're really going to let a cute boy get away because of what? He made the first move, obviously at that, so there's no way he doesn't have some level of interest in you."

Your empty stare was fixated on the coffee table. You were scared. Who wouldn't be. The couch shifted. You felt Eunwoo put an arm around your shoulder. You allowed yourself to rest into her, and you just sat like that for a few minutes. You had your head on her shoulder, just mulling over the whole situation. You knew she was right. Were you really going to let irrational fear hold you back?

"What do I say?" You deadpanned, still in place in Eunwoo's grasp. Your free hand reaching lazily in the general direction of where you'd left your phone. You positioned it in front of both of your faces, your head still on Eunwoo's shoulder, meaning she didn't have to crane her neck to see. You carelessly pulled up the boy's contact. It was still left open from the last time you stared at it.

"It's been days since I saw him. What if he doesn't even remember me?" Your worries were met with an exasperated sigh and a gentle yet firm hit to your forehead. "I told you before, stupid. He wouldn't be giving his number to every girl that he meets at work. Trust me, he'll remember you." She then gently pat where she had struck you  before you both straightened up. You bit your lip and tried to find the right words. Eunwoo stroked your hair. A subtle form of support or a passive aggressive move implying 'I'm watching you to make sure you actually follow through', you weren't sure.

"Don't overthink it. Keep it simple.' She hummed. You heeded her advice. It's like whenever you get the number of a new friend, right? Except this friend was one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen and was hardly given the chance to exchange more than a few words with you. You were overthinking. Snap out of it.

Tapping sounds were expelled from the small speakers of your phone, peaking your friend's interest. You held the phone towards her for approval. The screen was still blank with 'Hey Jaemin, you gave me your number a few days ago at the bubble tea place?' written in the text bar. She seemed to mull it over before giving a short nod, responding "Good, but you're missing something that's kind of important."

You furrowed your brow, reading over the text twice more before turning back to see the biggest smile one her face. "Maybe your name?" In any other instance you'd be over her teasing tone, but considering how obvious it was, you decided it was warranted. "True..." you muttered, adding it into the text as you wondered if he'd remember your name.

"Wait," you looked back to Eunwoo, "Did your name come up at all?" It was scary when she read your mind like that. You nodded, telling her that he had asked during your brief exchange. The evil grin return, and now you were genuinely confused. What kind of plan was she concocting in that brain of hers? "On second thoughts, don't mention your name. See if he remembers." She winked at you before jumping up and heading back over to the kitchen. You read your message again, breathing slowly as you tried to make sure it sounded as natural and casual as possible. "Just press send, Y/n!" Eunwoo cried from across the room. Fine.

Y/n: Hey Jaemin, you gave me your number a few days ago at the bubble tea place?

You locked your phone and through it into the corner of the couch, then got up and met Eunwoo in the kitchen. You released the breathe you'd been unconsciously holding, letting the nerves fade away to the back of your mind. It was future you’s problem now, and you weren’t going to let the small sense of anxiety that the situation stirred within you ruin what could be a perfectly good girls’ night. You weren't exactly sure what Eunwoo was doing in the kitchen, but she was making herself busy. You asked if you could help anyway, but you were hushed and forced to retake your seat. She struck up the next topic of conversation. "How was your day?"

She had no clue how much of a loaded question that was. The whole ‘party’ thing became the centre of the storyline, as you rehashed the highlights of the day’s events. You then dove into the phone call and theories you discussed with Jae. "So, the question is, why doesn't he want me to go?" Eunwoo was so invested that she stopped midway through the task to lean over the bench and dive into the bag of popcorn with you.

"Maybe he likes you." She said with ease, finishing by popping two pieces of popcorn into her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours.

"As if" you scoffed. "Why would he be so casual about the whole Jaemin thing? We could've teased me or grilled me to see if I'd actually do anything about it."

"Or he would just rather not know…” she sing-songed softly.

You hated that her point was justified, but you could never see Minho being interested in you. How could you? It just- "I don't see it."

She rolled her eyes at you in place of further dialogue.

"It makes no sense, though. He was way too supportive about Jaemin, at least in his own ~special~ way."

What you neglected to mention was how he’d been acting when you brought up his housemates or all the times he'd talked about girls in front of you. You just knew she'd have a field day with that.

"Well, at least we know why he wouldn't invite you. He's jealous." Your friend sighed and straightened up, proceeding to get a bowl for the popcorn so you were somewhat civilised in your snacking affairs. "I mean, Jae's right. It's classic jealous behaviour. The real question we should be asking is why is he jealous." She moved to sit with you.

You both sat at the island bench in silent contemplation, running through a mental list of scenarios that would make sense in justifying his behaviour. After awhile, you and Eunwoo exchanged a look. Neither of you could think of anything noteworthy. Minho was really hard to read in general. Even as his proclaimed best friend, you had trouble understanding some of the things he did. You couldn't imagine how confusing he would be to Eunwoo. She broke you away from the thought, picking up on where the conversation left off.

"Maybe its just general friend envy," with a tilt of the head, your gaze urged her to continue, "You know, when your jealous because you think that someone new is gonna steal your best friend away from you." All you did was nod, no longer holding her gaze. It was plausible. You wouldn't put it past him. You wouldn't put it past most people. However, to really get to the bottom of this, you had to play devil's advocate.

"Though, he's fine with you."

"he had to be. he's dumb sometimes but he's smart enough to know not to fight a battle he would lose."

"True."

You both burst into laughter. This is why you loved this girl. She was everything you could want in a close female friend. As girls, you were always raised to see each other as competition to some degree. It was something that was part of the social structure. Even if it was never at the forefront of your mind, you would always end up feeling uncomfortable or jealous around other girls, constantly comparing yourself to them. If you didn’t, others would. After a while, you would just accept where you stood in the 'hierarchy', but that was high school. Honestly, uni wasn't that much better if you compared certain experiences side by side. The difference was you didn't have to force anything. Unlike high school, you could escape. You didn't see the same people every day and could cut the toxic ones out of your life. Uni gave you more freedom.

Regardless, you loved Eunwoo because you never felt 'threatened' by her. She listened and was compassionate, and once you let it all out she would both try to fix it and then take your mind off of things. The order of the two varied depending on the situation. She knew you'd do the same for her, without hesitation. She was your first, true friend.

"Enough about problematic men. Wanna go find something to eat?" She stood up, grabbing her keys, dangling them so their jingle would entice you to rise to your feet. You smiled and did just that, following her out the door.

-

You went to Hirai. Japanese takeaway was the easiest to agree on and you could both attest to how good it was. Even after all your efforts to supply your every need, snack wise, Eunwoo was adamant on picking up a tub of ice cream for a real gelato place for dessert. If you were going to eat you feelings, it may as well taste delicious, right? She dragged you to a place she found nearby with the help of her phone.

You knew the place. You walked past it a few times. You'd never gone inside, though. You just never had the desire since your go-to was close to home. That, and after a while, you forgot it was there. The shop front had a classical vibe, blending in with the other parchment coloured buildings either side. If you didn't bother to read the cursive writing, you could've easily mistaken it for an antique shop. You appreciated that they kept all the trimmings when restoring the building.

The line was almost out the door, which didn't really bother either of you. They provided paper menus at the door so you could browse ahead of time. It seemed that they anticipated the problem and prepared accordingly. Credits to them.

Eunwoo reached ahead to grab a menu for you both. You read through the interesting flavours, eyeing them quizzically. The first few minutes were spent pointing out interesting names like ‘ink bottle' and trying to decipher what they could be. It took you awhile before it dawned on you that they had simplistic descriptions beneath each title. ‘Ink bottle’ was actually sesame with liquorice notes.

You sort of zoned out after awhile, not being able to help, thinking back to the whole Minho situation instead. You just didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just say something.

The more you analysed, the more it seemed like he was purposely keeping it a secret. If your friends hadn't agreed with you, you would've talked yourself out of the speculations you’d made, but they kind of agreed with you. It made sense. That's the thing. Why else would Felix be so hesitant to mention it? If it was Chan's party, why wouldn't he bring it as a general topic of conversation? You had asked about what had been going on back at the house. He spent a solid 5 minutes trying to think of something to update you on. You gave him the opportunity on a silver platter. It’s not like he could say he didn't know. Chan definitely would've given all the other boys a heads up. Hell, he probably let them invite some of their friends, too, or mutual friends. Coincidentally, you fit into both categories, so-

"Snap out of it. Pick ice cream." You looked back at Eunwoo, who's eyes were still trained on the menu. She could read you like a book. She sighed a moment later, following up with "You get one sentence to explain what you're thinking, then we go back to ice cream time and save the rest of the conversation for home. Deal?" The idea being you rid yourself of the thought temporarily, so you can focus on having fun. You exhaled before you spoke.

"I don't understand why he's gone to such lengths to kept some party a secret, because we don't keep secrets, especially about something so insignificant. So pointless…” You muttered the last part, since you went over your one-sentence limit. With the word you huffed out, the hint of frustration not as subtle as you’d hoped. Eunwoo nodded, "He's dumb. What ice cream were you thinking? because I was leaning towards the chiv-"

"Hello, hello." Eunwoo was cut off by a familiar voice standing behind you. You exchanged a glance, Eunwoo looking confused, annoyed and slightly alarmed all at once. She was clueless as to who it was, but your suspicions were confirmed when you turned around, eyes landing on Chan. Changbin was to his left. "Fancy meeting you here." He beamed. You smiled back instantly, Eunwoo's questioning expression visible in your peripheral vision.

"Ah-I-Hi Chan. Hey Changbin. This is Eunwoo," She waved on cue, "and we could say the same to you." The initial shock wore off the more you spoke, replaced with confidence as you felt more comfortable. You turned to Eunwoo, finally being able to 'clue' her in on who the handsome strangers were. She was well aware, since you'd talked about both boys before, but they didn't need to know that. "They're Minho's housemates." She faked an expression of realisation, giving a slight nod. "We're just grabbing some ice cream." She played dumb, realising something that took awhile to dawn on you.

What if they heard you?

Shit.

"So, how's girls’ night going?" Chan asked, earnestly. You were both taken aback. "How did you-" You were tugged to the side by Eunwoo. Having been side-tracked by the sudden reunion, you didn't realise the line had moved a fair bit. You were already in front of the ice cream flavours. You turned to face the flavours and try to at least help Eunwoo with the decision, yet still continued talking to the boys. Chan was the one that kept the conversation going.

"A hunch. You two are out with a bag of takeaway food and in line to get ice cream. We just put two and two together."

You nodded. It made sense.

"That and Minho told us." Changbin chimed in.

Of course he did. You told him random, insignificant things he didn’t necessarily need to know. Why didn’t he do the same with you? He used to… The annoyance towards your best friend increasing.

"I'm going to kill him, I swear-"

"Don't worry, princess. I'll take care of him for you." Changbin whispered in your ear from behind you. There was something underlying in his words that caused your breath to catch in your throat. He was so close all of a sudden. You heard him chuckle darkly, his breath beating down on your neck. He moved away. You stepped forward. Trying to recover, your eyes never lost contact with the ice cream labels when you spoke, "Thanks, but I'd like the satisfaction." The confidence you feigned seeming believable in the strength of your words.

You finally looked up at the boys. Chan was just nodding, also looking into the glass cabinets. He was oblivious to the intimacy of the interaction between you and Changbin. Though, the latter didn't seem to quite believe your words. Changbin was smirking at how flustered you were. You quickly looked away to peer of Eunwoo’s shoulder, only making him feel more proud of himself. He discovered he had a little bit of power over you now. Well, fuck.

Eunwoo gave a quizzical stare, switching from you to the boy, then abruptly moved on. "So, do you want ~chivalrous dalmatian~?" waiting to see if you were alright with the option she put to you, she eyed you a bit more than was necessary. “Cookies & cream.” She simplified. Her gaze flickered to Changbin just before you agreed with her pick. His attention was already back on Chan by the time you’d turned away from him. She just rolled her eyes at the boy, attention returning to the present conversation. "Perfect."

'Perfect' was a good term to use, since a server had just approached both of you as you finalised your choice. Regardless of the flavour, you just needed some space to breathe. You loved the two boys to your left, but since you were low-key having a mini crisis over why your best friend was acting weird, you just wanted to get out and back to Eunwoo's as soon as possible. Changbin kind of ‘flirting’ - for the lack of a better word - with you didn't exactly help either.

Shaking off the uneasy feeling, you forced yourself to focus on the present. By ‘the present’, you meant your best friend, since she always put up with you, even when you were like this. Yeah, Minho did too, but since he was the cause of said crisis, he wasn’t getting a free pass today.

“My shout!” You announced overly cheerfully. Eunwoo didn’t bat an eye. The boys did. Your demeanour did a full 180 right in front of there eyes, but then again, they probably had no clue where your head was at. If anything, it just startled them. You weren’t even that loud.

You both moved to the cashier point, fishing out your purse. Just after you pulled your card out, a hand weaved between the two of you, tapped a card and removed itself once again. You almost went to scold Eunwoo but stopped for two reasons; firstly, she looked as surprised as you, and secondly, no way was her hand that veiny.

You then looked to find Chan standing right behind you both, grinning like an idiot. With pure sincerity, he finished with “Your welcome!”

