#sorry I’ve been lying to you but I’ve carefully concealed that I’m sick in the head about it

[caelacanth]

Oooooh the girls are problem solving (the ship is exploding in ten minutes)

Alt below

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 7

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Saturday brings an unexpected heat wave, the high temperatures uncharacteristic even for D.C. Dana has grappled all week with how to explain her Saturday evening plans to Ethan. Her instinct is to lie, to tell him she’s getting dinner with Missy or has to go into work for an emergency autopsy. But lying makes it impossible to tell herself that what she’s doing isn’t wrong; if she has nothing to hide, why would she be hiding it? In the end, she goes with vague truth and tells him that she’s meeting up with a colleague to discuss some interesting new research they shared with her. Never mind that said colleague is a very handsome and apparently very single man. Never mind that she feels a rush between her legs whenever she pictures his cocky smile. Meeting with a colleague. Interesting research. Nothing more.

She and Ethan spend the morning lying around in their underwear, too overheated to do anything else. The air conditioning hums and sputters, trying to keep up, but it's no match for the sweltering heat.

“Do we have ice cream?” Ethan asks, splayed out on his back against the hardwood clad in green boxer shorts.

“Nope, I ate it all when I was PMSing last week,” she replies from the couch, arms and legs draped off the sides so that no part of her body is touching any other.

They are quiet for a bit.

“Wanna have sex?” Ethan asks offhandedly, and she feels a flush of dread.

“Too hot,” she replies with an equally offhand tone, glad he can’t see her face.

They are quiet again.

“Are you okay, Dana?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes on the ceiling. She waits a little too long to answer.

“Yeah, why?”

“You just...you don’t seem like yourself. Since we got engaged, I mean. You seem kind of distracted. Distant, maybe?”

She takes a steadying breath. She knows he’s right. If she were honest, she’d tell him that she feels crushing guilt for being so infatuated with another man. That she feels like a horrible girlfriend, fiancée, almost-wife, for continuing to seek out interactions with him, but she can’t bring herself to stop. That she loves Ethan, so much, but can’t deny the pull that Mulder has on her. That she feels like she’s cheating when they have sex, because Mulder invariably takes his place in her mind. But she can’t tell him any of that.

She rolls to her side so she can look at him.

“I’m sorry, Ethan. I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed lately, with work and the wedding. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He rolls his head to the side to meet her eye.

“So you’re not having doubts? About getting married?” The pain and worry in his voice is like a kick in the gut.

“Of course not,” she implores, crawling off the couch and across the floor to where he lays. She gingerly throws a leg over his hip and straddles him, placing her hands on his sweat-damp chest and leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. “I can’t wait to be your wife,” she says with a soft smile, and the twist in her belly alerts her to the fact that this might be a lie.

They make love, there on the living room floor. She keeps her eyes open, not allowing her mind to wander from this moment, this man. Not allowing herself to admit that this is a consolation, an attempt to prove to them both that she is in this, with him, for the long haul. Her orgasm is weak and brief, not the same. Nothing is the same, anymore. Not since Mulder waltzed into the autopsy bay and complicated her life.

————————

The heat has abated only slightly by 5:30 as she’s preparing to leave her apartment and head to Mulder’s. She debates what to wear for an agonizingly long time; the temperature calls for a dress or shorts, but she fears sending the wrong message if it looks like she’s intentionally bearing skin. She finally settles on a black maxi dress, a compromise in coverage and air flow, paired with flip flops. Casual, not trying too hard, but not frumpy either.

As she makes for the door, Ethan stops her with a gentle grasp on her wrist, pulling her to him.

“You look beautiful,” he says with an affectionate gaze, and that guilty feeling in her belly is back. Their impromptu living room floor love-making seems to have assuaged his concerns over her demeanor for the time being, but it only served to deepen her own inner turmoil.

“Thank you,” she replies before kissing him on the cheek and escaping the emotional heat of their apartment for the temperate heat of the DC evening.

2630 Hegal Place is a stately brick building that has been decently maintained. It’s not as nice as her neighborhood in Georgetown, but it’s hardly the slum that Mulder suggested it was. She feels a little sick as she rides the elevator up to the fourth floor, taking in the dark wood trim against the yellowing walls of his hallway. She finds apartment forty-two and pauses outside the door for a long while. She has a feeling that walking through this door is a decision with consequences, one she shouldn’t take lightly. She realizes she’s not wearing her engagement ring; it’s likely sitting on the bathroom counter beside the sink. A simple oversight; she’s not yet used to wearing it. Certainly not a Freudian slip of the mind...she has the sudden overwhelming urge to flee. Perhaps she knows exactly what she’s doing after all. She turns to walk back to the elevator when the door swings open, startling her.

“Scully,” he says with a lopsided smile.

He’s wearing dark wash jeans, his top half bare, a bag of garbage in one hand. Her eyes immediately light on the broad expanse of his chest, smooth and dappled with a light dusting of hair. His abdomen is solid, sleek and defined. A swimmer’s body, she thinks with a sigh.

“I was just taking the trash out, you’re a little early,” he says with a hint of embarrassment, passing her to stuff the bag down the chute at the end of the hall.

“Oh, sorry, am I?” she looks at her watch; it’s 5:55.

“Or maybe I’m just running a little behind,” he replies sheepishly, then lifts his arm and gestures for her to enter the apartment, “please, come in.”

She enters a combination foyer and dining room, the kitchen tucked off to the left and the living room straight ahead. The ambiance matches the hallway, dark wood and yellow walls, the ceilings impressively high. The decor is sparse; nothing on the walls and only small trinkets littering the surfaces, a fish tank burbling near the window. She waits to see where he directs her to go. The dining room table seems like a suitably professional place for two colleagues to review work files. He brushes past her to the living room, the shower-fresh smell of him drifting into her nostrils; Irish Spring and Old Spice.

“You can take a seat,” he says gesturing to the couch, “let me just grab a shirt and the files.” He disappears through a door that must be his bedroom.

She sets her purse on his cluttered desk and sits on one end of the worn leather couch, looking around at his few furnishings. She startles when a black blur springs onto her lap with a high-pitched meow, and Mulder re-enters the room with a bankers box tucked under his arm, his torso now covered by a black T-shirt.

“Jesus, Priscilla, don’t assault the woman,” he says as he sets the box on the coffee table and plucks the cat off her lap. “Sorry about that, she has an affinity for pretty girls,” he continues, then directs his next comment to the cat. “We have that in common, eh, Prissy?”

She feels a flush to her cheeks and he takes the cat with him to the kitchen, returning with two beers in its place.

“I hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind me borrowing you for the evening,” he says as he hands her an open beer.

She looks at him with a mildly shocked expression, his mention of Ethan feeling out of place and somehow obscene. Noticing her discomfort, he changes the subject as he sits on the opposite end of the couch.

“This is all I walked away with, one box of the best, brightest, and weirdest X files I came across during my time. About half are those I investigated myself, the rest were left from the previous agents who started the division,” he slides the box down the coffee table towards her and she plucks the lid off carefully to see dozens of neatly labeled orange folders. She pulls a random one out from the middle and sets her beer on the coffee table, opening the file across her lap.

“So tell me why the X files division was shut down,” she says as she leafs through the pages.

“Well, the official reason is that an investigation into a man with green blood resulted in multiple deaths, which was just the last in a series of...mishaps. But the real reason is that I was too close to the truth.”

She lifts her head from the file to look at him. He has his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch. He seems so at ease all the time, so comfortable around her.

“The truth about what?” she asks, working to peel her eyes from his plush lower lip.

He takes a deep breath. “A lot of things, but namely a government conspiracy to conceal the existence of extraterrestrial life, even as they’re conducting experiments and research on said extraterrestrials. Perhaps even working with them.”

It’s that same even, factual delivery. Her mouth blossoms into a slow smile.

“Working with the aliens? To do what, open a KMart on Mars?” she teases, and he returns her smile with one that is so devilish it makes her pelvis twitch.

“Read on, Scully. The more you see, the less crazy it sounds.”

He stands and goes to the stereo, and after a few minutes of fiddling around she hears Radiohead begin to play. “You like Radiohead?” he asks, and she gives a half shrug, half nod. Doesn’t love ‘em, doesn’t hate ‘em.

“So this one appears to be about some kind of tree-dwelling insect?” she asks, reading over details of a dead man sucked dry of all fluids and bound up in a giant cocoon.

Mulder returns to the couch and sits beside her, much closer this time, their thighs nearly touching. The heat of his body on top of the warmth of the air makes new sweat prick at the back of her neck.

“Indeed, prehistoric insects that were released from the inner rings of the tree when they were logged. I nearly got eaten up by them myself,” he remarks, reaching over to turn the pages that lie across her lap. She shivers a little despite the heat.

“And what does that have to do with aliens and government conspiracies?” she asks, keeping her head down, knowing that if she looks up at him he would be close enough to kiss.

“It’s not that straight forward, Scully. There are things, many things, on our planet that are unexplainable, and having control over that which can’t be understood by science and intelligence gives you a certain degree of power. Unfortunately, it’s a power that’s most often used for evil instead of good.”

She does turn to him then, getting an up-close look at the greenish, almost-hazel of his irises, the pronounced bridge of his nose.

“There’s nothing that’s unexplainable on this planet, Mulder. Just because we can’t explain it now doesn’t mean we never will. Consider how much science has progressed in the last fifty years alone. Who knows what we deem unexplainable now that will be perfectly understood in another fifty?”

He tilts his head closer to her and her heart speeds up, her lips parting unconsciously. His smirk is devastatingly sexy, and she suddenly doesn’t trust herself.

“May I use your bathroom?” she asks abruptly, looking away.

“Of course, it’s through the bedroom,” he says, hitching his thumb to the door behind and to their left.

She carefully makes her way into his bedroom, which contains a queen size mattress on a mahogany frame, a dresser, and not much else. He’s a man of simple means, it would seem. The bathroom is clean and devoid of skid marks and stray pubic hairs; the seat is even down. When she returns, he’s placed several of the files in a neat stack on the coffee table.

“These are the ones I’d recommend you read. At least they may be the ones you find most compelling,” he says as she returns to her seat, inching just a bit further away from him than she’d been before.

She takes the first from the stack and opens it. “So how’d you get into all this, Mulder? Have you always been into aliens, or did you see E.T. too many times when it came out?”

He doesn’t answer and she looks at him. He’s considering her, pondering. Deciding whether to tell her something.

Continue Reading here

[godtier1]

let's go with Misfit and/or Armor for DinCobb :3

Thank you Niki!! I’ve cross-posted this to ao3 as well cause I *really* wanted to bring us to 600 fics ehehehehe

Prompts are: “falling in and out of a restless sleep. Feeling safe when a loved one presses a kiss to their forehead and strokes their hair.”

And

“getting out of bed too soon, insisting they feel much better, and collapsing/passing out”

Din was between bounties, hurtling through space on hyperdrive, when the call from Cobb came in. He was lightly dozing when he was woken up with the sound of beeping coming from up above. He shot up in his bunk, hitting his head on the top, before cursing loudly and slowly making his way to the cockpit. Whoever was calling couldn’t be important enough to make him hurry.

“Hello Cobb,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. He could hear Cobb laughing, and his visage on the other end had his hands on his hips.

“Howdy. Didn’t think you were going to answer,” Cobb replied, sounding rather amused. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I didn’t know where you’d be, so I wasn’t sure what time of day it would be for you.”

Din straightened his stance and cleared his throat.

“You, um, didn’t wake me, don’t worry,” he said. Then he could feel his face grow hot as he continued, “I was actually planning to swing by Tatooine soon, if you’d be up for a visit.” Cobb’s crooked grin faltered at that.

“Ah, actually, I was kind of hoping you might be available even sooner. Like, the day after tomorrow soon.” Din could tell from the holocall that Cobb was shifting back and forth from foot to foot. It had been a while he’d seen his friend seem so worried. He checked his coordinates and what time it was currently on Tatooine.

“If I left now I could probably be in Mos Pelgo by sunrise the day after tomorrow.” Din thought for a moment before commenting. “Are you… are you okay?”

Cobb just sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Yeah I’m alright.” He laughed nervously. At Din’s concerned stare, he continued.

“I finally found someone here on Tatooine who would be willing to take the tracking chip out of my head. I’ve been trying to find someone for years who would do it, and this is the first time I’ve had any luck.”

Din let out a soft gasp at that. He knew Cobb had been a slave in his youth, had seen his brand on more than one occasion, but hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility that he would still be chipped.

“That’s fantastic Cobb!” Din exclaimed, feeling truly ecstatic for his friend. “What can I do to help? You said you need me there?”

“That’s… yeah, so here’s the thing,” Cobb began, a weary look on his face. “There ain’t a lot of docs on Tatooine that will take out a slaver’s chip, right? You can get in a lotta trouble doing that. But on the flip side, if someone were to pose as a doctor and offered to take a chip out…”

Din sucked in a harsh breath.

“They could leave the chip in and sell you back into slavery.”

“Bingo,” Cobb replied with a tired sigh. “That’s why I need someone I know I can trust to see me through this. I hate to impose Din, I really do…”

“I’m setting a course for Tatooine as we speak. Where are you getting the procedure done?”

Cobb laughed, sounding optimistic for the first time during this conversation.

“Mos Eisley. I really do appreciate you, you know that right?”

Din blushed again, feeling too hot under his helmet.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you soon?”

Cobb gave Din a little wave.

“See ya soon friend. Safe travels, as always.”

————————————————————————-

When Din spotted Cobb outside hangar 3-5, he could feel his heart do a little flip against his ribcage, which was a more common occurrence the longer he’d known the man. He waved in greeting, expecting Cobb to smile and eagerly approach him. Such was the song and dance Din had grown accustomed to. However, Cobb just looked around himself nervously before walking quickly to Din’s side.

“Hey Din,” he said quietly, looking rather pale. “Alright, here’s the deal. My procedure is in an hour, in the seedy district in the center of town. I’ve requested that they let you be present for it, which is awful, I know, I’m sorry. I promise, you won’t have to watch, you’ll just need to be sure they don’t take me while I’m under. Once I’m awake, I should be able to get myself back home.”

Din paused for a moment, taking in all of Cobb’s words, before hesitantly putting a sturdy hand on his shoulder. Cobb jumped slightly at the touch.

“Alright, I can do that. Though I’m not about to let you go home by yourself, you know that right?”

Cobb sighed.

“You sure? I know how busy you are, I hate to intrude more than I already have.”

Din shook his head in fond exasperation.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll worry half to death if I don’t go with you.”

Cobb grinned sheepishly, before offering Din his arm.

“Shall we?”

————————————————————————

Cobb had been all too right when he had called their destination the seedy part of town. There were suspicious folks around every corner, hoods up or masks on, concealing their faces. Cobb lightly tugged on Din’s arm and led him to a non-descript looking building.

Once inside, things moved very quickly. Before Din knew it, Cobb was lying on his back on a makeshift gurney, the doctor and her assistants prepping him for surgery. Luckily Din was not a squeamish man, so he wasn’t worried about feeling faint during the operation, but when he saw the medical assistants strap Cobb to the gurney and place a piece of leather in his mouth, he began to panic.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, alarm seeping into his voice. The assistants paused in their task, before the doctor shooed them back to work. She turned to Din.

“Standard procedure, surely you understand? We can’t have him flailing all over the place while we’re trying to work.”

It was at that moment that Din realized they would be operating without anesthesia, and his stomach dropped into his boots. He chanced a glance down at Cobb, who was just as frazzled. He was already sweating profusely. Din stood by the gurney and dabbed at Cobb’s forehead with his cape. Cobb leaned into the touch with a shaky sigh.

“It shouldn’t take long, right? That’s what you said? So just hang in there, I’ve got your back.”

Cobb nodded, and Din slowly offered him his hand. He gripped it like a lifeline.

———————————————————————-

The procedure was quick, barely fifteen minutes, but it was the longest fifteen minutes of his life. Din stood by the whole time, far enough to be out of the doctor’s way, but close enough to keep holding Cobb’s hand. Cobb let out muffled scream after muffled scream, squeezing Din’s hand hard enough to bruise.

When the doctor held the bloody tracking chip aloft, Din could cry from relief. He knew how much this meant to Cobb, so by extension, it meant the world to him too.

Once Cobb’s head was stitched and bandaged, the medical assistants immediately hoisted him up to standing. Din was at his side at once, protesting the decision to have him up and about so quickly.

“Sorry,” the doctor replied, “we don’t have a recovery room here, and I have another patient soon. You’ll have to find somewhere else for him to recuperate.”

Cobb leaned heavily against Din’s armor, his knees slowly buckling under him as he breathed heavily and tried to stay upright. Din wrapped a hand securely around Cobb’s back to steady him as he glared daggers at the doctor through his T-visor.

As they walked back into the oppressive Tatooine heat, Cobb staggered along at Din’s side, barely conscious. Din gave him a quick squeeze.

“I’ll find us a hotel room for the night, alright?”

Cobb shook his head, then seemed to regret it as he winced at the sudden movement.

“I’m fine Din. I just want to go home.”

Din raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“You’re in no condition to travel, Cobb, and it’s a long ride back to Mos Pelgo.”

Cobb brought a shaking hand to his mouth for a moment, looking rather sick, before swallowing thickly and slouching back against Din.

“Please. Just take me home.”

————————————————————————

By the time the pair reached Cobb’s home the dual suns had long since set, leaving Mos Pelgo bathed in the dim lights from the sparse dwellings around them.

Cobb had passed out miles back, leaving Din to grip him tightly in front of him on the speeder to keep him from falling. He carried Cobb bridal style into his home, where he gently deposited him on his bed. Din quickly removed his armor, sans helmet, before joining Cobb under the covers. Cobb blearily opened his eyes, a low whine escaping his throat, before he closed his eyes and went back under once more.

Din sighed as he laid on his side, facing Cobb in the dark. It wouldn’t be the first or last time they would share a bed like this. Each subsequent time they did this, one of them always grew a step bolder. A hand on a bicep. A pair of legs tangled with the other’s. Cobb’s forehead against Din’s helmet.

Tonight Din grew even bolder still. Once he was sure Cobb was really asleep, he gripped the lip of his helmet and pulled, fresh air chilling his face. He looked down at his sleeping companion, through his own eyes for the first time, and smiled as he carefully brushed a strand of hair away from Cobb’s angular face. He battled with himself for just a moment before leaning down and sweeping his lips against Cobb’s forehead, mindful of the bandages covering his left temple.

He could practically feel Cobb smiling.

——————————————————————-

“What are you doing up?” Din asked in alarm as he entered the bedroom the next afternoon, cup of soup and glass of water in hand.

Cobb was standing shakily by the bed, grasping tightly to the dresser to stay upright. He slowly raised his head and smiled weakly up at Din. His strength might have been gone, but his charm was certainly not.

“Howdy Din,” he rasped as he let go of the dresser, only to sway alarmingly and clutch on to it again. If Din hadn’t been so deeply worried, he might have chuckled at the similarity to Grogu when he stumbled around.

“Cobb,” he warned as he put his food on the dresser. “You shouldn’t be up and about. For kriff’s sake, you just had surgery less than twenty four hours ago.” Cobb just waved him off nonchalantly.

“M’fine, I have things to do. Gotta stop in at Werlo’s, gotta check on the vaporators, gotta…”

Then his eyes were rolling back in his head and he was pitching forward, and Din just barely reacted quickly enough to prevent him from hitting the ground.

———————————————————————-

Despite the circumstances of the surgery, Cobb’s recovery was swift. He was just as stubborn as Din had expected him to be, insisting on changing his own bandages and making his own meals. Din just rolled his eyes and let him do what he wanted, hovering by closely just in case he needed a steadying arm.

When Cobb took off the bandages at last, a prominent scar resided on his left temple. He would wear it proudly for the rest of his life.

Then when Din was sure Cobb was finally healed well enough to hold a blaster, he held out the still bloody tracking chip to him. Cobb stared at it for a moment, looking surprised, before his lips turned up in a wide grin.

“How far do you reckon I would need to blast this thing to kingdom come?”

[one-boring-person]

Ok so a Hawkins x reader x poncho where the reader gets sick of his jokes about women and just decks Hawkins in the face, which knocks him off his feet. This action is a turning point between the reader and Poncho as well as Hawkins. Petty fights between the two and constant flirting to the reader ensues. You can choose the ending ☺️

Ok, so I got a bit stuck writing this one, but I hope it's alright? Sorry if it sucks 😅 (can you tell I'm bad at flirting lol)

Get A Room.

Poncho x reader x Hawkins

Warnings: violence, injury, death, gun usage, very minor spoilers

Masterlist

As usual, Poncho is quick to notice (Y/n)'s body stiffening as she hears Hawkins begin another of his notoriously terrible jokes, her face setting into a hard expression. Her movements slow, the hands around the stock of her gun tightening as she becomes more and more annoyed, everyone able to recognise this change in mood except the man responsible for it, who has already dug himself a deep enough hole.

Billy is on the receiving end of today's quip, the dark-haired man listening to his compatriot's joke attentively, though he never shows any reaction to it, not until it's been fully told. Hawkins continues with the same line of humour he's always used: inappropriate references to women and their genitalia. Practically groaning out loud, Poncho can feel his patience for the man draining away, though he keeps a hold on himself, knowing that starting an argument now won't help anything, the group already having shot nerves after finding the corpses strung up in the trees, like racks of meat in an abattoir. Even now, a shiver goes down his spine at the memory, doing his best to erase it though he is aware that it won't work: the image has become branded into his mind forever.

