#she said she’d just give me a friday night shift and a sunday shift for a few weeks and see how that goes for me!

[digitaldiseas3]

i’m already so emotionally exhausted today bruh can people just leave me aloneeeeee i’m tired of suffering and it’s everyone else’s fault!!!

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 82)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (65) / Alexia Putellas x Character (38) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (19)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((4k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

JORDAN POV

“Ridley is back?!”

YFN nodded with her happy smile as she ate.

“Oh, come on chick, you have to give us more than that!”

Lucy staring like a lovesick puppy at YFN laughing did so did not go unnoticed by her. Or Leah it seemed, as she felt her leg gently moving under the table to touch her own.

“She came back yesterday. She was in the hospital yesterday evening with me getting my surgery to check in on me… and because she was getting work done too..”

Leah scoffed.

“Oh of course she did. Let me guess – she lifted a bus off of a group of school kids?”

“I know better than to ask by now,” she shrugged.

“Is she back for you or…?” Leah asked hesitantly. “Because Alexia left, didn’t she?”

YFN nodded. “Ale left yesterday afternoon but Ridley caught her on the plane. She’s with her right now, actually. Taking her away for some time together…”

“I’m surprised Alexia went, to be fair.”

“Riddles has a reason for everything she does. I’m sure Ale wouldn’t have accepted her back easily so I guarantee Riddles has been opening up to her at last.”

“She wasn’t gone for long,” Lucy noted aloud. “Thank god. I thought we’d never see her again.” She looked like she knew about the messages from Ridley – but they hadn’t quite been able to discuss the finer details of what was actually happening.

“Me too…” YFN replied with a shared expression. It made Jordan wonder how bad the leaving had been.

“Are they coming to the party on Friday?”

Lucy shot Jordan a look and her stomach dropped at the slip-up.

“The party?” YFN asked.

“The friends and family thing after the game,” Leah said, jumping in the save the day - sounding nonchalant about it all. “It’s a whole Lioness thing – it took a while to convince my folks to be fair..”

Jordan reached out under the table to give Leah’s thigh a thankful squeeze, though when she went to take her hand away, it was caught. She took a deep breath.

“Oh… I’m not sure. I don’t think they are?” Luckily – she didn’t seem to realise that the event on her birthday was in fact, for her birthday. Jordan hid a grin at how humble she was, and honestly, she was just so excited to share her birthday with her at the party. She’d not nearly spent enough time with her lately. “Friends and family? Christ, that’s a lot of people, no?”

“We won’t really get another chance until the season is over, little one.” Lucy explained. “Besides – we’ll need it after the game. We’re all so focussed on that at the moment. We need to win, and by as much as possible.”

Lucy seemed to know just how to shift her attention from thinking about the party to worrying out Lucy’s competitiveness. “You will win. And the game after that too, yes?”

She nodded. “We need to win both by a lot, and then we have a chance at the Olympics in Paris next year.”

Jordan realised then that it would most likely be Lucy’s last, and Leah’s if she started playing again soon.

There was no way that Lucy would let them lose, and that was written across her face.

“You’re going to smash it, Luce. You always do. 110%.”

She watched as Lucy softened and leant in so YFN could kiss her cheek.

“Are you sure you want to come?” Lucy murmured to her.

They all knew that she was embarrassed about the wheelchair, but she didn’t hesitate in her answer. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus, it’ll be easier to spot me, no?”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

Jordan loved to see them interact like this. To see them both so happy. She let herself entwine her fingers with Leah’s under the table and watched her shift and hide a smile.

“We’ll take you in,” Leah said and then gestured to the wheelchair. “To be fair – we’ll be more looked after than any celebrity going to watch with that.”

“Oh, so not quite out of the kindness of your heart then?” YFN accused with a chuckle. “Good as a battering ram too, I dare say.”

Lucy groaned. “So help me god, if you use my girl as a battering ram, I will murder you both.”

They all laughed.

“Speaking of murder…” Jordan started.

“I’m worried where this is going…”

“What’s the latest on Kristie?”

“Oh! Yes! I haven’t asked about that either – I’ve been so wrapped up in work and events and…” YFN looked down at her immobile body parts. “…this.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose and pushed her glasses back up. “I’ve been handling it. We’re going fully in. There’s a hearing next week to tie up the loose ends. Given all of the evidence, she can’t possibly contest it.” She kissed YFN’s shoulder. “I was going to talk to you about it after Friday night…”

There was a pause and a glance between them before YFN spoke.

“Thank you, love.” She said, smiling at her, seemably knowing why Lucy did the things that she did. Jordan wondered if she’d ever get to that point again with Leah as she turned to look at her. Her popular scowl wasn’t so much a scowl as Jordan held her hand. In fact, she looked almost at peace. Happier.

She turned – having been caught, and they shared a look that made the idea of going home together nerve-wracking in the best kind of way.

They spoke about the Lumos content released as they ate, all of the footballers present happy with the response so far, and eager to hear YFN’s upcoming plans for future content and/or releases. They finished their dinner and helped to tidy up – insisting when Lucy told them to leave it. She’d had a long day at training, and YFN wasn’t exactly in a position to help either.

Jordan gave her a cuddle with the promise to see them both tomorrow, while Leah collected a sleeping Blu from his spot cuddled next to Narla on the couch.

They drove home in silence with Leah’s hand held between her own in Jordan’s lap.

She watched, leant up against the door frame to the hall, as Leah gently put Blu to sleep in his bed.

They’d explored Birmingham. Driven three hours. Socialised with their friends. It was safe to say – their batteries were quite drained for anything except each other.

The entire day had been comfort and happiness. It felt like their relationship again – only better. Different. More appreciative and noticing. She watched Leah pull Blu’s little blanket up over him and kiss him goodnight like she used to, only this time with more emotion. You never love something more than when you thought you’d lost it.

It was the same for her as it was with Leah. She noticed more now. Like the strands of her blonde fringe falling across him as she leant down to kiss his head, and the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes as she leant back and smiled at him fast asleep.

Jordan stayed there as Leah pushed herself up, albeit wincing with her knee, and made her way over to her.

“Hi, you.” She murmured as she leant against the door frame with her. The height difference had her looking down as she brushed the back of her knuckles over Jordan’s cheek.

From her earlier private conversation with YFN, she found her confidence. “Lea?”

“Mmn?” She hummed, distracted by her skin under her hand.

Jordan took a breath. “I’m ready.”

ALEXIA POV

She wasn’t aware that she still had her phone to her ear until Ridley stepped forwards into her space and gently lowered her hand for her.

“You’re here,” she whispered.

“You invited me.”

At the sound of her voice, Chiquito sprinted outside and straight up her body, settling onto her shoulder and nuzzling at her face. It softened the footballer like nothing else.

Alexia was rarely caught by surprise, and yet Ridley seemed to be able to do that far too often. She managed to take away her attention from those warm, dark eyes with dancing gold flecks, to look her up and down. She was dressed in brown lace-less boots; tan, cuffed cargo parts; a white shirt and cream open button up. Her eyes moved up her neck to her lips which she’d been dreaming about just half an hour prior and then those playful, yet comforting eyes again.

“Your hand,” Alexia murmured, reaching out to rest her fingertips on it. “The cast is different.”

“You’re very observant. I had surgery again, yesterday in London.”

“Again?!” Alexia was surprised. Why would she need surgery again? “You didn’t get into another fight, did you?”

She watched her scar move as her lips twitched. “It was… an amalgamation of things. It’ll be fine.”

Alexia pocketed the phone she didn’t realise she was still holding and took her hand between her own, raising it between the two to inspect as she gently turned it over. “Just the same as before?” She asked as her thumb stroked over her two smaller fingers, taped together.

“More or less.” Alexia found her eyes again, knowing what that meant. It was worse. Before she could question it, Ridley spoke. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

“Yes… yes. Sorry. Come in.” She led the way inside, as Chiquito leapt from Ridley to Alexia as they entered her house.

She ushered the slightly taller woman to one of the high stools at the kitchen island and saw her looking around as if memorising the place.

“If I knew you were coming-”

“It’s perfect,” Ridley cut off. “Very… you.”

Was it? Alexia looked around herself. It wasn’t particularly large, but large enough to house all of her specific needs. A small pool out the back, two spare rooms, and a master ensuite separate from the other rooms for her own privacy. Alexia liked her space.

As Ridley stared around the room and reunited with Chiquito who was now on the stool opposite her, staring like he was in love, she finished cooking their breakfast, adding a little more into the pan for her unexpected guest. Due to the state of her hand, she chopped all of it up into bite size pieces before placing it down in front of her. Alexia had never cooked for Ridley before and found herself suddenly aware of that fact.

“Thank you,” she said in her perfect Spanish and looked down, her head tilting. “Are you under the impression that I’m a small child or a bird?”

She laughed. “I will not be responsible for you damaging your hand any more than it already is.”

Ridley caught her eye and gave her such a genuine smile that it melted her. “Thank you, Lex.”

Alexia merely nodded with a smile in return, though somewhat pleased with herself.

She made her way around the marble island to sit where Chiquito had vacated, leaping up onto the countertop. She was against the idea of animals on counters, though he was different. He wasn’t interested in their food, just to be around them and he sat perched there, his tail curled around his paws as his attention shifted from one to the other as they ate in a comfortable silence.

“Can I ask you something?” Alexia asked as she finished her plate.

“Yes, the food is delicious.” Ridley responded, licking the last bit of taste from her fork while maintaining eye contact.

Alexia rolled her eyes.

“Anything.”

“Where did you go?”

“Ah.” Ridley put her fork down on her plate and pushed it away. “Far enough away that I thought I’d stop thinking about you as much.”

Alexia softened at that, her heart skipping a beat. She loved when Ridley opened up and was honest with her feelings. It gave her the validation she needed. They were in this together.

“Is this the new Ridley now?” She asked, confidently. “Open and honest and her feelings?”

Ridley shared that eye contact with her – their favourite form of communication. She tilted her head slightly, as if choosing her words before she spoke.

“Is that what you’d like?”

“I’d like you to not answer my question with a question.”

The Australian smiled, her lips tilting upwards, moving that scar of hers again. Christ. Why was she so hyperaware of that?

“I believe it’s a good way to reassure you that I’m not going anywhere. So… yes.”

“Good, because it is what I’d like.”

They shared another smile as Ridley’s eyes hooded with whatever she had on her mind. It made Alexia want to shove away her pride and kiss her.

“What changed your mind? You were so against this from the beginning…” She asked before she realised she had. There was no more dancing around the subject for Alexia – she wanted all of the emotions. Anything to get out of this stale rut they had been in. God knows it had been so full of hurt.

Ridley took a deep breath, her movements slow and thought out. “I had a conversation with someone very important to me.”

Blau?

“He made me realise-”

Not Blau.

“-that what is happening between us is very special and rare, and that I owe it to a lot of important people in my life to see it through.”

That just opened up a whole other lot of questions for her. Who was he? Where did she go? Who were these important people in her life, and why had she never spoken about them until now?

She felt like Ridley could see the questions swimming around her eyes and knew from her expression that she was hesitant about sharing them. That didn’t bother her, though. Because the Australian had already come so far, and she was mindful about pushing her, like Blau had always suggested she not do.

So instead of asking – she merely stood up from her stool, took a small step forward and leant down to wrap her arms around her. Ridley’s surprise was obvious in her posture. The muscles of her shoulders and back tense under Alexia’s arms, though, she slowly softened into her.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” she said simply and honestly, letting herself enjoy the warmth, the smell and the feel of her.

Ridley’s arms came around her waist and hugged her back, both enjoying the feel of their hearts beating together, and the sides of their heads finding each other’s.

It was a while before Alexia pulled away, very aware that she was the first to break the hug, and she leant on her thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze with a smile.

Ridley flinched and Alexia retracted her hand quickly, unsure if she’d over-stepped.

“No,” Ridley stressed, catching her wrist. “I just…”

Alexia’s eye was caught by the sight of blood seeping through her tanned cargo pants. That explained it.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine. It’s just a little blood.”

“That’s more than just a little bit. Let me see.”

“Alexia, it’s fine. It’s a few stitches, that’s all.”

“How did you…” Alexia frowned as she reached out to touch her thigh near the wound. She looked back up at her as she found a better question. “Where did you go, Lee?”

Ridley sighed, her jaw shifting. She opened her mouth to speak and her phone started buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and her face turned serious.

“I need to take this.”

And then she was up and walking out the sliding glass door of Alexia’s apartment. She watched her out there, talking while she strode back and forth, clearly about something serious. Was it work?

Alexia turned on the TV to give Ridley her privacy while she cleaned the dishes, though she couldn’t stop herself from looking out at her pacing near the pool.

Questions swam through her head until the cocktail party effect kicked in and her attention shot to the noise in her living room. She stared at it as she watched.

It was a murder just outside of Mogadishu.

‘Somalian Pirate King assassinated’ read across the bottom of the screen in bold letters.

Blurred video footage showed hundreds dead. Blood sprayed on walls of a building. A man declaring war into a camera. Politicians hiding their secrets. A rich Arabic looking man holding his son in front of him and taking full responsibility whilst thanking an unnamed group for their heroics.

The glass door wrenched open though she paid it no mind. “Alexia, turn it off.”

“…reporters told that of one the individuals were trapped in enemy territory and escaped just prior to sunrise in an aircr-…”

The TV went black.

Alexia’s eyes flickered back to Ridley who was now staring at her, waiting.

“Where did you go?” She asked again, their eyes piercing each other.

“Dubai...” Relief flooded her body at that. “…Kenya, and Somalia.”

Her eyes flicked to the TV and back to her. “That was you?”

“It’s a complicated story. Do you have a first aid kit?”

Alexia found her kit and brought it over to her. “I didn’t ask for the story. I asked if that was you.”

Ridley sighed and sat down, grudgingly. She pulled her pants down far enough to reveal the wound on her thigh. It was worse than Alexia could have imagined.

She pulled the bandage off to reveal a nasty looking stitched wound, surrounded by a bruise that took up most of her thigh. She couldn’t help but notice just how mechanically and efficiently Ridley cleaned up the blood and replaced the bandage. Like she’d done it a thousand times.

What wasn’t she saying? Her mind immediately went to the extreme. “Are… you’re a contract… killer?”

Ridley scoffed as she pulled her pants back up. “No, Lex. I have mentioned my training to you. This shouldn't be a surprise.”

“Military?”

She gave no response, which was enough of a yes to her.

“That-,” she pointed to the black TV screen. “-was the Australian military?”

She pursed her lips, and Alexia knew that it wasn’t because she didn’t want to respond. Rather - she wasn’t allowed to. But again, her lack of response answered the question.

“I didn’t realise you still did that…”

“Occasionally. And that’s the whole point.”

“They didn’t mention your names…” she said, trying to ease her frustration. Her ‘important friends’… were they military too? It made sense.

“That’s not the point, Lex. We don’t exist. This is a very dangerous issue.”

She was staring at the coffee table – and it was very clear that her mind was running a mile a minute.

Would Alexia be dragged into it all? How far would it go? The man yelling seemed very… vengeful.

Perhaps she should have been distraught. Scared away. Shocked to no end. But somewhere inside her – she already knew. She knew from the way she’d distanced herself and bore so much pain and burden. Alexia had seen that haunted shadow in her eyes before, and that could only come from something as morally objectionable as what she had seen and done.

But she knew her. Ridley wasn’t a killer, she was a protector. And although the images had been confronting, she knew it would have been justified. She’d just needed to give her time to open up this part of her life to her.

Alexia sat next to her and reached out to touch her hand with her fingertips. Ridley’s attention broke and she looked at her, a little surprised.

“Why are you not disgusted? Telling me to fuck off and never come back? You saw-” she ended her sentence abruptly.

“I know you,” she whispered, stroking the back of her hand. “You’re a good person.”

She felt like Ridley was falling into her eyes as the Australian trembled some emotions out in a deep exhale.

“Was that what your phone call was about?” Alexia murmured, enjoying that impressed look Ridley flashed.

“It was. I need to leave for a while.”

Her heart stopped. “Again?”

“Not for long. We think it’s best to avoid my usual spots for now while we… find… him.”

The man from the TV. Was he after her?

“Would you like to come with me?”

How could she ever say no to that face?

“I need to be around the team for support. I’m the Captain.”

“And the Spanish team don’t deserve you. The girls do, but management doesn’t. And I guarantee that the team wants you to take all of the time you need to rest, relax and rehab. There are other Captains for a reason.”

Was she running away from her responsibilities?

Ridley reached out and brushed her fingertips across her cheek. “You’ve given enough, la Reina. Let Alexia rest and come back stronger than ever.”

A shiver ran up her spine and she felt her pupils dilate. Honestly, she didn’t need any reason to run away with Ridley. She never had. She just needed to tell her pride to step away and realise that she would make the best decisions for her heart.

“When?”

“Hm. Well I was originally coming over to ask you to come somewhere with me tonight.. but I can call and extend our stay.”

Yes. Yes. “Where..?”