You both just stood their for a second, confused. Grateful, but confused. Chan was way too kind. He had already moved back to Changbin. Your gaze focusing in on them ordering for themselves. Only Eunwoo noticed the slightly peeved sales person waving the tub of ice cream in front of you guys.

You made your way out, but not before you gave Chan a huge thank you. You didn’t hug the boys, because not only did you feel off tonight but it was also for Eunwoo’s sake, to not put her in an awkward position. You didn’t escape without a wink from Changbin, and you bet Eunwoo noticed it, too. With a wave and ‘see you soon’ exchanged, you both walked out of the ice cream parlour and headed for the car, arm in arm.

“I— I’m just - what even just-“

“Same.”

You both walked in contemplative silence. The late night discussions were going to be on a whole other level tonight.

[mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6]

Strawberry Kisses: The Night Before

Marcy’s roommate, who is dating Sungjin, takes her to a get together with Day6. There, she’s informed that someone in the group likes her, but she couldn’t depict who.

A/N: I could write this forever, I love Marcy and the boys. I’m in the process of making Part 3 (currently unnamed), but will not be posted as quickly as Part 1 and 2 (but it’s my goal). Also, low-key had my own housemate be the inspiration for Marcy’s roommate (because she’s a trip and I adore her).

Warnings/Themes: This is more plot and fluff than smut, but does have some spice. Heavy petting, dry humping, some dirty talk, praise, marking (overall pretty light compared to the last chapter)

Word Count: 5.1k 

I have nothing to be worried about. My best friend, Seo Yeon, or So-Yo, is taking me to a party at her boy-toy’s place. She’s been seeing this guy who’s a leader of a Korean rock band that is currently stationed in the states, don’t ask me how, she can’t even explain. I met this guy a couple times, as well as his bandmates and they’re pretty great. Their music is phenomenal and their personalities are outrageously fun. Her boyfriend, Sungjin, may be goofy, but he has a good head on his shoulders and is gradually making So-Yo a better person. Not saying she was a bad person, but she’s becoming a happier and healthier version of herself. Overall, he’s someone she needed and I cannot be more grateful for her relationship with him.

The others, on the other hand are all eligible bachelors and So-Yo wants to set me up with one of them so bad. Sungjin wants to stay out of it, but that’s because he knows something, but won’t tell me what it is. So-Yo thinks it’s because some of the members might like me more than they lead on.

Like I said, I only met the whole group a couple of times and I treasure every single one, so if the choice was mine, I don’t know who I would pick. They all gave me their numbers, but the other guitarist, Jae, texts me the most, but it’s mostly exchanging memes. The bassist, Brian or Younghyun, who has the stage name Young K, but no one calls him that, is by far the prettiest boy, and he is quite the gentleman to me, but he’s still kind of shy. The keyboardist, Wonpil, is an absolute sweetheart and always finds a way to make me smile, but at first, he was too timid to even look at me without blushing. Lastly, the drummer, Dowoon, still struggles with his English, but the last time I saw him, I helped him out a bit and he’s such a goof ball it was hard to concentrate.

Tonight, could make things different. So-Yo encouraged me to bring my swimsuit, in case we want to take a dip in the pool at their place. I chose to wear something slightly out of my comfort zone: a black lacey romper that could easily pass as lingerie. Instead of my usual jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t intend on wearing something different, but So-Yo encouraged me to show some of my wild side that we missed so much.

I keep bugging So-Yo to tell me who likes me, the curiosity is giving me nostalgia to high school. She won’t tell me, because she doesn’t know for sure, but she knows Sungjin does. I ask her to butter him up so he could tell her, but sadly he’s not that dumb to fall for that.

We head over to their place. I’m extra nervous to go, not only because I’m wearing something different, but one or more of the four bandmates likes me. Holy shit, what if all of them like me? I’d like to think I’m a delight, but it would make sense on some of them. Wonpil is a blushing/smiling buffoon, Dowoon is super silly shy boy, Brian is a suave mysterious man and Jae is a humorous dork. I pull out my compact mirror to check out my makeup. I went with a nearly bare face, due to us probably going swimming. Of course, I put on waterproof mascara, but I still wanted to look a bit “natural”.

“You look fine”, So-Yo compliments me as we walk down the hallway to their front door.

“Fine might not do it. I’m solving the mystery on who likes me, if any, till it kills me”, I groan. I stuff my compact in my little backpack, between my extra pair of panties and my swimsuit.

“I mean, they all like you, Marcy, but if any of them like you? I already told you, I don’t know, but I have a strong guess who does”, she shrugs.

“Who?”, I whisper.

“I can’t confirm anything, it won’t be fair to the guy. I could be wrong”, she slaps my arm.

“But tell me who you think?”, I beg. So-Yo knocks on the door.

“I’m not telling you shit, because I love you and I love these boys. Would I love for you and one of my boys to be together? Hell yes, but I can’t tell you who to choose”, she whispers. Tell me who to choose? So, does everyone like me then? Sungjin answers the door and welcomes us with big warm hugs. He’s definitely a teddy bear. I hear Jae in the kitchen shout for us. We all head to the kitchen, where we’re summoned, and see all of the guys leaning against the counters/appliances. They obviously had some drinks before we got there.

“We’re starting with some shots. We all need some time to chillax”, Jae welcomes us with some shots of clear liquid, probably vodka.

“Shots? Oh shit, you guys haven’t seen Wild CC yet”, So-Yo laughs before accepting the shot. The boys are intrigued.

“There’s a Wild CC?”, Brian chuckles before sipping out of his red solo cup. So-Yo nudges my arm.

“It’s been a long time since she’s seen Wild CC, but I still got it in me”, I bashfully accept the shot glass.

“Do you?”, she squints her eyes at me. Jae gasps. I scrunch my nose, pouting and take the shot like a champ. The shot was definitely not vodka. If there is one thing So-Yo and I bond over, it’s bets. The boys cheer for me as Jae pours me another one.

“Get it, C!”, Dowoon cheers. He calls me C, because it was difficult for him to say my name, so he gave me the nickname “C”. Jae tends to call me Mars, Brian calls me Marcy or my full name, Marcella, while Wonpil and Sungjin also call me Marcy.

“Did you eat before coming?”, Sungjin asks, being the dad of the group. So-Yo whispers to him. He exits the room, slightly worried.

“He’s going to order some food. Go meet your bachelors”, she whispers to me before taking her shot and following Sungjin, taking our bags with her. Now, I’m left alone with four beautiful Korean men.

“Am I going to take shots alone?”, I incite a group shot. The boys lift up their shots.

“May friendships never die, work hard play hard, hugs not drugs”, I toast before tapping my shot to the counter and shooting it back. They all laugh from my toast. At least I get them to laugh. The shots are getting tougher to take, but dammit, this is helping my nerves.

“Another”, I tap my glass to the counter, asking for a refill.

“One more, then you’re taking a break”, Brian puts his hand on my back, concern in his voice. I inhale sharply. He’s hugged me before, but his hand is touching my exposed back, his fingertips burning against my skin.

“Of course”, I smile at him. We all prep for another shot.

“May the memes be dank, music be fresh, and sex be mind blowing”, I pull straight out of my ass, avoiding eye contact with all of the boys. They are taken by surprise over the sex portion of my toast. I take my shot and look at them. I shrug my shoulders and they take their shots. So-Yo comes back to the kitchen.

“Holy shit, how many did you guys take?”, she questions.

“I’m on my third”, I give her the sign for three, so far not feeling any effect.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, but let’s sit down before it hits you all at once”, she gestures for me to exit the kitchen. I follow her out of the kitchen and straight to the living room.

“So, I got some tea from Sungjin”, she whispers. Shit, so that’s why she pulled me out of the kitchen!

“Like what?”, I silently squeal.

“So, they all really dig you, don’t worry about that, but he definitely knows of two of them who were bickering earlier about which one you like more”, she confesses.

“Which one I like more?”, I point to myself. She nods and sits me down on the couch.

“I don’t even know which one I like more”, I mumble to myself.

“Come on, there has to be one of them you like more”, she scoffs at me.

“Sort out the pros and cons and I’ll go grab us some snacks”, she blows me a kiss before heading back to the kitchen. I hear her chat with the boys in Korean. That sneaky bitch, I love her. Pros and cons for the boys? Well Younghyun/Brian is stunning, always finds the right things to say, and looks out for me, just like a minute ago. Cons? He can be pretty uptight, can’t read his face, and is almost too pretty to be single, if that is a con. Jae is funny, extra, adorable, and is always down for something stupid. Cons, he might be a little too extra, a little too loud, and I have yet to see his serious side more than once. Wonpil is a sweetheart, looks good in any outfit, and is lowkey teaching me piano. Cons, he is still too shy around me. Dowoon is goofy, has the best facial expressions, always finds a way to make me smile. Cons, is still too shy around me, similar to Wonpil, and his English is very beginner so it would be difficult to communicate with him at first.

I hear my name within their conversation in the kitchen. I peak my head in.

“Talking shit?”, I spook So-Yo.

“No, I was just telling them about your progress in grad school”, she pulls out of her ass. They all give me a round of applause. I squint my eyes at her. She gives me a little wink.

“Bullshit she told you, but thank you guys”, I thank them while I do a botched curtsy.

“To break the ice and to get to know each other. Let’s play a game of truth or lie”, So-Yo changes directions, showing her inner camp counselor.

“It’s where someone in the room says something about themselves or something that has happened, could be true or made up, hence the name. The rest of the group has to guess if it’s true or a lie. If everyone gets the answer right, the person telling the truth or lie has to drink. If the group splits answers, whoever is wrong drinks. It’s simple”, So-Yo explains the game then translates in Korean. They all seem pretty excited to play. We all crowd the counter to make ourselves some mixed drinks to use for the game. We all stand in a circle in the kitchen with our drinks. I wanted to stand next to So-Yo and Sungjin, but she low-key puts me in between Jae and Brian while she stands on the other side of the circle. They are both so fucking tall compared to me, I’m feeling intimidated.

“Since I suggested the game, I’ll go first. Marcy is the first friend I made in the US. Truth or lie”, So-Yo starts off the game. Nearly everyone says truth, except for me and Jae. It was a lie, I was the second friend she made in the US, but our friendship is the longest. The losers take a swig of their drinks. We go along a circle for more truth or lie.

“The longest sleep I ever had was fifteen hours. Truth or lie”, Sungjin contemplates. We all say lie, which was correct. He laughs and says he never counted the longest sleep he ever had and takes a big gulp of his drink.

I keep my eyes on So-Yo to avoid looking at the boys. Brian nudges my arm.

“Are you ok?”, he worries. My grip on the cup tightens. I nod. He puts his hand on my back again, this time his fingertips feel like ice against skin.

“Don’t tense up, we’re all friends here”, he mouths. I hold the cup up to my face to hide my blushing cheeks. He flashes a smile at me.

“You’re cute when you’re shy”, he whispers before putting his hand in his pocket. Say what? Did I hear him correctly! It gets to my turn and so far I learned that Wonpil can’t lie to save his life, reminds me of myself, while Brian can lie through his teeth, proving my theory of him being mysterious.

“Marcy, truth or lie”, So-Yo purses her lips. All eyes are on me.

“What could I say?”, I try to gain inspiration.

“Be bold! Bet you won’t say something crazy”, So-Yo raises an eyebrow. Bitch knows how to get me. Everyone ooo’s at me, acknowledging the challenge.

“Fine, I’ll go bold”, I mumble.

“I play your songs as background noise while I masturbate. Truth or lie”, I shrug. So-Yo falls to her knees laughing. That bitch knows it’s true. There are mixed reactions around the room. Wonpil is blushing more than me, nearly turning as red as our cups. Dowoon didn’t understand the question so Jae explained it to him in Korean, resulting in him taking a huge gulp of his drink. Brian taps his leg nervously. Jae squints at me, trying to see through my poker face. Jokes on him, I can’t lie to save my life and today they’re going to learn that. Sungjin just does his iconic “what the fuck did I just hear” look at So-Yo, who is still on the floor laughing, this time nearly crying.

“Is it the truth or is it a lie?”, I ask the room.

“Which songs?”, Jae incites more information.

“Which songs I play? Well, Shoot Me, Time of Our Life, Dance Dance, I Wait, How Can I Say, Chocolate, I can say more if you want”, I list.

“Oh, it’s definitely a lie, you can’t masturbate to those songs”, Jae shakes his head.

“I didn’t say I masturbate to those songs, I play those songs in the background”, I explain.

“Dowoon?”, I ask for his answer.

“Truth”, he hesitates.

“I’m saving you for last, everyone is just going to copy you”, I point to So-Yo.

“Sungjin?”, I gesture to the sweet teddy bear who desperately wants to give me the disappointed dad face.

“Lie”, he shakes his head, sipping his drink.

“Lie”, Wonpil avoids eye contact with me. That poor boy must be dying of embarrassment. I guess he doesn’t want to accept that I listen to his singing while I pleasure myself. Oh well.

“Brian?”, I twiddle my thumbs.

“Lie”, he smirks at me. Sucker.

“So-Yo, what is it, truth or lie?”, I point to my best girl.

“It’s the fucking truth! Drink up!”, So-Yo cheers. Everyone exclaims their non-belief.

“She’s my roommate, you don’t think I won’t notice that shit? Let’s just say, she’s not quiet”, she teases before sipping her drink. I gasp. Jae and Brian look at me, wondering what I’m going to say next. 