"I've had enough. Hold this." (Y/n) suddenly growls, thrusting the rifle she's holding into Poncho's hands, turning to face Hawkins.

Lightening fast, she lunges forwards, her fist cracking across the young man's face with an audible crunch, his head jerking with the impact, glasses flying from his brow. His body follows his head, dropping to the floor as he clutches at his cheek, groaning in pain as she stands over him, flexing her hand. Around her, the rest of the group move to intercept, in case a fight should break out, but she does nothing to follow up, instead taking her gun from a dumbstruck Poncho, before going to walk with a smirking Blain. Dutch reprimands her swiftly, but he is containing a grin of his own, the major clearly proud of her for finally acting on her distaste for the bad jokes.

Dazed, Hawkins remains sat where he is for a moment, Billy chuckling and moving off, leaving he and Poncho behind, both men staring after their comrade, wide-eyed. At this point, all either can think is damn.

*

Heatwaves from the explosion wash over the concealed team as they wait in the trees, eyes wide as they watch Dutch take out his gun, firing off into the scrambling guerrillas. His voice calls loudly over the mingled sounds of screaming and collapsing structures, spitting gunfire quickly breaking out as the settlement inhabitants retaliate, blind to their attackers though determined nevertheless. Blain, Mac, Dillon, Billy and (Y/n) spring into action, easily dropping into the blazing camp, guns roaring as they take out the men shooting at them; Poncho and Hawkins find themselves slightly delayed, attention focused on something else entirely as they hastily rush to their comrades, faces blushing. Both men push aside their embarrassment, concentrating on the task at hand as they take out the camp.

All around, crates and barrels go up in flames, splinters of wood flying everywhere as bullets pelt their sides, ragged holes appearing in the containers even as bodies end up sprawled over the top of them. Nothing but gunfire and cries of pain are audible to the raiders and their enemies, ears ringing with the deafening cacophony of noise, rendering the sense almost useless - if they weren't already used to this side-effect. Orders are heard and received, executed to a high efficiency as they always are, Dutch feeling a small burst of pride flare up in his chest at the effectiveness of his team, his own gun vibrating violently in his hands with each round of bullets. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a couple of guerrillas hiding out in a nearby building, sharpshooting at the people responsible for the destruction of their camp.

Frowning, he notices (Y/n) nearby, calling out to her and gesturing for her to follow on, receiving a brief nod in agreement as she makes her way over. Over her head, Dutch sees Poncho make as if to follow, a worried expression on his face, only to stop when he hears the major order him elsewhere, finding that Blain needs some help. Shaking his head in exasperation, the veteran leads (Y/n) into the main structure of the settlement, knowing the way up to the nearby building is through there, the two coming across a couple of rogue guerrillas here. Thankfully, they are swiftly taken care of, both (Y/n) and Dutch efficiently dealing with the threat as they move on to the structure they came for.

Kicking down the door, Dutch gives a bitter smirk as the men inside turn to the intruders in fear.

"Knock knock." He greets them, firing off a couple of well-placed rounds, nailing the dumbstruck guerrillas instantly. 

Entering the small area, Dutch goes to the open part of the structure, looking out over the wreckage below him, taking note of a couple of runners. Glancing around swiftly, he sees Hawkins nearby, the smaller man calling out for (Y/n) for whatever reason as he moves through one of the other walkways. Quick to intercept this, Dutch gestures for him to take out the runners, glad to see the young man nod and duck away to do so, his attention momentarily distracted.

 It's not until he hears a struggle behind him that he whirls round, gun at the ready.

He doesn't have to fire, (Y/n) having already subdued the threat with ease, the struggling figure writhing in her grip as she pins them down, knees holding down the arms as she presses down the person's head. Clearly distressed, the person tries once more to get away, before lying still, giving both intruders a better look at them. They frown as they realise exactly who it is: it's a woman. At that moment, Dutch figures out what the real purpose of this goddamned mission is, knowing now that he'd been foolish to listen to Dillon and Phillips.

Seeing Dutch's grim expression, (Y/n) gives him a confused look.

"What's wrong, major?" She asks, cocking her head.

"We've been set up." Is all he says, just as Hawkins and Poncho burst into the room, eyes landing on (Y/n) instantly. Dillon follows behind them, though he takes his time.

Noticing the definite change in their leader's attitude, Hawkins, Poncho and (Y/n) leave the area and go back down into the main part, looking for survivors. Both men jostle each other to stay ahead of her, forming a wall of some sort between her and whatever is ahead of them, something which she is quick to pick up on.

"Jeez, guys, get a room." She snorts as she pushes past them, going to move on before Hawkins speaks again.

"Only if you come with." He says before he can stop himself, breath hitching slightly as she turns her gaze on him.

"Keep it in your pants, Hawkins." She responds, an odd look on her face as she ducks out of sight, going to complete a circuit of the settlement.

The two watch her go, Hawkins internally cursing himself as he tries to follow, only to be pulled back by an annoyed Poncho.

"The hell did you do that for?!" The other man snaps at him, a scowl etched into his features.

"What's your problem?" Hawkins replies, equally as irritated, looking his comrade up and down.

"My problem is that you just made us both look like idiots!" 

"Me?! I wasn't the one trying to get all protective a minute ago!" 

"Like hell you weren't!" Poncho growls back, glancing up as Blain passes nearby, "Just keep it in your pants, alright?"

As he hears the repeated words, Hawkins feels himself get even angrier with his companion, his jaw clenching as he watches him walk away. Kicking at the ground, he turns and goes his own way, his head filled with images of (Y/n)'s curious expression from earlier. Something about her reaction to his jokes had struck a chord within him, his hand straying to his face to run over the slight mark her punch left, the ache still there even after an hour or so, his head turning to look back at where she disappeared. 

Correcting his path, he moves off in that direction.

*

Hawkins had always talked a lot, but somehow (Y/n) had never quite noticed it until now. 

Rolling her eyes, she picks her way back into the settlement, her new companion trailing behind her like a shadow, his words going mostly unheard as she focuses on keeping her footing. At some point, she'd realised that he wasn't going to shut up and had since started tuning him out, completely missing the new angle of his conversation.

"...It's why I reckon you shouldn't have gone into this profession." He says, still rambling despite her lack of attention.

"Huh? What do you mean?" (Y/n) suddenly tunes back in, frowning at this new statement.

"Well, you're far too beautiful to be running through the jungle." He explains, nearly grinning at the fact that she paid attention to him.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" She questions him, turning to face him with a scathing look; he is one of her closest friends, but he could be really clumsy with his words sometimes.

Floundering, Hawkins' mouth opens and closes a few times, the young man struggling for words to fully explain what he meant without upsetting her.

"Just that you could do equally as well in a different job, like...modelling or something?" Under her piercing stare, he falters again, "Not that you're not good at this job, or anything, you're really good!"

Frowning, (Y/n) regards him carefully, before shaking her head and leaving him where he is, going back to the settlement. Cursing himself, Hawkins grits his teeth, knowing he just made a complete fool of himself, though he is thankful no one else is around to see it. Or so he thinks.

"Was that your attempt at flirting?" Poncho comments, emerging from the underbrush nearby, smirking at his comrade's downfall.

Glaring at him, Hawkins feels irritation rise up within him.

"I'd like to see you do better, asshole." He snaps back, flipping off the grinning man across from him.

"Watch and learn." He shrugs, still chuckling as he leaves Hawkins where he is and follows (Y/n).

Emerging into the settlement, Poncho immediately locates (Y/n), going over to her confidently with his gun held loosely across his chest. She looks up as he nears her, her brow furrowing slightly at the sight, curiosity getting the better of her as she stands still to let him catch up to her.

"Find anyone?" He asks her as he gets within earshot, gesturing to the forest around them.

"No, no one. You?" She responds, adjusting her hold on the gun slightly.

"Nope. I assumed they'd all been hit by you."

"Blain got them all, I think." 

"Doubt it. They probably saw you coming and legged it." He remarks, smirking at her.

Lifting an eyebrow, (Y/n) reloads her gun, ready for use if she needs it.

"Hey, no need to shoot me, it's a compliment." Poncho holds up his hands in mock surrender, grinning at her, though she only frowns, looking a little confused. 

"Thanks." Is all she says, nodding to Blain and Mac, who have emerged from the wreckage, followed by Dutch, Billy and Dillon, who is dragging a guerrilla girl behind him, "What the hell does he want her for?"

"Who?"

"Dillon. He's got that guerrilla girl Dutch and I found."

"Oh, I could name a few things." Poncho winks at her, though he is almost mortified when she gives him a weird look and leaves him where he is, going to stand with Dutch and Billy over the bonnet of a nearby car.

Cursing, he tries not to scowl too badly when he sees Hawkins shoot him a triumphant glance, going over to the main group with a slight blush, finding himself embarrassed. (Y/n) and Dutch are talking amongst themselves, a terse grin breaking out onto his face as he hears something, his angered facade cracking briefly. Unfortunately, both Hawkins and Poncho are within earshot for the response.

"The two of them are idiots, but they'll get their acts together eventually. They like you enough, they'll change their crappy flirting techniques, but you might have to wait a while." The major informs (Y/n), who smirks at the comments and thanks him, moving away from him as he goes to ask Billy something.

Hawkins and Poncho exchange a glance over the top of their compatriots' heads.

[fizzingwizard]

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender,  but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it.  How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

[dontcare77ghj]

We’re fine

They won’t touch you part three

Bucky x reader x Natasha (Poly)

Wanda x reader (Sisters)

Clint x reader, Tony x reader (friends)

“How dare you compare me to you?” You gasped in mock offense before throwing a fry at the offender. It was currently 4am and you were sitting in Tony’s lab, with said lab owner, and eating French fries.

“Look I’m just saying even I’m not this bad.” He said catching the fry in his mouth. “I mean.” He continued while chewing. “I still sleep sometimes, and you’ve gone how long without sleep?”

“Only two days.” You shrugged before hearing a scoff.

“I call bullshit Maximoff.” Clint said dropping down from the air vents, landing just behind tony. Tony jumped and glared at the man who was already giving you a ‘dad’ look. “I know for a fact this is about your fourth day straight with no sleep.”

“Yeah and how do you know that Barton?” You mocked. “How long’s it been since you’ve slept?”

“Irrelevant.” He said waving you off. He took a seat next to you and stole a handful of fries. “The difference between us and you are we’re seasoned pros at the insomniac game and know when to throw a nap in. You aren’t and are going to crash soon and that shit’s gonna hurt.”

“Language.” Tony cut in, Clint flipped said man the bird. “But Katniss is right, witchy. We do know what we’re doing, and I swear if you don’t sleep soon I will tell those two assassins you love.”

“You breathe a word to either of them and I will tell Pepper and Laura about that bet you two have going on.” You smirked as the two began to complain.

“Low blow Y/N.” Clint muttered, with a pout.

“And dobbing on me to Nat and Buck isn’t?” You questioned with a smirk.

“We’re not doing it to be rude. We just want to help.” Clint said wrapping his arm around the back of your chair.

“I’m doing fine honestly.” You said throwing your hands in the air. “I’m getting more training in, I’m catching up on everything I’ve missed over the years, I’m learning like 4 languages and on top of that I’m making sure everyone is sleeping okay.” You listed while waving your hands slightly.

In truth you weren’t doing too well. Ever since the whole HYDRA incident you’d been struggling. Sleep was the furthest thing from your mind and any time you even thought about closing your eyes flashes of the nightmares that plagued your head would flash into the forefront of your mind.

To anyone but Clint and Tony, you were doing great. You were smiling, laughing, eating well and interacting with everyone like you did before the plan. But you felt like you were suffocating, nothing felt right but you didn’t want anyone to worry. Especially Wanda, Bucky or Nat, they’d been fantastic and helped you a lot throughout the past few weeks, but you didn’t want to disappoint them.

“Yeah and that’s great but you still need sleep Y/N.” Tony said cutting through your thoughts. “If you don’t your gonna pass out or worse.”

“I’m fine you two.” You said with a tight smile as you stood. “If your worrying about anyone’s health it should be your own. Now if you’ll excuse me I need a coffee.” You continued bowing slightly before leaving the lab.

Quietly opening the door to the apartment, you shared with your two lovers, you silently made your way to the kitchen. You poured the cold coffee into your mug and took a seat at the breakfast bar. You rested your head on the cold marble and let out a long sigh.

All you wanted was one night. One night where you could sleep in your bed, with your boyfriend and your girlfriend and not be scared. That’s all you wanted.

“Hey doll.” You heard as Bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist. The cold of his metal arm caused you to jump before you leaned back into his chest, still tense.

“You scared the shit out of me, Barnes.”

“You started it when you came in, doll. Where were you?” Bucky asked rubbing circles on your waist.

“Wasn’t tired. Went for a walk.” You lied, and Bucky hummed seemingly buying it.

“Well if you’re not tired, there’s a red head waiting for us in that room right behind us. Think we’d be able to help with your problem?” Bucky said kissing down your neck. You let out a breath and relaxed into his arms.

“I think that’d be nice. Better not leave Nat waiting too long though.” You laughed when Bucky grabbed you bridal style and walked with you to your bedroom.

Tomorrow. You’ll sleep tomorrow. You’ll be fine for now, you decided.

A week later. (Nonreader POV, still third)

“Why did you two want to meet us again?” Nat asked as she walked into the lab with Bucky in tow. Barton had messaged her asking to bring Bucky and meet in Tony’s lab, when the two arrived they were met by Tony, Clint and Wanda, seemingly waiting for them.

“Look we have to talk to the three of you because you’re the only people she’ll listen too.” Clint started crossing his arms.

“Barton are you sure you wanna do this man?” Tony cut in. “I love her, and I really want to help her but you’re gonna be in so much trouble with Laura after this man.”

“Yes Tony.” Clint snapped. “You said so yourself this isn’t healthy, and she won’t listen to us.”

“Can someone tell us what this is about?” Bucky interjected, slowly losing patience with the conversation. “Nat and I have a date to prepare for.”

“And I have training with Steve soon.” Wanda added, from her spot next to Nat.

“Look it’s about Y/N.” Clint sighed, and the three other occupants immediately donned concerned expressions and began paying more attention.

“Is she okay?” Wanda asked concerned.

“No, she’s not.” Tony stated. “I’m just gonna say it, her heads fucked.”

“Tony.” Clint snapped.

“What she said it herself, maybe not those words but I’m pretty close.” Tony replied raising his

“Ok choose your words carefully here but explain.” Bucky trying not to jump at Stark in his lover’s defense.

“She hasn’t slept more than an hour for weeks. At this point she’s beaten both Clint and I’s record for staying awake and she’s getting worse.” Tony continued.

“We would’ve noticed if that were the case.” Bucky said somewhat unsurely.

“Not likely.” Clint cut in. “Your girl is smart about it, she always comes in just before you wake up and always has an excuse ready. Nat, you have to have noticed that she’s not acting like herself.”

“I didn’t think she was lying to us.” She said without looking at her oldest friend. Natasha felt slightly angry at their third, but more so at herself. How hadn’t she noticed?

“Nat don’t be mad at her or yourself.” Clint said taking her hand. “She didn’t want to worry any of you but it’s starting to get to her. She’s going to make herself sick.”

“Why won’t she sleep? Has she mentioned why?” Wanda asked concerned for her sister.

“She hasn’t but we have a plan to find out why.” Tony said, his face becoming nervous not knowing how the three would react.

“How? Come on Stark don’t hold out on us now.” Bucky said wanting to help his girlfriend.

“Ok here’s the plan.”

Readers POV

You were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, liberally applying concealer to your under eyes. Bucky was taking you and Nat out for dinner and you were trying to look nice. Wearing a long sleeve, black skater dress with mesh paneling throughout and your hair lightly curled you looked decent enough, the only thing ruining the illusion was the dark bags under your eyes.

“You don’t need so much of that stuff beautiful.” Natasha said wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Not all of us are as naturally beautiful as you Nat.” You replied taping her hand.

“Come on lover.” Natasha said taking the concealer from you and tugging you into the bedroom. Bucky sat on the edge of your bed with his head in his hands.

“Buck what’s wrong?” You asked flitting over to him, taking a seat next to him and taking his hands from his face. He looked somber and distressed.

“We have to talk doll.” He stated, and Nat nodded taking a seat on your other side.

“What’s going on? Is someone hurt?” You asked your mind immediately going to the worse situation.

“Someone’s hurting themselves, yes.” Nat said with an unreadable face. “Someone’s hurting themselves and we want to help them.”

“Well who?” You pressed. “I can help you help them if you need.”

“Well we kind of do need your help here doll.” Bucky said gripping your hand tighter. “Do you promise to help us help them.”

“Of course, anything.” You agreed. “Who is it, Buck?”

“It’s you doll.” He answered. You stiffened and felt Natasha grip your other hand.

“What do you mean me?” You whispered, attempting to stand but the two held you tightly.

“We’re sorry Y/N.” Natasha said with a guilty expression. The door to your bedroom was pushed open and Wanda walked in, looking as guilty as the two beside you.

“What? What does that mean?” You asked quickly. “Wanda what are you doing?”

“Truly sorry, sister. Forgive us.” She said before using her ‘magic’ on you and the world drifted out of focus.

“Look what you did.”

The room was dark. A dim light bulb swing back and forth, causing shadows to move around the room.

The room was small. You could lay in the middle of it and touch both opposite walls easily.

The room was bare. A door on one wall, a little mattress on another, a door leading to a smaller bathroom and a cracked mirror that forced you to stare at the monster you’d become.

“I didn’t do it.” You whispered, looking into the chipped mirror. The monster looked back at you with unfeeling eyes, hair wild and falling across its face and pale skin that made the monster look dead.

“But you did. You caused this.” The image in the mirror flickered and flashed, briefly showing the dead bodies of those you loved.

Tony and Steve were sprawled across scenes of wreckage, eyes glassy but both filled with determination.

Bruce was slumped across the debris of Stark tower, his skin half green and an expression of anger frozen onto his still face.

Thor was holding the body of his brother in his arms. All around was the bodies of fallen friends and civilians.

Clint was outnumbered the soldiers kept coming, he called out for back-up, but no-one was listening, and he soon disappeared under the bodies of other soldiers.

The still image of Pietro’s corpse flickered next. Even after all these years the image of his unmoving corpse and still eyes haunted you.

Wanda’s image was terrifying. She was throwing her red energy everywhere before a bullet hit her in between the eyes and fell as still as Pietro had.

The last image shook you to your core. Natasha was fighting back to back with Bucky. The two seemed to have no chance but they kept fighting until someone took out Natasha and Bucky was dragged off by HYDRA guards kicking and screaming.

“Do you see what you’ve caused sister?” Pietro asked coming up behind you. He looked the same as the day he passed. Hair a windblown mess, light blue suit and bullet holes riddling his body. “Do you see the problems you’ve caused?”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear.” You couldn’t bare to urn around, so you stayed facing him in the mirror. “Piet, I didn’t do this.”

“But you did. You are the reason we’re like this. If you had stopped them from taking us we would be normal. I would still be alive.”

“But I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want you to die. I never asked for any of this.” You pleaded with him, just wanting him to listen to you.

“You can fix this still. You can fix it all.” He said hands going behind his back.

“Pietro I would do anything to fix this and to save you, but I can’t. I can’t bring you back.” You said starting to cry.

“Shh sister.” He soothed one hand moving forward to wipe the tears from your face. “I’m not asking you to bring me back. I’m asking for you to avenge me.” He continued pulling the collar out from behind his back.

You couldn’t move as he clipped it onto your neck. The collar felt heavy and like a great burden had been forced upon you, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t react. “Now sister, avenge me.” He said as the team came up behind you.

Within minutes you stood alone, you stood alive above the bodies of your team. Your family. Your loves. You fell to your knees with a scream as you realized what you did.

“Sister.” Your head snapped to the body of Wanda. She stood up slowly and reached a hand out to you. “None of this is real.” She cooed pulling you into her arms. “This isn’t real. This isn’t you.”

“But what if it is?” You cried into her neck. Her hands soothed over your hair and pulled you tighter into her arms.

“It isn’t you would never hurt those you love. You are too kind, too good to be this. Trust me.” She whispered into your ear. “Are you ready to wake up now?”

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t want to face them.” You whispered. “I don’t want to see their disappointment.”

“They’re not disappointed сестре.” She assured. “They’re scared that they’re not going to be able to help you. They love you.”

“Okay.” You said straightening out. You wiped your eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

You woke with a gasp. Your hands flew up to your neck and fell limply when you realized the collar wasn’t there.

“Shh дорога́я.” Natasha soothed, your head snapped to the red head and you wrapped your arms around her neck tightly. She returned the action and wrapped her arms tightly around your waist. “It’s alright, your alright. We’re here.”

“Buck. Where’s Buck?” You asked and felt a warm body wrap around you from behind.

“Right here doll.” He said his arms enveloping both you and Natasha.

“What about Wanda?” You asked attempting to lift your head from Natasha’s neck.

“It’s okay. Everyone’s okay. Wanda left just after you woke up. She’s fine.” Natasha soothed you. The three of you stayed in that position for a few minutes. The only sounds were their soothing whispers and your still calming breaths.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You said quietly, breaking the silence. “Please don’t be mad.”

“We’re not mad babydoll.” Bucky told you. “We were just scared.”

“We don’t want to lose you. We want you to come to us when your scared. We want to help you.” Natasha added.

“I don’t want to make you worry. I don’t want to be weak.” You whispered.

“You are not weak Y/N. You are the strongest person we have ever met.” Bucky told you.

“You are the reason we’re not broken. You’re the reason this team is still together and we love you.” Natasha said with a smile. You smiled back at her and kissed her soft lips. After a few minutes of gentle kisses, you turned to Bucky and repeated the same actions.