“Oh, just a little bit of a journey. Not too far. I’ll keep you entertained; I promise.”

Alexia smiled almost shyly as she leant into her fingertips. She’d never had anyone plan a holiday for her before.

Would she go? Could she go?

“Is that a yes? Use your words, la Reina.”

She didn’t give her the satisfaction of responding immediately. In fact, her pride crept back up as if remembering the hurt of the last few days. The uncertainty prior to that.

“I’m not sure,” she murmured as she moved away from her hand and took the first aid kit back to its home. She turned and almost bumped into Ridley; those dark eyes intense. She softened as she reached out and gently moved a piece of her blonde hair from her face, her fingertips gliding over her skin so softly that she could barely feel them if not for the tremble up her back.

“You’re not sure about me.” A question within a statement.

“I need to know you’re not going anywhere. And for that I need… time.”

“We don’t have time,” she replied softly, thinking hard. “I need to leave Spain tonight. Can I give you something other than time, Lex? The promise of a date. The planning of a holiday together. I could leave something here so you know I’ll always come back for it…”

“A date can be changed. A holiday can be missed. And you don’t care about possessions. Unless you have an alternative.”

“I care about you.”

“Are you calling me a possession?”

Ridley smirked. “Nobody could ever possess you, Alexia. You are not a possession. A prize, certainly.  Greater than any other. Lucky for anyone to be close enough to see, touch or hear you. Just to be in your vicinity…” She stopped herself as Alexia felt herself drowning in the beat of her own heart. “But no, not a possession.”

A pause as she took in those honest, loving words. Is that really how special she saw her?

“You won’t leave?”

“I won’t.”

“You’re here to stay?”

“For good.”

“You promise? No matter what happens?” She whispered, as if worried to scare this perfect scenario away.

“I promise. No matter what happens.”

There was nothing but pure honesty in those eyes she had to lean back to look into. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Mmn. I will always tell you the truth.”

“Oh really?” Alexia tilted her head. “Then tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m thinking that I have an alternative to time.”

And then before Alexia could respond, react or even breathe, Ridley kissed her.

[collecting-stories]

Not in Chronological Order ch. 5 - Orange Magic

setting: Central Park// Saturday morning

summary: Reader and Sonny are watching his niece's softball game on Saturday morning and he is interrupted by a series of work calls.

A/N: This takes place 13 months into their relationship. Also, I mentioned on the series page that I've taken some creative liberties with Sonny's nieces and nephews, which still stands. I'm giving his sister Teresa three kids, including a daughter named Sofia.

<- Not in Chronological Order Masterlist | Lie Like This ->

...divider by @saradika

“Thought ya weren’t gonna make it,” Sonny called his tone light and teasing. It was still cold for the middle of March and he had his Fordham hoodie on, hands in his front pocket though he took them out as you approached, pulling you into a hug. You were careful of the coffees in your hands as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your face against the collar of his hoodie and kissing the side of his jaw. 

Once you’d extricated yourself from his embrace and handed him one of the coffees you said, “And miss a softball game for six year olds?” You asked, “doesn’t sound like me.”

“Yeah, alright, I don’t appreciate the snark,” he joked. 

Dating Sonny had just been dating Sonny until about three months into the relationship when he decided he’d waited long enough to introduce you to his family. Now, over a year into your relationship, you felt like you were dating the entire Carisi clan. Dates turned into family parties or Sunday night dinner or watching his nieces and nephew play sports early on Saturday mornings and it all felt bizarrely more domestic than any of your previous relationships. Maybe that was simply because the last time you had a serious boyfriend was ten years ago when you were twenty. 

Today you’d gotten yourself out of bed early and taken the subway into Manhattan to see Teresa’s youngest daughter’s softball game. You’d been invited by Teresa before Sonny could even remember the date. She’d texted an entire schedule for each of her three children’s sports and school activities to you at the beginning of their school year when you’d only been dating Sonny for six and a half months. 

“Just FYI,” you mentioned, shifting your coffee to balance between the crook of your arm and your body so you could clap as Sofia came up to bat, “I’m mad at you.”

Sonny’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at you with a mix of concern and confusion, trying to wrack his brain for a reason that you would be upset with him. Between both of your busy schedules you’d managed to keep any dates that you scheduled and he’d been on time to every apartment tour for the last two weeks. 

“What? Why?” He finally asked, unable to think of any particular reason you had for being mad at him. 

You turned your face toward him, that sly smile creeping over your features, causing him to realize that you’d been teasing him. “Because you didn’t tell me about that Italian place on Locust.”

“Near my parent’s house?” He asked, not concerned anymore but twice as confused. The two of you had been over the bridge almost every week for Sunday dinner but he couldn’t think of another reason for you to trek to Staten Island, at least without him. 

“Yeah, I went last night with your mom." 

"You went to dinner with my ma?” Sonny was more than positive that you hadn’t mentioned a Friday date night with his mom at any point during the week. 

“She said she wanted to take me to dinner for my birthday, just the two of us,” you shrugged. 

“Ya went to dinner with my ma?”

“Yes. She texted me like, two weeks ago, and asked if I wanted to have dinner,” you explained, “anyway…the point is, why didn’t you ever take me there? The food is so good!" 

"I can’t believe you went to dinner with my ma and didn’t even tell me about it,” he replied, “I can’t believe she’s texting you.”

“Jealous?” You joked, bumping his hip with yours. “Where’s Teresa anyway?”

“Paul’s got the kids this weekend,” Sonny replied, nodding his head in the direction of the bleachers on the other side of the diamond where his ex-brother-in-law sat with two small children. 

“Oh fun,” you muttered. Teresa had introduced you to Paul only once but that had been more than enough for you to get a measure on him. 

“So, what did you and my ma talk about?” Sonny asked, looking at you over the rim of his disposable cup as he took a sip. 

“Well, she spent a good half of the time asking me when I was planning on making her a grandmother again,” you replied, “although, at least your mom has more of a filter than you do." 

Sonny had ungracefully blurted out, halfway through dinner on your second date, that he wanted to have kids someday and he was looking for a serious relationship. As if two dates in a week was enough to know whether you were going to devote the rest of your life to him. You were planning on it, in fact, though you had avoided saying so two dates in. 

"What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, looking incredulous at the accusation. 

Before you could answer, his cellphone went off and Sonny stepped away from you to answer it, already falling into ADA mode. You turned your own attention back to the game, scanning the game to see where Sofia was and finding her in the dug out, waiting for her turn to bat again. 

“…I can email it to ya first thing tomorrow morning. I’m not in the office right now,” Sonny said, looking back toward the Little League diamond, his gaze softening as he watched you clap for his niece. “Yeah, yeah…I’ll talk to ya later, alright, bye Liv.”

Sonny made it over to you after hanging up, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and kissing your cheek. 

“Do you need to go?” You asked, turning your head to meet his eyes. 

“Nah, just some paperwork. Nothing I can’t get in the morning,” he replied. 

“Are you sure?” You knew you sounded surprised as he looked over at you, the beginnings of an apology already forming on his tongue.

“Yeah, ya just got here and we’re supposed to look at that apartment after lunch.”

“I know,” you turned back to the game, “but if you have to-”

“I don’t." 

A year and a month into dating Sonny, you knew that his job was more than important. It was demanding on a good day and soul-draining otherwise. The work he did was necessary and hard and you understood. Yours wasn’t an easy job either, though you had more structured hours than Sonny sometimes got. Both of you had brought up jobs and relationship expectations somewhere around the three month mark but neither of you had really gotten anywhere solid and the discussion had been shelved for later. For further down the road when things were more serious. 

Talking babies with Serafina Carisi and apartment shopping seemed like the time to unshelf that conversation but neither of you really wanted to. 

"So, dinner with my ma?” Sonny asked, trying to get back whatever you’d had before Sonny had answered the phone.

“Oh yeah, we covered all the topics. Jobs, children, future wedding, why you haven’t proposed yet,” you laughed at Sonny’s expression, “her question, not mine.”

“She’s something else,” he muttered, pressing his face into your neck. 

You reached up with one hand to pat the top of his head, running your fingers through the soft, salt and pepper, waves. No work meant no hair gel. “She told me that we should move to Staten Island so when we have kids she can babysit and we don’t have to worry about work or daycare.”

“We just have to worry about commuting back into Manhattan?” Sonny asked, slightly muffled by your sweatshirt. You could feel his mouth against your neck as he spoke, breath warm in the cold morning air. 

“What, you don’t wanna sit in hours of traffic every day?”

“Dream come true,” he hummed. 

Sonny’s phone rang once more and he groaned against your neck, giving you a gentle squeeze before he pulled away. You heard Liv’s name leave his lips as he stepped further away from you and the game. Serafina had referred to the relationship as a test of patience. You wouldn’t put all the blame for busy schedules on Sonny though, there were plenty of dates that you had interrupted with a phone call or times when you’d brought work to his house when you were supposed to be having dinner together. 

“Are you sure you don’t need to go in?” you asked when he made his way over to you again.

“No,” he pocketed his phone, “sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” you laughed, stepping away to throw out your empty coffee. When you came back over he was frowning. “What?”

“I am-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking yourself into his side. He slung an arm around your shoulders instinctively. “I just meant, I’m not mad that you have to work when you’re off the clock. You know I get it, I just…wish you wouldn’t apologize. It gives me false hope that maybe next time you won’t go into the office or answer the phone and I know you won’t.”

“It’s just, the case we’re working on-” Sonny started to explain.

“Dominick,” you huffed, cutting him off, “I literally just gave you an out, you don’t have to explain. I’m not mad.”

“You seem a little mad.”

“Well…” You turned into Sonny more, fiddling with ties on his hoodie for a moment before meeting his eyes, “it’s 10am on a Saturday and I’m watching your niece play softball and thinking that maybe your mom wasn’t so crazy for asking me about kids cause I could totally rock being a ‘soccer mom’ someday and then I just spiral further into my head like…will Sonny answer the phone when our future children with Italian names are running around playing baseball and then I realize I’m being totally irrational because half the time I’m the one on the phone and then-”

“Hey,” Sonny cut you off this time, pulling you closer to hug you, kissing the side of your head, “we both have crazy jobs and we knew that getting into this and I know you are more than understanding about my schedule but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry that I gotta answer the phone when I’m with you." 

"I know,” you replied, “I just feel like, the interruptions happen whether you make excuses for them or not…I just don’t want us to be those people that like, make the excuses. I don’t wanna lie and say that next time I won’t pick up a second shift and I don’t want you to say that you won’t stay late at the office cause then we’re just lying to each other.”

Sonny looked contemplative as he considered what you had said to him. Finally, he nodded, “I agree…I just feel guilty sometimes hassling you with interruptions when we’re supposed to be off.”

“I don’t think this is a compromise we can figure out over the course of one conversation,” you replied. A Little League baseball game probably wasn’t the best place to be hashing out your feelings as it was but there was certainly no easy end or compromise to the situation at hand. Down the road, you imagined, it would have to evolve into other conversations too, more nuanced, about family instead of just you and Sonny. “But if you do have to go in to the office…”

“Just for like an hour tops, I promise we’ll make the open house." 

"We better,” you tried to sound threatening but it was hard to do when you were smiling, “cause I showed Serafina the places we were looking and it’s the only one she likes.”

“She’s not living in it,” Sonny pointed out.

“Yeah but she said it’s got three bedrooms so that’s at least two grandkids.”

“With Italian names,” he teased.

“Depends,” you replied, detangling yourself from Sonny as his niece ran over to say hello. 

“On what?” He asked, though he was looking at Sofia and waving, a massive smile on his face.

“I’ll tell you when little ears aren’t around,” you joked. 

Sofia made impact with his legs before he could answer you and Sonny lifted her up, settling her against his hip despite her being six and all limbs, happily kicking him as he hugged her. She launched into a recounting of the game, as if neither of you had been there and seen most of it. You couldn’t help thinking that maybe Serafina was right when she told you that a year and a month was not too short a time to already be thinking about kids of your own. Interruptions be damned, you’d spend the rest of your life with Sonny if you were given the opportunity.

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

Looking for someone to post this for me because I need it to be anonymous! They were both looking so hot in the photos from Vegas on Friday night, I couldn’t imagine them getting out of their hotel room without a struggle.

“Dude!”

She sounded… was it angry?

“What the hell?”

Travis turned around, still fastening his wristwatch, to find Taylor emerging from the bathroom in a very short, very tight leather dress, sky high strappy heels and her signature perfect hair and make up.

He really had been working on being more articulate around her but the sight before him was a serious challenge to the blood flow to his brain. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuuuuck, Tay.”

He forced his gaze back up to her face to find her eyes roaming over him in a manner that could only be described as ravenous.

“Trav, are you seriously expecting me to just be able to leave this room with you looking like that?”

He managed to tear his gaze away from where the chocolate brown leather met her clavicle and looked down at his peach-toned matching set. He’d worn much more outlandish things by her side before and she’d never complained. “You don’t like it?”

Taylor rolled her eyes but she didn’t look mad. “Oh, I definitely like it, Trav. I can see every subtle shift and movement of every one of your perfect muscles in that outfit.” She fanned herself theatrically. “You are far too hot for me to let you be seen by any other women. I mean, babe, when I first opened this door I really let myself admire the view while your back was turned. You are one spectacular piece of ass, Travis Kelce.”

“Huh.” Travis grinned. “So you’re not gonna take this perfect opportunity to make a joke about my position?”

Taylor grinned at him wickedly. “I have so many different positions coming to mind right now and not one of them is appropriate for Sunday Night Football.”

Travis looked longingly back at her then cautioned a glance at his watch.

“I mean, we are ready pretty early. We didn’t say we’d meet them until at least ten.”

“Uh huh.” Taylor nodded eagerly, stalking towards him and reaching for the soft fabric of his sweater.

“And we can put ourselves back together pretty quickly, right?” By now she was up on tiptoes and her red lips were on his neck so he didn’t really need much more in the way of convincing. He ran a finger tip along the neckline of her dress and she shivered in anticipation of what he might do next. He loved it when that happened. It was like she’d never been properly taken care of before, every little way he touched her was met with such an ecstatic reaction.

“You really have poured yourself into this tight little thing just for me, haven’t you?” he murmured as she frantically pushed his sweater up under his armpits, urging him to pull it over his head and out of her way. He complied hastily, only to return his hands to the bare backs of her upper thighs and pull her body right up against his.

“It unzips in the back,” she whispered shakily against his throat and once her little hands had snaked around his waist and settled under the globes of his ass, he didn’t need telling twice.

“Pat will understand,” he said, mostly to himself, as he peeled the leather down the length of Taylor’s toned arms, revealing the swell of her breasts spilling over the top of a sheer lace corset. “He’s had the love of his life since high school. I’ve only just found you and I’ve got all that lost time to make up for.”

When he looked up to meet her gaze, Taylor’s expression was so tender that Travis felt the tears spring to his eyes. “I never knew it could be like this, Tay,” he whispered. “Thank you, baby, for giving me a chance.”

He could see that her eyes were misty too but the tenderness quickly turned to playfulness, another of the qualities he loved about her. She grabbed his wrist and showed him his watch. “Travis, you know I love you and you know how new and mind-blowing all of this is for me too but we’ve got some serious, you know, mind-blowing to do right now and we have a couple with a babysitter waiting on us. You’re on the clock, baby.”

Travis grinned. “It’s been said I do my best work when the lights get brighter and the stakes are higher.”

Taylor waggled her eyebrows. “Let’s break a couple more records.”

😂 do with this whatever you want, world.

[radiantsouth]

in the faraway future

A rediscovery of family, old and new.

Inspired by: (x) (x)

Lucy had trouble defining what she really was to other people. Volunteer, activist, dissident for those who were particularly disdainful. Research assistant was what was written on all the tax forms and whatnot, but she might as well be anything. She’d been countless other things in countless other lives, and after living so much of them, she was wise enough to know that what you are is more than a title.

What she’d always been, though, in all those other lives, was a sister. So when she was old enough to recognise that she was growing up alone, she started waiting patiently. After all, destiny had been kind enough to give her Peter, Susan, and Edmund in her past lives. Surely it wouldn’t deny her in this one.

Yet the years passed, and so did her childhood, a very lonely one by her standards. There were friends, of course, but they were poor substitutes; she longed for family, an understanding that would span entire worlds and lifetimes.

When asked why she spent so much time by herself, she would reply, “I'm waiting for someone,” even though no one might ever arrive. Still, she waited. Perhaps this time around, they would be the ones to discover her, just as she had discovered Narnia.

Peter was a surgeon. The job required him to be slow, thoughtful, methodical—all adjectives Peter’s siblings would have laughed at if used to describe him. It suited him in this life better than the last one, he thought. Wielding a blade to heal, rather than to cleave or stab or maim, was something he only dreamt of doing back then.

It kept the loneliness at bay. Peter always thought he was never meant to be alone, that none of them were; still, he wished that he was the only one, so the others wouldn't know how odd it was without each other. It wasn't miserable—just tolerable.