Realizing I completely embarrassed myself, I scurry out of the room. I should just go. I lost my chance, I should’ve just stayed home. I fight the urge to cry as I run to the bathroom. My hands grip onto the sink, having water run to fade out the noises of me almost crying. The more I think about it, the worse it gets. I didn’t realize how tipsy I am till I look at my hands and notice how much I’m swaying. I should just go home and sleep, forget this night happened.

I hear a knock on the door. I fan myself to dry any tears.

“Yes?”, I ask, hoping my voice didn’t crack. The door creaks open.

“Marcy. It’s just me”, Brian whispers. I turn my back to him.

“I could be peeing, what the fuck”, I laugh, wiping tears off my cheek. Brian closes the door behind him.

“I learned that you can’t lie. Also, you would’ve actually yelled at me if you were”, he laughs before hugging me from behind. His arms wrapped around me makes me feel so secure and safe.

“Talk to me”, Brian whispers, putting his head on my shoulder.

“Did I fuck myself up by telling you guys about the thing?”, I hesitate.

“Don’t overthink it. It’s flattering, actually”, he chuckles. Thinking of him taking this as a compliment makes me giggle. Of course, out of all people, confident Brian would take this differently. Or he’s just saying this to make me smile.

“Let’s go swimming. We all need to cool off”, he squeezes me tighter. I grab his forearm and rub my thumb against his skin.

“Thank you”, I whisper. His heartbeat pounds against my back.

“We’re all friends here”, he mumbles. He kisses my head and storms out of the bathroom. First, he puts his hand on my back, calls me cute, comforts me in the bathroom, and now he kisses my head! I may be a dumb bitch, but I’m not that dumb.

Where did So-Yo put my bag? I peak my head out of the door, hoping to see it close by. I notice Sungjin and So-Yo sitting in the couch, giving each other googly eyes, already dressed in their swimsuits. Gross, but I love them so much. I find my bag by the corner of the hallway where the bathroom is. I manage to snag it without being noticed.

I change into my swimsuit, feeling more vulnerable. Stepping out of the bathroom, I’m welcomed by So-Yo.

“I got more tea”, she whispers. I’m all here for the tea!

“I know the two who were bickering”, she recalls the conversation from earlier.

“One of them has to be Brian, we just had a moment in the bathroom”, I gesture a hug.

“Oh”, So-Yo eyes widen. Oh?! Is one of them not Brian?!

“Do you like Brian?”, she mouths. I blush.

“Maybe I do?”, I shrug.

“That’s a yes”, she smiles at me.

“Why, who’s the other person?”, I slightly panic.

“You really haven’t noticed the way Jae looks at you?”, she expresses her shook face. I grab the door frame beside me.

“What?!”, I exclaim. 

Sungjin walks in and gathers us to join the rest of the group at the front door. Brian raises his eyebrows, seeing me in my bikini for the first time. Wonpil’s eyes widen. Jae does a little shuffle in place, trying not to look at me. Looking at these boys in their swim shorts makes me want to audibly whine “why the fuck are you all so pretty?!”. Why the fuck do they all look so good? To stop myself from staring, I keep my eyes on So-Yo. Sungjin hands So-Yo and I some towels and leads all of us to the pool on the roof. I leave my phone to charge, also to not get it wet.

It’s Jae and Brian that like me? No fucking way. Brian is at least flirty, Jae hasn’t shown any sign of him liking me. Oh shit. I forgot about the late night texting of random shit, shower thoughts type of dumb topics. I am truly a dumb bitch.

We get to the pool and it’s deserted. Jae swoops me in his arms and carries me to the edge of the pool.

“Jae!”, I squeal, terrified of him dropping me.

“I’m not going to drop you”, he cackles.

“Good”, I huff.

“I’m taking both of us in”, he shouts before jumping into the pool. I splash at him when we get to the surface. Everyone joins in on their own. Brian giving an expressionless face. Oh no, does he think I like Jae? Wait, do I like Jae? I swim to So-Yo. I try to be quiet enough for Sungjin to not notice.

“What do you mean by the way he looks at me?”, I whisper.

“He looks at you like you two are in a fucking Disney film”, she scoffs.

“Do you like him?”, she continues.

“I don’t know” I mumble.

“You’re still wondering who likes you?”, Sungjin chuckles. I shush him, trying to not catch the others attention.

“She knows it’s Brian and Jae. She can’t pick which one she likes”, So-Yo informs him. He gives me his “I really want to give you advice” look.

“It’s ok if you don’t know right away. When you know, you just have to talk to them”, he shrugs. I groan.

“That’s the hard part”, I mouth.

“Take each of them out on a date. See who you like more”, she suggests. This is getting overwhelming.

“A date?”, I exhale. I hear Brian call for me from a distance. So-Yo nods at me while I swim to the direction of his voice. Brian is sitting at the shallow end with the rest of the guys.

“We want to get to know you some more”, Jae grins at me. Oh Lord, they know I masturbate with their songs playing in the background and they still want to know me? Fuck. Maybe I am a delight.

“What do you want to know?”, I nervously rub my hands together.

“What was the weirdest nickname you ever had?”, Jae takes over with the questions.

“Weirdest nickname. I don’t know what would be considered weird”, I wonder.

“Tell them about Strawberry!”, So-Yo shouts, slowly swimming her way to us.

“Strawberry?”, Wonpil asks.

“Oh, goodness”, I laugh, hiding my face.

“Tell us about Strawberry”, Brian looks at me, eager to know.

“So, when I was really little, I really liked this boy. Probably my first crush. One day, he confronted me about my crush because his friends were teasing him about it. I was blushing so hard that my face was all pink, and back then, my freckles were more noticeable, so the boy told me I looked like a strawberry. Some kids overheard and proceeded to call me Strawberry. The name stuck all throughout my school years, it fucking sucked but looking back at it now, it’s cute. I don’t mind it anymore”, I share. Everyone was all awing my story.

Sungjin runs out of the pool and rushes downstairs. So-Yo reminded him about our food, that’s why. He gets back to the roof and tells us food is ready. We all groan about leaving the pool so early, but there’s food, we can’t complain too much.

We go back to the apartment and stuff our faces with food, sobering up pretty quickly. We exchange some stories, some laughs. So-Yo turns on a movie to keep us occupied till we get tired. 

Sungjin was nice enough to tell us we’re staying the night, there was no way we were going to go back home in our condition. Brian offers his bed for me, saying he’ll take the couch. What a gentleman.

After the movie, it’s time for all of us to go get some sleep. Dowoon stays up to play some video games. Wonpil gives me a hug goodnight, which is shocking, and heads to his room. Sungjin and So-Yo head to his room, waving good-bye, while So-Yo gives me a wink. Jae hands me my phone that I nearly forgot about, for once.

“Night, Strawberry”, he sticks out his tongue. I pretend to hit him with my phone. He dramatically flails in pain as he goes to his room. Then there’s just Brian and I. He escorts me to his room. He digs around his closet and tosses me a t-shirt.

“It’s good to sleep comfortably”, he smiles. I look at the shirt, loving the material. It’s a simple white tee but the material is soft and smells beautiful. I grab my bag and pull out my extra panties so I won’t have to wear dirty underwear to bed. Brian notices the panties and blushes. I don’t recall him ever being flustered.

“Thank you so much for tonight. We should do this more often”, I sigh.

“We should. Sweet dreams, Marcy”, he bows his head and leaves his room, giving me privacy to change. I strip out of my swimsuit and into this heavenly shirt and clean panties. Fuck, I love this shirt. I take a whiff of the scent and holy shit I’m swooning. It smells like his cologne, but also smells clean, basically smells like boy.

I crawl into bed, absorbing myself in his soft sheets. I imagine him sleeping in this bed and it brings butterflies to my stomach. I hear a knock on the door.

“It’s your girl”, So-Yo whispers before opening the door. I wrap myself like a burrito.

“You’re loving his bed without him in it? That’s sad”, she cackles. I shush her to keep quiet.

“I can call him in, he’ll be happy to be here seeing you be a caterpillar”, she giggles.

“Do it, you won’t”, I groan at her before I spread out the blanket. I turn off the light so I can actually sleep. So-Yo didn’t close the door, that monster. Whatever, I’ll sleep through it. I roll around to find the best position to sleep.

There’s another knock on my door. I grunt to show a lack of interest in talking. I didn’t hear anything afterwards, it must’ve been my imagination. I feel a dip in the mattress.

“It’s just me”, Brian whispers, scaring the shit out of me. I flip over and see him perfectly from the moonlight glistening him.

“Holy shit, she did call you in”, I mumble. He chuckles under his breath.

“May I?”, he lightly tugs on the blanket. Don’t have to ask me twice! I flip open the blanket for him to crawl inside.

“Can we snuggle? You can say no”, I test the waters.

“You don’t have to ask”, he cackles before taking me in his arms. Fuck, I really needed this. In this snuggle party: I’m on my side, facing him, while he lays on his back, one arm supporting my head and the other is wrapped around my waist. Out of impulse, I put my leg against his, almost putting it between them. My silky smooth leg low-key rubs against his leg hair. Wait, is he wearing just his underwear? Dare I check?

“Are you just wearing your underwear?”, I mumble.

“Shorts”, he whispers.

“Are you wearing just your underwear?”, he turns the direction to me. His heart is nearly pounding out of his chest. It’s interesting that he gives off his confident exterior, but his heartbeat says otherwise.

“We’re not talking about me here”, I tease. He combs his fingers through my hair.

“Thank you for being comfortable with me”, he whispers. His voice is different. Not the cute, handsome voice that I’m used to. This voice is deeper, solem almost. My hands were wrapped around myself to be a little mummy, but I slowly unraveled to place one hand on his chest and the other rubbing my knuckles on his cheek. How am I nervous around you, but am still so comfortable? I can still see him perfectly from the illumination of the moonlight. He’s even more handsome than I could imagine.

“Brian”, I hesitate. He turns his head and gives me a peck on the lips. I lay there speechless over him taking the plunge that I was going to do.

“You do look like a strawberry when you blush like that”, he scrunches his face. I grab his face and kiss him back. He pulls me by the waist to get on top of him. I sit on his lap, loving the loose clothing keeping us from touching skin to skin. I continue kissing him, slowly rolling my hips. He grabs my hips and guides me to a perfect rhythm. His dick gets hard in seconds, teasing me from how close it is to me.

“Oh, fuck”, he moans.

“You feel so good”, he whispers.

“Do I?”, I tease. I put my hand under my crotch to palm him through his shorts. His moans turn into a raspy growl. He flips me over so that I’m on my back, having him hover above me. His hand goes straight to my folds, his index finger doing a long strip along me. I groan from the contact. His mouth latches to my neck, ferociously kissing and sucking, as if he’s hungry for this. His heavy petting is making me weak. I continue to palm him, feeling his dick twitch from my contact.

“You’re already so wet for me. Fuck”, he moans against my skin.

“Brian, please”, I manage to speak.

“Tell me what you want, baby”, his voice deepens.

“I want you”, I whine. He bites down on my neck, definitely going to leave a visible mark that will be noticeable in the morning. He slams his clothed dick on me, rubbing himself against my wet panties.

“How do you want me?”, he continues. His pace quickens.

“I want you inside of me”, I moan in his ear. He groans and pulls himself away from me entirely, sitting beside me with his knees to his chest.

“No, not like this”, he brushes his hair back, wiping the sweat off his forehead. I sit up and nudge his arm.

“What’s wrong?”, I mumble, trying to keep my composure.

“You’re my friend. Friends don’t do this”, he pants.

“Brian”, I grab his hand.

“I just need some time. I know I like you, I like you so much, I just need some time to know if I want a relationship yet”, he confesses. I’m still compiling what the fuck just happened, but I’m flexible.

“I understand”, I smile. He’s very open with me about his past relationships, which I am very thankful for.

“If you don’t want to wait, I understand”, Brian starts to ramble. I never saw him like this, collapsing. He always looked to have his shit together, but seeing him this way, being human who can break, is cleansing. I squeeze his hand to get his attention.

“Let’s just get some sleep. We can talk about this later, alright?”, I suggest. He nods and lays back down.

“Would you still want to cuddle?”, he murmurs. I get all snuggly in his arms.

“You don’t have to ask”, quoting him from earlier.

“We have a small concert tomorrow night if you want to come. We snagged a ticket in case you weren’t busy”, he invites. I bury my face in his chest.

“I’d love to finally see you perform live”, I scrunch my face.

“Perfect”, he chuckles before getting into a deep sleep.

There’s no fucking way So-Yo is going to believe this shit. No, no, I shouldn’t tell her, not till him and I talk for real about what’s going to happen with us.

He looks like such an angel, doesn’t even snore. I hope we can move on from this, my feelings for him become even more clear, reflecting on how he was with me earlier tonight and just now. I wonder what he has in mind for our conversation.

[peonybane]

Agape and Pragma: Chapter 7

Pairings: OT7 (BTS) x Reader

Word Count: 2.6 k

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Angst, Sci-Fi, Crack (?), Smut (eventually)

Chapter Specific Notes: Lots of angst, some swearing, more so than usual.

Summary: Your entire world had be torn asunder by just one lab test. Time heals all wounds, but does it really? What will it take to feel whole again?