“I love you two.”

“We love you too.” They replied and pulled you down into a lying position. For the first time in weeks you were surrounded by the warmth of those you love, and fell asleep next to them.

For the first time in weeks you slept peacefully. For the first time in weeks you felt safe. But then again, with Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes next to you, how could you ever feel unsafe?

[smileyjaeminies]

The flirt with the biggest heart

Synopsis: You weren’t feeling so well, but gladly Nana was always there to comfort you. You leave yourself exposed to him, simply laying your heart at his feet. With your upcoming competition, how will everything turn out?

Word Count: 4,6k

Genre: slow burn, angst, fluff

Warnings: none

Member: 00z, ft. Yangyang

A/N: I’m so sorry these have been taking forever to come out :( I hope you like this, make sure you keep an eye out for the finale!

~Series Masterlist~

  School would be your demise. After spring had finally showed the face you liked, the carefree and shining side you always longed for, your dance competitions stopped you from truly enjoying her gift.

  Your competitions lasted for three weeks in total, which meant daily practices for everyone. This year, your number was intense with flips and jumps, difficult formations and sharp moves. You loved it though, you thrived within the hard beat and the long hours.

  Elena was always there to pull you out from your slump, helping you with homework and assignments and basically carrying your weight for almost a month. But she would never say a word, and you loved her for it.

  The first two weeks of your competitions had already passed, with the previous Sunday being victorious for you and your team as you got second place. You celebrated grandly at a pizza place downtown when the worst thing that could happen did.

  You got your period.

  Okay, maybe you were exaggerating a little bit, but this was no time for your body to be making its own battle against you. You needed every cell you had under your control and that was vital.

  After a quick word with your dance instructor, you both decided that it would be for the best that you stayed inside on Monday, to rest and gather your strength for a good practice on Tuesday. And then… Well, you’d have to see.

  Which brought you right to this moment, early Monday afternoon, all alone in your house, watching whatever popped up in your recommended on Youtube. You mindlessly watched video after video, just lying down and trying not to think about the searing pain that tortured your abdomen.

  The stillness of your room helped the stillness of your mind which for once decided to stop its racing; the numbness was welcome, an old friend you greeted at the door and bid to come in. You wrapped yourself in her arms, allowing her to lead you back and rest.

  Uncalled for, the ringtone of your phone disturbed the delicate balance. You debated answering for a few seconds but as you saw Jaemin’s name you knew that he wouldn’t stop calling until you picked up. You took him out of his misery, answering with a simple, “Hi Nana”

  “Y/N!!” he shouted.

  “I need to teach you kids to talk more quietly” you mumbled under your breath.

  “Y/N!!!” Jaemin repeated. “Today is Monday!!!”

  “I’m aware of that Jaemin” you replied.

  “You missed the club meeting” He said and you could distinguish the pout in his voice.

  “I know, I am supposed to stay at home and rest today.” You explained.

  “Are you sick? I heard you won yesterday, congratulations!” he said.

  “No, I’m just tired. And, yes we got second place, exciting stuff!” you answered.

  “Well, if you’re not sick, then I’m coming over! Movies and coffee afternoon, just the two of us!”

  “No coffee allowed, Jaemin” you informed him.

  “Why not?” he said, sounding hurt.

  “Jaemin, I’m having one of those days” you tried to explain.

  “Why? Are you feeling sad? Did Donghyuck say something to you?” He asked question after question as you chuckled.

  “Jaemin, listen to me, I’m having those days of the month…” you cut him off, explaining again.

  You heard him take a deep breath as realization hit him. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, and then:

  “Wait! No magic bean juice, like at all? No wonder girls are so grumpy when they’re on their periods!”

  “Nana!” you reprimanded him slightly.

  “Okay, okay. No magic bean juice… Snacks then?” he asked.

  You wanted to say no. You knew your dad would be furious when he came home and found a boy in his house. But it had been weeks since you had hang out with Jaemin and you missed him a lot. Just one movie wouldn’t hurt.

  “Alright. But bring me a lot of chocolate.” You requested.

  “Yes ma’am!” Jaemin answered, hanging up the phone.

  You managed to peel yourself off your bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up a little. You were looking pretty rough if you were being honest, but oh well, this was just Jaemin. You went back into your room and tidied it up, folding all your clothes and making your bed. The bell rang, announcing Jaemin’s arrival and you rushed to greet him.

  “Is this enough?” Jaemin asked, holding up a huge grocery bag.

  “It will do I guess” you answered him, grinning.

  After one tight hug and another round of congratulations on second place, you both made your way inside, getting comfortable under the covers. You tried (and failed) to convince Jaemin to watch a new movie that you were sure would get an Oscar nomination. But he wouldn’t budge.

  “Disney movies are like a painkiller! It will help with your cramps!” he insisted.

  “Oh please, we’ll shut it off before 30 minutes are up. Besides, I don’t even like Disney that much.” You countered.

  “Ha! Sure you don’t. Who are you kidding Y/N? You’ve picked up on every single reference I’ve made!” he scoffed.

  You blushed and chuckled at his words. Disney and Pixar movies were indeed some of your favourites. You could recite whole movies by heart, you knew every lyric and song. But you wouldn’t admit it to Jaemin.

  “Fine, fine! You win! Play the movie.” You told him.

  Jaemin bent down to press a kiss to your cheek, before grabbing your computer and finding the movie he wanted. You watched him, eyes filled with concentration as he went on about how he hadn’t watched the movie in ages.

  Soon enough, you found yourself wrapped up on Jaemin’s side, your favourite chocolate in your hands and the Disney movie filling the silence in the room. However, that didn’t last long.

  The movie Jaemin suggested turned out to be a total bore, so you shut it off only 20 minutes in. You had made a brand new playlist, its soft music now drifting through your laptop's speakers and dancing through the room. You had laid back onto Jaemin, and he was now playing with your hair. The gesture should've been intimate, but it was more comfortable than anything.

  Your thoughts drifted of course, to the boy next to you. Nana was playful flirting and rosy cheeks. Jaemin was constantly pushing the boundaries and a fluttering heart. Jaemin was the buzz of morning coffee, the heat seeping from it onto your palm warming up your hand and your heart.

  Jaemin was everything but routine. He was the unpredictable, racing through the night and screaming the lyrics to your favourite songs. He was sneaking into his parent’s liquor cabinet for alcohol, letting your insides burn with its fumes.

  Jaemin was the easiest person to love. He poured and poured his love onto anything his life touched and never held back. Jaemin was thinking about the consequences after the action.

  That's why, when your tears started to fall, you did nothing to conceal them. You didn't have to. Not with Nana.

  “You want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

  And so you did. You poured and poured your heart out to him. You left nothing out, from your breakup, to Renjun, then Jeno and Yangyang. You went over that dreadful afternoon with Kyle, how Donghyuck found you later. You talked to him about how scared you still were, how anxious and heartbroken and confused.

  He sat next to you and then continued to sit on your bed as you got up and started pacing around the room. He never said a word, he allowed you to talk for as long as you needed, to give him all the facts and details before he said anything.

  It took a while for you to sit back down at the foot of your bed, only to drop your face in your hands.

  “I’m such a mess” you admitted.

  “You want to know what I think? These are my friends after all” Jaemin offered. You only nodded slightly at his words turning to look at him.

  “I think if someone had caught feelings, you’d have known by now. The kisses were spontaneous and that’s why no one mentioned them after. And because you asked. You know us Y/N, all of us. Do you think we’d ever go against your wishes? Especially on something like this? No. None of us would, not even Hyuck.”

  “About the Kyle… situation. I wish you’d let me beat up his face. I may have tiny fists, but I’m sure if I took him by surprise… Whatever. You should’ve reported it. I understand why you didn’t, I do. But that was dumb baby, I’m sorry. The good thing is, he has drawn himself back into the fiery pit he likes to call home.” Jaemin finished.

  “His house is actually very pretty” you joked.

  Jaemin’s face lit up at your silly joke.

  “She jokes! Ladies and gentlemen, after an hour of crying, she jokes!” he teased you.

  He moved over on the bed, making his way next to you. He wrapped you in his arms in a weird embrace filled with arms and limbs and bodies. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Nana?” you asked after a few minutes dragged on.

  “Yes?” he responded.

  “Can you come to my last competition on Friday? For moral support?” you asked.

  “I’ll be at the first row.” Jaemin agreed, running his hands through your hair.

  Your peaceful moment was interrupted by keys at your front door and your mother’s excited voice.

  “Shit. Mom’s home.” You mumbled under your breath.

  “Is that bad?” Jaemin asked.

  “Not that bad, unless Dad’s with her” you answered and paused to listen carefully for your father’s voice.

  Luck was on your side however as your Dad hadn’t returned just yet. Your mother called your name, announcing she’s back and you pulled Jaemin to his feet as quickly as possible.

  “Best behavior. Do not try to charm my mom or I will kill you. You say hello you DECLINE dinner and you’re out the door. Deal??” you turned to him.

  “Damn baby, are you embarrassed of me?” he asked, slightly hurt.

  “Not you…” you whisper under your breath, already pushing him out of the door.

  “Hi Mommy! Did you have a good day at work?” you greet your Mom in the kitchen, putting back some groceries.

  “It was okay. You know, work is work.” She answered as she hugged you.

  “Mommy, this is Jaemin. He came to keep me some company.” You introduced your friend.

  “Jaemin, it’s really nice to meet you! Y/N talks about you all the time!” your Mom said and you couldn’t help but glare at her.

  Jaemin however only shot you a funny look and proceeded to greet your mother kindly. He declined dinner like you asked him, but he couldn’t help charming his way into your mother’s heart. After he left, your mother wouldn’t stop talking about him, asking about him and going on about what a kind young man he was already.

  You didn’t really mind, on the contrary, you were glad your Mom had liked Nana. But the untold promise was that you wouldn’t talk about any of this in front of your Dad. Your father was… Old fashioned let’s say, so this was a strictly only girls topic.

  After helping your mom with the groceries, you excused yourself back to your room. Once you got there, you opened your phone, your hand hovering over the familiar username, before you took the next step and dialed his number.

  He picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  “Hi” you answered.

  “What’s up, Y/N? I missed you today… In fact, it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.” He scolded you.

  “I know, I know… That’s why I called… I have a favour to ask you.” You said.

  “Oh? Let’s hear it then!” he responded.

  “I need a good luck charm…” you trailed off.

  “The tables have turned then?” Jeno teased you.

  “They have… You think you could help a friend in a tight place?” you asked.

  “I’ll be in the front row” Jeno said, not hesitating.

  How ironic, you thought, that both of them had said the exact same thing. Or maybe it wasn’t ironic at all…  

  “You want me to bring everyone?” Jeno asked.

  “I already asked Jaemin and Yangyang is going to be there since we’re competing against each other. I doubt Donghyuck will be willing to come, so that just leaves Renjun. You should ask him though, maybe he’ll need a ride or something.” You finished.

  “I think you don’t give Donghyuck enough credit. I’m sure he’ll want to support you and Yangyang. Anyway, I’m going to ask.” Jeno said.

  “I think you forget that Donghyuck hates my guts but oh well! Ask away! Maybe he’ll come for Yangyang.” You replied.

  Jeno mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like “Typical”. He brushed it off right after however, hanging up the phone.

  After talking to both Jaemin and Jeno, you felt significantly better. A weight had been lifted off your shoulders, first by Jaemin’s wise words and comforting hugs. Second, the weight was shared with the knowledge that Jeno would be there at your last competition, knowing exactly what you were feeling and helping you through it.

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

  The day of the competition arrived sooner than you thought. Elena drove with you in your Dad’s car, holding your hand throughout the ride and sharing her earphones with you. Calm, comforting music rushed through them into your ears, but your mind was replaying the beat you would be dancing to in a few hours, going over every move.

  Once you stepped foot at the venue, you were met with the familiar rumble of the competition. You signed some forms and you headed straight backstage to meet your instructor and the rest of your team. You were carried away for a warm up as you had to rehearse on stage soon enough.

  Rehearsals were a blur, your mind failing to concentrate at more than one thing at a time. Your instructor scolded you slightly but stayed reassured that you’d keep your head in the game for the actual erformance.

  Backstage, Elena scooped you up in her arms, reassuring you that you did great and that you hadn’t shown anything yet. You calmed down after a bit, still sharing Elena’s earphones and keeping your hands together in a tight hold.

  Before long, Elena led you to a make-up stand and got to work. As an artist, Elena had her way with make-up, producing looks that you couldn’t even dream of. She even helped you tie your hair back in a tight ponytail to match everyone. When she finished, she didn’t allow you to look at the result, but helped you get into costume first.

  Once your whole outfit was complete, you walked in front of a full length mirror. The result was outstanding. Your outfit fitted you well, the black and red contradicting each other. Your eye look matched the outfit, red eye-shadow dancing over your eyelids with a fierce cat eye completing the look.

  You hugged Elena and thanked her a thousand times for her help. You had begun to really calm down, a tranquility taking over you. You decided to look for Yangyang and soon enough you found his group’s dressing room and made a beeline to his arms.

  “Are you sure you’re Y/N? You look amazing!” Yangyang complemented you, twirling you around.

  “Elena does work wonders, what can I say!” you said.

  “Well Elena clearly needs to do my make-up as well! You think I could steal her for a while?” he asked, turning to Elena.

  “You want your make-up done? Really?” Elena asked.

  “I don’t have the words toxic masculinity on my vocabulary, ma’am. I’d be honored.” Yangyang replied, and you had never felt more proud.

  Elena fumbled for words for a few seconds before ushering Yangyang to a seat. You talked with both of them and Cat, Yangyang’s official girlfriend now, for a while before Elena turned to you.

  “You know, it’s getting late, if you want to see the boys, you better get out now” she said.

  “You’re probably right. Yangyang, don’t you dare move before I check the final result. I’ll be back in a second.” You announced, taking your leave.

  You walked out of the dressing room and headed to the stage. Taking out your phone, you saw a message from Renjun.

    Junnie

Hey Y/N! Traffic is being a bitch so we’ll be there in like, 10 minutes. Wait for us!! We want to give you good luck hugs!

  You

I’ll be waiting! Tell Jeno to be careful, you have time!

    After replying to Renjun’s message, you decided to step out anyway, to get some air and talk with some of your friends. You were introduced to some people from opposing teams and you were currently discussing the judges when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

  You were surprised to find Donghyuck smiling at you once you turned around. Quickly composing yourself, you tried to hide your nervousness as you greeted him. You almost screamed when he bent down to give you a hug and wish you good luck.

  “So, what do you think about today? An easy win?” Donghyuck asked.

  You were still perplexed by his hug and his overall nice demeanor before you answered.

  “Winning is never easy. All the teams put in a lot of work, or else they wouldn’t be here.”

  “Here, here tiger, no need to get defensive. Besides, I’m supporting two teams today, aren’t I?” he asked.

  “You don’t mean to make me believe that you’re here to support me, are you?” you asked him in return.

  Donghyuck’s face flashed with emotion.

  “Why not? Aren’t you my friend?” he asked and you could hear the hurt in his voice.

  “I don’t know Donghyuck… Are we? I mean, you always have some snarky remark to make about me day in, day out. You don’t even allow me to call you by your nickname while everyone and their mothers do… I’m not sure that’s friendship.” You replied.

  His face flashed with emotion once again. He took a few seconds to gather his thoughts before saying:

  “You know Y/N, that’s…” but you wouldn’t find out what it was.

  A huge burden was pushed on top of you as two strong hands lifted you up and twirled you around. Laughter erupted from you as you heard Jaemin praising you. All of the boys gave you their ‘good luck hugs’ and you spiraled into conversation with them.

  Donghyuck wasn’t excluded from this, but your moment was clearly over. Renjun was talking about your make-up and Elena’s skills and the others were asking you how long it would take you to perform. They almost made you dizzy, all talking at the same time but you didn’t mind; not at the moment.

  You kept stealing glances at Donghyuck and you would always find him staring right back at you. It made you nervous and it made you blush, but you couldn’t even pretend that it was a bad thing.

  Not long after, your teammates had to separate you from your friends. You hugged them again and you even got a kiss in the cheek from each of them for good luck. You promised to convey the same message to Yangyang and you were off.

  Backstage, it seemed like everyone was moving to every direction. People were talking loudly, making last minute checks and changes. You headed straight to Yangyang’s dressing room, to grab Elena and reunite with your team.

  “So, what do you think?” Yangyang asked, facing you.

  You were shocked. He was all angles, high contour on his cheeks and bright orange eye shadow around his eyes.

  “Yangyang you look…” you trailed off.

  “Show stopping? Spectacular? Like the man of your dreams?” he offered.

  “Beautiful” you said.

  “I know right? It’s hardly fair, my own boyfriend is more beautiful than me” Cat teased, smiling at Yangyang.

  “I could never” Yangyang answered.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re in love okay OKAY. Don’t you need to go?” Elena said, turning to you.

  You nodded and hugged both Yangyang and Cat, exchanging good lucks. You finally stepped back in your team’s dressing room. Your instructor reprimanded you for being late, but you hardly listened. The blood in your veins had already begun to boil, the familiar buzz of the upcoming performance taking over you already.

  There were only about 10 teams competing, your team taking the number 8 spot. Not too early, not too late. You were restless, pacing up and down the small room and annoying your teammates. Elena managed to pull you down on your chair as yet another group took the stage.

  Your eyes were glued to the screen. They were good, too good. They moved as one, never missing a beat. The strong choreography worked amazing, their formations tight and moving around all the time. As they finished, you all took looks amongst yourselves. These people were the real stars of the night and the crowd went crazy over them.

  Next was Yangyang’s group. You found Yangyang and refused to take your eyes off of him. He did well, really well. He was nervous though and you could tell by the way he would keep looking at his teammates to make sure his position was correct. You could feel he was extra nervous in the couples’ part. But his hard work paid off. He didn’t make any mistakes you could see and overall their performance was very well structured and interesting.

  Before you even had time to process the performances, it was already time for you to standby. Elena pestered you with hugs and whispered soothing things in your ear, but you were buzzing. It was hard for you to stay still once again, and you felt your hands shaking uncontrollably. Your teammates moved around you and it was already time for you to step on the stage.

  The bright lights blinded you, but your mind was finally still. The music flowed through you, your body moving on its own accord. You were focused and not at the same time, moving right on the beat but without fully understanding what you were doing. And just like that, it was over.

  The cheers were deafening and with a simple glimpse at the crowd, you failed to see your friends. Your teammates pulled you backstage and a river of hugs and praise came over you. Elena jumped in your arms and praised how focused you were. If only she knew…

  Slowly but surely, the high of the stage left your system. You remained in your seat as the two teams left performed. Then, it was time for a short break for the judges to decide on the three best teams.

  Nervousness seeped through you once again. Elena had a tight grip on your hand and you felt dizzy, getting hotter and hotter, your back sweating. Before long it was time to go back on stage for the results to be announced.

  “I’m scared” you whispered.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine” Elena tried to console you.

  Your friend Alex dragged you back on stage. You were standing amongst the rest of the teams and you were on the edge of your toes.  You tried to look for the boys to no avail; they were either too far away, or you needed contacts.

  The judges took the stage and seconds seemed to drag into hours. Third place was announced. It was Yangyang’s team. You let out a small scream and you couldn’t hold back the huge smile that took over your face. He did it. The idiot did it. As they raised their trophy, your eyes filled with tears. It felt like your own win.

  It was time to announce first place. You took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be you. You had settled within your heart that this wasn’t a winning day and it was okay.

  The envelope was opened and the name was called. Your group’s name. Your groups name. You’d won. You were pushed in a sweaty and smelly group hug, as tears left your eyes. You were full on sobbing as you saw the trophy being pushed from hand to hand until you were holding it.

  First place. It felt like a dream. Your mind was hazy as the team that ranked second, the “stars” like you had named them, gave their speech. And it was over.

  The crowd flowed on stage, loved ones finding loved ones and hugs being exchanged everyone. You stood frozen in the back of the stage. First place.

  Your name was called from somewhere. Your mind registered it, but your body failed to move at the sound.

  “Y/N!” You heard again, and finally your head moved towards the sound.

  Jaemin ran over you, arms extended. He lifted you up screaming in your ear.

  “FIRST PLACE! Y/N OH MY GOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, YOU DID IT”

  His loud voice quieted down to a whisper as you sobbed silently into his shirt. Low words of praise filled your ears as several pairs of arms rubbed your back, trying to calm you down. You grabbed fistfuls of Jaemin’s shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

  After a while, you were finally able to move away from him and into the rest of the boys’ arms.

  “Oh, your little cry baby” Renjun said, hugging you tightly.

  “Good luck charm worked” Jeno said, giving you his signature eye smile and keeping you close.

  “You were amazing up there” Donghyuck said and hugged you tightly. You felt dizzy again. Your mind finally decided to start working, only to note that he smelled like the sea.

  “Y/N! There you are!” Yangyang shouted, running up to you, Cat and Elena not far behind him.

  You jumped onto him without second thought, screaming.

  “YANGYANG! YOU DID THAT! I, I’M, OH MY GOD, I’M SO PROUD OF YOU” you screamed, squeezing him tight.

  “ME? FORGET ABOUT ME YOU IDIOT, YOU GOT FIRST PLACE! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!! Y/N YOU GOT F I R S T” Yangyang screamed back.

  You went over each of your steps, each praising the other.

  “Although I love the spirit” Renjun interrupted, “Wouldn’t you want to celebrate somewhere more private?”