There were traces of familiarity in the people around him: a pair of inquisitive brown eyes, long dark hair, the nose he saw so often in his own bathroom mirror. It's never them, of course, but Peter somehow never made peace with the fact.

He caught a glimpse of a reddish-brown plait disappearing around the corner, having to snap himself out of his stupor. These late-night shifts didn't do him any favours, especially in this hungry state. He'd long resigned himself to yet another night of browsing the third-floor vending machine’s abysmal selection of crisps.

“Peter!” came the enthusiastic call behind him. Plastering on a smile, Peter turned around to greet the doctor approaching him—Robert, a jolly, round-faced anesthesiologist he'd worked with often. “Would you like to eat with me? My old woman's packed up too much, God love her.”

Robert was always well-supplied with a fully packed lunchbox courtesy of his wife and daughter. Peter, who lived alone, couldn't be further from well-fed even though he was fully capable of cooking for himself.

“I couldn't possibly, Bob, I'll just grab a Lay’s and go,” Peter smiled.

“Nonsense, Pete. You're thin as a scarecrow. I need to lose weight, besides,” Robert said good-naturedly. “C’mon, we'll grab you a cup of tea, as well. A surgeon can't fall asleep in the middle of an operation, can he?”

He spent many a night on the fire escape with Robert, talking about whatever came to them—they didn’t have much in common except for their profession, and so they talked about that, new developments in surgery and their students in the university they occasionally lectured at, gossip about the other doctors in their hospital. It was a refreshing change of pace, and he solely had Robert and his wife to thank when he started tipping towards a healthy weight.

Fire escape snacks turned into Friday dinners and Sunday brunches. Robert’s daughter took a great liking to him, an auburn-haired little girl with curious eyes that reminded him of his own dearest Lucy.

He was Uncle Peter from then on. He'd never been an uncle to anyone before; he had no siblings in this life, much less nieces and nephews in the previous one. He thinks he wouldn’t have had children of his own—God knows he spent most of his short life raising them—but he wouldn’t have minded spoiling a little carbon copy of his siblings.

As it was, little Anna adored him well enough. Robert and Martha often called him the godfather she never had. And when Robert asked him for a lift to Anna’s school to pick her up when his car broke down, well, he was all too eager to see how the little angel was.

“Thanks a bunch, Pete,” Robert sighed, closing the passenger door as he settled into the seat. “Martha's shift won’t be over ‘til five, I'm afraid."

“It's no trouble at all," Peter laughed, pulling out of the hospital parking lot. “How is the little bugger?"

“Oh, you know the rascal—I can't keep up with her at all,” Robert said fondly. “Anna cannot stop going on about this new teacher she's got. Sue something, I think was the name? Something old-fashioned.” Robert snapped his fingers. “Susan, I think it was.”

Peter very nearly sent them flying through the windshield with how forcefully he hit the brakes. “What?”

“Christ’s sake, man, what's gotten into you?” Robert asked, half ire and half concern, but Peter could barely register the words. There was no chance. There might be any number of women in England named Susan—and yet—

“Do you mind if I go in and see Anna?” he blurted out.

“’Course not. She'd love to see you,” Robert replied, still a tad bewildered.

“Alright.” Peter exhales deeply, finally stepping on the accelerator. “Thank you, mate.”

“Are you sure you're alright?”

“I'm sure. Quite sure.” Peter drummed his fingers over the steering wheel. “Never felt better.”

“Right,” Robert said in disbelief. “School’s just after that exit, there.”

When they arrived, the parking lot of the school was already full and bustling with parents and guardians. Impatiently, Peter pulled into the sidewalk and executed the best parallel park he'd ever made in his life, all but bounding out of the driver’s seat before Robert could even remove his seatbelt.

He trailed after Robert into the lobby of the school, craning his neck for something, anything.

“Daddy! Uncle Peter!” a voice cried, and he looked down to see little red-haired Anna grinning up at him with a noticeable gap between her front teeth. “Look, I lost a tooth today!”

“Hullo, Anna. Getting into trouble again, I see,” he greeted, but his attention was elsewhere, hand gripping the little girl’s as his eyes darted over the crowd of parents and children. He thought he saw dark hair—a flash of blue eyes—

“Goodbye, Miss Susan!” Anna called out.

It was unmistakable. Like a man possessed, Peter waded through the throng. Her eyes—it was like looking into a mirror.

She had her hands pressed to her mouth. When he finally reached her, he could see that they were trembling. “Susan?” he said breathlessly.

Susan wasn’t capable of anything more than an equally breathless “Oh,” but that was enough for him. He swept her up in his arms, uncaring of everything and everyone else around them, and buried his face into her hair.

He knew he wasn’t meant to be alone.

Susan was a teacher. She didn’t know what pushed her towards this particular vocation—she was never the best at school, and she’d taken up fashion in university, not education. But her students reminded Susan of her own children, so long ago, both in this world and the other one. How bittersweet it was to see them grow before her eyes; how rewarding it would be, knowing that you've taught them all that you can.

She and Peter have talked about them at length. Many, many years after the crash, she’d been blessed with twins: a boy and a girl whom she loved more than life, who had her nose. She let her husband choose their first names, on the condition that their middle names were Edmund and Lucy. A tribute to the first of her children.

“You would have been a wonderful uncle,” she said to Peter once. The words brought him to tears, and she had laughed and teased him, but she knew the feeling. She had her regrets after the crash, and Peter had his own. Most of them revolved around their absence from the other’s lives. It didn’t matter—they had the rest of this one to make up for it.

Like a true mother, she was not supposed to play favourites, but at school she gravitated towards a little girl with piercing brown eyes and thick black hair. She had a name as lovely as her—Egeria—but her friends had simply settled on “Eggy”, and she didn't seem to mind. Susan liked to think that all her students liked her well enough, but it seemed that Eggy liked her best.

Her father was a tall, serious banker who never exchanged more than three words with Susan. Her other father, Susan gathered from the teacher’s lounge, worked in government or something or other. Very busy, they would always say. Very hush-hush. None of them have ever seen him on the school grounds, which only fueled the speculation. Surely little Eggy must have gotten her sweet disposition from one of her parents.

Until a rainy Thursday afternoon, when Eggy had shyly informed her that “Papa” would be picking her up today and not “Daddy”, and she would like very much to introduce them. Susan had fixed the precious child’s ponytails and agreed that she would very much like to meet her Papa.

A car came round the school at three o’clock on the dot, much earlier than the other parents would have. Sure enough, a man in a neatly pressed black suit and equally dark umbrella stepped out. But for all his sombre appearance, Eggy’s squeal of “Papa!” was full of delight, and the mystery man bent down to embrace her.

The man straightened, saying, “Thank you for looking after Egeria, Miss—”

Their gazes met, and Susan knew those brown eyes even as they hid behind a pair of gold spectacles.

“Susan?” Edmund gasped.

“You know her, Papa?” innocent little Eggy asked.

Susan laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. “Yes. We know each other very well.”

She lurched forward into Edmund's arms, laughing like a woman possessed; he had a few inches on her, but somehow Edmund shrank in her embrace, a child once more. “Susan… I can't believe…”

Susan pulled away, smiling, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Peter will be thrilled to find out he has a niece.”

Edmund was a lawyer. It seemed only fitting—his parents in this life always said that he was never a curious child, but that he already seemed to know everything he needed to.

One of the truths he had always known was that there was something missing. Even though he had two parents, and eventually a partner and a child of his own, he felt as though he was living a life that wasn’t truly his. Like he was a shadow of the real Edmund, or a particularly convincing imitation.

Often in his work he would find himself referring to laws that didn't exist in this world, or historic events that only he seemed to remember. He’d always chalk it up to fatigue—what is the field of litigation if not tiring?—but he knew, somehow, that these memories were part of the other Edmund, the one that he was emulating now.

But then he met Susan, and then Peter—and everything made sense. The lives they had lived, both in this world and in Narnia, their painful separation, the way this life was divided into before and after them. They understood it all.

Apparently, he was the one most changed out of the three of them. His having a family was of particular amusement to his older siblings, and Edmund couldn’t really disagree. Despite having one of his own, children were still a great mystery to him. Often he asked himself what Peter and Susan would do; they were the only parents he’d known.

Or recognised, to be more precise. He still loved his parents here—but there were memories that superseded the ones they made with him, and Edmund’s firsts weren’t really theirs. The two people in his living room had that honour.

It felt strange that he was the one with responsibilities for once. Peter and Susan had no children of their own now, but they were all too happy to look after Egeria when he and Andrew couldn’t. His husband was quite sceptical, what with the sudden appearance of a surgeon and a teacher in their lives, but Egeria loved Peter and Susan, and his husband couldn't really contest that.

“I’m glad that Egeria likes them, but a man can’t help wondering,” he said as they were washing the dishes, watching their daughter play with Peter and Susan on the settee.

“They're my brother and sister,” Edmund said simply.

“You're an only child.”

“I wasn't always.”

Andrew stared at him, sighed, and said, “Well, you sure know how to keep our relationship interesting,” and left it at that.

Edmund was glad that he did. He knew he was persuasive, but even he couldn’t convince Andrew of everything he and his siblings have been through. All of them.

If Peter and Susan and he were all here, then Lucy had to be somewhere, didn't she?

Providence came to him in the form of his assistant, who hesitantly knocked on his office door one mundane Thursday, clutching a file to her chest. “Attorney?”

Edmund sighed. Her hesitance meant nothing good, which meant he wanted to get this over with. “Yes, Grace? Do come in.”

She did so and sat carefully on the edge of the seat in front of his desk. “One of our… friends is asking for a favour. There’s a few environmentalists locked up at the nearest police station, but as far as we know they were protesting peacefully.”

“Let me guess—I need to represent them,” Edmund finished.

“It might not even come to court,” Grace said hopefully. “Just give the fuzz a good scare in your suit and all.”

Edmund sighed again, finishing up the last of his coffee. “Alright. I’ll go over to the police station on my lunch break.” Grace nodded brightly, scampering back out of the office and into her own cubicle.

The extra errand meant that he only had time for a pathetic bowl of pot noodles before he had to book it to the police station. After a brisk introduction to the wary policemen, they allowed him to visit the detainees.

At first glance, it was apparent that the protesters didn’t belong in the jail—all the other accused looked unkempt, clearly the kind of profile the police were trained to seek out. Petty criminals who only turned to crime because of their unfortunate circumstances. Edmund curled his lips in distaste, hoping that they would be released soon.

He situated himself in front of the cell that held the environmentalists. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m a lawyer from Martin and Philips, and I’ll be representing your group. My name is—”

“Edmund!” someone exclaimed in delight.

He would recognise that voice anywhere. He would recognise that face anywhere, in any world, smiling up at him as though she were expecting him all along.

“Lucy?” he gasped.

She laughed, pressing her face to the bars to get closer, and it was in that dark jail cell that Edmund felt he was finally real.

“It’s so good to see you,” Lucy grinned. “Where are the others?”

[solarwriting]

guns and gifts

carl gallagher x fem!reader

request: Hey! I hope I can send you a request for Karl Gallagher of Shameless. Maybe Karl and y / n were a couple before jail, and after leaving jail he came to her to ask her for forgiveness. y / n doesn't forgive him and he starts giving her gifts and apologizing every day. Then everything is at your discretion. Happy ending please💛 from @powerpuffluuvv

genere: fluff + angst

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, ooc carl

posted on april 18, 2021

puppy love. thirteen year-olds holding hands and sharing stolen kisses. it was a sweet relationship that could’ve grown and matured with the two teens as they did. instead carl found himself a job on the corner and when he got caught y/n was done. fiona tried to get through to the boy, asking him to apologize but he brushed her off.

“can i please just talk to him? maybe he’ll listen to me.” y/n pleaded with the lawyer.

fiona stepped in, “it wouldn’t hurt to try it.”

“five minutes.” the lawyer relented.

y/n thanked him and rushed into the room where he sat. he squinted at her through the glasses fiona gave him. “i’m not fuckin’ sorry. i wish i was smarter about it. i wouldn’t have used chuckie as a mule.”

“you know what. if you don’t tell that judge you’re fucking sorry and that you’ve learned from your mistakes i will never speak to you again.” y/n exited the room quickly letting the ultimatum hang in the air as the door slammed behind her.

during the hearing her eyes were trained on the back of his head, hoping she could somehow will him to do the right thing. she kept her arms crossed as she leaned back. kev and v were sat next to her, waiting anxiously to see what he’d say.

“i’m going to make juvie my bitch.” as soon as he said those words, y/n sighed, getting up from her seat, shouldering her back and slipping out of the courtroom as they hauled carl away. he caught her eye before she left, she froze for a moment before shaking her head and making her exit.

time passed and she still spent time with the rest of the gallaghers, she lived across the street so it would have been hard not too. she helped take care of liam when needed and she got a job at patsy’s with fiona’s help.

the day carl came back had been a surprise for everyone, y/n was helping fiona with making dinner after a shift at patsy’s. the front door had slammed shut and, thinking it was debbie, fiona asked if she got a message about hamburger buns. y/n’s eyes shot up when a much deeper voice responded, “nah, it’s just me.”

excited, fiona rushed towards the boy, wrapping him up in a hug. hugging back, he looked up throwing a wave to y/n who was rooted in place, “hey, y/n.”

snapping herself back into reality she lurched forward wiping her hands and grabbing her things, pulling her bag over her shoulder and gripping her keys tightly she looked back at the boy as fiona fussed over his new appearance. “fuck you, carl.” she spat, slamming the back door shut behind her.

y/n managed to avoid carl at school the next day, he was too busy with “his boy” nick and his new white boy carl personality and selling illegal weapons in the bathrooms to bother her anyways. she rushed to patsy’s as soon as school ended and began her shift.

she spent the afternoon rushing from table to table, taking orders, passing out food, and pouring coffee. she was pouring coffee for a couple sitting near the front door when the bell twinkled, signaling a new customer.

her back turned to the door and her focus pointed and the coffee she was pouring she greeted the customer quickly, “take a seat anywhere and i’ll be right with you darling.” she smiled at the couple before turning around, finding herself face to face with white boy carl himself. “get the fuck out.”

y/n rushed away from him, pouring coffee for a man sat at the counter. carl followed, “please just talk to me, y/n.”

“she doesn’t want to talk to you, man.” the customer spoke up as y/n placed the coffee pot on the burner.

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” carl asked the man.

he stood up, “i told you she doesn’t want to talk. so leave.”

y/n stepped in before a physical altercation broke out, “thank so much, sir, but i can fight my own battles.” she pushed carl towards the door, “out.” she kept pushing him despite his protests, “get the fuck out. go.”

the door slammed behind them, and carl began to speak, “no, you’re going to shut your fucking mouth and listen. i don’t want to listen to you. i don’t want to talk to you. and i don’t even want to see you but that last one might be a little fucking impossible since we’re neighbors and i work with your sister so i’m going to be civil towards you but i will only acknowledge your existence when it is absolutely necessary. clear?”

carl began to protest but y/n cut him off, “are we fucking clear?” carl grumbled an agreement and y/n sighed, “good, now get the fuck out if here. i have to go back to work.”

y/n rushed back into the diner, throwing herself back into work. hoping she looked busy enough to keep the nosy man from before to leave her alone, she poured more coffee, took orders, passed out plates. until her shift ended and she could finally take the l back home.

the next run in with carl happened two days later, she was walking home from school, thankful for the day off from work when carl and nick pulled up on a bike. “y/n! wait!”

sighing, y/n whipped around, “i thought i told you i didn’t want to talk to you.”

“i have something for you.” carl explained as he got closer, y/n ignored him and started walking again, the bike quickly catching up with her. “here.”

y/n scoffed, eyeing the bag, “whatever it is i don’t want it.”

“it’s a book, debbie told me you wanted to read it.”

y/n sped up, “no thanks, already read it.” she didn’t care what book it was, she didn’t want anything from him. she took this moment to cross the street, the passing cars making it difficult for the boys on the bike to follow.

she entered the gallagher house hoping carl would be too busy to come home for a few hours while she watched liam. “i get off at nine, if anyone else comes home you’re welcome to leave but i plan on bringing something back for dinner if you want to stick around for that.”

“of course i’ll stay. me and liam are going to have a great time. isn’t that right liam?” y/n asked the toddler who nodded enthusiastically. fiona thanked her and rushed out the door.

y/n put on a movie, which liam fell asleep watching about thirty minutes in. y/n got up and stretched when the movie ended, adjusting the blanket she threw over liam when he fell asleep. she walked in the kitchen, stiff from sitting for so long. she pulled out a can of pop from the fridge and leaned her back against the fridge, using to stretch her body more.

the door swung open and carl walked in, “good you’re hear, i have something else for you.”

“whatever it is, i don’t want it.” y/n sighed into her drink.