Hybrid Types: Peacock Jin, Serval Yoongi, Golden Retriever Hoseok, Gray Wolf Namjoon, Scottish Fold House Cat Jimin, Great Dane Taehyung, and French Lop Eared Rabbit Jungkook

a/n: So, I’ve combined what was originally planned as chapters 7 and 8 because they were two ideas that are critical to the storyline, but were short as hell. Should I be posting this this early? No. Do I have any self control? Also no. This chapter is dedicated to @ropeseok as she was the inspiration for a new character in this chapter. Please enjoy!

<— Previous (Chapter 6)

You felt like a child, hiding away in your room for days. You only ever came out to get food or to go to work. It wasn’t so much that you were upset with them still, it was really the shame of acting the way that you did that made you hide away. How could you face them after yelling the way that you did? Was it immature? Of course. Was avoiding them unnecessary? The jury was still out on that.

Luckily though, or perhaps unluckily, they all gave you the space you seemed to need. It was awful, really. You could hear Taehyung stopping in front of your door almost every night, pausing in front of it. There were times you wished he’d put you out of your misery and just knock already. Instead of coming to your door to let you know food was ready, Jin would instead text you, the messages often cold and short. It missed his usual flavor of emoticons. Something you’d grown to love. 

Everyday you’d hear them come to your door one by one, but they’d turn around and leave after a few moments of hesitation. After all, what could they say or do? 

You knew you should make the first move. But your pride prevented you from doing that. As much as you had hurt them, they had also hurt you. The difference was that you had been bottling up at that pain and had exploded at them when you shouldn’t have. They just reacted to your pain. Not that it was an excuse, but it helped justify your behavior to yourself, if only a little bit.

The all too chipper ping of your phone got your attention. Rubbing the back of your neck, you couldn’t help the little smile that crept onto your face as you saw who texted you.

[Jongin]: You awake? I got a question for you. 

You bit your lip as you opened your phone to reply.

[You]: No. I’m dead asleep and texting you from dreamland.

Almost immediately, the three little dots appeared, then disappeared to be replaced by a message.

[Jongin]: You free this Friday? 

[Jongin]: I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a proper date.

You immediately devolved into a 13 year old girl, barely containing your excite. You hadn’t been on a proper date in what felt like forever.

[You]: Unfortunately, I am busy. I have work. But I can meet you on Saturday for an early coffee.

[Jongin]: Aw poop. I suppose I’ll have to settle for a coffee over a candlelit dinner. I’ll text you the details later! :D

You bit your lip. He was strangely adorable. A little bit like Jimin actual. You could imagine Jongin’s ears flicking the way Yoongi’s did at the prospect of the date.

The sound of your alarm blaring reminded you that you had a different sort of date today. Setting up your laptop on your lap, with your back against the headboard of your bed, you opened up Skype, waiting for Liam to open up your call. A moment later, Liam’s face appeared on your screen and a cheesy grin found its way onto your face.

God, he looked so happy. His beard was fuzzier but was disappointingly still a little skinny. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Is she not feeding you enough? I was promised 20 pounds. 20!”

Liam’s booming laugh hit your ears immediately. While he tried to get himself under control, Deeba entered the frame and deposited herself on his lap. You’d never get over how pretty she was with her shoulder length black tresses and pale brown eyes. 

“Hi Deeba.”

She greeted you with a smile as well. “What is this about not feeding him enough? I try, I really try. But this bastard decides, ‘Oh no! It’s not good for the patients to see me like this!’ And proceeds to work 12 plus hours at the hospital, barely eating! Can you believe him?”

You cackled as Liam attempted to pacify his wife by kissing her on the cheek and stroking her hair. Once he had her calmed, Liam turned his attention back to you. His brow knit together as he tilted his head. “Shortstack? Why are you in your room? Aren’t you usually in the living room for this?”

Damn Liam and his observant nature. You shrugged, trying to look as uninterested as possible. “Felt like just hanging out in my room. That’s all.”

You may have bamboozled Deeba, but not Liam. He accusingly called your name. “What happened?”

You sighed, reaching to rub the back of your neck. “I yelled at them.”

Deeba asked, “Yelled at them? That’s all?”

“It’s not like that. It’s not how Jin and I would yell at each other from across the kitchen. It’s not how I’d scold Namjoon for accidentally breaking something because of the lack of tail spacial awareness. I….”

Liam used his dad voice on you, calm, reassuring, but no room for weaseling your way out. “What happened?”

You took a moment collecting your thoughts. “They’d been… acting weird. And a few nights ago. I had enough. I lost my temper.”

This peaked Deeba’s interest, specialized in Hybrid psychology after all. “How did their behavior change?”

“Well… it was different for each of them. But if I had to name something overall: they’ve been more intimate, aggressive, dominant even. Yoongi is needier, but just for my attention. Jungkook has been extremely affectionate. Namjoon too. Though it’s harder for me to describe because from the outside, it doesn’t necessarily look like his behavior changed, but he’s… softer. I don’t know how else to describe it.” Your voice began to tremble. “Jin and even Tae have gotten more aggressive. Tae! Can you even believe it? The other night I had to get in between Jin and Jungkook— a fight Jin started. Hobi and Jimin have been… seductive. Always trying to act dominant around me. And—“

Your eyes started to water. Taking a moment to wipe your eyes, you collected yourself. “When… when I came back from my business trip, I came home to a fight, I lost it. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I hurt them. I hurt them so much with my words.”

The other end of the call was silent as you cleared your vision of the hot blurry tears. Deeba then asked a very odd question. “Is your cycle out of whack?”

“What?”

“Deeba, my love, I don’t think that’s an appropriate questi—“

“Liam, you’re a doctor! You shouldn’t be getting all squirrelly at this sort of question.”

“Yes, but this is my best friend— someone who is like my sister.”

Deeba rolled her eyes. “Well?”

You hesitated. “Now— now, that I think about it. Yeah. It started about 6 months ago. I’d start getting them a few days later than usual, but a couple of months ago, I completed skipped one. I just kinda figured it was my body coming to terms with not being able to get pregnant.”

Deeba worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’ve read something like this before. Some Hybrids have stronger baser instincts than were previously thought. Aggression and dominance in particular. Occasionally though, the hormone cascade in some that brings out the aggressive nature in some, brings out stronger affectionate behavior that aren’t necessarily portrayed by whatever animal that Hybrid was crossed with. There’s even been a suggestion that Hybrid hormones can affect normal humans. So, long as there is either a long exposure or high concentration of said hormones. You’ve been affected by both factors. I think their pheromones are effecting yours, giving you a pseudo ‘heat.’”

You tilted your head, brow furrowing. “I kinda follow but not entirely, Deeba.”

She hesitated. “At least three of them, if not all, are in love with one of their housemates. But, based on the behavior that you described, they are in love with you.”

“What?” You forced out a laugh. “You can’t be serious? One of them? In love? With me? Don’t be silly.”

The look on both Deeba’s face and Liam’s told you that they were dead serious. “Liam, she can’t be right. It’s ridiculous!”

“Shortstack… she’s right. Before I left, I knew. I knew one of them was in love with you. But he didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. He was willing to be at your side, to comfort you, to protect you, until you were ready. But if he felt threatened by one of the others’ developing feelings for you, feelings that were the same as his, I can see him trying to establish his place as a higher member of the pack, both to deter the others and to prove to you that he’s the worthy… mate.”

“Are… are you talking about Tae?”

Liam visibly swallowed. “It’s not just him. Hobi would never admit it, but I think he had, still has, feelings for you, as well.”

You scoffed. “This… this ridiculous!”

A muscle twitched in his face before Liam raised his voice at you. It made you shrink in on yourself, even if he was in some other part of the world. “You’ve been doing this since Taka! You don’t think you deserved to be loved ever again. You keep denying yourself the prospect of it. Why? Just because you can’t give birth? Well, they can’t have children, either! You have closed yourself off, putting yourself through more pain than you deserve. Stop it and take a chance! Believe in them. Stop lying to yourself. I know that you are in love with at least one of them! Even if you can’t see it yourself because you’ve drowned yourself too much in your own self-pity.”

Before you or Deeba could get another word in, Liam ended the call, leaving you in silence. 

He was right. Dammit, he was always right. He knew you better than you knew yourself. What were you going to do now?

^~^~^~^~^ 

“—Hey! Are you listening?”

You jumped a little as Amber called your name. “I’m sorry, Amber. What were you saying?”

Amber was one of your authors. She was a tall woman with long, dark brown hair and dark eyes. Every time you saw her, she dazzled you with her wild and artistic makeup, often in bold colors and glitter. Here she sat across from you in the corner booth at your favorite cafe to meet up with her for work. Her gaze pierced you out from under her black beret. 

“I’ve been calling your name for the last few minutes. Come on. Talk to me. Something is distracting you.”

She sipped at her tea as she watched you like a hawk. Sometimes, you wondered if she was a hawk Hybrid. You sighed. “It’s nothing, Am. Let’s continue.”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t pull that bullshit with me, girl. You and I both know that we ain’t doing shit when one of us has something on our minds.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Can’t get anything past you, huh?”

“Nope. I’ve been with you the longest of your sci-fi brood. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”

This was why you two got along so well. Amber continued as she glanced down at her cup. “Does, uh, this have anything to do with Namjoon?”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks. “What… what makes you think this has anything to do with him?”

“Namjoon and I do research in the same library. Something was… off about him. Didn’t help that he was picking up books from the interlibrary loan desk on Hybrid psychology.”

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair. “Liam,” you paused, unsure of how to even begin, “Liam thinks my roommates are either in love with each other or in love with me because… because they’ve been acting weird.”

“Weird how?”

So, you set about explaining to Amber about how oddly they’ve been acting. And about how poorly you responded in kind to them. She listened intently. Once you had finished, she thought for a moment. “Do you love them?”

“What? Of course.”

Amber shook her head. “No. Not like how you love Liam. I’m talking ‘ooey-gooey lovey-dovey take me here on this table’ type of love.”

“Amber!”

“What? Would you rather me describe as it as ‘make me a candle lit dinner then fuck me on the sofa’ type of love,” she asked, all the while maintaining a perfectly straight face.

You gaped at her. “Amber! We’re in public!”

Amber just laughed. “Whatever, bitch. So? You in love with any of them? All of them?”

Her powerful gaze genuinely made you reflect upon yourself. Were you in love with any of them? It would certainly take a more than a mere moment’s thoughts to confirm it, but— a little voice at the back of your mind whispered, ‘yes, you loved them, all of them.’ A soft smile found its way onto your face.

Amber gave you a big cheesy smile. “I knew it! You love them!”

She squealed like a 13 year old girl at a concert, earning you two looks from your fellow cafe patrons. You giggled at her reaction. “Calm down. Everyone’s looking at us. And, let’s assume for a moment, maybe, and I mean maybe, I was in love. With all of them. What can I do? I don’t want to hurt any of them more than I already have. And… I have a date tomorrow. Jongin was the first Hybrid I ever considered dating. I can’t not give him a chance.”

“Well,” Amber swirled her straw in her tea, “I’d say meet with this ‘Jongin.’ But only after you’ve given serious thought to how you feel about your roommates. If being with Jongin invokes the same feelings in you, then I’m wrong: you’re not really in love with them. Just a different type of love. But, if you don’t feel the same way about Jongin and it’s not a more intense feeling, then I’d say turn him down gently. If he’s a Hybrid as you say, he’d probably smell them on you. So, he might naturally accept the fact that you won’t return his affection. Or he’ll go feral. One of the two.”

You rolled your eyes as she laughed. “Thanks, Amber. Really helped ease my worry.” 

She calmed down and reached across the table to grab your hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “But for real: maybe this is an opportunity— a chance to live guilt-free. You’ll be with someone, or maybe even someones, who won’t have any expectations of you carrying their children. Besides, from personal experience, the difference in anatomy can be a real plus.”

“Amber!”

“What? What did you think I was referring to? Dirty girl. I was talking about rubbing ears and warm cuddle buddies. Get your head out of the gutter.”

She smirked at you over the rim of her cup. You knew what she was implying and quite frankly, the idea made you blush. After all, you had never really considered the implications if you really did go ahead with a romantic relationship with any— or all of them. 

Was it possible? 

Would you be happy? 

More importantly, would they be?

As always, reviews, comments, asks, and tags are always loved! ~Peony

Also, please note that I do NOT do tagging lists. Please see my FAQ for why.

Next (Chapter 8) —>

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[artificialqueens]

The Goode Case, 2/14 (Jaida/Jan, Heidi/Nicky) - Juno

Chapter Summary: Jackie feels stuck in the middle with her two team members. Brita wants to explore every angle in the case, even those she’s not convinced about. Jaida is worried about her housemate.

(A/N: Hi all, thank you very much for your support so far! I hope you enjoy the second part.)

Saturday 28thOctober

2.03PM

“I called forensics to get them down on the case, and they just called to let me know they’re setting up,” Brita said softly, putting the three glasses of coke on the table in the booth and letting Jackie and Jaida pick theirs up. “The Visage building is being taped up. No unauthorised personnel, no general public, until they’ve done their job. The anklet couldn’t have been the only clue, so we’ll see what they come back with.”

“Are they doing that this afternoon?” Jackie asked.

Brita nodded. “They’ll be in there for the rest of the day I think. Chief has asked the three of us to be available tomorrow on call, in case something comes up.”

“Sure,” Jaida gave Brita a thumbs up, while Jackie nodded.