  “Re- group for burgers downtown?” Jeno offered.

  Everyone quickly agreed and you went backstage to change. Your dad picked you and Elena up, driving you back home for a quick shower and change of clothes. You headed downtown and met the boys in front of your favourite burger place.

  The night was easy going, a celebration with the people that mattered the most to you. Squeezed in the booth between Donghyuck and Yangyang, you laughed and enjoyed your food. All your senses were heightened to Donghyuck moving and laughing next to you. You tried to take your mind away from him, but your gaze would always go to your right, where Donghyuck was usually looking right back at you.

  That night, you hardly got any sleep despite being tucked inside your warm covers. Your mind was replaying the events of the day in an endless loop, the high of being on stage, the thrill of coming first, being in Donghyuck’s arms, the way the area around his eyes creased when he laughed.

  You were going crazy. There was no other word for it. You were going crazy over a boy that only recently stopped hating your existence. Great. You were screwed.

[imagineyoungjustice]

1.5k Followers Milestone Drabbles 3/10

I need to cringe! I'd like to request a drabble where Bart decides to only speak in slang and dead memes for a week. He'd probably drive the team insane -Anonymous

Set in between season’s 2 and 3 but probably closer to the end of season 2! Also thank you guys once again for sending in your meme and slang suggestions I’ve never cringed harder when writing a drabble! -Terra

Tags: @ljblve​ @loverbug1123​ @aworldwideapart​ @wallywestie

Want to be added to our tag list? Send us and ask!

Also the easiest way for me to write this was to do a small collection of “mini scenes” in which Bart would use his memes instead of spending hours I didn’t have this week with all my assignments to make it one long story so I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted but this was the way I could push it out faster! Enjoy!

Monday:

           When Tim walked into the Watchtower that morning the last thing he expected was to see Bart, dressed in his Kid Flash uniform lying across a gap between two of the branches in the Watchtowers courtyard. He paused mid-step as he looked at the speedster’s placement, a faint flicker of familiarity pricking at the back of his mind at the rigid posture to Bart’s body. Then it finally dawned on him.

           “Bart… are you… planking?”

           “Fo’ shizzle Tim Drizzle.” Scratch that maybe that was the last thing he expected today.

           “Excuse me?”

           “You’re really harshing my mellow with all those questions, not very radical behavior of you man.”

           He’s sure his eyes were as wide as saucers by now as his mind scrambled to make sense of what he was hearing. He even pinched his arms a few times to make sure he was actually experiencing this right now and it wasn’t just some weird concussion dream.

           “Flash said he spent the whole weekend reading up on slang and memes, he hasn’t stopped speaking and acting like this ever since.” Jaime mumbled, his head resting on his palm from where he sat under a different tree. “I already tried explaining dead memes and dead slang to him, but I don’t think he’s quite grasped it yet.”

           Tim already knew this was going to be a long week.

Tuesday:

           Tim crouched among the underbrush of the jungle, using the thick foliage and natural shadows to conceal himself. The rain was light, but enough to make their stealth mission somewhat miserable with the wet seeping through the seems of their costumes and mud cling to their boots. They had been trudging through this for hours now, and now the end was in sight. There just ahead of them was the plant that had been pushing out a Reach-like drug under a new name. Kaldur had placed Tim in charge, giving him Bart, Jaime, and Vrigil to take it down.

           “Okay.” He whispered, looking over to his gathered team. “We need to do this carefully. Jaime, you and your scarab need to crunch the numbers, what are we looking at in terms of numbers and success percentage if we proceed with plan A?”

           Jaime paused, looking out over the small compound while the scarab did what it needed to do with its sensors. “Scarab says we’re looking at a thirty-two-point three repeating percent chance of success if we just barge through the front door in a full assault.”

           “Okay let’s not do that then. Static you’ll be on point.” Tim started dishing out orders for their plan B strategy when Bart stood up, pulling his red visor down in front of his eyes.

           “This is taking too long, time’s up let’s do this! LEEEEEEROOOYYYYY JENKINSSSSSSS.” Bart had sped off into the plant before any of them could stop him. The sounds of gunfire and shouting erupted from inside.

           “Oh my god we need to go in after him! Move let’s go!” Tim shouted vaulting over his hiding spot and rushing in through the front doors. Jaime and Virgil were thankfully right behind him. Inside they were met with complete chaos, enemies were scattered everywhere spraying gunfire in every which direction they though Bart was. Tim could only grumble as he threw himself into the fight, dodging what he could and taking the guards out one by one.

           Just when they thought they were in the clear, the last of the guards tied up and down for the count, Sportsmaster appeared on the catwalks above them. “I thought I heard the sound of you brats in here. Where’s the rest of your little team? Don’t tell me you’re all that came to shut this place down?” He laughed and jumped over the rails, landing on the concrete in front of them. Tim threw down some smoke pellets and circled around. Jaime and Virgil did their best to keep hitting him from range while Tim did his best to get up close and get a few hits in at crucial points. So far, it wasn’t working out well for them. He didn’t know where Bart was, but they were losing the fight badly, and they really needed his speed.

           With a few lucky hits, Virgil and Jaime were down and out. The small distraction from glancing at his teammates let Sportsmaster land a hit to him that sent him flying back and gasping for the air that had been knocked out of his lungs. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of yellow and red at the crate crane control panel, and one of the cranes lifting up.

           The crate came back around and smacked into Sportsmaster before he could advance on Tim, slapping him into the adjacent wall hard enough to knock him out. Over his shoulder he could hear Bart in the near distance.

           “HE NEEDS SOME MILK.”

           He would deny ever laughing as hard as he did later when he was giving his report on what happened.

Wednesday:

           Tim was speeding after Brick on his cycle, Cassie and Jaime right behind him. It wasn’t often the team ended up in high-speed chases but if Tim were being honest, he liked the change from the usual stealth missions where they had to watch each and every step. Bart had sped off ahead to try and cut off Brick and his thugs’ convoy. They had stolen important weapons tech, and they couldn’t afford to let him escape.

           “KF we’re losing ground where are you!?” Tim shouted into his comm. His motorcycle was fast but not fast enough apparently, especially with the way Brick and his gang were currently swerving through traffic. As much as he liked the change of pace, he did hate it when it was through the middle of a densely populated city.

           “I’m practically right there, just hang on tight for a moment everything will be totally tubular just wait!”

           “Ay mi dios.” Jaime mumbled from above. “You’d think with as fast as he goes, he would have at least caught up to current slang by now.”

           “Tell me about it.” Cassie replied, “I never thought I’d miss him saying ‘crash’ and ‘mode’ as much as I do right now.”

           “Let’s focus guys, please?” Tim called. “Blue can you get a shot at any of their tires yet?”

           Before Jaime could respond, they saw a familiar yellow and red blur cut into the street just ahead of Brick.

           “Damn Daniel, back at it again with the white vans!”

           Clever use, Tim just gave snort as Brick and the rest of his gang, very much driving white vans, had no choice but to suddenly swerve and crash into each other in order to avoid hitting Bart.

Thursday:

           Tim knew Bart was up to something as soon as he saw the shit-eating grin on the young hero’s face. The shaving cream in his hand was also a pretty good clue. With a small glance in the direction Bart was looking he confirmed exactly what was about to happen.

           “Bart if you value your life you will definitely abort exactly what you have planned.” His grin only grew wider.

           “Bart I promise you, as someone who lives with the guy. Don’t.”

           “SMACK CAM” Bart screeched as he used his speed to race forward, outstretching his hand at the last moment and slapping Batman right across the right cheek with the hand that was full of shaving cream.

           “Oh my god that poor dead bastard.” Tim whispered.

           It was dead silent in the Watchtower as everyone held their breath for the Dark Knight’s reaction. For his part he stayed silent as he wiped the shaving cream off his face, completely stoic before he turned to Barry.

           “Say goodbye to your grandson until he’s born Allen.”

           A muffled “YOLO” was the only thing Tim could hear as Bart sped away with Batman hot on his heels.

Friday:

           By now it was safe to say the entire team was sick of Bart’s new slang and meme knowledge. Sure every now and again Bart would have a clever use that would earn a small laugh or two, but for the most part they largely missed their mark prompting a lot of groans and sighs.

           Jaime had even tried bribing Bart with thirty bags of Chicken Wizee’s in order to get him to stop. It hadn’t worked so far. Nothing had, they were stuck in dead meme and dead slang hell until whatever this was had run its course with him.

           That’s why they all cringed as Bart walked up to the group. “What’s up my homeboys and homegirls?”

           “Bart we are literally begging you to stop.” Tim said.

           “No can do, haters gonna hate!”

           “Bart I will literally give you free Chicken Wizee’s for life if you stop.”

           “Lit, but as swag as that sounds, I’ll have to pass. Catch you guys on the flip side!” He called as he walked out of the room.

Saturday:

           “Hey Robin!” Tim just cringed and tried to ignore him, hoping that Bart would leave if he didn’t say anything. From the sympathetic look Cassie gave him, that wasn’t going to be the case. “Robin! Yo Rob! Robster! Robmiester!”

           He just sighed, “Yes Bart?”

           “Something came for you in the mail!”

           In a momentary lapse of judgement, Tim made a fatal error in his next choice of words. “Oh? What came?”

           “DEEZ NUTS.” Bart’s cackles could be heard all over the Watchtower. Tim was going to murder him.

Sunday:

           Once again Tim found himself in the middle of a fight with Cassie, Jaime, Virgil and Bart. This time however, the team had been called to assist the League with another bust this time being a large-scale reproduction of the Reach drink under a new name. Zatanna had been stationed with Tim’s squad for their particular section. Their job was to fight their way and disable of the brewery rooms.

           “Hey Zatanna!”

           “No Bart.”

           “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

           “I know what you want me to do and my answer is still no.”

           He stopped right in front of her, fixing her with his best puppy dog look. “Pleaseeee?”

           She just sighed and turned towards the rest of the team. “Everyone get up off the ground now!” Confused they did as they were told except for Bart who looked like a kid in a candy store being told he could get whatever he wanted. “eht roolf si aval!”

           Oh, that’s what he had wanted. The floor morphed from simple concrete to burning lava right before the team’s very eyes, taking out the robotic guards they had been pinned down by in mere moments. As soon as Zatanna called off the spell, Tim was quick to get his birdarangs ready before the next wave could barge in.

           “Hey Bart.” Tim handed the speedster the birdarangs primed for detonation upon impact. “These bitches empty.”

           Bart looked at him with big hopeful eyes as if he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. With a nod from Tim, he gently took them from his hand, turning towards the vats. “YEET.” Bart put his whole body into the throw, each of the birdarangs hitting their target and detonating the vats in an impressive show.

           “You’re encouraging him now?” Cassie called as they watched the compound explode in the distance.

           “Hey at least this one was current.”

[blushy-monkey-blog]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Brian x Reader where the reader is in an abusive relationship and she starts showing up to recordings with bruises and cut lips etc. and Brian finally goes over to her flat and finds out what’s been going on and saves her? And maybe it can end with some Brian smut cause like, Brian May is 💦💦💦💦💦

A/N: Okay so I’ve been thinking for a long time about this ask bc I don’t know if it might trigger some people, but at the same time maybe it would help as a way to cope? I wrote a self harming reader one shot with Bri awhile back (as someone who has been suicidal in the past I can definitely say that type of fic has helped me in the past) So I decided to write this, but the whole thing is below the cut just in case. Please don’t read it if you think it’ll trigger you or be unhealthy for you to read, I really only mean this as something that might help people. If I’m wrong to write this, please let me know and I’ll just take it down. 

Here’s a link to a list of worldwide domestic abuse hotlines. Please reach out and get the help you need, and know that I’m here for anyone who might need a friend to talk to. ~Hanna

Warnings: Physical + Mental abuse, a little bit of smut at the end (? I guess)

“Alright, Y/N?” Brian asked, snapping you out of your trance. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought I guess.” You said, forcing a smile. You’d been working as a PR assistant for Queen for 6 months, and loved your job more than anything, even though you knew it made your boyfriend mad that you spent so much of your time around the four guys in the band. Getting to sit in on recordings was just a perk of the job.  

“What did you think of the new song, darling?” Freddie asked you, and you were glad for the distraction. Brian’s attention turned to Fred.

“It was so beautiful, Freddie.” You praised.

“Don’t you think I sound like shit?” He asked flatly.

You shook your head. “No, but maybe you should re-record so you like how you sound.”

Behind him, Roger groaned. “Way to go, Y/N! We’ll be in the studio all day at this rate.”

That didn’t sound too bad to you, but you’d never tell the band why.  

“Alright, let’s go again.” Deacy said, trying to move things forward.

Brian was looking through a stack of papers. “Hang on, I’ve got a new idea for the guitar solo,” He said, frowning. “I know I wrote down the chords somewhere..” A second later, the papers toppled to the floor, going flying across the room. “Fuck!” Brian said, voice raised.

Your stomach clenched at the sudden volume and anger in his tone, but you quickly bent down to help him pick up the loose papers. The sleeve of your sweater rode up, revealing a handprint bruise across your forearm. This didn’t go unnoticed by Brian, who began to reach out toward you. “Jesus, Y/N, how’d that happen?” He asked quietly. 

You pulled your arm out of reach before he could even touch you and stood up abruptly, pulling your sleeve back down before he could get a better look. “It’s nothing,” You lied. “Got a little too close to the train door the other day, you know.”

He frowned at you, opening his mouth to say something else, but just then Freddie had called his name, and he retreated back into the studio.  You let out a shaky breath.

_______________________

A week later, Freddie was the one to confront you when you showed up with a split lip. “Darling, what’s happened?” He asked, studying your face.

You waved him off. “I was trying to pull clothes out of the wash and my hand slipped and I smacked myself. It’s nothing Fred, really.”

You didn’t notice Brian watching the whole exchange from across the room. He didn’t say anything to you all day, which was unusual for your friend, but you were too preoccupied with other worries to let it bother you.

_______________________

The next day, you called in sick. Brian was the one to answer the phone in the recording studio. “Hey, I’m really sorry, but I can’t be there today,” You said, voice wavering. “I’m- I’m sick.”

“Y/N,” He called into the phone before you could hang up. “Y/N, wait. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Bri. I’m just sick.” You said quietly.

“Can I bring you anything?” He asked. “Soup, something to drink…” He trailed off.

“No.” You said quickly. “No, there’s really no need. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal in a few days, don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Okay,” He said uncertainly.

“Bri I gotta go, okay? Just- tell the boys I’m sorry I can’t be there, alright? Please?”

“Alright.” He echoed.

_______________________

“I’m worried about Y/N.” Brian said. He’d pulled Freddie off to the side, and they spoke in low voices.

“I know.” Freddie nodded. “I am too.”

“She sounded so… Frantic when I offered to bring something over, it wasn’t like her.”

Freddie was quiet for a minute, then said, “I know it goes against what she said to do, but do you think.. Maybe we should go check on her?”

Brian nodded. “I’ll go. Maybe it should just be me, I don’t want to overwhelm her, you know?”

Freddie nodded. “Okay.”

_______________________

The flat was quiet after your boyfriend went to work, leaving you to cradle your face against an ice pack, hoping to minimize the black eye that was already forming. You didn’t know how long you’d be able to avoid the boy’s questions, especially with an injury so visible.

You’d just sat down when the buzzer by the front door went off, indicating someone was trying to get into your building. You sucked in a breath, walking over to use the intercom by the door. “Yes?” you asked.

A second later, Brian’s voice piped into your empty flat. “Y/N, it’s me. Look, I know you told me not to come, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”

Your heart twisted. “Brian, please go away, I don’t want to get you sick!.” you said over the intercom.

“YN. Y/N, please.” 

Your heart was starting to race. You didn’t answer, and he didn’t say anything else, so you turned the intercom off.

A few minutes later, there was a persistent knock at the door. Your stomach tightened. “Y/N!” Brian shouted through the door. “Someone let me in the building, all you have to do is open the door! Please?”

Your hands were shaking as you unlocked the door, letting it swing open. Your gaze dropped to the floor, trying to conceal the bruise below your eye.

“YN, your face,” Brian said, his voice full of emotion. You couldn’t move as he put his hand below your chin, lifting your face up until you looked at him. “Did he do this to you?”  You couldn’t help the tear that fell down your cheek. Brian wiped it away. “Y/N? Did he?” Brian asked again when you didn’t answer.

You gave a shaky nod, more tears welling up in your eyes.

“And your arm the other week? And the lip, right?”

You nodded again, unable to say anything. “Bastard. I’ll kill him.” He said under his breath, but when he noticed that you’d started to cry even more, his focus turned back to you.  “Come here.” He said, pulling you into a gentle hug, letting you cry into his chest. “Come here, I’ve got you.” His hands were reassuring against your back.  After a few moments passed, he asked “Where are your clothes?”

“What?” You sniffed, not understanding.

“Where are your clothes?” He repeated patiently. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? You can stay with me as long as you need.”

You showed him to the bedroom and he guided you to sit on the bed as he haphazardly threw your clothes into a suitcase.

_______________________

You’d been to Brian’s flat many times before, but this time was different.  He’d tucked you into his bed, telling you he’d be sleeping on the couch if you needed anything.

“Bri?” You said quietly as he turned to leave the room.

“Mmm-hmm?” He answered.

You bit your lip, hesitating. “Don’t leave just yet, okay?” You lifted the covers, gesturing that you wanted him to be in bed next to you.

“You sure?” He asked softly.

You nodded, and he climbed into bed, lying on his side so you were face to face. You hadn’t really meant to, but found yourself inching closer to him, until your lips connected. For a moment, you thought you’d made a mistake, but then Brian’s hand reached up to cup your chin, pulling your face closer to his, his mouth moving against yours.

A second later he pulled back, watching you carefully. “Y/N, are you sure this is a good idea? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve wanted to do that for ages, but I don’t want to take things too fast.”

You smiled at him, reaching over to run your thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m sure.” You said, and he leaned back in to kiss you again, his hands moving to trail up your sides. You winced as he unknowingly passed a hand over a bruise on your ribs.

He pulled away, looking nervous. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nodded. “Just more bruises.” You whispered, suddenly embarrassed.

“Can I see?” He asked carefully.

You nodded, sitting up so he could pull your shirt over your head. “Oh, love.” He said, voice full of aching for you.  There were bruises all over your chest, down across your ribs. He could see the start of a handprint shaped bruise on your hip, mostly covered by your pajama pants.

Brian trailed his hand softly over every bruise on your skin, careful not to hurt you.

You didn’t say anything, just watched his gentle fingers. It had been so long since someone had touched you so gently.

He pressed a kiss against a particularly nasty deep purple mark, whispering against your skin, “You’re safe now. You’re safe with me.”

[cefstickles]

Stomachache

Summary: Patton is babysitting his three younger cousins. The oldest, Logan, says that he is sick and can’t go to school, but Patton can tell that something else is going on.

Pairings: platonic/familial LAMP, mainly Logicality

Words: 2,597

Content warnings: mention of illness, li'l bit of lying, discussion about bullying and dehumanization, crying, alexythemia, tickling.

Notes: Hello! Anonymous Turtle here again to drop a tiny!Sides angsty/hurt-comfort/fluffy fic! Enjoy! <3

Patton was staying over at his cousins’ house on a Thursday this time. His community college schedule was so much easier to work with for babysitting than his high school schedule had been, and his aunts were grateful for his help, since they were so busy with their business and travels.

Sitting in the living room while Virgil read a book and Roman ran around, rescuing stuffed animals from various precarious situations, Patton hadn’t expected Logan to come out of his room before dinner. He was usually busy with his homework. But Logan had been particularly quiet all day, and he came into the living room looking pale and tired.

“Patton? I don’t feel well,” he stated.

Concerned, Patton held his hand out. “C’mere, kiddo, sit down next to me.” He took the 10-year-old’s hand and felt his forehead. “I don’t think you have a fever, honey. What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

“Um…my stomach hurts.”

There was something strange in Logan’s voice and Patton narrowed his eyes, trying to identify it. “Show me where, kiddo?”

Logan gestured vaguely at his stomach. He wasn’t meeting Patton’s eyes. “I just…don’t feel well. I don’t think I can go to school tomorrow.”

Patton’s eyebrows shot up. Logan had never told him he didn’t want to go to school. The last time he had been sick, he had tried to convince his moms that the thermometer was malfunctioning and had only accepted that he had to stay home when he had started throwing up. Something was definitely wrong, and it wasn’t a stomachache. Carefully, Patton said, “How about you lay down for a little while and we see how you’re feeling in the morning, okay, Lo? C’mon, I’ll walk with you back to your room and get you a glass of water.” He kept his hand on Logan’s shoulder as they headed down the hallway to Logan’s bedroom.

Curling up on his side, Logan gathered up the corner of his quilt in his hands and held onto it like someone else might hold a stuffed animal, clinging to it for comfort. Patton left him there for a minute to get a glass of water. He returned quickly and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Logan,” he said gently. “You can talk to me, you know that?”

“I told you, I have a stomachache,” Logan muttered.

Patton sighed and started rubbing the kid’s back softly. “Now, I don’t know if that’s the truth, but there’s more to it than that, kiddo. Talk to me, please.”

Logan sniffed and said nothing.

“Why don’t you want to go to school, Lo?” Patton pressed.

“Stomachache,” insisted Logan.

“Lying is wrong, Logan.” Patton kept his voice gentle, but made sure Logan could tell he was serious. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise. I can tell that something big is bothering you, and I don’t like that you’re keeping it a secret. So talk to me. I’m here, kiddo.”

A shudder ran through Logan’s body. “I don’t want to go to school,” he whispered.