“it’s a necklace, here.” he opened the velvet box to show her an expensive looking necklace.

she turned away from him, “no thanks.” walking back into the living room. “go somewhere else please, i have to watch liam.”

carl sighed before exiting the house with nick, who had been hanging back by the door during the exchange. he nodded to nick and the two rolled out to go do god knows what.

that night fiona came home with food, the entire gallagher clan plus kev and v enjoyed. there were enough people that y/n managed to avoid speaking to carl the entire evening. every time he tried to speak to her she’d find someone to talk to, she talked lip about something she had to do for school, ian told her about trevor, and her and debbie talked about anything.

v even pointed out the strange behavior when carl was left looking slightly dejected to fiona, who just shrugged in response.

“thank you fiona, goodnight everyone.” y/n called as she stepped out the back door. she crossed the street quickly and made it home, which as usual was empty, the rest of her family nowhere to be found.

she sighed, grabbing a beer from the fridge and kicking of her shoes as soon as she made it to her room. she threw herself back on her bed yelping when she collided with something hard. she jumped up only to see the jewelry box and book carl had bought her. she set her beer down and pulled the box open, smiling at the necklace. it was gold, with a small tear shaped pendant that held some sort of crystal or diamond.

she set the box next to her beer, which she grabbed and took sip of as she grabbed the book. it was actually something she’d been wanting, she rolled her eyes before opening it to the first page.

the next fee days followed a similar pattern, carl would stop her at school and work and even his own house to offer her gifts, which she would refuse, which would always end up on her bed at the end of the day. on a particularly rough day, y/n had enough. she was walking home from school, carl (who was alone this time) behind her, like clockwork offering another gift.

“carl, please just leave me alone. i don’t have the energy to deal with you.” y/n said not stopping. carl made a comment and y/n snapped, “god i’m not going to forgive you because you chose to go to juvie. you could have just apologized and gotten parole but that didn’t happen. and i’m not going to be your girlfriend again because i don’t even know who you are any more, this thug personality doesn’t look good on you.” y/n sighed rushing away before he could answer.

she was suddenly thankful for the day off, deciding to spend it all alone at home. it was a friday and her weekend was also free so she spent the next few days home alone. her family was gone of course, they only only seemed to show up once a month just to leave again the same day.

sunday evening y/n laid in the couch watching what was on tv when there was a knock on the door. y/n groaned, getting up to answer it freezing when carl was revealed on the other side. he looked small, he was curled into himself and he looked sad. his braids were out, soft curls in the place. “hey, y/n.” he said softly. y/n wordlessly moved out of the way to let him in.

“i’m done. no more sell drugs, guns, anything. something happened, with nick and i don’t want that to be my life anymore.” his voice cracked and y/n instinctively wrapped him into a hug, squeezing protectively. he cried into her shoulder, holding her tightly, scared to let her go.

“hey,” y/n spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair, “you’re okay. i got you.” once carl calmed down, he pulled away but y/n held onto him, hands on his face.

“i really miss you y/n. and i know i was awful before but all i want to do is be with you. i love you.” he sighed, his hands holding her wrists.

y/n pulled him closer, “i love you, too, idiot.” carl gave her a lopsided smiled before surging forward to connect their lips in a hot kiss. y/n stumbled backwards before backing into the wall behind her. carl bit on her lip softly causing her breath to catch in her throat. she tugged on his hair and he squeezed her hips. she pulled away for breath, pressing her forehead to his, “my room?” breathless carl nodded pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they rushed to her room.

the next morning the front door slammed opened, “y/n! i’m going to kill fiona!” debbie stormed through the house bursting into y/n’s room where she was laying next to a topless carl, wearing only his t-shirt, “oh my god! ew!” debbie shielded her eyes from the sight before her.

“hey, debs.” y/n mumbled, sheepishly.

debbie groaned, “just get dressed, we have school.”

[emilybradshaw]

English Rose - A Bradley Bradshaw Story

Chapter 5

Chapter 5... where we see the start of a blossoming, platonic relationship between Emily and Hangman.

TW: Creepy man, mentions of athsma, Emily being a badass bitch and Hangman being a protective brother figure.

Taglist: @bratshaws

Naturally the first thing Emily thought of doing as soon as she shut the door on her first date with Bradley was to tell her best friend everything. The only issue there being that there was a time difference between them and Hayley would be just waking up and getting ready for work, leaving no time to talk about the juicy stuff. She’ll just have to call her after shift, she resolved, surely she can wait till then, plus Penny will be at the bar so she can fill her in on it all in the meantime.

It had just gone five by the time Emily eventually managed to get to the bar it had gone half five, she’d spent a good hour and a half looking through her limited belongings trying to find her inhaler, panicking when she thought she’d left it in England, but it turns out it was shoved right inside the bottom of her bag underneath all her worldly goods.

Emily has suffered with acute asthma since she was four, it didn’t affect her too often but sometimes if she gets too stressed or breathes in some smoke or fumes it sets her off. Growing up she used to get little attacks in the lead up to her dance competitions (until she learned how to control these), then her Mum got worse with her drinking and that became a trigger, she’d lost count of the amount of times she’d rang Hayley panicking because she couldn’t get her breath. Hopefully now she was out here they would die down and she wouldn’t have to worry about them for a while.

The bar itself was quiet when she arrived, though she was in no doubt it would be getting busy later with it being a Friday night. She helped Penny get the glasses ready, the tables cleaned, and the place smartened up while they still had time, the pair gossiping over the blossoming romance between the young girl and the Naval Aviator she had seemingly fallen head over heels for. Penny wanted to know everything, though just as Emily was leading up to the best part of the date a rabble of young aviators walked through the door of the bar. Penny sighed, looking at the girl with a ‘we’ll finish this conversation later’ look.

Amongst the crowd of younger officers, Emily saw two she recognised, Hangman and Coyote. She flashed them a smile, both returning it as they walked up to the bar. “If it isn’t Emily from England” Hangman quipped.

“Hangman” she nodded in return, doing the same to Coyote.

“You know, you can call me by my name darlin’”

“and what exactly would that be?”

“Jake, or Lieutenant Seresin”

“Well then, Jake, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll take two beers and the lowdown on what exactly happened on your little date with Bradshaw” she smiled, winking at her as he added the last part.

“I’ll give you two beers Lieutenant, but a girl never kisses and tells” she quickly snapped back, smirking at him.

“So you kissed him then” Coyote interjected, “you owe me 20 bucks, I said they would”.

Hangman sighed as he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and slammed a 20 dollar bill into Coyote’s hand, glaring at him as he did so, “the date went well then I take it?” he asked wiggling his eyebrows at Emily as he did so.

“Funnily enough” she started, picking up two beer bottles from the fridge and placing them in front of the pilots, “you’re not the first person to ask me that exact question today, and in answer to it, yes, it went really well. I’m coming to watch you guys play football on Sunday.”

“Ahh, Coyote, we’ll get to witness the second date” she smirked, turning to his friend. Coyote simply returned the devilish looking smile in return.

The bar was getting busier and busier, more younger pilots coming in and separating into groups around the room, Hangman once again turned back to the young barmaid, “Hey, if any of these give you any trouble, give us a shout yeah?”

“I will do, but I’m sure they won’t” she said, already turning away to serve another customer. The two pilots sloped themselves away to the dart board, Hangman turning round one last time to look at the young girl, she was really starting to remind him of his little sister, she was bubbly, quick witted and sarcastic, he had a feeling they would get on well if this thing she had with Rooster progressed, which it most definitely would.

Two hours past, Hangman and Coyote must have been well into their twelfth game of darts and Emily had barely had chance to get around the bar to collect the empties due to the sheer level of people wanting to be served. She looked back and took stock of the glasses they had left and noticed they were running desperately low, she knew Jimmy was out ready to wash and dry the glasses but he couldn’t be expected to squeeze and shimmy through the crowds at his age, it wasn’t fair, it also wasn’t fair to ask him to serve on the weekends, too much for him she thought, Penny had told her as much during their little chat the day before, but Jimmy liked to be useful and Penny didn’t like to upset him.

“Pen, I’m just going to collect some glasses, we’re looking a bit low”

“Alright sweetie, thank you!”

Emily picked up her caddy and crawled under the bar and through the first part of the sea of people surrounding it before returning to her full height and manoeuvring herself over to the tables. She arrived at a table occupied by a group of young aviators and thought to herself ‘that’s where the glasses went’, the table had at least twenty of them on, it was obvious the four men that were sat there had come to get more drinks without returning the empties.

“Can I just grab these please guys” she said, reaching over the table to pop the glasses in her caddy, “can I also ask you bring your empties back to the bar when you’ve finished with, we’re super busy tonight and I don’t really have time to be coming out to get these.”

“Sorry, sugar, didn’t mean to cause you any trouble” one of the men said to you, he looked like a budget version of Elvis Presley and really needed to lay off the hair gel and maybe invest in some deodorant.

“Just please do what I’ve asked if you don’t mind” she replied quickly, trying to stack the glasses carefully but as fast as she could so as not to spend so much time with this table.

“I don’t mind at all sugar, what’s your name anyway doll?” he persisted,

“Emily” she replied bluntly.

“You’re not from round here are you?”

“Well spotted” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really have to get back to work”

As she turned to leave, budget Elvis grabbed her wrist, clearly thinking he was not done with this conversation, unbeknown to him, the two elder pilots had been watching this situation play out, Coyote notably scoffing on his beer as Emily dropped her sarcastic disinterest in the table of rookies. The minute he moved to grab her wrist however, Jake Seresin was across the bar in no time. Before Emily had the chance to tell the man to get off of her, a thick Texan accent burst into the conversation.

“Lieutenant Jackson” he barked, “take your hand off her wrist immediately.”

The young pilot did nothing but stare at Hangman, Emily cutting in this time, “I’ve got it Jake.”

“Ah, so you two know each other then”, Jackson retorted, “is this your girl then, Hangman?”

“I am not!” Emily spoke, “now, get your hands off me before I do something I’ll regret”.

Still, he did not let go of her arm, well, she’d given him a chance, she thought. Swiftly and without warning, Emily twisted her arm so that it was her who had control and she who had the man’s wrist in her grip. “I told you to let me go, don’t you ever, ever, put your hands on me again, do you understand me?” she said, bending slightly to look into the pilot’s face as she said those words, “and another thing… you might want to take a shower.”

With that Emily turned swiftly and headed off to the back room of the bar to deposit the glasses with Jimmy, leaving the pilots, including Hangman and Coyote, in a state of awe. Hangman then made his way up to the group, “you heard her right, don’t touch her again, because the thing is, she might be tough, but you’ve also got to deal with me”, the pilots sat there in abject shock and fear, from not expecting Emily to be a very strong, independent woman but also from the veiled threat Hangman had just given them.

Coyote, ever the dramatist wanted to add to their fear even more, come Monday, these rookies would be shaking in their boots, “you see as well, a point Hangman here failed to mention, that girl there, Emily. She’s Bradley Bradshaw’s girl”.

I mean, she wasn’t, the pair had only been on one date, as nice as it was, but the four men weren’t to know that. To know she was protected not only by herself and her own abilities, but also by Lieutenants Bradshaw and Seresin was sure to make her untouchable, to the Navy at least.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 64: Shower

There were a lot of benefits to living in a muggle flat in London.

Draco never had to worry about being recognized, it was delightfully noisy (always an added bonus when you woke up from a nightmare, it was very grounding), and one of his neighbors was always leaving him baked goods just outside his door.

But there were definite downsides as well. Mostly that when things broke (which pretty much seemed to be always) he couldn't use magic to fix it and had to wait for the muggle repair man.

"You're sure you can't get here any sooner than Friday to fix the shower?" he asked the maintenance man over the muggle mobile he'd purchased shortly before moving in.

"I'll get there as soon as I can but it's Friday at the earliest," the man replied, "right now I have a busted toilet, a broken garbage disposal, a kitchen light repair, a cabinet door replacement, a window that won't open, a door knob that the lock sticks on, and an ac unit that is pumping in hot air."

Draco resisted the urge to tell him to hire some help and sighed, "Right. Thank you."

The man grunted in response and hung up.

After a moment of contemplating his options, he gathered up his bath supplies and marched down the hall. When he'd moved in a girl named Amelia had told him if he ever needed anything just to come knock on her door. She'd said that she and her boyfriend would be happy to help, and she had even mentioned a shower breaking specifically.

Steeling himself he knocked, "Amelia?" he called. "It's Thomas from 116," he added, he'd almost gotten used to calling himself that. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but my shower is broken and-"

"Just a minute!" a distinctly male voice called back.

And he waited, feeling more embarrassed since couldn't recall having ever met Amelia's boyfriend. He hoped that he wouldn't think that Draco was a creep.

"Sorry," the man called, and Draco heard the locks being slid from their places, "Amelia and I broke up but I'd be glad to help wi-"

The door opened and Draco felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. "Potter?" he spluttered

(Read more below the cut)

"Draco Malfoy, what the actual fuck?"

"What are you doing here?" Draco hissed.

Potter drew back like Draco had slapped him, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

Before Draco could respond, Delores from the room between their rooms emerged and Potter grabbed him by the front of his tshirt and dragged him inside of his flat.

Draco barely had a moment to notice that his flat was surprisingly cozy before Potter was standing in front of him once more, arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" Draco exclaimed. "I've lived here for six months!"

"Well I have lived here for almost a year!" Potter replied. "How did you find this place?"

"Do you know how hard it is to find a flat to rent in London?" Draco asked.

Potter paused, "Actually, yes," he replied. "And this place is enough of a shit-hole that there is a rotating tenant-base."

"Where's Amelia?"

Potter's brow furrowed, "How do you know Amelia?"

"I don't," he said with a shrug, "I met her when I was moving in and she told me if my shower ever broke I should just come knock on her door."

Potter sighed, "Damn."

"What?" Draco asked, feeling like he'd missed something.

"Oh nothing," Potter said, waving him off, "I'd just really been hoping that the guy I caught her cheating on me with was the only one."

Draco spluttered, "I was not romantically involved with your girlfriend."

"No," Potter replied, "No, I know. Just we worked opposite shifts so she was home in the day and I was home at night, and," he shrugged, "Well, you know how it goes."

Draco pinched his arm, he must be dreaming.

Potter turned and wandered toward his kitchen and Draco couldn't help but wonder if he was meant to follow him. "Tea?" Potter called over his shoulder.

And really, Draco had just meant to beg to use the shower but that little part of him that desperately loved gossip decided tea was a better plan. "Please."

The other man sent a smile at him over his shoulder, dimple popping up and Merlin, when had Potter gotten this attractive?

"So," he said as he put the kettle on, "What do you do?"

"I'm going to a muggle university, actually," Draco replied as he found a seat on a stool at the island, "studying to be a solicitor."

"Huh," Potter said, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, "That suits you."

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean," he said, brow furrowed.

"Oh, nothing," Potter assured, "Just you're clever, good at arguing, and good at finding loop holes, I imagine."

At the earnest look on Potter's face, he decided not to take offense. "What is it that you do?"

Potter smiled at him, "I work at an animal shelter."

Draco blinked, he'd never expected that answer.

"I know," Potter laughed, "It's not what anyone expected but it makes me happy and it feels like good work."

The kettle whistled and Potter turned around to fetch down a couple of mugs and make them tea. "How long have you been living out of the wizarding world?"

"A little over a year," he replied. "It was just too difficult," Draco said, "I was mobbed everywhere I went, sent death threats," he added, "Not that I don't deserve them-"

"You don't," Potter said sharply, spinning around to face him. "Godric, Draco, you were just a kid. We all were."

He swallowed and looked down at the island, "Be that as it may," he said carefully, "I think it's easier for people." He made a vague gesture, "Not to have to see me."

"The pressure in the wizarding community is unreal," Potter said, setting a cup of tea along with the sugar bowl in front of Draco before he made his way to his refrigerator, "You still don't take cream, do you?"

"No," he replied with a little smile, pleased that he wasn't the only one to still remember oddities about the other.

"Why don't we go into the living room?" he suggested. "My furniture in there is much more comfortable."

Draco followed along behind him and settled onto what appeared to be the least squishy piece of furniture, a beige chair. Potter seemed to have no such qualms and sunk into a cozy rocking chair. Draco cleared his throat, "You've been gone for how long now?" he asked.

"Almost two and a half years," Potter replied before taking a sip of tea.

"Do you miss it?" Draco asked.

Shrugging one shoulder he answered, "Sometimes. I still go to the Weasley's most Sundays and I go for birthday parties and holidays. It's enough." He took another sip of tea, his eyes glued to Draco in that piercing way of his and it felt like it had been ages since someone had actually seen him. "What about you? Do you miss it?"

"At the beginning," he confessed, "But less now."

Potter hummed, seemingly waiting for Draco to continue

"Did you go to-"

Potter waved him off, "My life is exceptionally boring, I assure you. Tell me about you," he said. "Tell me about school, about what you want to do with your degree, tell me about acclimating to Muggle life," he chuckled, "tell me everything."

And so Draco did. He talked about his classes, talked about how difficult certain parts of living like a muggle were, talked about doing work with children, talked about doing a double major in law and in psychology. Draco talked, and talked, and talked while Harry listened; and he realized it had been a really long time since someone had done this with him.