“Nice one, thanks. Anyway, I’ll order. Do you know what you’re both having?”

“Veggie supreme.” Jaida said, peering down at the menu.

In reality, Jaida didn’t even need to look. She had just known she needed some pizza today. Jackie, her nerves calming down, had agreed that some carbs were in order, as a reward for not only having to be on call on a Saturday, but also actually having something come up.

Brita of course would have taken any excuse to go to Mantione’s for lunch, especially as they hadn’t been here since summer. Alexis, the family matriarch, was her mother’s best friend and Brita had grown up with her four kids, the two youngest working shifts at the diner. Any trip there was more Brita visiting friends than anything.

“Has your housemate – what’s her name, Widow – has she got you to be vegetarian?” Brita asked.

“Yeah, I haven’t really missed eating meat the last four months. It’s not that bad being vegetarian.”

Jackie nodded, taking off her square-rimmed reading glasses. “Want to share one? I really don’t think I want a whole pizza to be honest.”

“Sure, me neither.”

Brita folded her own menu. “Fine.” And she walked off to the bar at to put in their order.

Jaida marvelled for a moment at how many people in this city Brita seemed to know. She was in deep conversation with Paul Mantione, one of Brita’s high school friends, who was on shift at the bar; while his younger sister, who Jaida hadn’t seen working here before, scurried around him pouring drinks for another table. Jaida found her eyes lingering on her a little longer than she could help.

“Have you told Brita yet?”

Jackie interrupted her thoughts, and Jaida turned to face her serious expression. It wasn’t difficult to know what she meant; Jackie asked her this once a week it seemed.

Jaida shook her head.

“Jaida –“

“Jackie, don’t.” She sipped her coke. “And no, Brita hasn’t told me either, before you ask. So she doesn’t know that I see, like …”

“She doesn’t know you’re a medium,” Jackie finished. “It’s a little more delicate. She doesn’t know you can interact with spirits.”

“Girl, interact is really stretching it.”

Really, why was Jackie bringing this up now? Jaida put her menu back, not meeting Jackie’s eyes, but Jackie was relentless.

“No, really, all these gifts are for us to use for a reason. There would be no point in just seeing someone, they probably want to communicate something with you.” Jackie rested her chin on her hand. “You’re not alone, Jaida. I know it’s reallyhard, being different, but you’re not alone. I heard Crystal. She’s a medium too, I think.”

“That much I understood from what you said.”

Maybe if Jaida kept staring at her coke, Jackie would drop it. But no such luck.

“I heard her thinking,” Jackie continued, “she saw what she thought a spirit in the house. That was what made her want to go back there. And what made her so scared this morning. If Brita knew, she could -”

“Look, I don’t see why either of us should tell each other. I don’t want to tell people, and Brita doesn’t want to tell me either. Which is fine. It’s none of my damn business.”

Jackie folded her arms. “You’re both embarrassed.”

Jaida felt her skin prickle with heat. “I’m not embarrassed!”

“Okay, ashamed then,” Jackie retorted. “You can’t deny that one.”

“Jackie,” Jaida began, but she found she couldn’t find the words to describe how having this curse made her feel. “I’m not ashamed. I’m fucking … devastatedat what has happened to these spirits. It’s – horrible – to see these people, who are …” But the lump in Jaida’s throat was too large to form words around.

“What’s up with you two?” Brita came back to the table and slid into the booth next to Jaida.

“Nothing,” Jaida said quickly.

Jackie glared at her, before addressing Brita. “That witness from earlier, Crystal, from what she was thinking, I don’t think we should rule out a supernatural element in this case.”

Brita glanced at Paul, who was at the bar but still within earshot, grinning at her. Brita waved back, smiling, but as she turned to the others, it looked more like a grimace. “Can we talk about something else, Jacks?”

“Like you and Jaida, needing to be honest with each other?”

Jaida felt herself flush. It wasn’t like Jackie to be this irritable, or confrontational, but her jaw was set and her eyes were cold. Brita, unperturbed, pushed her hair back over her shoulders and met her stare.

“We need to do this in private, Jackie,” Brita said firmly. “It’s not the time or place. We’ll talk, I swear.”

“Private,” Jackie was laughing bitterly. “Private. I wasn’t private.”

“Well, we’re not you, Jacks,” Brita said irritably. “You were really open with us about being telepathic.”

“It wasn’t that,” Jackie mumbled.

“You were drunk, then.”

“Okay, I was a bit drunk. But also, I’d just … never met anyone else who had anything. And then I come across you two and I felt …”

Jaida shuffled in her seat, and Brita suddenly became very interested in the patterns on the table.

She sighed. “I thought I was amongst friends.”

“We are friends!” Brita protested.

“Then you need to be honest with each other! It’s nothing embarrassing. Just – just a bit unusual.”

Brita said nothing, playing with her napkin, a long silence stretching out between the three of them.

Jaida breathed a sigh of relief as the waitress came over, two pizzas in hand, to lay them in the centre of the table with a brilliant smile.

“Thanks Jan,” Brita flashed her a smile back.

“You’re welcome. Do you need any more drinks?”

Brita looked at both Jaida and Jackie, who shook their heads. “No, we’re good, thanks.”

The silence continued throughout the food. Brita didn’t seem to want to meet anyone’s eyes, particularly Jackie’s, content to focus on her pizza, which she ate far too quickly. Jackie rested her head on one hand as she picked at the slices, but Jaida didn’t really feel too hungry any more, only eating two pieces before pushing the plate over to Jackie for her to finish.

It wasn’t until Jackie slipped out of the booth and went to the bathroom that Brita looked up and relaxed her shoulders again.

“Sis, what’s bitten her?” Brita asked.

Jaida sighed. “She’s frustrated that we’re not open with each other about –“

“Look, I don’t have any telepathic stuff!” Brita protested, putting her hands up. “I don’t know why she thinks I do! And if you did, I assume you’d have told me, right?”

“Yeah, sure, right,” Jaida nodded, swallowing the lump that was still in her throat.

Brita huffed, looking a little exasperated. “Alright, how about this: would your friend do a séance again? Do you think that would make Jackie feel like we’re doing a more thorough investigation? Chief should clear it, although he’s still a bit sceptical, y’know, with the telepathic stuff.” Brita chuckled. “Tomorrow night would be ideal. Gives forensics the chance to get their job done.”

“I’ll call her this evening,” Jaida replied. “But you can’t be questioning her every move this time, Brita. She didn’t say, but I know you got her back up last time. Just let her do her thing. And if nothing happens, just let it slide this time. It won’t always work.”

“I promise,” Brita said solemnly, crossing her heart with her pinkie.

6.08PM

“Good evening, Dahlia’s Sin City, who would you like to talk to?”

“Dahl, you sound like you’re running a sex line, not a psychic line.”

“Hi, Jaida,” Dahlia’s voice came down the line. “Long time no speak, sis.”

“I know. We should hang out.” Jaida paused. “I said to Heidi I’d set up a girl’s night out. I stood her up today – not on purpose, just a day on a case.”

“On a Saturday?” Dahlia whistled. “That must be serious.”

“Yeah. So, next Saturday? You, me, Heidi, Widow if she’s feeling up to it?”

“Cool. And I assume you’re calling because you need our services?”

“Well, no, I mean, yes, but that’s not the only reason.”

“Is your team leader going to cut me some slack this time, if we do it?” Dahlia’s voice took on a sarcastic tone. “She was literally so understanding last time, when nothing came through. Spirits don’t play by normal rules.”

“Brita’ll be fine. I told her to be cool.”

There was a pause. “Heidi mentioned she had a date tonight. She asked me for a reading on the cards. Can you let me know how it goes tonight?” Dahlia asked.

“Why?”

“Just something we saw, Jai,” Dahlia replied.

“Fine. I’ll text you later.” Jaida sighed. “Will you do it? Bring your board? Lead a séance?”

“Sure. Where and when do you want us?”

“Wait. Us?”

“Yeah, me and Rock.”

Jaida frowned. Why was Dahlia bringing a rock? Maybe she’d misheard.

She nodded, too confused to argue with it. “Okay. Old Visage guest house at Westfield Avenue. Tomorrow night.”

“Okay, I can fit you in tomorrow, but the old house?” Dahlia cried. “Are you sure? ‘Cause my brother lives near there and bitch, the things he says about that place are weird as hell!”

“So don’t you want to get some proof?” Jaida asked.

“Sure, but I want to stay alive too!”

“Child –“

“You think I’m overreacting, Jai, but this is serious. Don’t you know all the stories? There’s so many fucking things that went on in that place. Big fire, suicides, black magic; bitch, I know a psychic that literally won’t go within two blocks of it now.” Dahlia sighed. “Alright, I’ll do it for you, Jai, but you gotta be vigilant.”

“Okay, thanks Dahl, I appreciate it.” Jaida felt some pressure lift off her chest. “Speak to you tomorrow.”

“And it’s not a sex line!” Dahlia said, as she hung up the line.

Jaida wasn’t really hungry, but she left her room and went to the kitchen and living area. Widow had finished her painting, and it sat drying on the coffee table, newspapers still scattered on the floor around it. It was the fourth or fifth one that Widow had painted this week, their living area becoming an art studio, with sunrises filled with more brilliance than the sun, and mountains that scraped the dusky skies. Places that didn’t exist, but that somehow came into Widow’s head, that she had been generous enough to share into their plain, magnolia-walled apartment.

Widow had the TV on, in the same baggy band shirt and long shorts she’d worn since this morning, curled up in one corner of the couch, spooning something into her mouth. She still didn’t look quite herself, and although her eyes were on the TV screen, she was looking straight through it.

“Hey,” Jaida gave her a small wave, while Widow turned to her and waved her spoon in her direction, her face not changing from the blank, sad expression.

“There’s some for you if you want it,” Widow motioned to the kitchen. “Found the recipe on instagram. It’s lentil dhal. Well, it’s my first try at it,” she added with a tiny smile.

Jaida found the hob still lit and the dhal simmering in the pan. She put some in a bowl for herself and moved to join Widow on the couch.

“How has the day been?” Jaida asked, not wanting to blink.

Widow shrugged. “Not as bad as yesterday, or the day before, or even last weekend. Hey, I managed to cook some food. That’s something.”

“Yeah it is, sis,” Jaida said gently.

The silence settled between them, just the noise from the TV for company. Jaida took in her friend, or at least the shell of her.

Widow’s face was sunken, she’d visibly lost some weight even in the space of a week. The usual wicked glint in her eye and quick-humoured smile were gone, replaced by this staring, blank entity that shared the couch with Jaida. Still, it was the first time since Monday that Jaida had seen Widow put something in her mouth that wasn’t black coffee. Baby steps.

“They set a date, for the funeral.” Widow didn’t take her eyes off the TV screen. “Two weeks today. So I booked a flight to KC. She was – she never left the city.”

Jaida hadn’t expected her to say anything about it. She probably wouldn’t have even known about her friend’s suicide, if she hadn’t been in the kitchen when Widow got the phone call.

They’d lived together for almost a year now, having met on an online room search site, and the two of them clicked immediately. She liked Widow very much, but Widow was quite shy, and not one to easily talk about her life, especially her early life. Jaida knew she was from Missouri, and a sales consultant, having moved to New York a year after Jaida, but little else.

The most Jaida ever really got out of Widow was by joining her online Overwatch battles, when she would chat about anything, while kicking the crap out of an enemy team on the screen. Jaida had noticed Widow seemed to live in that universe on a semi-permanent basis, coming home from her busy sales job, dealing with customers all day, and escaping into the games.

But Widow hadn’t played in the last week; not even her digital world was able to take her away from this lonely grey reality.

Silent tears trickled down Widow’s face. Jaida leaned towards her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, while Widow roughly rubbed her eyes.

“Sorry,” Widow whispered.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Jaida muttered.

Her eyes shifted to the corner of the room.

Where the woman had appeared.

Ashen, pale, with blood covering her hands and forearms, black hair that hung limply at her shoulders, eyes hollow and sunken into their sockets, grey and devastatingly sad, completely still, rigid in place.

Jaida knew it wasn’t real, after all these years, just an spirit, just an apparition; but it was no less terrifying than the very first time.

Jaida swallowed hard, closed her eyes and counted to five before opening them again.

Widow’s friend had vanished.

10.14PM

Widow had gone to her room shortly after their meal, having eaten about half of it, mumbling that she felt sick. It left Jaida to watch a little more TV before retiring to her own room.

Her phone buzzed with a friend tone, and Jaida picked it up, to find a picture of Heidi in a selfie with an absolutely stunning woman, with grey, almond-shaped eyes and a dazzling smile. Heidi’s own smile would have lit up a football pitch.

Heidi: omg date went well she’s so cute and funny and french!!

Jaida:Wait you didn’t mention she is french!

Heidi:girl the accent alone

Heidi:its love Jai x

Jaida:Maybe u need to go slow H, u know you never dated a girl before, did u tell her that??

Heidi:yeh and she was fine with that!!

Jaida: That’s cool, so when are we gonna go out and am I gonna get to meet her? Xx

Heidi:I told her tomorrow afternoon x

Jaida:Hold up

Jaida punched Heidi’s phone symbol and called her instead of waiting for her to send another message. Heidi picked up straight away.

“What’s up Jai!” Heidi hollered down the phone.

“Girl, how many cocktails did you drink?”