“Okay. You’ve gotta tell me why, though, honey, or I can’t do anything about it.”

Logan’s silence told Patton that this was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

“Did you get in trouble?” Patton guessed. “A bad grade? Argument with your teacher?”

The kid shook his head at all of them.

“Got a crush and you’re scared to see them?”

“Gross, no,” Logan replied, sounding rather disgusted.

“A falling out with a friend, then? Someone being mean to you?”

That last one didn’t get a head shake. Logan just gripped the quilt harder and curled up a little tighter.

“Logan, someone is being mean to you?” Patton didn’t let any anger sneak into his voice. He continued to rub his little cousin’s back as he added, “Logan, if someone is bullying you, you need to tell me. I can help.”

“They’re calling me a robot,” mumbled Logan. “And they don’t like me because I’m smarter than they are.”

“Oh, Logan…okay. How long has this been going on?” Patton asked.

“Well…” Logan hesitated. “Pretty much always. But this one boy is getting worse. And he started a rumor that I have a computer for a brain and that it isn’t even a good computer because I used a slang word wrong last week so now they say that my computer has a virus and nobody wants to be around me.”

Patton swore inside his head. How dare people be mean to his little cousin? Sure, Logan might be a little strange, but he was smart and kind even when he didn’t understand some social cues. “I’m really sorry they’re doing that to you, Logan. Have you told any teachers that it’s happening?”

“No. I don’t think they’d do anything about it, anyway. They never have for anyone else who came to them about anything,” Logan said.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t unusual. There isn’t much they can do, especially if they don’t see it happening. It might be better to go to the principal–but maybe when your moms come back, okay? In the meantime…” Patton hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of letting Logan stay home when he wasn’t sick, but he also didn’t like the idea of sending him off to school to be bullied. “You can stay home tomorrow. We can email your teacher and ask her to send your classwork here so you don’t get behind.”

“I don’t want to tell my moms.”

“It’s hard, but you gotta, Lo. This isn’t something I can fix with a snap of my fingers. I wish I could.”

“I shouldn’t be so upset about something so stupid.”

“Hey,” Patton scolded. “First of all, it isn’t stupid. Well, the kids who are mean to you are being stupid, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt by it. And second, you’re allowed to be upset. You don’t have to hide your feelings. Even the ones you don’t like are important and they need to be felt. Believe me, kiddo, I’ve spent a long time working on that myself.”

“I know that they’re just…just doing it to get a reaction, or to help their own egos,” Logan said, his voice shaking a little. “But–“

“But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, Logan. I know. I know.”

“The books tell me to ignore it and they’ll stop, but I have ignored it and they don’t stop. And I sometimes wish I was a robot because…because then I wouldn’t feel it.” Logan shivered. He felt tense under Patton’s hand, like he was holding back a sob.

“It seems like it would be easier, Lo. I know. Oh, kiddo. Look at me, honey, can you sit up?” Patton helped Logan sit up, tilting his chin up so he could see the kid’s face. His heart broke as he saw the barely concealed tears in Logan’s eyes. “Take a deep breath, Logan. Can I hug you, kiddo?”

Logan’s lip quivered. He hesitated for a second before falling into Patton’s arms with a quiet sob.

“I’ve gotcha,” Patton murmured. He swayed from side to side, holding the kid tightly and cupping the back of his head. “There, there, Lo, you’re gonna be okay.”

“I don’t want to be crying,” Logan whimpered.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s okay.” Patton ran his fingers through Logan’s short brown hair. “But you gotta get the sad out sometimes. I’ve got you, kiddo.” He removed Logan’s glasses carefully and set them on the bedside table so they didn’t press into the child’s face when he hid against Patton’s chest to cry. “That’s it, I’ve gotcha. Shhh, you’re okay, baby. You’re okay. I’ve gotcha, for as long as you need to keep crying. Don’t try to force yourself to stop, that’s not healthy, okay? Just make sure to keep taking deep breaths.”

Logan’s arms were wrapped around Patton’s waist. He sobbed freely, wet splotches beginning to form on Patton’s blue t-shirt. It seemed like he had been holding this in for a while. At one point, Virgil came by and poked his head into the room. Patton gave him a smile and a reassuring thumbs-up, letting him know the situation was under control. Virgil nodded and left.

“Shhh, shhh,” Patton said softly. He moved his hand in wide, gentle circles on Logan’s back underneath his shirt. It seemed to be working to calm him down, and his sobs slowly got quieter and less distressed. “That’s it, you’re alright, sweetie. Deep breaths, you’re gonna be fine.”

“I feel bad,” Logan lamented. “And I don’t understand it.”

“I know, kiddo,” Patton sympathized. Logan had alexithymia, which meant he had a hard time identifying emotions in himself and in other people. “It does feel bad when people are mean to you. But you’re probably relieved to have told someone, and I know it’s hard to believe but you’ll probably feel better after crying. You might not have recognized that you needed to cry, but you definitely did. Probably for a while now.”

“Maybe,” Logan allowed. “I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay,” reassured Patton. “Don’t worry about it if you can’t figure it out. That’s just fine. The hugging helps, though?”

“Yeah. Cause you asked first. I don’t like it when people don’t ask first.” Logan was still squeezing Patton around his torso, as tight as his skinny arms could.

“That, my friend, is completely normal. And you can stay right here for as long as you need.” Patton leaned back against the wall, Logan completely in his lap now. He saw a few more tears slip down Logan’s face, but there were no more heavy sobs.

After a couple minutes, Logan leaned back, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, kiddo. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Patton hurried to the bathroom to grab some tissues and a wet washcloth. He handed the tissues to Logan, who blew his nose with a lot of sniffles. “Okay, tilt your head up, Lo. There you go.” He washed off the kid’s face with the washcloth, leaving the damp towel over his eyes for a minute. “There! No red splotchiness. How are we doing, honey?”

“Better…I think. And you won’t make me go to school tomorrow?” Logan checked.

Patton sighed. “Yeah, Lo, I’m not making you go to school tomorrow. But you do have to do all your classwork that the teacher sends you.”

Logan nodded emphatically. “Of course!”

“Okay, now be honest. Did you really have any stomachache?” Patton asked him, giving him a knowing look.”

Logan at least looked slightly abashed. “No,” he mumbled.

Patton clicked his tongue. “Lo, you should know better than to lie to me!”

“Sorry!”

“I’m not mad, but there’s gonna be consequences.”

“Okay…?”

A smile twitched the corner of Patton’s lips. “Lo, I don’t want to startle you, but I’m gonna grab you now, okay?”

“I–okay?” Logan said, confused.

Patton pounced, grabbing his cousin by the hips and pulling him back into his lap. He began squeezing at Logan’s sides, wiggling his fingers. Logan immediately started to laugh and squirm.

“No! No tickles, Pat!”

“Sorry, but you lied to me!” Patton teased. “Gotta face the consequences, kiddo!”

Logan didn’t have much of a fight response when he was tickled. Instead, he went limp after a couple seconds and let out squeaky, high pitched laughter. “Pa-a-atton!” he yelped. “Noooo, that’s no-o-ot fa-a-air!”

Patton giggled, pinning the kid down very gently to tickle at his tummy. “Hm? Sorry, I can’t understand you, I think you’re laughing too hard!”

“Tha-a-at tickles!” Logan squealed as Patton lifted up his shirt to scratch at his belly-button.

“Good! It’s a perfect punishment for lying to me and it’ll cheer you up,” Patton told him, smiling at the merry laughter coming from his cousin’s mouth. It was a nice change from the sobbing from a few minutes ago. “Tickle, tickle, tickle, Lo! Let’s see, how many ribs do you have?”

“H-humans ha-a-ahahah–have twe-e-enty f-ou-our ribs!” Logan laughed. “You do-o-on’t need to cou-ou-ount them, Pa-a-atton, no-oo-o!”

“Twenty-four, huh? Let’s check!” Patton walked his fingers along Logan’s ribs. “One, two, three, four–oh, you’re wiggling too much, I’ve lost count!” The game was usually more effective on younger kids–Roman fell for it every time, but Logan wasn’t protesting too hard and Patton was pretty sure he was happy that he wasn’t feeling sad and upset anymore. “I guess I’ll have to start over. One, two, three–no, stay still!”

“I ca-a-an’t!” giggled Logan. “It’s an involuntary respo-o-onse!”

“Hm, I’ll just have to hold you still then!” Patton tucked his leg over Logan’s to hold them down so he couldn’t kick, then used one hand to pin his wrists up above his head. Logan kept giggling. “Okay, that’s better! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…” The higher he climbed with his fingers along Logan’s side, the louder the kid’s laughter became. Patton grinned. “Nine, ten, eleven, twelve! Yep, twelve on that side!” He gave Logan’s armpit a poke, eliciting a squeal. “Now I’ve got to make sure it’s the same number on both sides.”

“I-i-it is, I pro-o-omise!”

“Hmmm, I’m gonna check anyway. After all, you did lie to me earlier.” Patton started at the top on the other side, working his way down. “One, two, three…”

Logan pressed his head back against the mattress, trembling as he laughed.

“And twelve! Yep, you’re right, kiddo! Twenty-four!” Patton concluded.

“I to-o-old you-ou-ou!”

“You sure did!” Patton patted his belly, giving him a second to breathe before starting to tickle under his arms again. He let go of Logan’s wrists so his arms could fly back down to his sides, trying to protect the ticklish spots but actually ending up trapping Patton’s fingers there. “Oh, dear, whatever shall I do now?” Patton teased, wiggling his index fingers into the sensitive skin. “Does that tickle?”

“Ye-e-es!” Logan protested. “Pat–” His laughter was weakening. “O-o-okay, I ge-eh-ahahaha! I get it! Plea-ea-ease!”

“Please what?” Patton inquired, but he started to slow down.

“Sto-o-op, no mo-o-ore ti-i-ickles!” pleaded Logan.

Patton pulled his hands away. “Had enough?”

Logan nodded, still giggling. He grabbed for Patton’s hands to ensure that he wouldn’t start tickling again. His eyes were bright, and the tears in their corners were from laughter instead of misery. Patton’s heart warmed, though he couldn’t help being angry at the kids from his cousin’s school. How dare they accuse this precious child of being a robot or a computer? He had feelings, whether or not he could identify them! He was just a kid.

“No more,” Logan panted.

“No more,” Patton agreed. “All done, kiddo. Learned your lesson?”

“No lying,” Logan said dutifully.

“That’s right, no lying. And talk to me when something is bothering you!” Patton let Logan sit up. “Want to go back to the living room, make sure Roman hadn’t broken anything yet?”

“Okay–I already finished all my homework!”

“Good for you, kiddo! I’m gonna start making dinner soon. Thinking pasta. How does pasta sound?” suggested Patton.

“That sounds good.” Logan hopped off the bed. “Okay, I’m going to check to make sure Roman hasn’t shattered the vase on the counter.”

“Ooh, yeah, that’s a good idea,” Patton said quickly, and followed Logan into the living room. Thankfully, Roman had not broken anything and was laying on the floor babbling about something to a stuffed dragon. “How ya doing, Ro-ro?”

“Dragon Witch gave up!” Roman proclaimed.

“That’s great, kiddo.” Patton shook his head fondly, ruffled Roman’s hair, and went into the kitchen so he could start dinner.

Cef: Omg! Turtle anon! Back at it again with another amazing piece of fanfiction! Seriously you are so good! Keep writing friendo! Ily!

[taexual]

BTS / Their S/O is a make-up artist

Request: bts reaction to the american gf who is an MUA doing a full face of makeup?

i could have misunderstood your request as i tried to make it a little less specific (hope that’s okay!) but i hope you like this!

Jin

Almost as soon as Jin found out you were a make-up artist, he insisted you did his make-up every morning before he had to leave the house. You didn’t mind – well, unless he had to leave at 5am – but you had to admit, the first time he asked you to do his make-up, you were a little confused and nervous.

“Why would you want me to do that? You have professional make-up artists,” you said, completely forgetting that you were just as professional as the people working with your boyfriend.

“Yeah, but none of them are you,” he replied. “You know my face better than anyone.”

“Jin, everyone knows your face. You kind of have the habit of flaunting it around.”

He grinned. “Of course I do. I mean, look at me.”

You shook your head, groaning as Jin laughed about it, handing your make-up bag to you eagerly. You refused to take it.

“Jin, no, wait,” you tried to take a step away from him and the make-up in his hands but Jin insisted. “What if I apply it wrong and your managers don’t like it?”

“Who cares? It’s important that I like it. And if it’s you doing my make-up, I know I’ll like it,” he replied and then wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll pay you back for doing this later tonight.”

You tried not to laugh at this somewhat suggestive comment. “Tempting.”

Jin laughed, handing you the make-up bag.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll be your face model. And if you want me to model clothes for you later, I can do that, too.”

You laughed, finally giving in and taking the make-up from him. “I know you can.”

Jin’s smile widened as he quickly kissed your cheek before sitting down on a chair in front of you. “Work your magic on me, babe.”

Suga

Yoongi quickly got used to the fact that every time he came over to your house, he would find make-up brushes in the most unusual places. One time he found one in one of your pots. After he cooked macaroni in it.

"How did you not notice a brush floating in the water?" you asked him after he burst into your room, clearly distressed about this situation.

"I haven't slept in three days," he replied. "Any chance you can use that brush to make the bags under my eyes disappear?"

"I can't make them disappear. But sleep can."

Yoongi groaned. "No time to sleep. I have to finish a song by 5pm tomorrow."

"Yoongi, you're so tired you probably would have eaten that brush along with your macaroni. Go take a quick nap while I cook something for you," you insisted.

He sighed. "Fine. Will you fix those bags under my eyes later, though? I have to go to rehearsals and I don't want to look like a zombie."

"You don't look like a zombie," you told him. "But yeah, okay. I'll do whatever you want me to do if you promise not to cook any more of my make-up brushes. I actually work with them, you know."

Yoongi laughed, laying down on the couch that you were sitting on and placing his head on your thighs before looking up at you. "I'm sorry. Hey! Can you apply make-up to my face when I'm lying like that?"

"I'd get powder on my jeans."

"So? I'll buy you new ones. Lying here is just really nice."

You shook your head, brushing your hand through his hair as he closed his eyes, smiling and sighing in content. He knew you couldn't say no to him.

J-Hope

Hoseok actually considered your job really fascinating. He would see all of the people that you were working with whenever he'd come to your work, and he would be constantly amazed how you managed to use make-up in order to enhance these people's features so well, they smiled at their reflections in every mirror they passed.

"I think you're really talented," he told you one night after he arrived to pick you up after work. "I don't think everyone could do what you're doing."

"It's just years of practice," you replied, shrugging your shoulders. "I worked on my skills a lot to be able to do what I do."

"Yeah, but I don't think it'd work with me. Like, I could be applying - what's it called? oh! - eyeliner every day and it would still look like a kindergartner's drawing."

You laughed at this. "Don't underestimate yourself. You pick up new skills quickly. Do you want me to teach you how to work with eyeliner?"

Hoseok genuinely considered it for a moment. "Maybe not eyeliner but... what is that thing you use on your face before you apply the actual make-up?"

"There's a lot of things. BB creams, foundations, powd--"

"Foundation! That's it!" he exclaimed. "I'd love it if you taught me how to pick the right shade. I brush the tester on the back of my hand, it fits, but then when it's on my face, I look like a Cheeto."

You laughed. "You don't check for the correct shade by testing it on the back of your hand. You need to test it on your face."

"Oh?" Hoseok asked. "Why is that?

“The skin is just different. Your face might be paler than your hands,” you answered. “You should trace a bit of the foundation on the lower parts of your cheeks or maybe your jawline to see if it fits.”

Hoseok looked sincerely astonished. “You know all of this stuff! Tell me more. How do you choose which make-up products to work with? Can you tell which shade to use by just looking at a person’s skin?”

RM

Namjoon loved looking at the before and after pictures you took of your clients sometimes. These pictures were meant to advertise your business, but Namjoon saw them as your artwork. Not to mention the stories hiding between each of the pictures. Namjoon loved all of them.

"Hey! What was the occasion for this one?" he asked you as he scrolled through the pictures you've taken, having stopped on a specific one.

You glanced at the woman in the photograph and immediately recalled the conversations you've had with her. "Date night. She said she and her husband were celebrating their twentieth anniversary. She said she wanted to look pretty for the date but then her husband came to pick her up and told her she already looked beautiful without the make-up, and she cried, so I had to do her mascara all over again."

Namjoon smiled as he listened to you talk. He loved your work tales, especially ones that involved a sentimental love story. So many girls came to you before important days in their lives. Namjoon found that listening to you talk about this worked like therapy.

“Do you tell them stories about yourself?” Namjoon asked.

“Sometimes. I told that lady that my anniversary was coming up, too,” you replied, remembering the second anniversary you and Namjoon had celebrated a week ago. “She listened to me describe how perfect my boyfriend is with the widest smile on her face and she didn’t cut me off once! She even told me to invite her to our future wedding.”

Namjoon’s smile was even bigger. “Did you?”

“Well, I’d have to do her make-up if she came, so yes, of course, I invited her. More money,” you teased, making him laugh.

“We should start making a list of all the people you could invite,” he joked back. “We can turn our wedding into a business.”

You were laughing now, too, while you hoped that this laughter would conceal your rapidly beating heart after hearing Namjoon mention your wedding.

Jimin

Your job was, actually, the reason why you and Jimin met in the first place. On the day the boys had to perform at an award show, one of their make-up artists called in sick and they had to find a replacement as quickly as possible. Since she was your friend, she suggested you, and just so it happened, you were free that day.

When you drove to the venue and headed backstage, you had no idea your entire life was about to change with literally just one stroke of your make-up brush.

You were assigned to Jimin and listened to him try to describe to you what theme they were going for. He seemed to be a little intimidated by you, sure, but that wasn’t as prominent as the stress in his eyes. He must have been worried about his performance.

“Relax and lean back into your chair, please,” you told him in a calm voice. “I’ve talked to so many people about your make-up, I lost count. I know what to do. You don’t have to worry about it. Everything will be okay.”

You didn’t realize you were trying to calm him down not just about the make-up, but in general, too. You’ve seen him perform – who hasn’t? – and you knew he was going to be good.

Jimin nodded, leaning back in his chair just like you had asked and closing his eyes. As you pulled out the necessary make-up products, you ended up using your hand to tilt his face to the light a little and saw Jimin’s eyes shoot open, almost startling you.

“Sorry,” he said, noticing the terror in your eyes caused by his unexpected movement. “Your hands are just cold.”

“Oh. Sorry. I needed you to—”

“It’s okay. You’re just doing your job,” he nodded, closing his eyes again.

You took a deep breath, suddenly almost as nervous as he was about this, and began to apply the make-up, carefully tracing his features with the brush as if you were painting on his face.

“Your skin is really soft,” he whispered sometime after you had blended the concealer in with the tip of your finger.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat. People have told you that before. But none of them caused your stomach to flip like Jimin did.

“Thank you,” you whispered back. “I’m going to move on to do your eye make-up now, is that okay?”

“Of course. It’s more than okay.”

He must have been dozing off already because he hadn’t told a single one of his other make-up artists that their skin was soft or that it was ‘more than okay’ to work on his eyes. He had a feeling, though, that you were just different and he was looking for a way to let you know that.

V

The thing he found himself doing a lot is watching you do make-up. Not necessarily on other people, but on yourself, too. For some reason, he found the way you put make-up on really captivating. Obviously, he took the cliché road of telling you that you looked beautiful without make-up too, but then he got used to the fact that make-up was a part of your job and he didn’t need to keep telling you that you looked good without it.

Instead of that, he basically learned your make-up routine and was able to buy you make-up without consulting you about it and always get the shade right.

“Are you going to do that smokey eye thing for our dinner tonight?” he asked you one night before you and him were supposed to head out for dinner with the rest of the boys and their partners.

“I’m not sure. I was thinking of just eyeliner,” you replied. “Ah, but that might take longer.”

“We have time,” Taehyung said, glancing at the watch on his wrist. “We only have to be there in two hours.”

You considered this and then turned to him when you weren’t able to reach the decision. “Which one do you like better? The smokey eye or the cat eye?”

Taehyung thought about this for a moment. “Can you mix them together?”

“I… actually, I can,” your face lit up. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thank you!”

“Anytime!” he smiled widely, bowing in front of you dramatically. “Your make-up consultant is always at your service.”

You laughed at this, coming closer to him to give him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Soon you’ll be better at make-up than me.”

“Well, hopefully!” Taehyung said, chuckling. “You’ll let me do your make-up next time we have to go somewhere, right? I need to improve my skills.”

Jungkook

Jungkook, confident that he’s watched you put make-up on enough times to know all about it, burst into your room one day, a wide, excited grin on his face.

“So, do you know those Boyfriend-Does-My-Make-Up challenges?” he asked. “I was thinking we should do one.”

You frowned in confusion. “Where did that come from?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Nowhere. I just want to see how I’d do.”

“Uh, sure, I guess. I have a free day today so it’s okay if you turn me into Joker for one day,” you replied, after checking the date on your phone.

Jungkook glared at you. “Have some hope in me, will you? Let me get my camera!”

“Wait, we’re filming it, too?” you called out after he had run out into the hallway where he’d left the camera that he always carried with him.

“Of course! What’s the point of it, otherwise?” he answered from the hallway.

“I don’t know, to test your skills, like you said? Now it seems like the point is for you to laugh at me!” you replied as he returned to your room, the camera in his hands.

“Nonsense,” he said, mumbling something else as he tried to arrange your books on your desk so they’d replace the tripod he’d left back in the dorms.