He was in the middle of a story about how he hadn't understood how pens worked when Harry's mobile rang. With a wince he pulled it out of his pocket, "Sorry," he said, silencing it only for it to start ringing again a minute later. He huffed, "Sorry," he repeated. "It's Hermione and Ron. They'll just keep calling if I don't answer, give me just a minute."

"Of course," he said.

Harry gave him a little smile, "I'll get some more tea," he added before picking up.

Over the tiny little speaker Draco could hear cheering and hollering before a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday was sung and Draco felt the blood drain from his face. He pulled out his own mobile and clicked the wake button. July 31

He felt like such an arse, here he was blabbering away at the other man when Potter probably had a million things he'd rather be doing.

"Thank you," Potter said over the phone from the kitchen. "I'm a bit busy just now," he broke off to listen to some chatter. "Yes. I'll be by on Sunday to celebrate." Another pause, "Yes. Love you all, too. Kisses to Rosie and Teddy."

When he returned he said, "Sorry, you were saying about the pens?"

"I feel like an absolute clot," Draco said.

"What? Why?"

"It's your birthday!" he exclaimed, "and here I've sat for the past two hours talking your ear off about..." he trailed off, "Complete nonsense!"

"Oh, it's fine," he said, waving Draco off, "This is way better than the way I was planning to spend my birthday."

"Oh? Why don't I believe you?" he asked.

"No really," Potter said earnestly. "I was just going to go for a walk and then hang out around the house."

"But why? Don't your friends want to see you?"

"Oh, the Weasleys are away. They went on a trip to Spain; when they made the plans, I'd planned to be on a beach in the Galapagos with Amelia."

"I'm taking you to dinner," he said firmly.

"I couldn't impo-"

"I insist," he interrupted. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Well if you insist," Harry said with a laugh.

"Good. I'm going to use your shower and then go get dressed and we're leaving in twenty minutes."

He chuckled, "It's a date."

--------

And it really had felt like a date, Draco reflected as they strolled back toward their apartment building after a long dinner with multiple courses and dessert.

"Thank you, by the way," Harry said, his shoulder bumping lightly into Draco's when they were just outside of their building.

"Don't mention it," he replied. "It's the least I could do."

Harry stopped and looked over at him, so Draco stopped next to him, "It's not, though," he said. "You didn't have to do any of this."

"I wanted to," he huffed.

He started to lean in closer, "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," he whispered.

"What?"

"This," he murmured before his fingers cupped Draco's cheek and his lips pressed, soft and dry, against Draco's lips.

Harry drew back, "Alright?" he whispered.

Draco's fingers clenched in the front of Harry's shirt and he tugged him back in, slotting their lips together once more. The fingers on Harry's right hand slid through Draco's hair and his other slipped around Draco's back, drawing their bodies flush against one another as Harry's tongue brushed over Draco's bottom lip.

They stood on the sidewalk and kissed for a long moment before Harry pulled back and murmured, "Come home with me?"

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, brow furrowing.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life," he replied, pecking Draco's lips again.

He couldn't help but smile as he nodded his consent and Harry grabbed his hand and dragged him inside and straight to his bedroom.

------

Later, when they were still lying in bed talking about whatever nonsense came into the heads, Harry said, "Draco?"

"Mmmh?"

"This was probably the best birthday I've ever had."

He rolled onto his side so he could see Harry's face illuminated by the moonlight. Harry reached up and brushed his forefinger over Draco's cheekbone and Draco responded, "You've not had many good birthdays, then, have you?"

Harry laughed, "I've had some good birthdays."

"Next year," Draco said before he could think through what he was about to say, "Next year I will give you the best birthday you've ever had."

"Oh?" Harry said, grinning widely at him.

At the sweet, innocent look on Harry's face, he let himself dream, let himself imagine what life could turn out like. He nodded, "I'll wake you up with lazy morning sex, you seem like the type to really enjoy that."

"I am," Harry affirmed, his dimples showing.

Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to the nearest dimple and said, "Then, I'll take you to Paris for breakfast."

"Ooh, Paris?"

He nodded, "I'll get you strawberry crepes with mounds of whipped cream."

"Sounds delicious," Harry said.

"Then I'll take you to a beach somewhere, Bora Bora maybe," he added, enthralled by the pleased crinkle around Potter's eyes.

He hummed, "I've never been to Bora Bora."

"No?"

Harry shook his head.

"Right, then we'll spend the whole day there, I'll sit under an umbrella all day and pretend to get annoyed when you come to kiss me and get sand and ocean water all over me."

He laughed, "As long as it's pretend."

"Then," Draco said, "I'll bring you back to a little villa that you can see the ocean through the floor and I'll cook you dinner. We'll eat together, then go swimming in the dark."

"Sounds lovely," Harry sighed.

"And then we'll come back and try out the bed that's under the stars," he said, brushing a hand over Harry's waist.

"That sounds really nice," he murmured.

"It's a date, then," Draco said.

He smiled back and echoed, "It's a date."

-------

And, true to his word, one year later Draco took Harry to Paris for breakfast and then to Bora Bora for the rest of the weekend. Harry proposed to Draco the very next morning.

--------

Day 63: Hair | Day 65: Question

[usmsgutterson]

Certainly- Kaz Brekker

The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!

Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz

Fic type- angsty fluff

Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)

You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities. 

It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue. 

The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.

It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise. 

“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.” 

“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”

“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.

You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry. 

Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down. 

Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it. 

Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours. 

“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.” 

“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.” 

“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.

He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying. 

“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.” 

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”

“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.

“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.

Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed. 

“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.

“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!” 

“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.

Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky. 

“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”

“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”

“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”

“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”

You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to. 

But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.

“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.

“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.

“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive. 

Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field. 

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish. 

“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.

“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance. 

I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable. 

O N E Y E A R L A T E R 

You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.

Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world. 

“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.

Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”

“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.” 

“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.

“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.” 

Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces. 

“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya. 

You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.

“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot. 

“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.

“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.

It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover. 

“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.” 

“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.

“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.

“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?” 

“Certainly.”

[verfound]

WIP Wednesday: 8/11/21 (Hey, Brotherf*cker)

So about those twelve or so sentences from Sunday... 👀

At some point between Friday afternoon and Saturday night, Juleka came home and Luka told her he was officially dating Marinette. Marinette knew this because she was pulling a fresh pan of guava cheese pastries out of the oven Saturday morning when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Once the tray was cooling on a rack, she pulled out her phone to find a text message from Juleka.

JC: hey brotherfucker

Her dad looked up from piping when she squeaked and dropped her phone. She laughed nervously and waved him off, telling him it was just Alya. He laughed and went back to his cake, buying the lie easily enough. Marinette excused herself and raced to the stairwell, dropping onto the steps and tucking herself against the wall before pulling the message thread up again.

…there were two more messages. And a picture.

JC: so I know u’ve got ur heart set on this dumbass, but

She’d attached a picture of Luka…doing laundry, it looked like? He was standing in front of their washing machine, at least, inspecting a shirt through bleary, half-awake eyes. His bangs were pushed back with a headband, he was shirtless, and he was wearing gaudy, hot pink boxers stamped with giant pineapples over white plumerias. His feet were covered in black and blue striped socks that she was pretty sure were supposed to be crew cut, but one of them was bunched around his ankle. The hand that wasn’t holding the shirt was holding a pastry. He seemed completely oblivious to Juleka’s camera.

JC: rly? u sure? not 2 late 2 change ur mind.

JC: (also we need more pastries the asshole ate em all)

Marinette bit her lip to stifle her giggle, tapping the screen of her phone against her forehead before shaking her head. Her mom was calling her to help with a customer a moment later, but she did make sure to pack up an extra box of treats for Luka to take home before she finished her shift. It was waiting on the kitchen counter when he knocked on the door a few hours later.

“So you told Juleka,” she said, smiling when he hugged her.

“You told your parents,” he said, kissing her before he stepped away. “I thought they were going to be here. Tom gave me orders to not do anything he wouldn’t do as they were leaving. I’m…not thinking about what that includes, in context. Kinda creepy coming from your dad.”

“He’s such a…” Marinette groaned, rolling her eyes. She pulled Luka back to her, kissing him. “Ignore him. They’re having dinner with my grandparents. Nonna’s back in town, and when I mentioned you were coming over tonight Maman thought we’d appreciate the time alone.”

“I like your ma,” he said, following her into the kitchen. She’d been washing up the dishes when he’d knocked. “Your dad still kinda scares me, though. He looks at me sometimes like he’s going to break me in half if I look at you too long.”

“You’re allowed to look,” she tutted. She put the last dish in the strainer, turned the water off, and dried her hands. She reached for his and placed them on her hips, grinning. “And touch. I’m not a kid anymore. Papa has to deal with that. Besides, I have it on good authority that he likes you, so I think you’re safe. The real question…” she paused, fishing her phone out of her pocket and pulling up Juleka’s messages. She grinned when she showed him the chain. “Am I safe with Jules?”

“…I’m going to kill her,” he laughed, She grinned.

“Right? I haven’t even fucked you yet,” she said, rolling her eyes. He choked, grabbing at her phone as she went to pull it away. “Ru-”

“Wait, what?” he asked, looking back at the messages. His eyes popped open, and he groaned. “Oh my God, Juleka…I thought you meant the picture. I am so sorry about her. I’ll talk to her.”

“…it’s fine,” she said, taking her phone back. She put it back in her pocket and pulled him back to her, sighing as she snuggled into his chest. “I…I actually kind of like it.”

“…what?” he asked, chuckling like he didn’t believe her. She peeked up at him, grinning.

“I like being her brotherfucker,” she said, her hands scratching lightly against his back. She could feel a blush rising, but it didn’t feel as embarrassing when Luka was staring at her like he was transfixed. “Even…even if I’m not actually fucking her brother. Yet.”

…which was probably how she ended up on the counter, perched precariously next to the sink with her arms and legs wrapped around Luka, who was kissing her like he liked the sound of her being Juleka’s brotherfucker, too. She probably could have said screw the movie and stayed there kissing him, too, except a few minutes into their makeout – right as hands were starting to wander and he’d pushed her too close to the sink and her legs had tightened around him to keep from falling in – her timer started going off. He groaned when she started giggling, pushing him back.

“I’m starting to hate your alarms,” he grumbled as she reached for the timer. She couldn’t quite reach it from where he’d put her, so she nudged him again. “No. I like you here.”

“You’re going to make me burn dinner,” she laughed. He kissed her, his hand squeezing her ass. She jumped, the fact that Luka liked touching her ass still new enough to surprise her, and he smiled as he rubbed the spot he’d squeezed before moving his hand up to slip into her back pocket.

“We can order pizza,” he said. “I know a place.”

“You hate that place,” she laughed. She tapped her foot against the back of his thighs before scooting back – and squeaking as she fell directly into the sink. A bark of laughter escaped him as she sat there, blinking at him in surprised confusion, before she started laughing, too. “Ok, you jerk – help me up!”

“I love you,” he laughed, taking her hands and giving her a tug. Once she was back on her feet, she leaned up to kiss his cheek before grabbing the alarm.

“I love you,” she said, smiling stupidly as the truth of the words settled and warmed in her heart. He leaned back against the counter, watching as she went to pull the skillet holding their dinner out of the oven. “Which is why I’m not going to make you suffer delivery pizza for dinner. Food is the Dupain-Cheng love language – let me cook for you, ok?”

[itsnotwierditsart13]

Holy Shit (ronance fanfic)

A small little fic about Robin and Nancy getting together:)

It was a thankfully slow day at Family Video as Robin and Steve worked their shift together. Robin was building a new cardboard display case for a shipment that was supposed to have arrived hours ago. Everything was always moving in slow motion at this job, though, and Robin enjoyed it thoroughly. Meanwhile, Steve couldn’t even bother to look busy as he slumped in the one old raggedy chair that Keith allowed them to have. It was pouring rain outside, the windows rattling from thunder every so often. There were probably going to be at least 2 more customers coming in before they closed in four hours. Mostly just older ladies who shouldn’t be driving a car, let alone in the poor weather conditions. Ms. Matheson, a store regular, never rewound her tapes fully, always halfway. It drove Steve crazy, even though he expected it.

“We should have Nancy come by, since it’s so dead,” Steve stated casually as if he didn’t have ulterior motives. He was slumped in his chair, eyeballing Robin for any type of reaction. It was clear that she had feelings for Nancy. After everything that had happened at Starcourt the four of them had formed a bond. Hanging out together most days, sometimes including the kids.

“Don’t start,” Robin replied while flinging a piece of cardboard at him. It narrowly missed his head and landed on the dirty carpet behind him. “She’s my friend and straight, if you’ve forgotten. I’m not gonna indulge in whatever you’ve cooked up in that head of yours.” There was another boom of thunder, drowning out Steve’s exasperated sigh. It was the same conversation they’ve had about twenty times since Steve had picked up on Robin’s feelings. 

“It’s just...sometimes when she’s looking at you. She’s looking at you. Ya know?” Steve explained. He was entirely convinced that Nancy felt at least something more than friendly for Robin. The two acted differently around each other. “And she knows you’re a lady lover. Maybe you’re like her gay awakening or something,” he finished, causing Robin to raise an eyebrow at him from across the counter. 

“Whatever you say, Dingus.” It was clear that Robin didn’t believe a word he said. “Now, can you make yourself useful and hand me the duct tape,” she gestured to the roll that was out of her reach. He rolled his eyes as he passed it over to her.

He didn’t have the heart to mention that she was building it upside down.

_______________________________________________________________

Robin was beginning to lose her mind at a rapid rate. It was clear Steve was going to be no help in the situation as he sat on the far end of the couch, minding his business. 

The three of them, minus Johnathan, had decided to have a casual Friday night movie marathon. That was nothing out of the ordinary, except the minute Steve flicked the lights off and started ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ Robin’s brain almost short circuited. Nancy, who was previously sitting a good distance away, curled into Robin’s side like it was the most casual thing in the world. She wiggled around enough that Robin had no choice but to wrap an arm around her small shoulders. They were now fifteen minutes into the film and Robin couldn’t process anything that was happening. She knew that her body was rigid and stiff, almost like a statue, but it was impossible to relax. What was Nancy doing? Sure, they had hugged before and the occasional times they’ve had to sit closely. Nothing like this had ever occurred, though.

Nancy seemed relaxed and engrossed in the movie. Robin had been side-eyeing her. Meanwhile, Steve continued to act like nothing strange was happening. Although Robin knew that he was fully aware of the situation at hand. The asshole was probably feeling pretty smug currently. Robin would’ve thrown popcorn at his stupid hair if her arm wasn’t already occupied. Despite the growing anxiety, it felt good to have Nancy against her. The girl was warm and small enough that she fit perfectly under her arm. Nancy’s arm that wasn’t wedged between them was laying gently across Robin’s stomach. It was all so...intimate. Robin had no idea what to think of it. This was the closest she had ever been to another girl before. On top of the fact that she had feelings for said girl. 

That thought alone filled her with guilt almost immediately. Nancy was probably used to cuddling up to her girl friends like this, why should Robin be any different. The fact that Robin was a lesbian probably wasn’t even a thought in Nancy’s mind. The girl had taken the news in stride when Robin had slipped up and came out accidentally a month ago. Here Robin was, though, catching feelings for an innocent straight girl. A straight girl who was currently happily tucked into her side. Shit.

Robin stood up abruptly, dislodging Nancy and causing Steve to startle slightly. “Um, I have to pee,” she mumbled out unconvincingly before taking off down the short hallway. When she was finally locked in Steve’s small bathroom she let out a sigh of frustration. It was times like these that she wished she could just be normal. It took another few minutes to calm herself down enough but she knew she had to return to the couch eventually. It would look suspicious if she hid in the bathroom all night. 

When she walked back out into the darkened room, Nancy glanced over at her with an unreadable expression. She quietly sat back down and did her best to avoid the two pairs of eyes that she could feel on her every so often.

Nancy kept her distance for the rest of the night.

________________________________________________________________

A week had passed since the ‘Movie Night incident’, as Steve had dubbed it, and things had only gotten stranger. To Robin’s horror, Nancy had been touchy feely with her every chance she got. Such as, entwining their hands while walking or resting her legs over Robin’s in the car. It was causing Robin to be in constant gay panic mode, which was exhausting to say the least. The more it occurred, the more Steve found it entirely amusing, though. Also, Nancy was always hanging around with them at the Video store. She’d stop in and bring them lunch, even if it was just for a few minutes. It was as if Nancy was doing everything in her power to give Robin a heart attack. 

Despite everything, Robin could only feel herself falling harder for the other girl. It pissed her off. She could barely focus when the other girl was around. Currently, she was trying not to stare as Nancy walked into the store with all the kids trailing behind her. Dustin immediately made a beeline for Steve, who was stocking shelves. The others all screamed over each other about which movie to rent. Will, with his sweetheart face, gave a small wave to Robin as he passed. He would always be her favorite of the bunch. 

“Hey Robin,” Nancy greeted casually, a small smirk on her face. She wore that expression a lot now and Robin couldn’t decipher it to save her life. “Sorry for the midday child tornado. I’m dropping them off at the Byers house but they wanted to stop for movies,” she joked. Robin had to swallow around the lump that had formed in her throat and waved her arm dismissively. 