“Only two … and some wine!” Heidi giggled.

“Let me get this straight: Heidi, you told your date that we were going to meet tomorrow afternoon?” Jaida demanded with a chuckle.

“Well sure, you’re my best friend! She wants to meet you too!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I might have to work again. This case is a bit more, uh, complicated than you think. I don’t wanna have to call off again.”

“It’s part of my amazing plan actually,” Heidi murmured, before giggling again.

Jaida couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “You got an amazing plan?”

“Bitch, if you get called away, then me and Nicky can have some QT on our own!”

Jaida snorted. “The ulterior motives!”

Heidi gasped down the line in mock horror. “Jaida! What do you mean? You know I’m as transparent as a window, boo!”

“I’m happy you had a good time. See you tomorrow.”

Heidi’s drunken giggling still rang in Jaida’s head as she got ready for bed. Lord knows she loved her best friend, and Heidi’s chipper mood was just what she needed before bed. And it was nice to see Heidi having a date, she’d been single for a while.

She opened the bedroom door to a vague smell of cigarette smoke, telling her Widow had ventured out onto the balcony for her after-supper cigarette, only, without having had the supper.

“Night, Widow.”

“Night, sis.” 

[sadienita]

Opposites Attract - Part 2

Wonwoo x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: involves partying, and drinking

You were excited to finally properly visit Wonwoo’s house and actually meet some of his friends. Parties were one of your favourite things and even though Wonwoo didn’t love them you hoped he’d come and spend a little time with you.

You might have scared Wonwoo with how loudly you had screamed when he told you about the party. Apparently two of the other’s in the frat, Jeonghan and Soonyoung, basically had to beg the head of the house to accept. Wonwoo said that Seungcheol was making them clean the house for a month but he did agree to the house party. 

You, for one, loved parties. Wonwoo said house being full of strangers wasn’t his favourite thing but since you were so excited he would at least hang out for a little while. But parties were your thing. You had no qualms about having a few drinks, especially for a party, and you loved meeting people. You and Wonwoo had been on three dates and had spent plenty of time texting but you had yet to properly meet any of his housemates. You’d seen some of them before, at trivia and once when you stopped by his house before a date. But you always went out and did something so you were excited to finally meet some of his friends.

You also just loved getting to know new people. Parties were fun. You were naturally a loud person. It’s not like you were screaming during lectures or while walking down the street but your voice was loud, your laugh was loud. You had no problem being dramatic and excitable and the center of attention. You could be as loud as you wanted when music was blaring and people were talking. It didn’t feel out of place and as comfortable as you tried to be with who you were, some days it was nice to be in an environment where you just fit in easily.

You weren’t sure if Wonwoo would be up to the whole party. He was quiet and he already told you that normally he would hide out in his room but he would stay up for some of it if you wanted to be there. None of your dates had been too crazy. You were already starting to see that he was shy. When you were at a cafe he was all quiet, witty, comments and sly smiles while sipping on coffee. Looks that made your knees weak and made you lose your train of thought. But when it was just the two of you in a room at a karaoke bar he let loose a little more. He made jokes and laughed a little louder and let himself be a little more silly.

You had noticed other things too. You noticed that he had a competitive streak and so did you. Your arcade date had been too much fun that ended in you buying lunch because you lost one too many games. You were already planning a Mario Kart showdown with each other, you just needed a prize to compete for.

You had also learned that he was wildly intelligent. He was studying history but he seemed to know so much about everything. So far almost any question you asked him, he had an answer for. You were proud that you were able to answer a communications related question that he couldn’t. It made you feel good to teach him something.

He was thoughtful and had a good memory. He picked up on little details so easily. He brought you your favourite drink every time you got together. He had learned your favourite candies and snacks already and took care to bring them or suggest them when you wanted something. You had a sneaking suspicion he would also make sure they had some at the party too.

You hadn’t been able to convince Dal or Seunghan to come to the party but Noeul, ever your right hand woman, had helped you figure out what to wear and was now on the bus with you on the way to the party. It should have started 10 minutes ago so you were hoping that by the time you got there the party would be in full swing. You never wanted to show up early for a house party unless you were helping the hosts. You had also debated on pre-drinking, but decided against it. You could start when you got there.

You and Noeul jumped off the bus and practically raced down the sidewalk to the house. The music was already blaring and you grinned as you made your way up the laneway and through the door. You and Noeul cracked open your drinks as soon as you got your coats off. She twisted off the top of her cooler and you your wine that tasted more like juice than alcohol. You wandered into the living room where a rousing game of beer pong was already in action.

“Welcome.”

You and Noeul turned to see a tall, good looking man leaning against the wall. Another guy stood next to him, eyes glued to his phone. The first guy bumped him and he looked up for a second before returning his attention to his screen.

“Are you ever going to talk to people?”

He grunted in response.

“I’m sorry about Jun, ladies.” he sighed. “His soulmate, Tiyanna, lives halfway around the world and he misses her.”

“That must be hard,” pouted Noeul.

���I’m sure he’ll survive, I’m Jeonghan, by the way.”

“Ah,” you said, a grin spreading across your lips. “So you’re the one who’s in charge of the party.”

“One of two,” he smirked, gesturing to the beer pong game. “Soonyoung is over there with Seungkwan, getting his ass beat at beer pong by Mochou and Chan. Wouldn’t have guessed the youngest in the house would be so good at this.” You took in the excited beer pong game that was happening in front of you. Soonyoung seemed very drunk already, but he was smiling and having a good time regardless of their imminent loss. A girl was hanging off of Seungkwan that you assumed was his soulmate, or at the very least his girlfriend. At the other end of the table Chan and Mochou worked so well together they had to be soulmates, though anytime they did well a small girl cheered excitedly for them and kissed Chan on the cheek.

“How did you hear about the party?”

You brought your attention back to Jeonghan as he took a sip of his beer. “Oh, my boyfriend told me about it. Speaking of which, have you seen Wonwoo around yet?”

He gave you a curious look before shaking his head. “I’d imagine he hasn’t come down from his room yet. But if he knows you’re coming I’m sure he’ll pop down sooner or later.” Jeonghan turned his attention to Noeul. “Did you come with anyone?”

“Oh I’m completely unattached,” she grinned before taking his hand and leading him out of the room.

You wandered towards the beer pong table as the game drew to a close while Mochou, Chan, and the other girl celebrated their win. You didn’t quite understand what was happening with them but you shrugged it off, they seemed happy and it wasn’t your place to judge.

You gave a very pouty looking Soonyoung a smile as he slumped into a chair. “You played valientley.” 

“And we still lost! Mochou and Chan are a dream team.” he grumbled into his drink.

“Are you still up to play?” you asked.

He grinned and got out of his chair. “Yeah of course! You’ll need a partner, though.”

“I would get Wonwoo to play, but I haven’t seen him yet. And the friend I came with already disappeared with Jeonghan. But it kinda looks like you need a partner too.”

Soonyoung spun around and groaned when his eyes fell on Seungkwan who was very much preoccupied with his girlfriend on his lap and her tongue down his throat.

“Some partner he is,” Soonyoung grumbled. “Why Wonwoo, anyway?”

“Oh, he’s my soulmate,” you said brightly. Soonyoung gave you a weird look before sipping his beer and searching the room.

“Well anyway, well still need two more.” Soonyoung narrowed his eyes before grinning. “Seokminnie~” he sang.

A tall, handsome guy turned towards the two of you and smiled, a little wary.

“What do you want, Soonyoung?”

“Join us for a game of beer bong? This is Wonwoo’s soulmate by the way.”

He sighed but nodded. “Fine, who else is playing?”

“Would you go ask Mingyu?” Soonyoung asked, batting his eyelashes.

“I knew you wanted something from me,” he grumbled. “I’ll go get him.”

Soonyoung and you cheered as he disappeared around the corner and came back a few moments later with an even taller boy you assumed was Mingyu.

“Great! Okay you two against us!” Soonyoung and you raced to your end of the table. Mingyu threw Seokmin a look but took up the opposing side.

You and Soonyoung were very loud throughout the whole game. You cheered and high fived for every win and whined and booed for every loss. You started to lose track of the game after a while but Mingyu kept up with it and eventually announced that you and Soonyoung had won. You screeched as you wrapped him up in a hug before feeling a warmth in your chest. You flipped around and smiled at Wonwoo who had finally made it down from his room. You raced over to him and hugged him, feeling him tense in your arms.

“What’s wrong?” you pouted, pulling back.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just… parties aren’t my thing. That’s all.”

You nodded and processed his words before you heard Soonyoung call your name. You looked back to see him, Seokmin, and Mingyu hanging out in the corner with a large bag of cheetos.

“Oh! Okay! I’ll go get us drinks and then I’m gonna go sit over there, okay?”

Wonwoo chuckled and let you go. You made your way to the kitchen to find drinks, briefly catching sight of Noeul and Jeonghan, both with very messy hair, Jeonghan’s arm around her waist. Noeul was giggling and tracing a fresh hickie on his neck. 

You grabbed the drinks and started to make your way back. The main entrance to the living room was full of people so you made your way down the hall and around to the other entrance. You knew the guys were sitting closer to that anyway. You listened and slowed down as you approached the room.

“… like Soonyoung.”

“I know its-”

“Surprising?”

“Shocking.”

You backed against the wall and listened, trying to figure out who was speaking when, your boozy haze not helping in the slightest.

“She’s… not what I expected…”

“She’s the exact opposite of you!”

“Well I mean-”

“Is she really your type?”

They were all quiet for a moment.

“… she’s my soulmate… so she has to be.”

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

Sugar and Fluff (Volume 2)

Here’s a follow-up to the first installment of this mini series, which features Johnny and Essie struggling with their feelings for each other. 

There’s also the special participation of NCT 127′s resident bunny, Kim Doyoung! What is he up to there?

He ain’t dancing to Elevator (127F) with Johnny, that’s for sure! Read on, and let me know what you think! 

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

POV: 3rd person since two of these are some of my recent writing during this quarantine period. The last one, however, was written last year.

Word count: 2,300 + words 

–––

I. Inspired by an Instagram post that speculated Doyoung is dating someone, and I'm sorry I couldn't remember the exact post

It didn’t take long for Essie to figure out that Doyoung was dating someone.

Not that she liked him to that extent, but she felt that he had a lighter aura around him. He was usually sulky with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at everything with disdain. Although once you get to know him, he is far from what he shows in public.

This time though, he smiled and laughed more. He wasn’t shy to show off his gummy smile, which was one of the things his fans love about him.

“Yeah, Essie. I am seeing someone,” he told her while they waited for Johnny to pick up their orders at Starbucks. It has become a ritual for the three friends to hang out at the famous coffee shop after their schedules. Essie feigned shock by mouthing an ‘O’ and placing a hand over the edge of her lips. “Really now,” she replied, her eyes scanning for their friend still waiting on the counter.  

“Yeah, believe it or not. I never thought I’d end up dating,” Doyoung chuckled, playing with the hem of his sleeves. He wore an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of slim-fitting jeans, looking like every girl’s boyfriend. “Congratulations, dude,” she shook his hand, which he took gratuitously. “Thank you, Ms. Park, I hope you do end up dating someone soon,” he replied, tightening his hold on her hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Kim Dongyoung?” She raised an eyebrow at him before retracting her hand from his grip.

It was good timing for Johnny to enter the scene with their drinks. “One hot green tea for you,” he handed Doyoung his beverage, “and a sickeningly sweet White Chocolate Mocha for this girl,” he rolled his eyes at Essie who stuck her tongue out in response before grabbing the drink from him. “Okay then, we’ve got all our drinks. How’s everyone doing?” The Korean-American glanced at them both before slurping on his iced Americano noisily.

“He told me he’s seeing someone,” the only girl in the table said, pointing her finger at Doyoung. “Oh, you only told her now, dude?” Johnny’s eyes widened at her statement. “Yeah, it’s not as if I’ve told everyone of this already,” the younger guy mumbled, blowing off the steam that came from his cup.

“Who else knows of this status change, Doyoung?” Essie asked, wrapping a tissue around her drink before sipping on it. “Well, all the band members and you.” He sighed in relief when there was no more steam coming from his drink.

“Okay then…but why do you think I should date someone soon?” She brought back the question that he hoped she would forget.

“You told her that?” Johnny acted as the audience to their conversation, his over-the-top reactions eliciting some looks from other tables.

“I mean, you’re a great girl, you get along well with guys, and I’m sure one of us probably has a crush on you,” Doyoung’s response caught the two off guard. Essie’s face flushed to the point that she had to sip on her drink to cool her down. Johnny, on the other hand, coughed into his drink and looked away from his tablemates.

“Dude, is that for real? One of you likes me that way?” The girl almost choked on her question after she recovered from her momentary shame.

“Yeah, that’s what I think. One of us likes you a lot. As in. I can feel it…” Doyoung glanced at his hyung carefully, who buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. “Oh, stop it Kim Dongyoung!” Johnny whined, making his friends laugh.

Of course, Doyoung knows that Johnny likes Essie. He was the first to know of his feelings toward the girl, and the more the three of them hung out, he noticed how sweeter and kinder he is to her (than to him).

That does not mean that he dated someone so he could get ahead of the two, who he thought were moments away from admitting to each other. Unfortunately, it took them weeks before they got together. He dated because he felt that this girl that he met was perfect for him, and the girl felt the same. He happened to be in a good place at a good time. He wished that his friends would get together soon because he might not take the tension they sometimes had.