When he was finally satisfied with it, he placed his camera on the pile of books, turned it on, checked if it was really on at least five times, and finally sat down on your bed next to you.

Finally, after you gave him your make-up bag, Jungkook started. He commented on everything he was doing like a legitimate beauty guru and you had to say, you were impressed. He handled the foundation and the concealer very well.

When it came to eye pencil that – for some reason – seemed more appealing to him than liquid eyeliner, he pressed it to your eye so hard, you pulled back with a gasp.

“Ow! Okay, don’t poke my eye out, please,” you said. “You came to press it gently, Jungkook. Gently.”

“Right, okay, sorry,” he said, pulling you back closer to him and trying to brush the pencil over your eyelid again.

You could feel the way his hand shook a little when he drew a line, and you sighed, already imagining what you were going to look like when he was done doing your make-up.

However, when he gave you a mirror after he was done, you were pleasantly surprised. Your face actually looked somewhat normal. Sure, the black lines of the pencil on your eyes were uneven, but you were sure he did a much better job than you’d do if you were, say, drunk.

“That’s actually quite good,” you commented, noticing how precise was the lipstick on your lips. He had really outdone himself there. Even you weren’t always able to put lipstick on perfectly, but Jungkook managed to do that on the first try.

“Well, don’t sound so surprised,” he said, grinning. “I’m getting better at this, aren’t I? Can I be your apprentice?”

You laughed. “With skills like that, you can be my colleague already.”

His grin turned into a full-on proud smile. “Don’t I deserve a kiss for doing such a good job?”

“That’s for when the cameras are off.”

“Oh? What kind of kiss are we talking about here?”

“Jungkook!”

“Okay, okay, I’m turning them off,” he laughed, standing up from the bed and waving into the camera. “Bye! The new make-up artist on the block Jeon Jungkook is signing off.”

other BTS reactions / masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

[justafangirlwithideas]

This is a fic I wrote as part of a collab with @ribbitsplace . I then also pulled in @thepurplewarlock , because I’ve never worked with her before, and I also really needed someone to help motivate me to write this. Thank you so much for helping Becca!! The timeline doesn’t really matter, but I guess you can imagine it takes place some time after Mark returns, but before LoS. So I hope you all enjoy some cute Julian and Mark!

Julian was not a very optimistic person, so when Mark got sick, his first thoughts were rather cynical. However, Julian's life had taught him to find pleasure in the smallest things, so at least he could enjoy the simple blessing that of all the times Mark could have gotten sick it was this rather uneventful week.

Of course, it didn't remain uneventful for long, although it was a different kind of chaotic Jules was used to. It was the kind of chaotic that reminded him of the scene in the first Harry Potter movie when it rained Hogwarts letters. Not that he had seen that movie, of course. He was a shadowhunter; they weren't even supposed to be aware of pop culture. But as he saw The List turn up seemingly everywhere, he was reminded more and more of that one scene in Harry Potter.

The List was a phenomenon started by the two youngest Blackthorn sisters when Mark returned from Faerie. Essentially, it was a list of all the big things in pop culture that Mark had missed in his five years away. The original copy of The List hung by Mark’s door, a pen hanging by it so anyone could add to it. There was also a digital copy though, that he often saw Livvy update on her phone. It was printed out versions of this digital copy that had seemed to turn up everywhere Julian was these past few days, since Mark had become ill.

So here he stood, outside Mark's door, the laptop Livvy had given him for his birthday in his hand. He was scanning The List, but he already knew his starting point. If he was going to do this, he might as well get as much fun as possible out of it himself. He would enjoy this, and Livvy’s face when she heard would be even better.

He threw open the door and felt his features morph into the easy expression he put up around the younger ones. Yet he couldn't hide the worry that flickered across his face when he saw Mark, pale skin almost translucent, sweating in his bed.

“Guess what? We're making a start on The List! Up first, the MCU. And you get to watch the best one first, lucky you,” he grinned.

Julian settled himself next to his brother on the bed, careful not to disturb him too much. When their arms brushed, Julian felt Mark burn, and suppressed the uneasy shiver that went through them. It was just the flu. Understandable, since Mark had spent so long in such a different environment.

“Alright, Mark, you are about to experience the wonder that is Iron Man. Enjoy!” He pulled the laptop towards him, set the movie up, and hit play.

Mark was completely entranced by the movie, and Julian couldn't quite tell whether he was surprised or not. He thought the...old Mark would have been into the technology and the fight scenes, but the Mark that had returned from Faerie did not quite get along with anything too modern. He seemed to grow fond of Tony throughout the movie though, and had admitted to being in awe of Pepper.

Whatever the reason was, Julian was pleased. Another Blackthorn on his side in this endless discussion of “who's the best avenger?”. Never mind that Mark hadn't quite seen the other avengers yet.

Jules pulled the computer towards himself and started setting up the next movie. He smiled to himself as he saw what it was. Mark had only just missed this movie as well. It had provided a momentary distraction for the Blackthorns after the Dark War.

“Another movie?” Mark said when he saw the High School Musical: Senior Year poster appear on screen.

“You do realise there six movies in the MCU that I could have made you watch, right? Because that's what the list says: watch all MCU movies. It also says you have to take Livvy and Dru to Iron Man 3 next year, but that's not the point. Honestly, you should be happy we only watched the first Iron Man.”

At that moment Livvy ran past Mark's open door, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the conversation going on inside. “What? You only showed him Iron Man?” Livvy sounded incredulous. “And then you'd try to tell us Iron Man is his favourite avenger, right? Because he doesn't know any others.”

Jules was torn between defending himself and… well, not lying. Because he had kind of been thinking that.

“I did like Tony Stark. He reminds me a little of you, Jules. And Emma, because he's all,” Mark made some vague hand movement that looked like it cost him all of his energy, “funny and sarcastic.” The rest of his words came out slurred, a sure sign of the effort it cost him in his state.

Mock rage barely concealed Julian���s smile. “Are you saying I'm not funny?”

Mark grumbled in return, which really could have meant anything. A laugh escaped Julian and he let his hands come through Mark’s sweaty curls as if he were Tavvy. Looking up, he saw Livvy still leaning against the door frame, smiling softly. When he caught her eye she came over and pressed a kiss to Mark's head.

“Another movie sounds like a great idea. A good way to rest a while. I recommend the first Cap movie,” she grinned.

“Sorry, no can't do. I promised Dru I'd take Tavvy off her hands for a while, so we're watching the third High School Musical. It's on the list as well so you can't argue.” Livvy laughed but didn’t argue as she disappeared out the door.

“Dru's not watching with us?” Marks eyes were big, as if suddenly surprised. “But these are her movies!”

And all of a sudden, Julian was transported to the past. To simpler times, when Mark was the older brother. When Julian’s only job was to annoy Mark and tease Emma. He saw Mark in front of the TV, a young Dru bouncing on his knee as they watched High School Musical. In the memory Julian could see Mark mouthing along to the words and he could practically hear Dru's blabbering. They had all watched those movies a million times with Dru. Mark was right, these were her movies.

Right that moment, Dru materialised in the doorframe, Tavvy beside her. She was clearly about to run off when Mark asked her to stay. Julian saw the conflict on her face: the horror movie she was going to watch versus a sick Mark and High School Musical, which Jules knew she still has a soft spot for. Eventually she joined her three brothers on the bed.

They barely all fit on the bed and Mark’s skin was uncomfortably hot against  his own while on his other side Tavvy couldn’t seem to sit still. Yet the four of them seemed to be transformed to a happier place while sitting there. A place where Mark wasn’t sick, Helen was closer, demons didn’t exist… Tavvy tried to sing along though he barely knew the lyrics, and Julian definitely didn’t miss Dru mouthing all the words to the songs. He knew a smile was plastered on his own face, though whether because of the movie or his family, he couldn’t quite tell.

Once the movie had finished and Julian had sent Tavvy and Dru off to get themselves some lunch, Jules made a point out of giving Mark a dose of all the flu medicine he’d gotten together. He still looked rough, but he seemed better than he had done that morning and his skin burned a little less. Mark had made a half-hearted attempt to argue he felt good enough to return to daily business, but one raised eyebrow from Jules had sent him back to bed. Julian scoffed; Mark could barely stand. Besides, there were still some things on The List he wanted to work through. Checking his sisters’ list to see what he still needed to introduce to his brother, he smiled slightly on seeing that the next thing on his list was silly bandz.

Thankfully he’d bought a few packs for Tavvy recently, who’d become fascinated with them since they had become suddenly popular. Not wanting to give them all to his youngest sibling at once, he’d put some aside, which turned out to be an even better decision than he had originally realised once he thought of how excited Mark would be opening a new pack. Excusing himself to go grab a few, he quickly returned to Mark with a collection of different packs.

Mark glanced over to Jules as he stepped back into the room. “So what is the next thing our sisters have decided I need to catch up on?” he asked smiling, before breaking into a fit of coughs. Jules patted him on the back carefully, waiting until the coughing had resided before throwing a packet at him. Mark picked a packet up, confusion clear on his face.

“They’re called silly bandz,” Jules explained. Of course, that didn’t really do anything to ease Mark’s confusion, which, despite himself, made Jules smile slightly. “Open the packet,” was all he said.

Mark did as told, and dropped the contents into his hand. The assortment of brightly coloured, differently shaped bands seemed to do little to impress Mark though, and Julian had to suppress a grin as Mark picked one up and inspected it closely. It was very obvious that Mark didn’t seem all that impressed, so Jules decided to play the sibling card. “Before you pass judgement, you ought to know that your youngest brother is obsessed with them, and two of your sisters wanted to make sure you experienced them.”

That seemed to do it for Mark, and he picked out a few green and red ones to put on his wrist, before asking “Then why are you not wearing any, brother?”

Jules couldn’t help but kick himself for thinking he had gotten away with it. So far Tavvy hadn’t asked, which Julian was thankful for. He knew that if he ever put one on, he wouldn’t be able to take it off until Tavvy got over his silly bandz phase, both because he would ask Jules where the bands had disappeared to and because Jules knew he wouldn’t have the heart to take them off in the first place. He sighed and held his own packet up, as if to say “mine are here”. Mark raised an eyebrow at Jules, making it very clear that he would not let the matter drop until he’d put his own coloured bands on his own wrist. Yes, his siblings could be a little strange or persistent or weird or even annoying, but Jules wouldn’t change them for the world.

“Do we have any more on The List for today, or were these band things the last of what Livvy and Dru wanted me to catch up on?” Mark asked, satisfied with the fact Jules was now also wearing the colourful monstrosities on his wrist.

“No, there is one more thing...” Jules said half reluctantly, torn between laughing and sighing. “They….they want you to listen to Justin Bieber.”

Mark caught on to his brother’s hesitation. “Is that such a bad thing?” asked Mark and Julian grimly nodded.

“Wait till you hear it day in day out when Livvy is in one of her moods. Or even better, when Emma plays it non-stop. But I'll let you make up your own mind,” Jules said before pulling his phone out and going onto YouTube.

He got through three songs before Mark had decided he agreed with his brother and asked Jules to stop the music, much to Jules’ delight. “I think I am too used to faerie music,” Mark admitted before coughing again. Jules knew of faerie music and what it could do to someone, and if Mark seemed to prefer that over Bieber, then that had to mean something.

“Livvy and Dru are both quite taken by him. And for some reason so is Emma, and the rest of the world. Thank the angel no-one this house is a super fan, but Dru has shown me videos.” Jules said, and Mark somehow seemed to look even more unwell.

“Once I am better we must rescue them before their brains turn to mush,” Mark said and Jules couldn't quite tell if he was joking, being dramatic or being dead serious. Either way, he thought it might be the best thing he’d heard all day. “I’d like that, Mark,” was all he said, but he was grinning.

Having gone through everything on The List that he had meant to, Jules decided to let Mark sleep. Despite Mark’s protests, he was still ill and needed to get better soon. Not that Julian would mind another day like this. Especially the movies had brought back memories of his family, happy and at ease, and best of all he was creating more of those memories.

A quick check on Mark ten minutes later showed Jules that his older brother was fast asleep. He’d enjoyed spending time with Mark, but it was more than that as well. He had needed a day like this, enjoying himself. He thanked Mark for giving it to him in his head, and quietly sent out a quick thanks to Livvy and Dru as well for the crazy List. He made a silent promise to both himself and Mark that he’d try and make more of an effort to spend more time with him, not as Shadowhunters but as brothers.

[sonicfandomsecretsanta]

@dxrkblaze submitted:

Sonic approached Amy’s house one evening, satisfied with how the fallen snow crunched beneath his boots with each step he took. It was around six o'clock on Christmas Eve, and normally, both he and Amy would have been arriving at Rouge’s annual Christmas party by that point. However, Amy had been sick - or “miserable”, as she put it in one of her texts - for nearly a week, and her condition had shown no signs of improvement. She wasn’t fit to leave her house, let alone converse and be her cheery self at a party.

Thus, Amy decided not to attend. Shadow had been assigned the task of bringing her gifts from everyone, and he had done so that afternoon. Sonic wanted to give Amy his present in person, though, and he now turned it over in his hand: an elongated box covered with snowflake-patterned gift wrap. The blue hedgehog beamed with pride as he faced the front door. He knew his gift would be appreciated unconditionally, but he was certain he had picked out an incredible gift for one of his most cherished friends.

Three confident knocks were placed on the door, and Sonic entered after there was a muffled response from inside. Amy was lying on her couch, watching television as she drank from a steaming mug. Dark circles were present under her tired eyes, which expressed her illness along with a bit of redness on the underside of her nose. Indeed, she looked the worse for wear, but Sonic still flashed a cheerful grin at her.

“Hey, Amy! Feel any better?” he chimed, closing the door behind him.

As one would expect, Amy powered through her aching eyes and chilled skin to smile back. “A little,” she replied weakly. Her voice was lowered, and slightly hoarse from endless bouts of coughing. She raised a tissue to her nose, and dropped her positive facade. “My meds haven’t kicked back in yet. I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

Sonic tilted his head in suspicion, but kept an enthusiastic tone as he pulled a chair next to Amy. “Nah, don’t worry about that. I couldn’t leave ya’ all alone on Christmas Eve!”

Amy took another sip of her drink, refusing to look Sonic’s way. “Well, sorry for keeping you from the party, then.”

Sonic narrowed his gaze. “Amy? Are you okay?”

“I’m sick.”

“No, I mean, are you actually okay? You don’t have to apologize to me or anything, ya’ know.”

Amy coughed into her blanket. She sat up, and placed her mug on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just hate being cooped up in the house, I guess.” She sighed. “I’ve been thinking a lot, recently.”

“Hm? About what?”

The pink one finally raised her eyes. “Just… Well, I guess what I’m really sorry about is always chasing you around. Trying to get your attention. It just dawned on me that, maybe it’s a little selfish to do that. Especially when we’re all so busy. I don’t know.”

Sonic’s ears flicked back, and his eyes widened. He was so shocked by Amy’s admission, it took him a moment to find a starting point for a response. Eventually, he spoke up. “Amy, you know I don’t mind that, right? It doesn’t bother me at all.” Sonic felt a rush of heat to his face, and looked away with a grin. “I actually enjoy it when you chase me around.”

“What? Really?”

Sonic chuckled, trying to relax his nerves without breaking his bravado. “Of course. I always kinda’ treat it as a game, I guess.”

“So you… don’t hate me?”

That question contoured Sonic’s face with confusion. “What?” he said, lifting a hand to Amy’s forehead. “Those meds must be some good stuff for you to ask me something like that. That’s crazy talk! You’re one of my best friends ever. If anything, I should be apologizing to you if you really thought something else.”

Amy smiled, and allowed her heavy eyes to rest for a moment. “I guess I’ve just been thinking too much lately. I thought you might be getting tired of me.”

Sonic rolled his eyes, and hid his face once more. “Ah, c'mon Amy, don’t make me say it!”

“Say what?”

The blue one groaned, and then chuckled again. Something about the situation - perhaps seeing Amy so vulnerable, so unlike her normal self - made Sonic more inclined to speak freely. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. He cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say that… uh, whatever it is you feel for me, I feel the same for you, m'kay?”

Amy suddenly sat up, and found Sonic’s blush hidden behind a nervous smile. Her brow furrowed. “You’d better not be lying just to make me feel better…”

“Nope! I’m serious, unfortunately. Err, well, not unfortunately, but… ya’ know. I’m not very good at talking about stuff like this. I do hope it makes ya’ feel a little better, though.”

Amy’s gaze didn’t veer from Sonic’s, until some tears began to fill her eyes. “That makes me so happy, Sonic. You don’t understand.”

“Heh… maybe I should’ve said something sooner, then.”

“Now I feel less guilty about giving you this,” Amy pointed to a small, unwrapped box on the coffee table, and encouraged Sonic to open it. He did so, and removed a thin, golden necklace from it. A heart-shaped locket was its pendant, and inside there was a small picture that Amy had taken of the two of them, both making silly faces for the camera. The pink hedgehog giggled. “It was kind of a last-minute thing, because I couldn’t figure out what to get you. So, I just went with something sentimental.”

“That’s awesome!” Sonic assured her, doubling it over his wrist. “I’m not real into necklaces, but I’ll definitely wear it as a bracelet. Thanks!”

Amy blew her nose, and carefully unwrapped her present once Sonic placed it on her lap. She opened the box, and dangled a small, silver chain with a shining heart attached to it. On the pendant, her name was engraved in cursive. Amy gasped, and held it below her lamp to get a better look at it.

“It’s a little charm - for your hammer!” Sonic explained, “Tails helped me make it. It’s made from the same metal the Tornado is, so it should be pretty durable.”

Amy pulled the charm into her blanket, and pressed it to her chest. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Sonic. I love it,” she said, beginning to tear up again.

The soft voices on the television were all that filled the room for a moment. Sonic’s eyes fell as Amy sniffed, and she continued expressing her gratitude for the gift. He then interrupted her by leaning in close, and placing a kiss on her muzzle.

Amy’s eyes shot wide, and she touched her cheek. “Sonic! You’ll get sick!”

Sonic shrugged, flashing another smirk. “I’ll probably catch it anyways. I don’t think I’m going to the party. I’ll stay here with you, so you’re not all alone.” He stood up, and began walking to the kitchen.

“Sonic, you don’t have to-” Amy coughed. “I’ll be fine, for real.”

The blue one waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, I was thinking about it anyways. I can’t just leave ya’ here! Besides, uh, we probably have some stuff to talk about now.” He turned to conceal his slight embarrassment, and scratched the back of his head.

Amy smiled into her blanket, half-lidded eyes fixed on the floor. “If you really want to.”

Sonic nodded. “I do. Now hang tight, I’m gonna’ call Vanilla and ask her for her chicken noodle soup recipe. It always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

“Thanks, Sonic.”

“No problem!”

With that, Amy brought her knees to her chest, and clutched the charm in her palm once more. All the sadness hanging over her illness had melted away, just as the illness itself would soon enough. Amy felt revived, and couldn’t wait to her emotions to be spent in a more positive manner for the remainder of the holiday season. No matter what the future held, and no matter her physical condition, she knew that her year would end on the highest of highs; Sonic, of course, would have been quick to agree.

(A/N: I hope you’re having a great holiday season, bouncepaaad! I’ve never really written Sonamy before, so I hope this turned out okay. After getting your prompt, I started thinking about how a love confession might go between these two (I’m not very good at angst), and well… this happened! Tried to keep them as in-character as possible, lol. Merry Christmas again, and have a great new year!)

[junaeneous]

Before You Bow Down

MEMBER/GROUP: Kim Namjoon (Rap Monster) // BTS

GENRE: lots. of. fluff. 

WORD COUNT: 4, 784 words 

SUMMARY: Living as an idol is hard. People tend to forget that you’re human and that you have breaking points. They expect and expect and turn their backs on you when you don’t satisfy. But, before you bow down, remember what’s more important: your own expectations. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: dedicated to the talented, beautiful and hardworking leader whom not a lot seem to appreciate. I love you, you beautiful angel. 

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

“Y/N, TAKE TABLE TWO PLEASE, HE’S BEEN WAITING A WHILE.” 

Nodding, you grabbed an iPad and rushed towards the tall man sitting near the window, a mask concealing majority of his face. He wore an expensive looking watch, rings adorning several fingers. You could see the outline of his glasses as he gazed out the window, hints of blonde hair peeking out underneath the beanie he wore. 

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, sir, what can I get you?” 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Sir?” 

This time, he turned to face you, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, could you repeat what you said?” His voice was muffled by the mask, but it sounded deep, the gentle kind that one would want to hear on dull mornings and sleepless nights. You smiled. “I apologised for the long wait and asked for your order.” 

It was as if he’d just realised he was in a cafe. “Oh. Iced Americano, no milk and chocolate waffles. Thank you.” You quickly checked the boxes that held his order on the screen, waiting for the order to transfer to the kitchen. Once it notified you of such, you read out the time duration of his order. “I’ll be back as soon as possible with your order.” 

He nodded. “Thank you once again.” 

While you waited for his order, you went around the cafe, making sure everyone else was good and enjoying their meals. A couple minutes later, as you were conversing with an elderly customer, your cousin called for you. “Y/N, order for table two is up!” 

You politely bid the elderly man goodbye and hurry to the counter, carefully lifting the tray and making your way over to the mysterious man by the window. 

“Here’s your order, sir!” You placed the tray on the table, lifting the plate of waffles and his Americano, placing it in front of him. As you lifted the tray once again, ready to return to the kitchen, he caught hold of your wrist, urging you to face him once again. Your heart lurched to your throat when you met his eyes, a beautiful brown, but so, so sad. 