“Please, it’s been bleak around here anyway. The only person I’ve had to talk to was Dingus,” Robin responded, gesturing over to Steve, who was now surrounded by all the kids. He was probably getting ready to hand them over a movie that they shouldn't be watching at their age. Nancy let out a laugh and stepped forward until she was standing directly in front of Robin.

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Especially when I’m stuck watching Mike while our parents are out,” she spoke and then paused, leaning in a bit more. “Although, I am pretty jealous that he gets to hangout with you all day. Even if you have to deal with customer service.” Robin held her breath as Nancy just kind of stared at her with that same unreadable smirk. Before anything else could transpire between them, Max sprinted through them towards the register. The others followed behind soon after, all yelling about her movie choice. Nancy just rolled her eyes while Robin finally let air into her lungs again. The spell was broken after that as they both made their way over to the, still arguing, group.

Robin didn’t miss Steve making kissy faces at her from behind Nancy’s back. He’d seen the whole exchange.

________________________________________________________________

Another week passed by in much the same fashion. It all came crashing to a sudden halt when Nancy had stopped by the store on a Sunday afternoon. Steve wasn’t scheduled and it was just Robin watching the counter by herself. Nancy had only been there an hour before flustering Robin to her breaking point. 

“Okay!” Robin shouted, causing Nancy to startle and take a step back. They had just finished their coffees that Nancy had gotten them while talking easily. When there was a moment of silence Nancy got that smirk on her face again. The one she’d been sporting constantly the last two weeks. Out of the blue, as if it wasn’t a huge deal, Nancy leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You can’t do that! You’re gonna kill me!” Robin continued to rant. She could feel the heat rushing to her face as Nancy just stared at her with wide eyes.

“Do you…um? Do you not have feelings for me?” Nancy asked hesitantly with confusion in her voice.

Robin sucked in a breath of air so forcefully that it made her cough a little. “What!” she wheezed out, grabbing ahold of the counter. Nancy had the decency to look sheepish as she shrugged her shoulders gently.

“I sort of overheard you and Steve talking about me. More specifically that you...liked me. But now I’m realizing I’m an idiot and probably misinterpreted the conversation,” she finished, taking another hesitant step back from Robin. “Oh god, you probably think I’m a freak now.” Robin just continued to stare at the other girl in shock. “You were just trying to be my friend and I was touching you constantly. I am so sorry,” Nancy ranted while waving her hands around anxiously. It was clear she was working herself up into an all out panic attack.

“Wait,” Robin startled, holding her hand up suddenly. “You were flirting with me?” The statement caused Nancy to stop her pacing and look at Robin.

“Well...yeah. Obviously,” she gritted out aggressively and crossed her arms over herself.

“Do you have feelings for me?” Robin yelped back. Nancy just scoffed and let out a bitter laugh.

“Jesus Christ, Robin, you’re really gonna make me say it? Yes...I like you, a lot. You’re funny and caring and I just feel comfortable around you,” Nancy’s words were mumbled out but Robin caught the whole thing.

“Holy shit, Nance,” Robin breathed out in disbelief. The other girl just looked up and glared back at her. With that look, Robin realized what a dumbass she’d been and smiled widely. Before Nancy could comment on it, Robin gathered all her courage and leaned forward to connect their lips. It took a few seconds for Nancy, who was probably confused, to kiss back. They stood there kissing gently while everything else around them faded away. Robin wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, pulling them as close as possible. She could feel Nancy smiling into the kiss. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later the sound of the door chiming broke them apart. Luckily, they were behind a shelf so the visitor couldn’t have seen what they were doing. Robin just rolled her eyes as Steve came strolling around the corner, though. Of course he’d make an appearance even on his day off. When he spotted the two of them he stopped dead in his tracks. It only took a moment for him to take note of Nancy’s blush before he smiled widely. 

“You two look like you’re having fun,” he stated. In the next second he had to dodge Nancy’s swatting hands. Robin couldn’t keep the smile off her face even if she tried.

[chocoholicannanymous]

Gonna Come True (Glee)

AN: This is a follow-up to There's a Miracle Due which was written for the Glee Twistfest, “What if Mercedes & Kurt got Maria & Tony?” back in 2014 (yikes). I had the storyline for this already back then (hello, all of three lines in a document), it's just taken me until now to actually write it. 

For @krummavisur who wanted it.

Thanks to @elledelajoie for looking it over .

The title is taken from “Something Coming”, West Side Story.

Oh, and I am not trying to follow any kind of canon time-line. Just, go with it.

Gonna Come True

Kurt throws himself into preparing for West Side Story with an energy that makes Mercedes envious. She understands though – he doesn't feel like he got the role honestly, which is bullshit, but. He still thinks he needs to prove himself. In her eyes he did so during his audition, and it's everyone else who needs to prove themselves to him, but he doesn't see it that way. Years of Lima bullshit stops him from seeing it.

He doesn't drop out of the race for senior class president though, not even when he's complaining about balancing that with Tony and school and Blaine. She asks him why and gets an answer she should have expected.

“At first this was about getting at least something on my resume. But that's not it any longer. I'm running as a reminder that bullying is a problem at this school, and that something needs to be done. If I win – and I don't expect to, not here – then I have a shot at making the administration do something. If I lose I still raise awareness. Every time I speak about my agenda I force the people listening to remember that bullying is an issue, that bullying kills, and that it is not okay.

“That's worth losing a little sleep.”

Mercedes's heart swells at hearing her boo speak so passionately about it, and it breaks as she hears an angry Santana tell Brittany that she should run against Kurt.

Kurt who is currently pulling down unicorn posters around the school while pushing back tears.

She waits until Brittany walks away before cornering Santana.

“We need to talk. What you just told Brit? That's a shit thing to do.”

Santana starts to argue, all fire, and under other circumstances Mercedes would admire her willingness to go to bat for her girl, but not now.

“No. Don't you dare. Do you know why Kurt is so upset over those posters? It's because to him they represent everything that he's been bullied over. And that? Has a lot to do with you. You have been sitting in the choir room for two years, mocking him for what he likes and for who he is.

“So here we are. Him running on an anti-bullying platform, and your girlfriend plastering the school with posters reminding him of exactly that bullying. Do I really need to explain to you why it is that when Kurt looks at those posters he doesn't see Brit's intentions, her meaning – he sees your bullying.”

Mercedes sees her words are hitting home, even if Santana is putting up a good front.

“Oh, and Santana? When you mock Kurt for being gay it makes you a hypocrite. But when you mock him for being 'girly'? It's even worse. Because when you say that there's something wrong with being like a girl, you're implying that there's something wrong with being a girl. And I'm not okay with that.

“Now, you are going to go back to Brit and tell her exactly what happened here, and you're going to make sure that she forgets all about running against him. He's had enough of his so-called friends doing that, I'd think.

“I'm not saying this – any of this – to be mean. I'm trying to be a good friend, to Kurt and to you. But make no mistake. You ruin this for Kurt? I'll ruin you.”

Mercedes might not be popular like a cheerleader, but she's got friends and she's got contacts outside of school. Her threat's not an empty one, and Santana knows it.

Her phone's ringing. There's something hitting her window, and her phone's ringing. At half past eleven on a school night.

Whoever it is, Mercedes is going to cut them.

Except it's Kurt, and he's not looking right.

As she lets him in through the back-door Mercedes notices the wrinkled clothes and the mussed hair that doesn't fit with a night of dancing. More making out, but Kurt doesn't have that well-kissed look. Plus, he's pale and shaky.

Something's wrong.

It takes her a long time to coax the story out of him, about Blaine trying to rape him. Except when she says that Kurt denies it, vehemently.

“Are you serious right now? Are you defending him? No! Okay? No. Hell no even.

“Look, if I showed up at your place and told you Shane had pulled me into the backseat of a car, had tried to get my clothes off and wouldn't stop touching me even though I said no, what would you tell me? Would you tell me it was okay because we're dating? That he's allowed to do that because I'm in love with him and he treats me good the rest of the time? Would you tell me to suck it up and forgive him?

“Would you explain away that and tell me that if he won't respect my 'no' the solution is to say 'yes' instead?”

Kurt's even paler now, his eyes blown and unfocused. He doesn't say anything though. Instead he just whimpers and rushes out to the bathroom.

When he comes back he's regained some color. He still looks like shit though. Mercedes pulls out some comfortable clothes that were bought for her brother, but got conscripted as backup for unplanned Kurt-visits, and leaves him to change while she gets them some chamomile tea.

Later, as the lights are out and they're curled up together, trying to get what rest they can Kurt whispers: “I'm going to have to break up with him, aren't I?”

She holds him as he cries himself to sleep.

The next day Kurt pretends like nothing's happened. He doesn't want to rock the boat before the West Side Story premiere, he says, or deal with the bitchfit Rachel would throw. “I'll do it after the final performance on Sunday” he promises, and Mercedes doesn't have it in her to push him. Not with the memory of his tears so fresh.

Dress rehearsal that night goes well, right up to the point where Artie comes to talk to them after. They need more fire, more passion, he claims and then proceeds to tell them that they should hurry up and have sex before their first show so they can portray lovers more believably. Oh, he doesn't put it quite like that, but it's pretty obvious that's what he means.

Mercedes is stunned at first, and then furious. She's surprised that Kurt's not ripping into him, with everything, and oh. Hell no.

“Are you telling me to have sex to improve the show you're directing? Really? How about you get some classes or something, to improve your part? You know, instead of sexually harassing me.”

Artie sputters out what's probably meant as a denial, but she just talks right over him.

“If you as much as breathe about this again, to anyone, I will report you. And then my mama will go have a talk with your parents about how they've failed at raising you to be a decent human being.

“Do you get me?”

He nods quickly, mumbles something and makes a hasty retreat. Just as he goes out the door Kurt's voice rings out, cold.

“And to think I remember a boy who grieved that his first time wasn't romantic enough. I wonder what he would think of you now.”

Artie doesn't say anything, or slow down, but he slumps a little in his chair as the barb hits home. Mercedes shifts her attention to Kurt and sees pale skin, rigid posture and shaky hands. He's thinking the same thing she is.

“Boo...”

“No, 'Cedes, please. Let's not speculate about whether or not he had that speech with the others first. I can't, not now.”

So she lets it go. For now.

Mercedes is on stage for the opening show Friday night along with Kurt. Not in the spotlight, sure, but still there. She can't help but compare Rachel and Blaine's performance with what she and Kurt can do, and they come up short. Tomorrow night, she thinks. Tomorrow night we're going to show them how it's really done.

She says as much to Kurt as they leave together and he laughs, the first sign of happiness she's heard from him in two days. The laughter dies out soon as he spots a bunch of well-dressed boys waiting outside. She recognizes a few from Kurt's time at Dalton, but not all of them. She'd think it nice of them to come see their friends perform, except judging from Kurt's reaction they're not an entirely welcome sight.

He still greets them politely, smiling that small “company smile” she doesn't like while asking if they remember Mercedes.

“And this,” he says with strained, icy politeness, “is Sebastian Smythe, this year's new transfer to Dalton.”

This then is the reason they're not welcome. Still, she follows Kurt's example and pulls out church manners.

Apparently the boys have been given tickets by Blaine, the tall new boy explains, before trying to needle Kurt.

“So, Officer Krupke? How did that feel, such a...manly role?”

Ouch.

“Oh, you know, it's not about the role, it's what you put into it. And it makes for an interesting contrast to tomorrow and playing Tony. ”

Everyone quiets at that and the mood gets slightly uncomfortable. Trent is about to break the silence, but Sebastian talks right over him.

“Right. Well, we'll have to withhold judgment until after of course, but I'd say you'll have a hard time measuring up to Blaine. And you,” he turns to Mercedes, “are you also playing another role tomorrow? This one's Maria perhaps?”

She nods without explaining, and then listens as the boys stumble over excuses about not knowing exactly who'll be there tomorrow, but “We're sure you'll do great, Kurt!”

Once they're out of sight Kurt sags a little.

“He didn't tell them. He went to Dalton to tell them about the show, and give them tickets, and he didn't tell them I was in it. Didn't tell them I was also playing Tony. They tried to cover it up, but... They were my friends too, and he didn't tell them.”

She loops an arm around his waist and snuggles close.

He deserves so much better.

There's a group of Dalton boys there next evening again, making Kurt smile and Blaine startle. Some are from the evening before, including the sharp Sebastian, some are new. They all applaud enthusiastically, and wait so they can congratulate Kurt on his performance. Mercedes pays extra attention to Sebastian, for some reason, but all he says is “not bad”. It sounds genuine though, and so is Kurt's smile as he nods and thanks the other boy.

Mercedes knows they did better than “not bad”. They were awesome together. She doesn't need to hear it from this reluctant boy though. She's got a better source.

They skip the cast party. Kurt's not eager to be with Blaine, especially since there might be alcohol involved, and Mercedes prefers celebrating with her boyfriend who has been a rock. There's a small sting as Kurt walks away alone, but it slips away as she accepts Shane's flowers and kiss and walks out on his arm.

The next morning Mercedes shows up at the Hummel-Hudson house almost uncomfortably early. She drags a still sleep-tussled Kurt to the dining table and spreads out the Gazette in front of him. It's already open to the right page and she sees exactly when Kurt realizes what she's got.

“You read that, I'll fix breakfast.”

She's brought coffee from home along with juice and fresh croissants from the bakery a block away and a small carton of strawberries. It's a luxury, but it's a well-deserved one. It's the work of no time to put it all out along with cups and plates, and as she does that she hears Kurt's voice rise, reading select paragraphs out loud.

“Rachel Berry's 'Maria' is technically perfect, with the singer hitting every note. Sadly that excellence does not extend to the rest of her performance. Ms Berry fails to provide personality and emotion, and simply put she lacks the ability to bring Maria to life.”

He stops, shakes his head and looks at her.

“Ehm, ouch?”

Yes.

“Blaine Anderson as Tony does not help. Where a better singer and actor could shore up his counterpart Anderson falls flat. 'Flat' is in fact the word that comes to mind most often when seeing and listening to him performing. Anderson fails to hit the notes in several of the songs, and often resorts to what must be described as screaming instead of singing. He lacks the range needed to play Tony, and obviously also the training needed to make up for his shortcomings.

“On the acting side it's equally flat. Anderson's body language and facial expressions are mostly too subtle – or possibly non-existent – to come across from the stage, making it like watching a cardboard cut-out most of the time. On the other hand, when he does come across it's much too exaggerated, making his Tony look like a caricature. (I find myself looking at the playbill to see if this is meant to be a comedic take on this epic show. It's not.)

“Holy shit, 'Cedes!”

Yessssss.

“Finally, the dancing. Here, Anderson does better – most of the time. He clearly favors certain parts of the choreography, and there he does very well. In other parts it is obvious that Anderson lacks either the desire or the ability to perform according to choreography. This shows, as other cast members – including Ms Berry's Maria – often have to adjust their own moves to accommodate Anderson, either because he takes up too much space or because he simply isn't where he is supposed to be.

“Towards the end of the show Anderson also shows a surprising lack of stamina, and almost literally falls flat as he stumbles through some of the steps.

“The rest of the cast...”

Kurt's voice peters off, and he looks at her, stunned. Mercedes only smiles, satisfied.

“You should read on. Really.”

Kurt looks at her with skepticism, but does as she says. She knows exactly when he hits the part she wanted him to see, because he looks up at her, wide-eyed and slightly stunned.

“After this the pair playing Maria and Tony during Saturday's performance – as well as today's matinée – is a pleasant surprise. Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel bring our lovers to life in a way that looks more like a professional setup than a high school play. Not only are they both talented singers, but they also manage to communicate the story to the audience and play off each other in a way that lifts the entire show.

“It is noticeable, having seen both sets of performers that like Anderson Jones has some difficulty with the choreography. However the adjustments made to cater to her limitations in no way come off as a lesser version of what Berry performs, and does in fact make her look better than Anderson's attempt at a more complex choreography. Meanwhile Hummel needs no such adjustments and manages to pair vocals with dancing in a truly impressive manner.

“Hummel's vocals could take up an article of its own, and so this reporter will just note that it comes as no surprise that Hummel is pursuing schooling and later a career in performing arts. We are looking forward to seeing him on stage on many more occasions.”

Kurt drops the paper and blinks like an owl.

“Am I dreaming? Did an actual reporter not only attend a West Side Story performance at McKinley to write about it in the Gazette, but they actually went twice?”

“Yeah boo.”

“And they actually wrote that we did better than Rachel and Blaine?”

“Yeah, they did. And they were right, you know. You did so much better than Blaine that he should be embarrassed.”

Kurt blushes a little, then pulls a grimace.

“What?”

“I was just thinking... I've been wondering if breaking up with Blaine over what happened was an overreaction, because...” He meets her eye, and looks away. “Anyway, I'm reading this and instead of being happy for me – for us – I can't help but think that Blaine's going to go ballistic. And that waiting for the show to be over probably wasn't that great of an idea. He's going to expect me to listen to him whine about this.”