Essie, during this time, was still unsure of her feelings for Johnny. They became close over a short period and sometimes, she feared that they could end their friendship in the same way. She didn’t want to ruin their dynamic since she thought that they were doing fine as it is. Although she felt tempted to touch or kiss him in return, she had to fight it because she didn’t want history to repeat itself. Some of the guys that she liked disappeared because she would reciprocate their sweet gestures, when in fact, they didn’t like it. That was a confusing period in her life, which she didn’t want to bring back.

Johnny is both similar and dissimilar to Essie. They are similar in the sense that they didn’t want to ruin their friendship. They are dissimilar because he is sure of his feelings for her while she is still contemplating on it. He wasn’t shy to show how affectionate he can be – he held her hand, wiped away excess food or smudged lipstick from her face, hugged her often, and even kissed her on the forehead or cheek. He wanted her to pick up on his actions, hoping that she would feel the same as him. There were instances that he saw (or felt) it, but most of the time he saw her struggling. He feared that struggle might lead to the termination of their friendship, which was one of the things he feared in life. He’s that whipped for her, man.

As the three regained their momentum and talked about their day, their eyes told of different stories. Doyoung was observant as always, still betting on the possibility they’ll confess to each other before the month ends (and hoping to win against Haechan and Taeil). Essie looked at each guy dreamily, wondering how the former was with his girlfriend and how Johnny will be with his future partner. Johnny’s honey eyes were focused on Essie, who he caught looking at him longingly. When he winked at her, she slapped his arm and flipped him the bird. Their tablemate laughed at their interaction, his mind thinking of ways on how he can get the two to admit their feelings sooner.

\\\

II. Inspired by Johnny's claim on NNN that he’s good at giving massages

“I’m so tired,” Essie grumbled one night after having dinner with Johnny. The two housemates hung out at the couch, still thinking on how to cap off the week. Tomorrow was a Saturday, which meant they could sleep in as long as they wanted. “Do you want to rest now?” Johnny asked, looking up briefly from his phone. The girl shook her head and buried herself deeper into the couch. “My back hurts since Wednesday. I have one of those things you sit on to help with your back, but I don’t think it’s helping at all,” she said, massaging the part of her back that she could reach with one hand.

“Oh, would you like a massage?” His eyes lightened up at his suggestion as he almost jumped on her part of the couch. “I’m great at giving massages,” he bragged, “and if you’re not convinced, you can ask Eomma about it.”

Essie raised an eyebrow at him. “You want me to text your mom about your massage skills? Hey, I trust you enough to give me a good one. So, get into it,” she grabbed his phone to place it on the coffee table and stuck her tongue at him.

“But I suggest you take a shower first, so after I give you a massage, you’ll have a good night’s sleep.” His advice was taken well by his subject, who now stood up to retrieve her towel from her bedroom. “And before I forget, do you have any essential oil you prefer?”

“Lavender, please. I want to sleep well after this hellish week. Thank you,” With that, Essie disappeared into the bathroom to wash away some of her stresses.

\\\

She returned to the sofa in her pajamas while Johnny changed into a muscle shirt and boxer shorts. “Ready for your massage, madame?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, John! Please don’t give me any ideas!” She retorted, her face flushing with the wink he just gave her. “But yes, I am ready for my massage, monsieur.” She positioned herself on the sofa with her back facing him.

“Do you mind if I…” His hands slid over the edge of her pajama top, and she gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay, baby, if that’s what you say,” he mumbled as he raised her shirt just below her bust line.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Johnny,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow beneath her.

“Anything for my cute but grumpy housemate,” he said cheerily before coating his hands with essential oil. “Get ready to experience my magic.”

\\\

After massaging her back for thirty minutes, Essie fell asleep. Johnny sensed it when he heard her softly snoring and caught her with her mouth a bit open. “A few minutes from now, she’s going to drool on that pillow,” he said softly before snickering.

“My princess, I’ll just be here on the other couch and watch over you,” he continued in the same tone before plopping carelessly on the seat across hers.

“Okay, thanks. Love you,” she mumbled, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

He tried his best to contain his laughter (and giddiness with what he heard) by biting his lip. “Love you too,” he replied loud enough for her to hear. When he didn’t hear anything else other than her soft snoring, he took out his phone and opened his Notes app to type out his thoughts.

I can’t help but fall in love with her more. I never know what to expect from her, and it makes life interesting. I hope she feels the same way, or else I don’t know what to do with myself.

\\\

III. Inspired by his stint in Lipstick Prince

“Can I do your makeup, Essie?” Johnny’s question startled the girl, who just finished putting on her primer.

The six-footer barged into her room as she was getting dressed. Good thing she wore a bathrobe – she was usually naked or in her underwear when she did her makeup.

“Come again?” She raised an unmade eyebrow at him, hoping she wasn’t hearing things. “I want to do your makeup!” His voice sounded girlish, and he also did a cute pose to convince her further.

“What for? Do you want to film a challenge with my face?” Essie sounded annoyed at the thought of being used for his videos.

“No, it’s not that! But maybe someday,” he coughed over that last part, “but now, I just want to. I feel like doing someone’s face.”

“Why not do it on your face then?” The girl was feeling snappy now as she searched for her brow pen in a pink cup.

“But I don’t have that much makeup, baby. Please, let me do your face!” He whined. She shot him a glare, which he replied by kneeling in front of her. “I am confident that you’ll like what I’ll do.”

“Is that so? Fine, let’s get it.” She twirled her chair in front of him and even spread her arms to show her compliance.

He rubbed his hands excitedly as he approached her. “But first, where are we going?”

“I’m going to have some tea time with my friends,” she deadpanned. “I’m wearing that dress,” she pointed at a forest green dress with a delicate flower print, “and those shoes.”

Johnny gasped when she pointed at the pair of black velvet ankle boots beside her hamper. “Very Stevie Nicks in the fall, baby. I love it!” He clapped his hands together in excitement and looked at the items on her dresser. “So, should I start now?”

“Yeah, you should. I only have,” Essie glanced at her watch, “45 minutes left before I need to get going. So please, do my face now.” She patted her cheeks for emphasis, and he gave her a salute before he got busy pulling out her drawers for makeup to use.

\\\

Essie was impressed with his work. Sure, he was no pro, and she helped him out a bit, but he did a great job with her eyeliner.

“You know I suck doing my eyes,” she said, admiring the thick cat eyeliner he created. “But you made me look like I’ve got my shit together. Merci beaucoup!”

He laughed at her comment as he observed his work again. They decided to do dramatic eyes with a minimal lip, as well as a dewy but flawless base.

“Thank you too that you trusted me to do your face today, baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I did 75% of the job anyway,” she muttered, making the guy huff in front of the mirror.

“But it’s the thought that counts! At least I can do makeup for you…”

“Or for any girl, really. I’m not the only one you can do this too, you know.”

“But I want it to be only you.”

The two stared at each other in the mirror, Johnny’s arms still wrapped around her.

“I’m not your doll, John. And don’t even say that I look like one.”

He sighed in defeat and let go of her. “Fine. But my sentiments remain the same.”

She was unsure of how to continue this conversation further, so she checked her phone on the table. “Okay, I have 10 minutes left to get dressed, so Johnny, please step out of the room now.” She shooed him with her hand, which he rolled his eyes at.

“How are you getting there?”

“I’m taking Uber or Lyft, whichever’s cheaper.”

“Let me drive you there. Please?” This time, he didn’t have to use a cutesy voice to persuade her.

“Okay, that’s one offer I won’t resist,” she smiled briefly before it was replaced with a scowl a second later. “Now, please let me get dressed.”

–––

FIN

[honestandsincere]

when the party’s over pt.2

“But the thing is, he’s like objectively gorgeous. He’s not even hot, he’s beautiful.” “I get it.” “I’ve spoken to like four different girls across campus and all of them think he’s perfect.” “That’s interesting.” “I think I might be in love. That’s not even an exaggeration, it’s- y/n? Are you listening?”

Y/n looks up from her bowl of now soggy cereal and gives her friend a tight-lipped smile, “Sorry, Cass. I am paying attention. Promise.” Cassie tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her pierced ear and crosses her arms against the table, the way she does whenever she feels inclined to stage an intervention, “You’re not, you’ve been infatuated with your cornflakes for the past twenty minutes. You’re not good.” “I’m fine.” “And I’m going to get a first in my degree. Stop lying, y/n! You’ve been a hermit for the past week. Talk to me.”

Y/n sighs and runs a hand through her hair. Cassie is annoyingly astute. It’s a Thursday morning and they’ve got the apartment to themselves. Ethan has an early morning lecture and Grayson is on the other side of town at lacrosse training.

“I don’t know what to say.” she shrugs. “Is it something I’ve done?” Cassie asks, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. “Jesus, of course not, Cass!” “Oh thank God!” she laughs in relief, placing her hand over y/n’s that’s cradling her spoon, “The last thing I want to do is fall out with you.” “I know me too.” y/n smiles. “So what’s up?” Y/n grimaces and Cassie notices the way her eyes drift upwards to wander around the kitchen and avoid contact with hers, “I haven’t been sleeping well recently.”

The penny drops for Cassandra Young as she finally puts two and two together. She fights the pleased smirk that dances across her lips. She’s hit the jackpot. Cassie is acutely aware of Grayson’s little habit of accumulating female companions and then sending them home after maybe half an hour of sitting next to each other on his bed. She’d stumbled into a girl who was leaving their apartment as she was walking in, alcohol’s effects wearing off and her eye makeup smeared halfway down her cheeks. This girl, Lauren if Cassie can remember correctly, had explained that Grayson had brought her home but had decided he was too tired for anything more than talking about what football team they each support. Cassie was baffled, to say the least when she’d met Lauren, not expecting to see anyone awake at four thirty in the morning. She was even more taken aback by the concept of Grayson Dolan bringing girls back to their apartment. Cassie is not ignorant or deluded or oblivious, she knows the way Grayson feels about y/n based on what she would deem empirical evidence. This notion of him trying to prove some kind of point makes her want to knock some sense into him. It’s a typical boy thing really, the whole jealousy card.

“Let me guess, it’s because of Gray.” “Well, yeah that’s partly to blame.” y/n flushes, not expecting Cassie to be so observant, “You’ve noticed it too?” “Noticed what?” “The girls, Cass. Every single weekend he’s got someone new in his bed, and not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just wish they weren’t so loud!” she’s getting more worked up by the second and Cassie has to hide her amusement. “Oh my God, you’ve heard them doing it?” she knows full well that there’s no way y/n could’ve heard something that wasn’t actually going on, but Cassie can’t wait until her friend finally admits that this is irritating her. “No! I’ve always fallen asleep by then or I’ve got a podcast playing or something.” Y/n doesn’t want to admit that Grayson having female company irks her beyond her own belief, because admitting it aloud would make it that much more real. Suppressed feelings are dangerous enough as it is, having an external source acknowledging the emotions is essentially a recipe for emotional armageddon. She can sense that maybe Cassie has an inkling because Cassie can read people the way a middle-aged woman devours the horoscope page of a trashy magazine; with intense analysis. But simply stating that you’re jealous of the girls your best friend brings home is laughably harder than it sounds. So y/n consciously changes conversation topic back to Cassie’s beautiful stranger in her Economics seminar, reveling in the way her best friend’s eyes widen with excitement. They’re stood at the sink when Cassie’s mouth works faster than her mind and decides to drop the bombshell, “You do know that he doesn’t actually sleep with them, right?” Y/n, having forced her mind to stray far away from Grayson Dolan, doesn’t quite understand, “What?” Cassie dries her sudsy hands on the back of her jeans and turns to look at y/n who’s leaning on the kitchen counter, “Grayson hasn’t had sex with any of the girls he’s brought home. He doesn’t sleep with them at all. They all end up leaving after like an hour of him being all awkward because he doesn’t know how to tell them he’s not into it.”

This revelation hangs in the air above the girls, like flecks of dust that haven’t yet settled. Y/n is processing what Cassie has said, the words all making perfect sense yet being completely incomprehensible. Grayson Dolan has sex, he must do. She can’t fathom a universe in which the boy wouldn’t get any. She’s heard him talking to girls in his bed. She knows they must do stuff. Cassie watches as incredulity washes over y/n’s blushing features. Bingo. “Where did you get that idea from?” she stammers. “I’ve bumped into some of them leaving, they’re all super sweet. I’ve heard them too, I’ll be going to the kitchen to get water or something and he’s talking about getting them an Uber.” “Oh.” Cassie breaks into laughter, the soft chuckles telling y/n that she’s been so blind. It’s blatantly obvious, as cliche as it may sound, that she’s the last person to know. She knows that the connection y/n and Grayson have may be strong, but it’s also deep. It’s fragile in its strength, both them incredibly insecure in their own forged bond. It’s as if their closeness is a given, that regardless of their romantic circumstances, Grayson and y/n will always be Grayson and y/n. Through disjointing themselves into a relationship in which they consider their friendship absolute, they’re setting themselves up for heartbreak.