“Someone is going to enter this cafe looking for me in approximately ten minutes.” He sounded frantic. “Would it be too much to ask you to misdirect them? I’m not in the mood for company right now.” 

You nodded slowly. You understood the need to be alone; and he was a customer, a wealthy one too. You played it safe. “Should I look for him by name?” 

“He’s my friend. He’ll only ask for me by description. Please don’t let him find me.” 

“It’s none of my business, sir, but is everything alright?” You were slightly alarmed, you didn’t want to be witness to some kind of murder. The man shook his head. “No, nothing’s going right. I just really need some time by myself.” 

You sighed. “Alright then, I’ll be sure to let him know you aren’t here.” 

The man breathed out and nodded. “Thank you,” gratitude seeped through his voice, “thank you.” 

“Anytime.”

It was only then that you realised he was still holding onto your wrist. Embarrassed, he quickly let go, coughing out an apology. You waved them away, trying to fight the blush threatening to redden your cheeks as you hurried back, placing the tray in front of your cousin, who grinned. “I can’t see his face but I know he’s a perfect ten!” You rolled your eyes. “Shut up, Baek, he’s just a customer.” 

Baekhyun’s grin widened. “That’s how it begins! Stop being so nonchalant, this is the beginning of your love story!” 

“You’re hanging around Chanyeol too much.” You shot him a look at the mention of your overly enthusiastic best friend, whom Baekhyun had taken an extreme liking to. 

Just as Baekhyun opened his mouth to speak, a soft bell interrupted him, letting you two know that someone had entered. Remembering the man’s request, you spun around to face the hurried stranger storming towards you, chest heaving as he pulled his mask to cover his face. This man had black hair, slightly strained features and a rigid posture. When he spoke, his voice was deep, deeper than the customer’s at table two.

“I’m sorry to barge in so rudely, but have you perhaps seen a tall man around here? Grey beanie, expensive watch, he’s wearing a mask too. Black coat and a maroon jumper underneath. Probably introduced himself as Joon.” 

Why did that name sound familiar? 

“Uh no, I’m sorry,” you lowered your head. “He hasn’t come around here, but if he does show up, I’ll let him know you were looking for him.” 

“Please,” the stranger sounded frantic. “Let him know we’re worried. Tell him that we’re working to fix it.” 

You nodded and bowed once again. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message if he pops up. I hope you find him, sir.” 

He responded with a rushed “thank you” and hurried off, leaving Baekhyun to smack you upside the head. 

“Ow!” 

“Did you just lie to him? The man he was looking for is the customer at table two!” 

“He told me to misdirect him, I don’t want to anger a rich man with influence, Baek.” 

Baekhyun huffed. “Well, you’d best go tell him he’s safe now.” He lowered his voice and said, “if the police get involved it’s your fault.” 

You chuckled at your dramatic cousin, making your way back to table two, only to find that it was now empty. In place of the stranger, a generous amount of bills were neatly tucked under the empty glass, with a napkin placed on top.

Realising that the napkin held a note, you removed the glass and picked it up, being greeted by slightly messy handwriting. 

Thanks Y/N, I owe you one. ~KNJ

Serves him right, he should know better than to betray us like that. 

He thought someone would love him? Hilarious!

Foolish Kim Namjoon, do you regret being unfaithful to us fans now? 

He can kiss his career goodbye!

Bangtan only needs six members, you can leave now, Namjoon. 

Yoongi shut his phone screen, clutching the device tightly as he shut his eyes, cursing that lying scum of a woman to hell. “Why’d you have to be so kind, Joon-ah? Why didn’t you listen to us?” 

He was met with silence. 

“Where are you now?” Yoongi questioned the empty studio, glaring at the blank computer screen with teary eyes. “Where have you run off to? Are you reading this shit too? Have you convinced yourself that your life is over?” He picked up Namjoon’s lyric book. “Have you given up?” He flipped a page. “Are you okay?” 

Silence. 

“Fucking hell, I can’t just sit here. If he’s reading this, he needs to know we’re on his side.” 

Namjoon, sitting alone in the quieter side of a park, winced as his phone notified him of a new message once again. Hesitantly, he unlocked his phone and waited for Twitter to load, only to be greeted by a tweet from their shared account. 

“Anyone taking any side but Namjoon’s can stop calling themselves A.R.M.Y.” 

He smiled. Trust Yoongi to keep them in check. He shut his phone and slipped it into his pocket, taking a deep breath as he shut his eyes allowed the thoughts he’d suppressed to flow. 

He missed her.

He couldn’t believe he’d been such an idiot. 

He missed her. 

He hoped she was happy. 

He wanted to see her, just one last time. 

She betrayed him. 

He missed her. 

The tears were too quick for him this time, and Namjoon didn’t fight them, bursting into sobs as it finally sunk in. 

She was laughing the entire time. 

He was at table eight this time, a window seat furthest away from the others. Baekhyun frowned. “His eyes look swollen, he’s been crying. How long has it been since he last visited?” 

“A week?” 

“What could have possibly gone wrong in a week?” Baekhyun gaped incredulously. You shook your head. “I think the better question is what happened to make things worse within a week?” 

“Go talk to him, he clearly needs it.” 

“Baek, I’m still on the clock.” 

Your cousin rolled his eyes, grabbing an apron and an iPad as he stepped out from behind the counter. “Guess what, you’re officially off. Go help the poor soul.”

Smiling, you took off your apron and placed it on the rack, wiping your hands on your jeans as you made your way to table eight, taking a tentative seat in front of the man. “Hey,” you greeted softly. “I’m probably being really nosy, but do you want to talk to someone? Clearly things aren’t okay.” 

His eyes met yours. 

“I know it may seem like the last thing you’d want to talk about, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

You didn’t expect him to pull down his mask and reveal himself to be Kim Namjoon, the idol currently bringing in income for every news outlet in the country. The victim of the biggest scandal in the music industry. Your eyes widened and you quickly leaned over to pull his mask back up, sputtering out, “Why w--would you do that?”

“Do you want to listen to my problems now?” 

Your heart was going berserk, your mind was still attempting to process the fact that the man you’d served previously and the man sitting in front of you right now was Kim Namjoon, the leader of BTS. And then another realisation hit you. The man who’d ran in looking for him, with the deep voice and black hair, that had to be Yoongi. 

You’d lied to Min Yoongi. 

“You should be with your members right now,” you finally managed to speak, steadying your voice. “They’re worried sick.” 

He sighed. “I’m aware.” 

“Your managers are panicking.” 

“I know.” 

“They’re doing everything they can to fix this mess.” 

He shut his eyes. “I’m well aware that I’ve left my members and team to make statements and pull through for me, Y/N, but I don’t want to go back and face it. Not yet.” 

“Is it because of her?” 

Namjoon’s eyes widened as you continued. “Is it because you’re scared to go back and see her victorious? Are you avoiding the article she wrote? Do you not want to go back because going back means letting her go?” 

“Yeah, sure, she got to know your secrets. Sure, her paycheck probably has a couple extra zeroes on it this time. But I haven’t read her article. Millions who support you all around the world haven’t read the article. In fact,” you paused and pulled out your phone. “Read this.” You tapped on the page you’d bookmarked. “Look at the other side of the spectrum.” 

This is absolutely disgraceful, how could they have kept her after that? 

Stay strong, Joon, don’t let her change your views on love. :)

You’re still my number one inspiration and I love you just the same, keep your head up, my beautiful angel, it’ll get better. You have us. <3 

#NamjoonProtectionSquad RISE MY PEOPLE RISE

Anyone who manipulates someone else’s emotions for money is pathetic and disgusting, much love to one of the most selfless leaders I know. 

That was Tony’s tweet, and after it followed another: hang in there bro, you’re still going to take the world by storm. I know you will. :)

“See what I mean?” You raised an eyebrow. “Those are the comments you should focus on. I know, even with millions of positive comments, one negative comment can bring you down. But hey,” you smiled, “they aren’t the world famous Kim Namjoon, are they?” 

He returned your smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Still, you cheered at the slight progress. A part of you still hadn’t processed it, you were sitting in front of Kim Namjoon, giving him advice. How had this happened? 

“Thank you, Y/N,” his voice was soft. “I should probably go back now. Before the police get involved and it becomes public.” You nodded, standing up to follow him out. “Tell Yoongi I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to lie to him, and that I really don’t want to be dissed in a Cypher.” 

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’ll see you, Y/N.” 

Namjoon’s steps were a little more confident this time. 

“Hyung!”

Taehyung launched himself at Namjoon, practically tackling the older as he held onto him, sobbing out, “where have you been?” 

Namjoon patted the younger’s back, returning his embrace as he said, “I needed some time to breathe. I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.” Taehyung retreated with teary eyes, shaking his head. “Wah, hyung, can you be selfish for once? I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

The taller met Yoongi’s eyes and said, “I’m sorry to have worried you all. It was all a little too overwhelming, but someone reminded me to focus on the positive, and here I am. You all are a positive to me, and you will always be.” 

Jimin’s voice cracked as he said, “Namjoon-ah, don’t say things like that, I’ve cried enough.” 

Namjoon laughed as he pulled the six members into a hug, feeling Jin hold onto him a little tighter than the rest. “Are you sure you’re okay?” The older murmured, making Namjoon shake his head. “I’m not okay, but I’m a lot better than I was a few hours ago.” 

“Good.” 

“It’s been a long night,” Hoseok spoke. “Let’s get some rest. We’ll deal with the rest in the morning. I’ll let the managers know, you head to bed.” As Namjoon followed the others into the dorm and to his room, he felt his heart fill with warmth at the love his members showed him. At the company’s speed to file a lawsuit in his defence. At the fans who were defending him with every fibre of their being, at the thought of you, who’d given him the reassurance he needed. 

It had barely been five minutes since he’d slipped into bed and the six dorks were knocking at his door, mumbling some excuse about not wanting to be apart and finding room on the bed, the couch, the floor. Taehyung was quick to cling to him, whispering, “We’re here for you hyung. You’re a great leader.” 

It was a lot easier to sleep that night. 

“You seem to like table eight,” you grinned at him. “It’s been two weeks, how’re you feeling?”

“I’m getting better.” He smiled. “Is it okay to take off my mask?” You nodded. “I’ve closed up, so go ahead. The blinds are down too, so make yourself at home.” 

He laughed. “This is my safe haven at the moment.” 

Your heart fluttered, but you were quick to remind yourself that he was an idol, someone out of reach, out of your league, someone who was getting over a broken heart. It wasn’t going to happen. 

Still, you found yourself saying, “You can come here anytime you feel like you need to.” 

And Namjoon obliged. 

Months following the scandal, he would visit frequently. Sometimes he’d stumble in after hours drunk, mumbling about how he’d never trust reporters again. Sometimes he’d stay quiet and listen to you ramble about your day. Sometimes he’d bring his laptop along and ask for your opinion on random melodies, and sometimes he’d tell you about a member’s mischievous antics. It took a while, but eventually, you saw him as Joonie, your friend, rather than Kim Namjoon, the idol. 

Baekhyun and Chanyeol were relentless with their views, however, insisting that you make a move at once. 

“It’s now or never, Y/N!” Chanyeol threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. “It’s been six months! News is dying out, that reporter’s probably lost her job because of the public demand. Namjoon is more loved than ever right now, the band is doing good. And he’s been spending every second of his free time here. What more proof do you need?” 

You sighed. “He’s an idol, Chan.” You placed your head on his shoulder. “I’m a waitress. What could I offer him?” 

Baekhyun scoffed. “A lot. Make your move, Y/N, before another reporter with funny intentions snatches him away.” 

“I’m going to play it safe, guys, I’m sorry.” 

The two groaned. “You’re going to lose him!” 

“I want him around,” you admitted, feeling a little shy. “And if I confess and he rejects me, I’ll lose him for good. I can’t take that risk. Not when I enjoy being around him so much.” 

Baekhyun sighed. “Fine. If that’s what you want, we’ll respect your decision.” He eyed you as you picked up your coat and slipped into it, grabbing your phone as you headed for the door of your apartment. “Where are you going?” 

“Namjoon wanted to meet me at the park!” You answer back, almost out, “see you soon!” 

The second the door slammed shut, Chanyeol turned to his best friend. “You’re not going to respect her decision, are you?” 

Baekhyun smirked. “Hell no.” 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Chanyeol hissed, nervous. “I don’t want to anger an idol!” 

“It’s going to work, as long as you do your part well. Remember, act natural, so Y/N doesn’t suspect anything.” The younger nodded obediently, spotting you walking towards the cafe with Namjoon. He gulped. 

“Alright, you’re on the second she walks in. Good luck!” 

And Baekhyun scurried off to fulfill his role, leaving Chanyeol to hope this turned out well. He quickly held you as you walked in, excitedly yelling, “Y/N! My baby! I’ve missed you so much!” He kissed your forehead, grinning when he noticed Namjoon’s eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Chanyeol?” 

“Where have you been?” 

“I told you I was going for a drive with Namjoon, remember?” 

He slapped his forehead, laughing. “Ah, silly me, I must have forgotten. You look so skinny!” He made sure to take his time eyeing you up and down, not missing the twitch of Namjoon’s lips as he did so. So far, so good. 

“Come on, I made spaghetti and meatballs. Your friend can eat too. Sit.” He slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you away from Namjoon as he led you to the counter. When you took your seats, Chanyeol kissed your forehead once again, noticing the clench of the idol’s jaw as he did so. “You’re so cute today, wah.” 

“You’re smothering me more than usual, Chan.” You whined. “Dial it down a little.” 

“I can’t, I love you too much.” 

You grinned. “You’re adorable.” 

“Are you two dating?” 

Chanyeol fought his victorious grin as he forced himself to give Namjoon an innocent stare. “What do you mean?” 

“Are you dating each other?” 

“No!” You laughed. “Chanyeol’s just a friend. A very affectionate friend, but a friend nonetheless. I’ve known him since primary, so he’s very important to me.” 

Namjoon nodded slowly, looking relieved. “Oh, that’s nice to hear.” 

Chanyeol had to fight the urge to squeal when Namjoon took your hand in his, placing his fingers in the gaps between yours. 

Baekhyun was a genius. 

The second part of their plan was put into motion when Namjoon decided it was time to drive back to the dorms, only to realise his car had been “towed”. He turned to face you, smiling sheepishly. 

“It’s okay,” you laughed. “You can spend the night at mine.” 

You were screaming internally the entire way home. You had never needed a guest bedroom, so you had a kitchen, a living room and a sole bedroom. The apartment was spacious enough for its price, and you loved it, all up until this moment. 

You didn’t hear Baekhyun snickering as you led Namjoon up into your apartment complex, greeting the receptionist as you took the elevator upstairs. “Umm, before we go in, I think I should tell you something.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t have a guest bedroom.” You blurted. “I’ve lived alone for quite a while, and I’m the one who usually stays over at Chanyeol’s, so--” 

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Namjoon laughed. “I’ll just take the couch.” 

“I think there’s a special place in hell reserved for those who let idols sleep on the couch,” you joked, grinning. “I can take the couch.” 

“No, that’s not fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, really.” 

“No, I feel bad. We’ll just share your bed, okay?” Namjoon coughed. “It doesn’t have to be awkward, right? We’re good friends.” It was a little hard to keep your smile up at that, but you managed, repeating, “Yeah. Good friends.” 

Namjoon kept his shirt, but graciously accepted the sweatpants you offered him. They were originally Chanyeol’s, but the giant had a few inches on Namjoon, so it was a little baggy on him. As you two settled into your positions, you murmured, “Hey, Namjoon?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you still believe in love?” 

There was a moment’s silence. 

“Never stopped believing, darling.” 

Namjoon wasn’t sure why he was staring, but he was. You just looked so adorable in your sleep, mouth parted slightly, hair in your face and the occasional snore as you slept soundly. Unable to fight the urge, he gently pushed your hair away from your face, smiling when you leaned into his touch. 

“Cute.” He grinned. 

As if on cue, your eyes fluttered open and widened when you realised your close proximity. You made a move to get up, but were quickly pinned down by Namjoon’s legs, shoving you on top of the man. 

You were screaming internally once again. 

“Y/N...” 

Don’t look him in the eyes. 

Don’t look him in the eyes. 

Do not. 

Don’t do it. 

Hesitantly, you met his gaze. There was tension present in the room, and the attraction seemed to be pulling you two closer and closer and closer until his lips met yours. 

The kiss was gentle, slow, hesitant. Namjoon was quick to switch positions, now putting you underneath him as his hands slipped under your shirt, tracing patterns as they inched up slowly. You gasped, allowing him to deepen the kiss and pull your body closer to his own, the warmth engulfing you whole. 

Never would you have imagined kissing an idol in your bedroom, an idol who’d seemed miles away mere months ago. 

Namjoon pulled away, peppering kisses down from your jaw to your neck and then he paused, pulling away to give you a shy smile. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Let the next kiss be one I give you as my girlfriend.” 

“Might need a little convincing.” 

He chuckled. “I’d be happy to.” 

The months leading up to the MAMAs, you barely saw your boyfriend. His visits were short and abrupt, eventually resorting to phone calls and late night Skype calls. Sometimes you felt like he was miles away despite being in the same country and half an hour away from each other, but hearing him laugh, rap and fool around was enough to bring you closer to him. 

He had introduced you to the members as soon as he could, and you were overwhelmed by the immediate liking they’d taken to you. Even Yoongi, who Namjoon had said was hard to please, had warmed up to you immediately. You felt at home with the boys, now having six extra friends to invite to the cafe. 

Chanyeol and Baekhyun could only scream and thank you repeatedly when they heard the whole of BTS would be visiting the cafe often. Baekhyun and Taehyung had clung to each other immediately, while Chanyeol often found pleasure in embracing a tiny Yoongi, who would react with whines, but would fight to keep a smile off his face. 

You got to know the boys beyond their idol image. You got to know of their insecurities, their pet peeves and their scary experiences with obsessive fans. You got to know of their genuine love for their jobs and their fans. You got to know of their homesickness and how they wished they could bring their family members along. You got to know that they sometimes cried backstage, having being mentally drained from a packed schedule. You got to know that the boys fought over the silliest of things, only to make up within seconds. 

You got to know them as individuals, and that only made you love them more. 

So, on the day of the MAMAs, you grabbed your lightsticks, adjust your shirts and proudly sauntered through the backstage hallways, Baekhyun and Chanyeol by your side, proudly showing off their love for the boys as they greeted the members with unfaltering enthusiasm. 

“You’re wearing my shirt?” Namjoon laughed. “You’re too cute. Come here, baby.” He leaned down and placed his mouth atop yours, ignoring the groans of disgust that filled the dressing room, smiling against your lips. You were careful not to ruin his hair or makeup as you returned his kiss, whining when he pulled away. “If I let you keep me here, I’m going to face angry managers and be on the headlines again.” He laughed. “It wasn’t pleasant the first time, and it will never be pleasant any other time. I better head to mic check now.” 

You nodded. “You’re going to do great. I can feel it.” 

“Thank you, baby. You’ll cheer for me, right?” 

“Do you even have to ask?” You smiled, watching as Namjoon waved and disappeared, leaving you to face two gagging men. You rolled your eyes. “You guys are the ones who set us up, so stop overreacting.” 

“I’m starting to regret doing that,” Baekhyun sputtered, still gagging. You smacked him on the shoulder. “Grow up!” 

“Nah, too boring.” 

The second the T.V screen showed BTS taking the stage, you three fell silent, watching the performance in silence. The passion they presented was intense. You could spot the veins on Namjoon’s neck as he rapped, and the smile he shot the fans was blinding. Taehyung’s irresistible charisma was making an appearance, and Jungkook’s vocals were taking the arena by storm. Jimin’s smile was bright as he took his solo, belting out his notes. Seokjin was as stunning as always, smoldering the audience with a single look. Yoongi was on fire, rapping his lyrics with precision and controlling his expression in ways that brought in a plethora of screams from the fans. Hoseok was a natural charmer, his dancing was enticing and beautiful to watch, he had a good balance of control and letting go. 

The seven of them, they were deadly. 

And clearly, the fans seemed to think so too. 

“The Artist of the Year award goes too..” 

You sat at the very edge of your seat, waiting, heart beating, throat dry as time seemed to slow down. It had to be them. It had to be them. 

“BTS!” 

The crowd was deafening. You let out a small laugh of disbelief as Chanyeol and Baekhyun cheered, hugging each other as they screamed the fan chant. You blinked at the screen, trying to maintain your vision as it grew blurry, tears threatening to spill. Your heart was about to burst. 

“Good evening, A.R.M.Y!” Namjoon greeted. 

“As you know, the past few months have been hard for me. My life was put on headlines and was a source of income for people because I’d been too quick to fall in love. But I’ve recovered, with my members’ help and I’m doing well. I’d like to thank you, all of you, for this award. Bangtan isn’t Bangtan without you. You are a vital part of our success, the reason we lose sleep to produce music in the studio late at night, the reason we feel like we have a family even when we’re on the road. We love you all so, so much and we’re so eternally grateful.” 

“I’d like to end this by addressing all trainees and idols going through a hard time right now. Living as an idol is hard. People tend to forget that you’re human and that you have breaking points. They expect and expect and turn their backs on you when you don’t satisfy. But, before you bow down, remember what’s more important: your own expectations. You are strong, you are worthy and you will heal. Remember to make yourself happy before anyone else, I feel like that’s often forgotten in this industry. Thank you once again, A.R.M.Y, I love you!” 