Mercedes isn't surprised to hear that Kurt's been considering forgiving his boyfriend. A bit disappointed, sure, but not surprised. He always was more loyal than people deserved. She is surprised that he's being that clear-sighted about Blaine though. That's good. That means he's probably going to follow through.

As if cued Kurt's phone starts buzzing and they both look at the screen. Blaine. Mercedes makes an unhappy face. Kurt... Kurt looks upset and rejects the call before turning the sound off.

“Boo?”

“I am not going to ruin my afterglow by listening to him complain about how no one appreciates him. Not when I'm already going to break up with him. Just, no.

“Instead I'm going to enjoy this lovely breakfast with my gorgeous leading lady, and then I'm going to read that article again and gloat. Oh, and then I'm going out to get myself a couple of extra copies as proof that even in Lima people can see our talent.

“I don't know how you did it, but you, my dear, pulled off a miracle.”

And she has, hasn't she? Not by making someone see and recognize Kurt's talent, though, but by making him smile, wide and open.

That's her miracle, right there.

~ The End ~

[ofherlionheart]

hey uh. wanted a quick writing exercise so here’s some boo chronicles: part i from zuko’s pov

—————

It’s not the first time he’s been slumped over his kitchen island at a stupid hour, eyes drying out as his tries to finish yet another dull paper by someone who’s allegedly smart enough to be relevant to his field, and it’s also far from the last time he’ll do this, but that doesn’t mean Zuko can’t huff about it. As his eyes glaze over another paragraph, he absently taps out a text to Sokka, because Sokka always has something funny to say about whatever’s on Zuko’s mind—even his petty complaints.

He’s just set his phone facedown on the counter again when his text tone dings. Zuko blinks. Sokka’s never up at this hour, but …

like u wouldn’t kiss bersani’s gravehole

Zuko smiles and shifts his thumb to slide the text open when another message appears with a chime: hey. would u be my pretend boyf plus-one for a wedding in two weeks?

He drops his phone, shooting upright in his seat and staring at his cell warily.

That’s. That’s one hell of a loaded, unexpected question.

Except Sokka doesn’t know about Zuko’s feelings for him. Zuko’s continued to treat one of his best friends like a best friend, because … because. Because Zuko knows he had his chance when they first met, seven years ago, but Zuko wasn’t ready for Sokka and wasn’t ready for anyone, really. And then Sokka moved on and that was fine, really, because this thing between them is as profound as Zuko’s relationship with Mai or Azula or Ty Lee, and Zuko wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He picks up his phone and replies, what?

A second later, a photo of Sokka wearing a bucket hat and sunglasses as he pretends to kiss a fish he’s caught flashes onto Zuko’s screen. Sokka hates that Zuko chose this photo for his contact; he thinks it makes him look like a straight man on a dating app. Zuko has to remind him that Sokka’s the one who sent him this photo in the first place.

Zuko picks up the incoming call and immediately gets an earful of Sokka. “—be the ultimate flex of a significant other on an ex. You’re, like, the most thoughtful, big-hearted person I know, and you’re beautiful and fashionable and accomplished. You’re going to be world-renowned famous in, like, two years.”

Sokka’s always been too generous when it comes to characterizing Zuko, but that doesn’t stop the flutter in his gut. It’s a flutter that tends to rise into Zuko’s throat, making his words catch and give him away when Zuko really doesn’t want to confess to anything, so he breathes steadily and waits until the feeling subsides before he asks the logical question: “Why not Suki?”

“Suki and Zahra are almost the same person,” Sokka answers without missing a beat, “so Zahra would just take pity on Suki and shake her head at me. But she’d think you’re wildly out of my league—”

“I’m not,” Zuko automatically refutes, even as he’s thinking, Of course, Zahra. Sometimes, when he’s not thinking like a kind and generous person, he wishes Zahra were an awful human being so he could properly hate her for the ringer she put Sokka through. She’s not, though—she and Sokka were just the maybe-right people and the definitely-wrong time—so Zuko’s left with nothing more than Of course, Zahras and a heightened awareness of Sokka whenever she’s brought up.

Sokka’s still going. “—and thereby infer that I’ve grown as a person since she dumped me, and then she might even question whether walking away from me was the right choice.”

It was three years ago, and Sokka put himself back together a while back, but sometimes something slips through the cracks.

“To be clear,” Zuko says—encourages a reaffirmation, really—“Her walking away from you was the right choice. Right?”

A sigh, and then an exhaled, “Yeah.”

He wishes he could see Sokka’s face. Usually, he can read Sokka from just the tone of his voice, but one word doesn’t give him much. “Sokka, you aren’t asking me to do this just because there’s a chance you’ll feel a brief sense of victory over someone you’re actually perfectly cordial friends with … are you?”

“No,” Sokka immediately says. “I’m asking because there’s no one I’d rather have by my side than you.”

Zuko’s throat tightens.

It took him a stupidly long time, really, to realize that words don’t mean the same thing to other people as they do to him. He used to get caught up in and read into word choice and modifier placement and goddamn commas to try to understand exactly what other people meant, but it wasn’t until Mai snapped at him, once, during their senior year of high school, “For fuck’s sake, Zuko, I sent t-h-x instead of thanks because it’s quicker, not because I secretly hate you,” that he learned that words are just plain words to most people.

So he knows that Sokka doesn’t mean that he wants Zuko with him first and foremost at all times. That’s just Zuko’s literary brain slathering layers of meaning and significance onto a sentence that Sokka meant in a very, ordinary, unexceptional way.

There’s still a small part of him, though—a part he’s working on—that needs to check anyway. “As emotional support,” he says, curling and uncurling the corner of his printed article with his fingertip.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

There’s a pause before Sokka echoes, “Okay?”

Of course, okay. Sokka wants him there, and besides, no one reads Sokka as well as Zuko does, and he doesn’t think even Suki knows the full extent of the Zahra thing. He doesn’t want to send Sokka spiraling, though, so he directs them in a safer direction: planning. “You said it’s two weeks from now?” he asks.

“Yeah, on Saturday—you’re sure?”

Sokka’s hesitation never fails to baffle Zuko. The man has always radiated steadiness, and he’s been the stalwart of their ever-evolving group of friends since forever, so much so that it took Zuko a while to parse why Sokka was ever hesitant. Now that he understands that aspect of Sokka, though, whenever his uncertainty crops up, Zuko just wants to fight anything that’s ever held his friend back. No one deserves to thrive and grow more than Sokka.

“Why would I say okay if I was’t sure?” Zuko replies.

Sokka clears his throat. “Great,” he says and then surges on. “Uh, it’s in Montreal. I don’t know what your work schedule is like, but I was planning on taking Friday off to drive up, and then come back on Sunday—”

“Works for me,” Zuko interrupts the rising ramble. He has a couple meetings, on Friday, but meetings can be made up. This can’t. “We can take my car, if you want,” he offers, because he’s actually parked in the city and certainly gets better gas mileage than Sokka.

“Actually—yeah. That’d be great.”

Zuko can tell Sokka’s mind is elsewhere, so he waits. Sure enough, he clears his throat again. “The pretend boyfriend thing … We don’t—we don’t have to do it. Bottom line, I’d just like it if you were there.”

“Are you backing out?” Zuko teases before he catches himself, and fuck, okay. There’s no going back now. But that’s fine, because he’s an adult, and he’s equipped to deal with this. They might even be able to have fun with it. “Let’s do it. I bet we can get her to second-guess herself for at least a second.”

He can hear the smile in Sokka’s voice when he agrees, “Okay.” A few clicks make it through the line; Sokka must be working with some data. “I think I should get to bed. This data set won’t process faster just because I’m watching it.”

“I wondered why you were awake right now.”

“Enjoy the Bersani booty-lickers.”

Zuko sighs—the rectum essay isn’t the only thing that Bersani’s contributed to the field—and Sokka snickers. He should let Sokka go, since his friend really isn’t a night owl, but there’s something still tickling the back of his mind. “Sokka?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

He finally grasps the thought. “You have grown as a person. Since the stuff with Zahra happened.”

It takes Sokka a moment to respond. “Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

His voice is soft, in a way that it rarely is around the rest of their friends, and fuck, Zuko’s throat is acting up again. “Get some rest,” he manages and then hangs up.

This time, he intentionally drops his phone on the counter, and his forehead follows soon after. The marble is cool against his skin, and he breathes deeply against the racing of his own heart. He’s doing this, he reminds himself, because he’s the best person to help Sokka in this situation.

It’s incidental that he’s powerless to the urge to remind Sokka, in every way he knows how, that Sokka deserves to shine his brightest self at all times.

[liquid-luck-00]

Connections 4

Chapter 4

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since dad and her moved to Gotham she was visited by Gotham’s Vigilantes every night before bed as they went on patrol. Every night without fail. Monday was Nightwing and Red Robin they would be on the opposite roof and wave before she fell asleep. Tuesday was only Red hood and he stood on her balcony and tapped the glass door tap, tap tap, tap. She quickly figured out it was Morse code ngt, or night, and then left. Wednesday was Red Robin and Batman they only paused and left after Mari waved at them, at least she hoped they saw her. Red Hood and Nightwing visited on Thursday and they always goofed around on the opposite roof until they made her laugh. Friday was Red Robin and he always told her to go to bed, well he put his hands together and then acted like he was going to go to sleep. Saturday was always Nightwing and he shot her finger guns and left. Every Sunday was Batman alone and he only paused a second on her balcony before leaving.

Gotham became her home the vigilantes, they were her heroes, was routine and a place where she felt comfortable. Marinette got into the normalcy of school that was Gotham Academy, and that didn’t have to do with the fact that everyone in school seemed to befriend her. Her best friend is and oddball and nothing could convince her otherwise.

The conversation of soulmates was introduced to her class today and everyone looked at marks on their skin or searched their hair or eyes. Most children knew that they had a soulmate but that didn’t stop their excitement at the news. This of course led everyone to ask one another about their marks and a girl next to her asked Mari if she had a soul mark too.

“I don’t think I have a mark. At least not that I know of” Mari frowned a little.

“Teacher” the girl chirped.

“Yes?” the teacher replied.

“what if you don’t have a mark, does that mean you don’t have a soulmate?”

The teacher took a moment to answer “Some marks only appear after you meet your soulmate, however a select few have an invisible bond that shares experiences and memories. Why do you ask?”

“She asked for me since I don’t have a mark.” Mari replied in a concise manner.

“Well we can’t do anything about the first but the second we can ask. Can you do things that you never tried or can’t explain how you know how to do things?”

Mari thought hard and two big things came to mind, no matter how she tried she couldn’t understand how she could fight with such certainty or know languages she had never heard. But the fact that they seemed so out of place put Mari on edge like she needed to keep this secret or else she’d be in danger. Slowly she spoke cautiously “I can speak another language I’ve never heard before”

The teacher smiled and responded “it is probably the language your soulmate speaks” that was all, and Mari gave a small breath as if she had kept the secret safe.

When Mari gets home, she prepares her overnight bag and a few other things as she is going to spend the next month with her brothers, second father, and her grandfather (Alfred). Dad was going on a European tour and would be joining them at the Wayne’s for thanksgiving. This meant that Halloween would be spent with three older brothers.

Once she settled into her room in the manner everyone left her to her own devices so Mari decided to ask Tikki a question that has been on her mind since class. Mari had always been good at being able to read people and having Tikki to confide in was a bonus. Tikki explained so much to her about the way that people may react and how people are connected. This led to them talking about the other miraculous gems and how they are used to maintain the world’s balance. Tikki had few words about her other half, Plagg, which was the kwamii of destruction.

“What does it mean that the two are two halves?” Mari was genuinely curious. She never thought that there could be another being that completes another outside of itself.

“Well this world is comprised of half beings. Every person has a soulmate that completes them perfectly, but the ladybug and black cat are special as the two holders are almost always soulmates of one kind or another.” Tikki responds with a smile.

“Are there different types of soul mates then?”

“Yes, there is. There are romantic and plutonic soulmates. You can only have one romantic soulmate but multiple plutonic ones.”

“How can I tell when I meet my soulmate?” she was genuinely curious, if she really did have an invisible bond then she might never know. She started to frown slightly and Tikki was watching her carefully as she decided what to say next.

The little god sighed deeply, and Marinette looked at her Kwamii. “I don’t say this lightly little bug. You have a soul of pure creation and that makes you a true holder of the ladybug miraculous because of that you are more than human. The Miraculous changes the holder depending on their affinity with the kwamii, and some changes affects is how they contact their soulmates. Little bug your connection to your soulmate will grow and when you meet them it will reveal itself. But know that the romantic soulmate is your true half and they will also be affected by my magic through you. As you grow you will be able to tell.” Tikki flew up and nuzzled against Mari’s cheek.

“Well guess we’re just going to have to wait and see aren’t we” Mari let out a laugh as she started to get up and leave her room to find Alfred.

 ---

 Alfred was busy in the kitchen like usual when little Mari cane in.

“Hi Alfred, can I help you?” Alfred gave the girl a smile and a nod as he pulled out some ingredients for cookies.

“What is bothering you Miss Marinette?” he saw the girl shift from foot to foot and he couldn’t understand it. He knew something was on her mind but what was unknown.

“Alfred are you a holder?” Her voice shook slightly, and he couldn’t understand what she meant, and his confusion was evident.

“Miss Marinette what do you mean?” he was trying to understand this, but her emotions stayed constant, that is until there was a shift and she looked up at him.

“Alfred are you a holder of the Miraculous?” her voice held such conviction and certainty, but how does she know about the Miraculous. He didn’t answer and studied the girl before sighing.

“Well that explains why you are harder to read than many others, I had a feeling a Kwamii was in the manor but…”

A red blur flew out of Miss Marinette’s purse “You are one of Duusu’s birds, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I was”

“Was?” asked Miss Marinette. She was giving a small frown and looked at him.

Alfred sighed and got out a few more ingredients. “What is your preference little…”

“Tikki” stated the kwamii, “and cookies please” Tikki gave him a smile and he couldn’t help but wish Duusu was still with him.

“Very well. Would you help me Miss Marinette?” the girl smiled and started to help him bake. She kept looking at him with a sad look almost begging him to continue without pushing him. “I was the holder of emotion during World War II but two miraculous were stolen and lost Duusu’s the Peacock pin and the brooch of the Butterfly”

“Nooroo is the kwamii of transmission or empathy, Duusu is the kwamii of emotions” Tikki explained to the child, who nodded and continued to work.

“How were they…” Miss Marinette’s voice trailed off.

“I was injured in battle and Duusu refused saying I was a true holder and he would not leave. The officers took him from me, unfortunately they were taken during a siege on Paris. I miss my old friend. “

Tikki spoke quietly “Can you, can you sense him still?”

Alfred shook his head. “his Miraculous is not active, but something is wrong. I just wish I knew what”

Both Tikki and Marinette gave him a sad smile before descending into a hug. Little Marinette hugged him tightly and Tikki was hugging his cheek. That was when the timer went off. He gave a small chuckle and went to pull the cookies out to cool.

Marinette sat on the stool near the counter and he turned, but as he did Jason burst into the kitchen, little Tikki was gone again faster than he could blink.

“I thought I smelled cookies!” Jason walked over to the cooling rack and was about to grab a handful, Alfred gave an exasperated sigh, and Miss Marinette giggled catching Master Jason’s attention. “Hey there Pixie Pop” he gave the girl a smile as he grabbed two cookies and offered her one “Cookie?” At this Alfred left the kitchen to gather the others for dinner leaving the two laughing in the kitchen.

Miss Marinette is certainly going to be a presence in the manor, he had a smile on his lips as he searched for the rest of his family.

 ---

 A week has passed since Mari arrived at the manor and she was starting to get curious. She would often notice how tired most of her brother’s were in the morning, Tim Tam specifically seemed to be a zombie and Blue wouldn’t smile during breakfast on Tuesday.  And that seemed off to Mari, she was worried that there had to be something going on.

“Tikki I don’t know what is wrong, but they seem tired and quiet like they were up late?”

“Maybe they were working late last night, Tim is still in school and Dick works.” Tikki tried to reassure her but Mari wasn’t convinced. She knew something was going on and it was more than a hunch.

The next day Jason was Grumpy and was scowling into his breakfast. That was when things clicked, she took her spoon from her cereal and tapped it on the edge of the bowl. Tap, tap tap, tap. And she continued to eat Jay Jay looked at her funny and he didn’t stop til Bruce said something to him, he grumbled and continued to eat.

Mari left for school and everything seemed normal, but she felt like something was going to happen after school. And oh boy was she right but it wasn’t until dinner that it happened.

Jay Jay was quiet and that wasn’t normal, Dick was the one to break him out of his head “What no comeback Jay”

“Huh?” he looked around and everyone was staring at him. “Guess not.” He shrugged.

“Really that’s a first” Tim said with a smirk.

“What’s on your mind Jason?” Bruce asked and everyone was now looking at Jay Jay, and Jason was staring at Mari.