Luckily, y/n has a painfully busy day. She’s occupied with the tribulations of a tutorial and then an excessively profound study session with her Literature research group in the library. Y/n doesn’t think about Grayson. She desperately wants to, even if it’s just for a split second, but she knows that thinking about him will only lead to her conjuring theoretical scenarios in which she always gets let down. A wave of relief comes in the form of Ethan Dolan when he meets her outside of the student theatre at six in the evening. His eyes light up when he sees her coming his way, her tote bag filled with notebooks slung over her shoulder. “Hey there, kiddo.” he jokes, pulling her into a hug, “How’ve you been?” “Swamped,” she mumbles into his t-shirt, inhaling a familiar scent of gum and cologne, “Super excited for this though.” “Yeah me too, the reviews it’s had are all very complimentary.” Ethan leads her into the ugly concrete building that was probably recognized as architectural genius last century. “Guess we’ll have to see for ourselves!” y/n smiles, reaching for the programme he had in his hand. The show is underwhelming, to say the least; a load of students rolling around in fake blood screaming in iambic pentameter. Ethan and y/n sit catatonically, in sheer shock until the interval arrives. As the lights come up they turn to look at one another, pale-faced and slightly panicked and burst into a fit of childish giggles. “Jesus,” he breathes, “What is this?” “I don’t even know, I’ve never hated Macbeth more.” “I’m sorry I dragged you along to this,” he grimaces, unable to fathom what they’ve just watched. “Don’t be, it’s all very interesting.”

Ethan sighs loudly, like you do after you’ve been laughing for a while and suddenly remember that life seems to advance without giving you time to tap out. “Cass said you two had a talk this morning,” he says. Y/n feels her face get considerably warmer, “She did?” “Yeah, something about Gray keeping you awake at night.” Ethan spreads his legs a little wider, trying to get comfortable in the weirdly malleable velvet chair. He turns to gauge her expression. “Only on Saturdays,” y/n cringes, “It’s not that big of a deal.” “Just know he’s not having sex like five centimeters from you, yeah? Gray wouldn’t do that to you.”

He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from telling her more than his brother would want her to hear. Ethan loves y/n, they’ve been friends since they’d started college. But this was Grayson’s business and he didn’t want to intervene, as much as it frustrated him. Watching y/n shuffle into the kitchen on a Sunday morning, her hair slipping from the scrunchie she’d tied it in the night before and a fake smile adorning her slightly chapped lips when she saw Grayson, is painful in itself. Knowing that she thinks Grayson is the type of person to say one thing and completely refute his own morals is irritating. Living in an apartment with two human beings who refuse to accept that maybe there’s a possibility that they might be in love with each other is wickedly bothersome.

Y/n doesn’t know how she’s supposed to deal with this information. When returning from the theatre with Ethan that evening she heads straight to her room, avoiding any interaction with her housemates. She strips herself of her jeans and blouse and pulls on some sweatpants and the softest hoodie she owns, before curling up on her bed with her laptop in front of her. Being a recluse is quite enjoyable. Her phone vibrates on the bedside table, causing her to look up from the Netflix show playing in front of her. Y/n feels her heart begin to pound markedly faster when she sees who the text is from. SMS messages from your best friend aren’t supposed to make your palms damp. breakfast tomorrow?

She replies with the excuse that she has an essay to write. She hopes he’ll believe her, but she knows deep down that he’ll see right through the lie. Y/n hasn’t seen Grayson since Tuesday when he’d knocked on her door asking her if their Wi-Fi had cut out or if it was just his computer messing around. She doesn’t think she’s going to be able to face him again. Everything about him hurts her, and the worst part is that she knows it’s not intentional. Grayson can’t help how adorable he is when he laughs at one of his own jokes. He’s utterly oblivious to the way he makes her feel when he makes direct eye contact with her and asks her for her opinion because he really values it. Grayson Dolan doesn’t know that all he is is damn near perfect. There’s nothing he can do to make this better, she can’t risk losing their friendship over her emotional confusion. She wishes she could blame the whole scenario on someone else. But sadly, when you’re in love with your best friend, there’s not much you can do other than wallow in your own misfortune. Y/n curses whoever decided that unrequited emotions should be a fixture of human existence.

-

When she should be sharing pancakes and maple syrup with Grayson, y/n’s in the library. Her copy of Wuthering Heights is fanned out in front of her and her legs are tucked underneath her on one of the semi-comfortable chairs. Academia serves its purpose as a distraction, recently her motivation levels have been unwaveringly high. Someone moves to sit in front of her and instinctively she looks up to see who’s been unlucky in finding their own table. Y/n’s greeted by the blinding grin of Nat, his hair as tousled and as soft looking as it has always been and his adorable tortoise-shell glasses perched on his news. “Hi!” she whispers with a smile, fiddling with her pastel highlighter. “Hey, how are you?” he unzips his Kanken and takes out a hefty looking book. “I’m good, still studying. You?” “You’re incredibly motivated this term, aren’t you? I’m just trying to get in some reading before a lecture.” “How conscientious of you.”

Nat laughs, causing a few heads in the quiet space to turn their way. Y/n isn’t embarrassed to be seen with Nat. If anything, she’s quite proud. He’s popular across campus; vice-president of the student union, on the lacrosse team and well-known amongst faculty staff. People don’t mind that he’s a little loud, his vivaciousness is admirable. The pair get to work in their comfortable silence. He’s got his head rested on his hand as he flicks through the browned pages of his novel and she’s taking notes as she reads the assigned extract of her book. Y/n can’t help but sneak a few glances at him, so enthralled by his studiousness and his effortless ability to look cool. She’s halfway through quoting Heathcliff when she hears a whisper of her name. Nat watches her intently as she looks towards him, taking in the adorable sweater she’s wearing and the way pieces of her hair fall into her face every few minutes, forcing her to swipe them behind her ears. “There’s a party at mine tomorrow night, just a few of us seniors getting together. I’d really like you to come,” he says quietly. Y/n’s a little startled by the invitation. She’s never been directly invited to a party before, let alone a senior’s.

“I think I’m around,” she says abashed. “Awesome! I was kinda worried you wouldn’t wanna come.” Nat runs his tongue over his bottom lip and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I don’t see you at many parties anymore.” “I haven’t been up to go out recently,” “I always see the Dolans at frat events, but never you.” “I guess I just haven’t been invited to a party I actually want to attend,” she lies, Nat’s not going to know about her situation so there’s no point feeling guilty. “Sounds like you’ve got high standards,” he laughs. “The highest.”

-

“You’re an actual saint, Grayson! Thank you so much!” Cassie cheers as she slams the back door of his Bronco. “Yeah thanks, bro.” Ethan chimes in, giving his brother a firm pat on the shoulder before clambering out of the car. “Don’t mention it.”

Grayson watches as Ethan shuts his door and begins to walk towards Alpha Sigma Pi’s house. He’s just about to drive off when Cassie runs back to the passenger side of the vehicle and pounds her tiny fist against the window. Grayson winds it down, looking at her in bewilderment. “Jesus, Cass! What’s wrong?” “If you’re planning on talking to y/n tonight, she’s not home.” “Oh, ok.” “She’s gone to this senior’s house to talk about Descartes with other clever people and she’ll probably wind up having sex with one of them because they all look cool as fu-” “When is she coming back?” Grayson asks, his mind teeming with scenarios in which something awful happens to y/n. “She never said, I’m sorry G.” Ethan’s noticed that Cassie hasn’t been following him, so he turns back towards the car. Grayson wants to question why he’s in need of Cassie’s sympathy but doesn’t want to have his entire emotional turmoil relayed to him through the eyes of his housemate. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on it slightly as he realizes his entire plan for the night has been foiled. “What’s going on?” Ethan asks as he reaches the Bronco, his arm wrapping around Cassie so he can stick his head in through the window too. “I told him that y/n’s not in tonight.” “Yeah she’s gone to Nat’s, y’know the guy on the lacrosse team,” Ethan tells his twin, “Looks like you’ve got the apartment to yourself tonight, Gray.”

Cassie can practically feel the tension radiating off Grayson. She notices the way he’s refusing to look at them, his hazel eyes fixated on the empty road in front of him. His jaw clenches and relaxes a few times and he exhales loudly. “She’s safe, it’s not like this guy’s a creep or anything, and she hasn’t been out in ages.” she reasons. “I know,” Grayson mumbles, “I’m just gonna head home, get some sleep. You’re sure you don’t mind getting an Uber?” “No, you go ahead. You haven’t had a quiet weekend in ages.” Ethan says, giving the Bronco a little tap before lifting his weight off it. Cassie flashes Grayson a look of uncertainty to which he returns a tight-lipped smile. She steps away from the car and Grayson rolls up the window. The pair on the sidewalk watch as he drives off down the street. Cassie looks to Ethan, “Do you think it’s ever going to happen?” The broad floppy-haired boy shrugs, “I mean, I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t.”

-

Y/n has never felt so out of place in her entire college life. She’s stood in Nat’s kitchen alone, pouring herself a glass of something strong. Around her are a few seniors, collectively looking like an Urban Outfitters campaign, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. This kind of affair was a lot more understated than she was expecting; there’s no pounding bass blasting through speakers and there isn't a keg in sight. Y/n recognizes a few of the girls there, one red-head making an effort to approach her and ask if Professor Stevens was grading harshly this year. She’s received some compliments on her dress and a guy told her that her earrings were ‘actually awesome’, yet y/n feels so uncomfortable. She wonders if everyone that’s acknowledged her presence knows that she’s not a third year and doesn’t really belong here. She doesn’t even know why she decided to come.

Nat stumbles into the kitchen, notably tipsy and cheers at the sight of all his guests. He makes his way around each small cluster of people, giving hugs to the girls and weird bro-hugs that y/n will never fully understand to the guys. When he finally reaches her, his flushed face is adorned with a megawatt smile. “Y/n! I’m so glad you made it! How are you?” he shouts. “I’m good thank you, Nat. I see you’re having a nice time.” “We were playing Ring of Fire,” he guffaws, leaning on the counter opposite her for balance, “And as you can probably tell, the odds were not in my favor.” Y/n takes a sip of her drink, wincing at the burn it leaves in her throat, before taking another. She listens to him ramble about various drinking games as he gesticulates fiercely. Nat, despite being rather drunk, notices that y/n isn’t her usual relaxed self. He pushes up his glasses that have slipped hilariously far down his nose and shoves his hands into the pocket of his patterned dress pants. “You’re not drunk enough.” Y/n chuckles mid-sip of her drink, “You’re very right.” “Come play some games with us, it’ll get you pissed in no time.” Y/n gladly follows him into the living room and ends up squashed on a couch in between Nat and a very friendly girl called Sarah.

-

Grayson Dolan is pissed off. Not at anybody, unless if being angry towards yourself counts. He’s finally decided that he can’t go on avoiding y/n and she can’t go on avoiding him. Granted, it’s taken him far longer than it should have to come to the conclusion that there’s no point dancing around the term friendship if they’re not exactly friends right now. Grayson doesn’t know how he intended on telling her that he thinks he might have feelings for her. Before he’d found out that she wasn't in their apartment, he’d assumed that he might just walk in and profess his love for her on one knee. Y/n likes romantic literature, so she probably would have liked that. Nonetheless, Grayson is acutely aware that he does live in a reality in which everyone can break into song and somehow all know the choreography to an improvised number. As rom-com-like as this whole ordeal may feel, it’s still very much a brutal situation in which someone inevitably gets hurt. Not every male is a loveable, bumbling and  British with the ability to somehow win the emotional lottery. Take that Hugh Grant.

He’s lying in his bed, the curtains drawn and the lights out, with the hood of his sweatshirt blocking out the rest of the world. He wants y/n. He wants her so much it hurts. He hates himself for ever blindly believing that it would take another girl to fill the weird void he has in his life. Grayson thought perhaps having someone else would ease the pain, maybe even dull it down a little until he could watch y/n smile at him and not have a rapid increase in heart rate.

Falling for your best friend is excessively romanticized and Grayson has come to realize this now. He didn’t wake up one morning realizing he loves y/n, nor did it come to him in an inexplicable flash of affection. It all sort of happened in stages. One minute he was admiring how charmingly funny she is, the next he’s noticing how pretty her eyes are and eventually he decides that she’s the best thing since sliced bread. It wasn’t a mutual epiphany, more of a staggered process in which the ‘f word’ transforms from something fricative and blasphemous to friend.

He doesn’t notice his phone’s vibrating at first, he’s far too immersed in his thoughts to be tugged away from them. But as Grayson rolls over onto his side, he notices his bedside table is shaking. His large hand fumbles along the surface, knocking over a tube of zit cream on his quest for his device. His eyes widen at her name across the screen and in panic, he accepts the call. “Y/n?” “Grayson?” he notices the way the first syllable of his name slurs into the second. “I’m here, is everything ok?” “Gray, I miss you. The party’s finished. I just wanted to call you.” 

Part two! Here it is! I hope you guys liked it! It’s been a bit of a struggle trying to write all my ideas down in a way that’s somewhat cohesive and readable. This is definitely the longest piece I’ve written on Tumblr to date! I think it’s because this little story thingy is told from both characters’ perspectives, and usually I tend to like to stick to one narrative, if that makes sense? Anywho, please let me know what you thought because your feedback means the most! Have a lovely day / night - K x

{ p.s. here’s the lil tag list shenanigans I promised I’d try and sort out for you gorgeous people! @the-evolution-of-stupidity @skurtdolans @graydolan12 @thedarkrozeofnight @yslbailey thank you so much for all the love! }