As he turned to exit the stage, he saw you hurtling towards him, teary eyed. Quickly, he spread his arms to catch you, lifting you and spinning you around as the crowd gasped and cheered. Namjoon began to tear up as you said, “You did it! You did it, baby! Joonie, you’re finally victorious.” 

This time, when he kissed you, it was rushed, fierce and full of emotion he’d never quite allowed to interfere before. This time, it was of nonchalance and love, and it was as if it was just you two in that arena. 

Namjoon stood there, with you in his arms, kissing you and realising he could love you without being afraid. Namjoon stood there, kissing you and realising he’d be on the headlines once again. 

He didn’t really give a damn. 

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Hi! Okay, so a while ago @minky-for-short wrote a fantastic fix it post for the Reynolds Affair, really cleverly figuring out a way for Alex to not be a cheating asshole and Maria and Eliza to be happy. And because my friends is so damn talented and comes up with fantastic headcanons and art and just generally makes my life a whole lot better, I decided to turn it into a full fic! Hope you like it, all credit goes to my incredibly talented friend @minky-for-short <3

Alexander would be lying if he said there wasn’t a moment.

It was only a split second’s worth, shorter than one of his loud, erratic, terrified heartbeats. Where the stranger, the scared looking young woman who’d turned up at his office that afternoon completely unannounced and caught him off guard in more ways than one, where her lips on his had grabbed him. Alex had tasted comfort and heat in that kiss, the kiss that had come out of nowhere; she’d just grabbed him as he’d turned to leave her living room. He’d come so close to…

But Alex had woken up quickly. After that single moment of hovering on the edge, he remembered that these lips weren’t the ones he wanted. The hands roughly, almost frantically clinging to the lapels of his suit weren’t the ones he missed so much his heart ached. He’d been so desperate for any kind of comfort but this…this wasn’t right.

He wanted Eliza. He wanted his wife. But she wasn’t here.

 Alex jumped back, breaking the contact suddenly, his eyes wide with shock. He found himself against the wall, tripping over the threadbare couch, breathing heavily.

“No,” he stammered frantically, his voice hoarse, “No. I…this…I’m sorry, I don’t know what you thought Mrs Reynolds but, God, I’m married.”

He realised how young this woman was in that moment, as she stood in the middle of the tiny, sparse apartment, her cheeks burning, her eyes filling with tears. He noticed how she’d started to twist her fingers anxiously, staring down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. Despite the way she’d gazed at him as she’d leaned in his office doorway, the way she’d taken his hand and pulled her close after he’d offered to walk her home. Despite all that, the sudden and disarming flirtatious edge to her movements, it looked like she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss either. Almost like, even with her actions, it wasn’t her idea.

“I need to go,” Alex said quickly, his heart stammering, “Good night Mrs Reynolds.”

He’d fled all the way to the front door before he heard the soft sobs, shuddering and wretched and so sad. His hand stopped on the doorknob, his whole body freezing.

It only took him a second to make his decision.

 The young woman was weeping brokenly, not even covering her face, just letting the tears run down. It was like she’d just stopped caring.

“Mrs Reynolds…” Alex began, awkwardly, gingerly putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped suddenly, grimacing through her tears and stepping back to break the contact, “Please.”

Alex frowned, putting his hands up, placating, “Okay. I’m sorry. Um…”

She had given him her first name, back in his office what felt like years ago, as she’d asked him for some financial help.  But everything that had happened since then, it had sort of knocked it out of his mind.

“Maria,” she wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking in front of his eyes, her head bent in misery. She said her own first name like it was something shameful.

“Maria,” Alex repeated, wanting to reach out and comfort her but it really looked like she didn’t want to be touched, “Maria, I’m sorry but is there something wrong? Is there anything I can help you with?”

He’d already loaned her some money, that had apparently been the whole purpose of her unusual midnight visit to his office, but Alex was starting to get the sense that this was the kind of problem thirty dollars wasn’t going to fix.

“I’m beyond help,” Maria murmured sadly, her hair falling over her face, clinging to the tear tracks.

Alex frowned. Why didn’t she push it behind her ear? Why did she let it cover half of her face, one of her eyes completely concealed?

“Maria, at least let me try?” he said softly.

He hated to watch people upset, he hated feeling powerless. It wasn’t in his nature to accept that there were things he couldn’t change.

Maria fixed her wide, dark eyes on him for the first time since she had appeared in the doorway of his office. Before now it had been sideways glances, looking at his eyes but never quite in them, pupils flickering and travelling nervously. She hadn’t wanted to think of him as a person, as a man with a wife and children and a life. The kind of life she wanted but would never have.

No, Maria hadn’t let herself think about that. Alexander Hamilton just had to be a means to an end, a way of getting what she wanted, what she needed. Not the thirty dollars currently tucked away in the pocket of her jeans. That would very quickly become whiskey down James’ throat. What she needed was another day’s safety for her daughter.

In the week since James had grabbed her wrist and told her in no uncertain terms what she was to do, how she was to approach Hamilton and seduce him, blackmail him, all Maria had been able to see Alex as was a key to protecting her Susan.

But now she looked at him.

He looked…sad. Scared. Lonely. Exhausted. Like everyone he loved was far away and he missed them terribly, burying himself in his work to forget that fact.

Maria could understand that.

“It’s my husband,” she admitted after a deep breath, her voice suddenly flat and devoid of emotion, “He beats me. He threatens to beat our daughter if I don’t do what he says. He cheats on me. And he told me that I was supposed to go to your office, get you to sleep with me so he could blackmail you for money.”

Alex blinked, his jaw falling open a little as he absorbed that. That was…interesting.

But most of it could be shoved to one side for now. There was only one part of this that was screaming at him.

“He beats you?” Alex repeated carefully, his voice dangerously quiet.

Maria gave him a twisted facsimile of a smile and pushed her curtain of dark hair back.

Alex felt sick at the sight of the bruise that fell across her eye and the beginning of her cheek, yellowing against her teak skin. When he looked at it, for an instant, Maria’s face shifted and melted, turning into someone else. Someone who’s features he only half remembered, seeing scraps of it in his dreams, his nightmares, in the faces of his children. He’d seen that face when it was bruised and beaten and it had broken his heart as a child.

And it broke his heart now.

“Oh god, Maria…” Alex groaned, stepping forward on instinct to reach out for her, making her flinch away again. Because of course she did. When was the last time anyone approached her with anything other than anger and violence?

“I’m sorry,” he backed off immediately, his hands dropping to his sides.

Maria blinked and nodded slightly, letting her hair fall back down, hiding the awful mark on her face. But they both knew it was there.

“Maria, let me help you. Let me do something,” Alex sighed, hating the familiar feeling of helplessness, of uselessness.

The young woman just shook her head, resignedly, “What can you do? You don’t think I’ve been trying for years to find a way out of this? There is no hope for me.”

She spat the word hope, like she was saying the name of some awful poison.

Someone so young didn’t deserve to feel like that, Alex thought darkly, his hands balling into fists. He suddenly felt the strong desire to beat the shit out of this Reynolds guy.

“But you can’t live like this!” Alex exclaimed in frustration, the sound bouncing off the walls in the tiny apartment.

Maria shrank back a little from his raised voice; Alex felt a stab of guilt. He couldn’t help thinking back to that split second, that heartbeat, where he’d been so ready to take advantage of this poor woman, to break his Eliza’s heart. What he’d almost become…

“I have to,” Maria murmured, her eyes growing dark, slipping back under into the emotionless state she’d survived so many years with, “You have children don’t you, Mr Hamilton? A daughter?”

Now it was Alex’s turn to flinch. He missed her, his little girl. He missed them all so much, “Yes. Her name is Angie.” Angel, that was what he called her.

“And what are you prepared to do to keep her safe?”

That was a hard question to think about but easy to answer, “Whatever I had to do. Anything.”

Maria’s eyes fell, “Then you understand. That there’s no way out for me.”

Alex blinked. He took a breath. His brain began to start working, ideas forming, constructing, building.

“What was the plan? After tonight?” he asked quietly, his hand moving up to scratch at his goatee, the way he always did when he was thinking.

Maria’s face flushes, “To get you to invite me back. Two nights from now.”

Alex feels a little ill, the idea that someone had actually plotted to ruin him, like they were in some kind of hackneyed political drama. He knew he pissed a lot of people off on a daily basis, he just had no idea it would come back to hurt him like this. And not just him. Eliza. His kids.

Maria.

“Do it,” Alex nods, “Be at my place on Thursday.”

Maria blinked at him, her expression turning sour. She’d thought…after risking everything and telling him, he still wanted to…

“Let him think whatever he wants,” Alex continued, his voice picking up speed, “But you and me will figure this out. Bring your daughter, if you want. It’ll be okay. You’ll be safe.”

That last word caught with Maria, her face relaxing. Safe.

It had been so long since she’d felt safe, since she’d dared hope that Susan might be safe. Since she’d dared hope, full stop.

But here she was.

“Okay,” Maria nodded.

 It was only when he was back on his front doorstep, after practically sprinting home, that everything hit Alex. He rested his forehead against the wood for a long few moments, trying to make sense of it all, the nauseating mix of panic and anger, unwelcome old memories surging up in his chest. It was…a lot.

So Alex did what he always did when living in his own head became unbearable. What he should have done weeks ago, when he started feeling himself come undone at the edges.

He pulled out his phone, still out there on the stoop, sinking down on the steps heavily, and he called Eliza.

He didn’t try and bullshit her, the way he had been doing since they’d left the city for the summer. He didn’t try and hide his exhaustion and his fears; he didn’t try and pretend that everything was okay when they both knew it wasn’t.

“Alexander!” Eliza answered after just a few tones, even though it was nearly two in the morning. He had a brief moment of worry as to why she wasn’t getting any sleep before the warmth and affection in her voice made him want to cry.

“I love you, Eliza,” he sighed. They were the only words on his lips.

He could almost picture her heart shaped face crumpling with worry, it was right there in her voice, “I love you too, Alex. What’s the matter?”

He gave a small, crooked smile, “Okay, this is going to be a little hard to explain…”

 Of course Eliza’s first instinct was the same as Alex’s, to track down this James Reynolds and hurt him. He only just managed to convince her to stay put, to spend the rest of the summer with her parents as planned, there was no sense in uprooting the children and fixing this was going to take subtlety. Still, she’d paced and growled and spat in fury for nearly forty minutes, Alex holding the phone so close to his ear there was a mark. But once her anger had given way to the selfless determination that came to her as natural as breathing, they began to talk. They talked for hours, until Alex could see morning light starting to filter in through the blinds of his living room.

“Have you slept at all tonight?” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair, frowning at the dawn.

Eliza’s voice cracked with similar exhaustion but he could still hear the tease in it, “Have you?”

She had him there; Alex smiled fondly. “You need your rest, Eliza, c’mon.”

“What I need is to rescue that poor girl and her daughter,” she sighed, though it sounded like she was stifling a yawn.

“We will, Eliza. We’ve got a plan,” he promised, wondering how someone so selfless and good had found it in them to love him, “It’s going to be okay.”

He heard her adorable little huff as she finally relaxed, “Alexander?”

“Yeah, Betsey?”

Any tension still between them, any anger left over from Alex’s impulsive, careless decision not to go to Albany with her and the kids, the problems and worries he’d been hiding from her in a misguided attempt to protect her, the shock of having this distressing situation tipped into their laps with no warning, the dregs of it all blew away with that one word. That was the name he used in their most gentle and close moments, in the middle of the night when they found themselves searching for each other, when she worried about her appearance, when he saw each of their children in her arms for the first time, whenever he knew she needed to be reminded of how much he loved her.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ve…I’ve missed you,” Eliza confessed, her voice quiet.

That was when the tears spilled down his cheeks. He was tired, he was sad, he was scared and he loved her so, so much, “I’m sorry Eliza. I’m not going to shut down again, I promise.”

There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he spoke and he thought he knew why. Of course he hadn’t told her about that split second, that moment of doubt, the thought of it made the tight knot of self-hatred that always lived at the pit of his stomach start to writhe.  He was never going to admit to that. But standing here now it felt so ridiculous, how could he ever have doubted that the woman on the other end of the phone was his soul mate?

“I know you won’t, Alex. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, “Talk to you soon.”

As difficult as this situation was, it felt so good to be fighting the same fight again, on the same team.

The way Alex and Eliza were supposed to be.

 The first time was a little awkward. Maria stood in the hallway, her arms hugged defensively around herself, like that was where they naturally fell. Her eyes cast around at the toys and crayons and books, still scattered about the place despite the fact that the kids had been gone for weeks (Alex couldn’t bear to move them). Her eyes grew wide at all the pictures on the walls, of Mr Hamilton and a pretty woman with dark, kind eyes and a warm smile, a crowd of children that had a mix if their features. Children that looked like they’d spent their lives certain of their safety and their parent’s love, who’d never had to comfort their mother as she sobbed on the bathroom floor, nursing a fresh bruise. Maria felt like she was standing in the middle of a daydream, something that shouldn’t actually exist- a loving family home.

It made her lip curl, to think of what she’d been sent here to do, the instructions James had hissed in her ear as he’d gripped her wrist hard enough to leave marks. What, in another universe, she’d be seconds away from doing right now. Forced into using her body to break apart this family, to burn down all the domestic safety and comfort she saw.

Her heart began to beat faster, she felt the familiar grip of a panic attack. She wanted to run…

“Maria?” Mr Hamilton’s voice called her from the kitchen, “Are you going to come in?”

She blinked, following the sound through the unfamiliar house before she lost her nerve. Before she was really aware of what was happening, there was a mug of something hot and nice smelling in her hand and he was talking, talking at a pace that would be worrying for most other people but she got the sense that this was just who he was.

“So, I guess you need to be here at least an hour so he doesn’t get suspicious, maybe two to be on the safe side but I understand if you want to get back to your daughter. You can do whatever you want really, you can read or watch TV or anything or we can talk if that’s what you want, otherwise I’ll just be in my office…”

The sound of the mug hitting the tiles and splintering shocked them both. Maria could hear Mr Hamilton repeating her name as she sank to the floor, shaking, her vision blurring as the panic attack that had threatened her out in the hall found her and leaped on her. It was a familiar sensation but what was very unfamiliar was the hand on her shoulder, the faint but vaguely comforting voice in her ear, there and present until the tight grip loosened and she had control of her own mind again.

“You’re okay, Maria. I’ve got you, you’re alright,” Mr Hamilton was saying in a low, steady voice, sat next to her. He retracted his arm quickly, remembering that she didn’t like to be touched but the tide of comforting words continued.

“I know,” she murmured after a while, blinking hazily, to make him stop. But it was so strange…she wasn’t lying. She knew she was okay. She believed him.

That was unfamiliar.

Mr Hamilton studied her carefully, “You’re sure?”

Maria nodded. And it wasn’t a lie, it really wasn’t.

And then there was a glass of water in her hand. A cookie. Mr Hamilton explaining that she needed to get some sugar into her, that she needed to keep hydrated, almost like he had memorised how to recover from a panic attack.

He saw the question in her face, shrugging in the way people did when they were trying to pass off something that was a very big deal as something that wasn’t, “I’ve been on medication for stuff like this since I was in college, Maria. I’m familiar.”

That made her blink, that surprised her. She’d thought that only people who were as messed up as she was had problems like this, people who on some level…deserved it.

So either Mr Hamilton deserved it too. Or…she didn’t. Either way, they had something in common and Maria felt less alone.

“I think I’d like to talk, Mr Hamilton,” she answered his earlier question, her voice calm and level.

He grinned, it was a little manic but oddly infectious, “Sure thing, on one condition?”

Maria tensed.

“You call me Alex,” he shrugged casually.

 After that, the next few weeks fell into some kind of strange but comfortable pattern. Maria would simply sit in the Hamilton’s living room or his office with him, reading, actually reading just for fun the way she used to do when she was younger and life was easier. Or she’d watch TV, the worst, most mind numbing shows because why not? That was what normal people did and here, Maria could feel normal. She even started to sketch again. It had been a long, long time before she’d done any art.

Alex was good company, she could see why so many people seemed to like him but also why so many people seemed exasperated by him. He pulled no punches; he just spoke like there was no filter between his mouth and his brain. It was bemusing and a little scary for someone like Maria, who’d spent their life having to keep quiet. She actually enjoyed perching on the sofa in his office, listening to him as he raged and ranted about that ‘dickass Jefferson, oh my god, Maria you wouldn’t believe…’ She got the sense that he’d been very lonely, that he was missing his family and was glad to have someone to talk to and, hey, she was more than happy to listen.

It was hard, to leave that warmth and friendship and go back to her apartment with the dents in the walls left by James’ fists and the damp and the bare walls. But her husband left her alone these days, now he thought she was funding his drinking and gambling every night by sleeping with a married politician. And she’d take sneering glances of disgust over blows and threats against Susan any day.

And now, when she held Susan as she drifted off in her arms, she could now whisper that it would be okay one day. That one day they’d be able to escape.

For once in her life, Maria could offer her precious daughter something they’d both been to scared to take hold of before.

She could give her hope.

 Maria still couldn’t help the nervousness that flared up in her chest the first time Alex handed her his phone, saying that his wife wanted to talk to her.

She heard so much about Eliza, all it would take was a mention of her name and Alex would go on for hours about her, rambling unashamedly about how great she was, how much he loved her. He didn’t hide any of his emotions, anger and frustration or love and affection. That kind of open and unashamed trust and devotion just seemed so alien to her, something from a fantasy novel, something made up. But there it was, written plainly on Alex’s face.

And it had been her job to tear that down.

So she’d stood shivering with anxiety before blinking and taking the phone hurriedly before she lost her nerve. It would be okay. Wouldn’t it?

“Hello, Maria?” the voice was low, gentle, the kind of voice you’d expect someone who spent their life taking care of children in need to have.

“H-hello,” Maria hated the tremble in her voice, making her sound scared.

“Oh it’s so wonderful to talk to you!” Eliza’s voice flooded with brightness, like she actually meant the words she was saying, like it wasn’t just an empty sentiment, “Alex has been telling me so much about you, I’m so glad we’re able to help you. Now, listen, can I ask you a question?”

Maria blinked, panic rising in her throat “Um…”

“Make sure Alex sleeps for me? And eats? And takes his meds? I’m being serious; knock him out if you must. I worry I’m ninety per cent of his impulse control and he reverts back to a college student when I’m not around…”

Maria hadn’t been expecting that. Although now she thought about it, there were an awful lot of empty pizza boxes piling in the kitchen, Alex had worn that shirt twice already this week. She had a feeling Eliza might be right.

“Oh god, what am I saying, you’ve got yourself to look after. Sorry, it’s been a while…”

“Um, no?” Maria nods, her voice a little more confident, “I can do that, sure. It’s no trouble.”

There was a relieved sigh from the other end, “You are a saint, Maria. Thank you so much.”

From there they just started talking, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Eliza had this way of setting people at ease, of finding a way past barriers and making opening up feel easy and right.

Now whenever Maria was at the Hamilton’s Eliza would call, spending half of her time with her husband and then asking to be passed to Maria, to see how she was doing. Alex started to wonder whether introducing the two of them had been a good idea, every time he heard Maria exclaim “No way!” laughing and glancing over at him surreptitiously.

“Maria, I swear whatever my wife’s telling you it isn’t true! That think with the roller-skates at the park was one time, okay? One time!”

And so Maria went from having no friend in the world to having two people willing to put in so much effort to help her, to make sure she and Susan could be happy and safe and free.

To give her some hope.

 The three of them had a good laugh over the letter that eventually arrived in James Reynolds’ scrawling hand, demanding money from Alexander Hamilton or he’d reveal his sordid affair with Maria.

“Sordid? He actually used that word?” Alex howled with laughter, leaning against his desk for support, “Oh Jesus…”

Eliza, who’d come home a week ago and had been hugging Maria at every opportunity since, was giggling uncontrollably, “When did our lives become a really terrible soap opera?”

Maria didn’t say anything, she just laughed. She had a really nice laugh, she realised, musical and ringing and alive.

She’d forgotten what her laugh had sounded like.

 For some strange reason, Maria cried. When Eliza came flying into the kitchen, her eyes bright, taking hold of the pacing Maria by the shoulders and breathlessly explaining that it was okay, everything was fine, it was over. She’d confronted James, she’d explained the whole situation, that Maria and Alex had done nothing, that the only one in any kind of trouble was James himself. That if he came anywhere near Maria or Susan, he’d be arrested. Or simply punched in the face, quite happily by Alex or Eliza.

“He’s out of your life, Maria. Aaron sorted it all out, the divorce has been finalised, the paperwork’s all done,” Eliza explained, holding her securely, a smile growing on her face, “You’re safe.”

And for some reason, either because of relief or joy or fear or disbelief that she was actually standing where she’d dreamed of standing for so long, Maria cried her eyes out.

And all Eliza did was hold her, stroking her hair gently and murmuring comforting words.

“W-where are we going to go?” Maria murmured after her sobs turned to hitching breaths, her voice cracking, “We’ve got nowhere to live…”

Eliza gave a gentle laugh, squeezing her friend’s shoulders comfortingly, “With us, of course! We’ve got plenty of space, Susan can share with Will, you can have the spare room...”

And on and on, plans and fixes for all the little problems that could possibly spring up, taking Maria’s worries and shrinking them down until they could be held and carried easily.

After a while, Eliza ran out of words, just holding Maria closely.

“It’s going to be okay, hon. I promise.”

And for the first time in years, Maria’s face broke into a wide smile as she buried her face in Eliza’s shoulder, “Yeah. I know.”

 Maria Lewis had never believed in God. But she would always thank whoever might be up there for the day she walked into Alexander Hamilton’s life.