“Do you know?” he practically whispered. That got everyone’s attention and now they were hyper focused on Mari.

“I only figured it out this morning” Mari practically whispered into her plate.

“And what did you figure Marinette?” Bruce asked a calm mask on his face, but his eyes were cautious.

“Jay Jay is Red Hood, that means Blue is Nightwing, Tim Tam is Red Robin, and you are Batman”

It was silent until everyone heard a laugh. It was Alfred.

“You truly are a force to be reckoned with aren’t you, miss Marinette.” He gave a final laugh before he continued, “I am quite impressed it only took a week however.” Alfred gave a smile before chaos ensued.

 ---

 Everyone tried to deny their identities, but Mari only seemed to resist the urge to giggle. Bruce only looked at the girl he considered a daughter and let out a sigh and smiled.

“clever girl” his words broke the statements of denial, but the quiet didn’t last, well not as long as he had hoped at least. Mari looked down and fidgeted with her bag the next moment a little red blob shot out and floated next to the girl.

“My chosen is more than just clever” and his boys descended into madness once again.

Dick was the first to regain his composure “What are you, a Bug-Mouse?”

Both Mari and the creature giggled and that snapped the attention of Tim and Jason. “Nope I and a Kwamii. Specifically, I am the Kwamii of creation bound to the Miraculous of the Ladybug. My name is Tikki a pleasure to meet you finally, Mari has told me a lot about you.” The creature, no Kwamii, bowed to them.

“What do you mean that Mari is your chosen?” Bruce asked and he looked at the Kwamii expectantly.

However it was Alfred who answered “ A chosen is the person who is the wielder of the miraculous and is thus imbued with the powers of the god they hold, Miss Marinette is the Holder of the Ladybug and is thus imbued with creation itself.”

“Why am I not surprised you already knew” Bruce shook his head and gave his butler a slight frown.

“You know what this means right!” Dick practically screamed. Everyone looked at him “What little bug is a little badass and if she is protecting Tikki that means she has to be able to protect herself. I can show her some gymnastics, oooh does this mean you’re a magical girl” Dick went off rambling.

“I lost him, and he is officially lost” Jason teased but it fell on deaf ears, “but he isn’t wrong” he shrugged and went to eat.

“Does Jagged know” Mari looked down and seemed torn. “He doesn’t.” she shook her head and looked sad as if lying was something she wished she never had to do. He sighed and then she answered.

“Since Alfred was a holder and you guys are heroes, I thought it was safe to tell you.” He gave Alfred a look and Alfred only seemed to smile at him.

“Well I don’t see why we cant train you” Mari looked up at him, “ But you under no circumstances can leave the cave” She smiled and jumped from her seat and ran to him, little Mari gave him a hug and thanked him. He could only chuckle at her enthusiasm.

This little girl is full of surprises and I doubt this is the last of them.

Next

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Taglist🐞🦇

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[thewickedkings]

Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 8

Masterlist || AO3 ||  Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks,  an  unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything so far, but please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

~~~

A/N: This has minor spoilers for Knives Out, just FYI.

Jude’s plan to avoid Taryn for the rest of her existence was foiled the next day at lunch. Oriana had tried a new pasta recipe, and Madoc had made sure Jude and Taryn were downstairs for lunch. When Jude had first moved in with Madoc, days after her parent’s accident, Madoc and Oriana’s relationship had been an enigma to her. But as Madoc scooped extra pasta in his plate and Oriana smiled down at her food, Jude knew they cared about each other more than she knew.

Taryn shifted on the seat next to her, and Jude studiously focused on twisting her noodles around her fork, choosing to ignore Taryn. She wasn’t going to be petty about it.

When Taryn reached for the last garlic bread, Jude deftly picked it up, biting into its delicious warmth and ignoring Taryn’s irritated glance. Not petty at all.

“Girls, how was your party last night?” Oriana asked.

“It was okay, but Taryn really enjoyed it,” Jude responded casually, eyes not leaving her plate.

“I mean, Jude wouldn’t know, she left halfway through.”

Oriana’s watchful gaze jumped between them, and she asked, “Oh? Who did you get a ride home with?”

“Just a friend.”

Jude felt Madoc’s gaze on her, and she sank into her seat, knowing what was about to come. “Was it a boy? Who? Do I know him?”

“You met him the other day. Cardan Greenbriar.”

Oak piped in. “The boy from the soccer game. Vivi said you two pretend to hate each other, but you actually-”

“Anyways,” Jude quickly interrupted. “He just gave me a ride home because I didn’t feel like staying.” She wished Vivi were here so she could punch her.

“You seem to be spending a lot of time with Cardan, Jude,” Taryn said slowly.

“Well, Locke wasn’t around and I couldn’t find you either, so I had to get a ride with Cardan.”

“Who’s Locke?” That came from Madoc, who was suddenly very interested in the conversation.

“Jude’s boyfriend.”

Oak frowned into his glass.

“He’s not my-”

“But you like him, right?” Taryn needled.

What the hell? What was she playing at? Suddenly Jude was glad she hadn’t confronted Locke and Taryn yesterday, if only to be able to watch Taryn’s deceit and try to decipher it.

“We’ve only been on one date, okay?”

“So you’re leading him on?”

“Can you not?” Jude snapped.

The room went silent, and Oak stared at Jude with wide eyes over the rim of his orange juice. If she wasn’t so mad, she might have laughed at the ridiculousness of situation.

It wasn’t like this was the first time her and Taryn had fought. They were siblings after all. But it seemed everyone could sense the pure venom between them.

Madoc cleared his throat, clearly at loss for words. “Girls, I think…”

Taryn pushed her seat back, interrupting him. “I’m full.”

“Same here,” Jude said, and they both marched away in opposite directions.

 ~~~

Work the next morning was a welcoming distraction from her tumultuous thoughts. The morning drifted by as Jude took the occasional order and chatted with the Bomb. Sunday mornings were usually the slowest, and Jude loved the steady thrum of the café as the sun rose higher in the sky.

After her lunch break, the Bomb handed her a pink drink, gesturing for her to take it to the table in the back corner of the cafe. Jude scrunched her face at the sugary atrocity and the Bomb laughed. “Not everyone drinks straight up black coffee like you do.”

Jude’s reply was forgotten as she caught sight of the recipient of said atrocity.

Cardan sat hunched in the corner, a navy beanie slung atop his head and airpods in his ears. Jude’s brain went into overdrive, wondering how she was supposed to act around him. Friday night felt almost like an alternate reality, one where her and Cardan actually got along. And she didn’t know if they could exist like that now.

As Jude approached his table, she hesitated, taking in his appearance. His shirt collar was rumpled, as if he had thrown it on without a second glance, and his eyes were shadowed. His hands fidgeted with a pencil, charcoal smudging his fingers.

“Um, hey, here’s your pink drink.”

Cardan looked up from his laptop, startled, and one of his arms quickly moved to block his notebook from her sight. “I thought you didn’t work on Sundays,” he blurted, pulling out his airpods.

“Oh yeah, my schedule changed,” she replied, playing off the insecurity that statement wrought. He didn’t have to be so obvious that he didn’t want to see her.

“Right.”

His eyes flickered away from hers, and Jude cleared her throat. “Right. Um- Let me know if you need anything.” She quickly turned around, mortification burning through her. She’d thought that Friday night had changed things between them, but she was foolish for thinking so.

“Jude, wait.”

She turned slightly, waiting. His jaw worked before he finally said, “Thanks. For the drink.”

She nodded curtly, not trusting herself to speak, before going back to the counter. When the Bomb saw her expression, she asked, “What happened?”

Jude sighed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

 ~~~

After Jude had recounted all the events since Friday, the Bomb glared at her. “You let me ramble about my crappy professor and my crush on Garett all morning while you were sitting on all this?”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up…?”

The Bomb sighed. “I do not miss high school.”

“Just… help me.”

“Okay, first of all, Locke is a douchebag. Second of all, Taryn is also a jerk, no offense. And third of all, why did you go out with Locke instead of him?” The Bomb’s eyes glanced towards Cardan meaningfully.

“It’s not like that. We haven’t even been civil to each other until Friday. It’s… complicated.”

“Sounds like a whole lot of excuses to me.”

“You’re one to talk.”

The Bomb ignored the jab. “Me, Van, and the Ghost are going to the movies after this. Come with us and invite him.”

“Wait, what? How’s that going to help anything?”

“Come on Jude. It’ll be fun. I want to meet him and see what his deal is. Plus, he looks like he needs some cheering up.”

Jude watched as he rubbed a hand against the tension in his jaw, and something inside her gave. He had cheered her up on Friday, so she would only be returning the favor.

“Okay, fine.”

 The Bomb rolled her eyes. “You’ll thank me later.”

~~~

Two hours later, after her and the Bomb closed the coffee shop for the evening, Jude found in the food court at the mall with three of her coworkers that might be becoming her friends and a guy who had, until a week ago, been her nemesis.

Despite Cardan’s initial hesitation at her invite, he accepted after confirming she wasn’t just trying to prank him.

Jude had spent enough shifts with them to be comfortable with them, and she watched warily as the Bomb introduced them to Cardan.

“This is Cardan, Jude’s… friend,” she settled on. Cardan’s fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on his hoodie as he gave an awkward wave. “And this is the the Roach, aka Van, and the Ghost.”

At Cardan’s confused expression, Van and the Ghost began to explain the backstory, sentences overlapping as they cut each other off in their efforts to explain each nickname.

The three of them began to walk ahead of Jude and the Bomb, and Cardan shot a wide eyed look behind him at Jude. She grinned. Even she couldn’t keep up with the Ghost and Garett’s endless bickering. If it weren’t for the sharp contrast in their features, she would’ve thought they were siblings.

The Bomb hooked her arm through Jude’s as they lined up for the pretzel cart while the three boys wandered off to browse the movies.  “I told you it’d be fine.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

After they secured their snacks, they joined the boys in line for tickets.

“You might want to hide that. They don’t let you take in any outside snacks.” Garett gestured to the pretzel.

“Crap, okay.” When she realized she didn’t have any bag or clothing bulky enough to hide her pretzel, she shoved the pretzel at Cardan, who was wearing a black jacket. “Hide this in your jacket.”

Cardan raised a brow. “Only if you share.”

“I asked you if you wanted one!”

He shrugged, stepping back. “Fine, then. You can smuggle that in yourself.”

Jude grabbed his jacket and shoved the pretzel inside, mumbling, “I hate you so much.”

“So you keep telling me.” His hands were warm as they closed over hers, gently grasping the pretzel out of her grip.

When she pulled back, the Bomb, the Ghost, and Garett all looked at them with varying expressions. The Bomb looked much too smug, Van confused, and the Ghost thoroughly entertained.

“So you two are… friends?” That came from the Ghost.

Jude felt a flush warming up her neck, forgetting that they had an audience and just now realizing how flirtatious their interaction would seem to someone who didn’t know them.

Cardan’s eyes glinted humorously. “It depends on her mood.”

The Bomb snorted and nudged Jude. “I like him.” Van’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second before clearing. Jude filed that information to think about later before making her way to the ticket counter.

“Let’s go watch this movie, losers.”

 ~~~

“I aspire to achieve her level of pettiness,” Cardan whispered into her ear as the credits to Knives Out rolled in. Because of course he would be a movie talker, whispering his opinion every five seconds.

“I think I like evil Captain America.”

“The blood on her shoe!”

“Is it just me, or is this dude’s accent getting really annoying?”

His warm breath against her ear left her feeling restless and jittery the entire movie.

They got up as the faint lights illuminated the room, making their way to the exit.

Van was giving the Bomb a full analysis of the subtext of the movie, and the Ghost rolled his eyes at Jude from behind him. “Such a nerd,” he mouthed and she snorted.

“So, out of ten, what did you think?” asked Cardan.

“A solid eight.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t solve it until the end.”

“I would have if you didn’t keep interrupting my concentration every five seconds.”

The Ghost laughed. “I’d dock a whole star because that dude’s Southern accent was terrible.”

“A donut hole in a donut hole,” Cardan said, mimicking a line from the movie in his own attempt at the accent. She snorted a laugh, and Cardan’s eyes brightened.

The group of them made their way to their cars, their voices loud and bright against the chill of the night. Garett had his arms around the Bomb’s shoulders in front of them, and Cardan and the Ghost joked from either side of her. A happiness flowed through her veins that could only be found after leaving a movie theatre, a sense of dreamy optimism and possibility.

Before she knew it, the Bomb and the Ghost were making plans for the next week. Cardan shot a hesitant glance towards her, his hands burrowing into his pockets, and Jude returned it with a shrug and a grin. And so Cardan agreed, and then so did she.

After the Bomb dropped them both off at the café so they could get their cars, he walked her to her car. He leaned back against her car, hands in his pockets. “So… those are your friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t expect you to be friends with a bunch of college kids.”

Jude scowled. “Why? I’m cool enough.”

“I never said you weren’t,” he replied, lips curving up in a smile, but then his expression sobered, eyes flickering to the pavement below. “Thanks… for inviting me out with your friends. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” she let herself admit, because something about Cardan in that moment was oddly vulnerable.

His hand reached foreword and tucked a strand of hair that the wind had pried loose behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “Jude, I…”

The shrill tone of her phone interrupted him, and he withdrew instantly before gesturing towards her bag. “You should get that.”

“Yeah, okay.” Except now she really wanted to know what he had been about to say.

He watched as she got in her car and shut the door behind her. She mouthed bye before picking up the phone. The streetlight casted shadows over his figure, and then he disappeared into his car. Once he was out of sight, she raised her palm to her cheek, still warm from the memory of his touch.

~~~

A/N: I didn’t really edit this as much as I usually do and just went with my first draft of this chapter because I haven’t updated in so long, so sorry if it’s kind of bad lol. I started overthinking the whole fic and feeling like I should be planning a lot more than I do, but I realized that this fic was more for fun so I’m kind of just going to go with it and hope you guys like it. Anywayssss, I plan to update a lot once my semester finishes in two weeks, so look out for that!

Thank you so much for reading <3 I’m still amazed that people actually enjoy this so yeah :) Let me know what you thought in the comments! I LOVE it when you guys comment!

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[missinghan]

give it a chance ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au

❖ word count : 9,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.

❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤

one.

It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.

“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up. 

Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.

“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”

Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”

“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.” 

“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink. 

“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor. 

Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years. 

In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”

Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates. 

Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”

“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One. 

Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night. 

“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”

“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this. 

Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy. 

“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”

“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends. 

Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit. 

Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”

“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”

“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down. 

“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”

“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa. 

“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends. 

two. 

“Your boyfriend is late.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed. 

Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not fucking sad!”

“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.

You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what? 

Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract. 

Are you sad about that? 

Yeah, kinda.

The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it. 

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time. 

Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, “Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”

“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”

She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.

“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”

Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”

You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”

“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”

“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”

Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since. 

“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.

“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.

She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”

“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”

She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.

“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.

It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece. 

Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.

[10:38 AM]

lino | hey you still on campus?

three.

The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning. 

“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.

Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.

This is not healthy. 

“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time. 

“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him. 

You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time. 

Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire. 

“Don’t you think that this is weird?”

“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here. 

You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this. 

“Hmm, what about it?”

“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much. 

He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life. 

“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.

“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”

“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”

“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms. 

Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way. 

You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him. 

four.

You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight. 

“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine. 

Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.” 

You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”

“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that. 

You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung. 

“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person. 

“What are you even? Four?”

He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”

“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway. 

“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood. 

“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that. 

Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether. 

“Can you go any fucking slower?”

“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.” 

Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt. 

“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.

Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.” 

“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.” 

The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway. 

“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?

Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions. 

You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—

“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is. 

Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying. 

You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while? 

“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.” 

Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle. 

“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend. 

Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.” 

“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“

“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?” 

That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world. 

Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”

Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits. 

“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic. 

“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”

You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”

And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content. 

“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further. 

He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”

“I blame gravity for that.”

“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber. 

Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten. 

Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.

If only it were that easy.  

“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?

“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”

It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn. 

five.

“Y/N you ass, give it back!

“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink. 

Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red. 

“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason. 

Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly. 

“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour. 

Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable. 

“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard. 

“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?

You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk. 

A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body. 

“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense. 

The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?

No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.

“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.” 

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”

You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”

“Well, what else can they like about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”

Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”

Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight. 

Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself. 

Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.

You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing. 

“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”

“Huh where—“

Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer. 

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here. 

When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in. 

‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to. 

“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”

Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”

“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”

You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students. 

You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready. 

six.

Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long. 

The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet. 

The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you. 

This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed. 

“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb. 

The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them. 

“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”

You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary. 

“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?” 

Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.

He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon. 

Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?

“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly. 

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”

“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care. 

Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”

Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”

“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward. 

“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”

“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”

“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“

Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”

You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”

Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”

“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”

“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you’re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.

Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”

“What dumb things?”

“I don’t know, kiss you?”

“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”

You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach. 

The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t. 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you. 

You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove. 

“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless. 

“I am home.”

“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.

Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.

Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change. 

Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down. 

After all, you can’t love alone.