#thank you to everyone who gives my weirdo fics a chance <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[smittenwithlouis]

One Last Time

Main Pairing: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Rating: Explicit Status: Complete Word Count: 24k Summary: “I mean it, Harry, this is the last time,” Louis breathes out as Harry kisses down his neck.

“Sure,” Harry mumbles into his heated skin.

The action makes Louis shudder. He hates how good it feels. He knows he should be revolted. Disgusted. But god does it feel so damn good.

Or: Louis is a werewolf, and Harry is a vampire. They’re supposed to hate each other, but they’re too busy fucking to care.

Written for the @bottomlouisficfest 🐺🦇

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik]

Love at first sight?

Chapter 8

Note: im using Celsius instead of Farenheit bc I get confused anddd for the fics purpose I made the reader from Arizona bc it's hot, sorry hehe.

prologue chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Warren Worthington III x reader

Word count: 1300 words

Warnings: language

"Worthington! Wait up". Warren stopped walking for his friend to catch up. "Yes, Monroe?". Ororo rushed from the main entrance to the end of the hall, where Warren was waiting for her. "So? Spit the beans!". She was referring to the meeting with The Professor, which had just ended a few minutes ago.

"Hell no! I'm starving, thanks to you! As far as I can recall, you did say you were going stop by the infirmary to bring me my breakfast, but you never came". Warren said resentfully. "Oh! Forgive me for trying to give you some privacy! I DID go over! but when I realized you were having a blast with "ms. mystery", I left!." Warren's mouth turned into a big "O" surprised by the girl's comment. "Shit, sorry I'm an ass. I should have known better than t-". Although Warren was showing great remorse for his actions, Ororo, on the other hand, seemed unbothered as he had cut his ramblings off. "Whatever, man. Listen up! Why don't I fix you something to eat in the kitchen while you tell me everything that happened, and not just with Charles". Her big brown eyes were beaming at him with mischief. After all, it wasn't likely of him to speak more than five consecutive words with strangers.

"Fine by me". The blond said, already walking to the kitchen. "Oh, by the way, her name is Y/N". He informed with a small smile creeping on his lips.

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

"For real?" You said in amazement as the man with glasses who went by the name of Hank explained to you some medical facts about your mutation you've been oblivious to your entire life. "Are you telling me my hydrokinesis has been the reason behind why I'm always cold?". Your face in awe had made the man chuckle. "Indeed, Y/N. Your connection with water goes beyond expected. Your body temperature resembles the ocean's, which means, unlike the rest of us who have an average temperature of 35.5 C° to 37 C°. Yours can go as low as -2 C° with its highest in 35 C° ". You turned to your left side, inspecting the monitor showing your vitals, where you read the big bright numbers. "So, does 20 C° mean... ". "Just fine". The doctor said.

"No need to remind you about staying clear from desserts or, you know, fires". "Damn it, just when I was considering moving to Egipt". You had meant for the man to laugh at your joke. Instead, he shot you a disapproving look. "I'm serious, Y/N. You could die. The body can endure temperatures up to 50 C° before death, but you, anywhere up to 39 C° can be fatal".

Those last words were bringing back the multiple times you'd fainted without any apparent reason. Even during a spring day back in your natal Arizona, you could end up in E.R. The doctors had always told your mother it was a heatstroke, yet it never made sense. Yes, it was warm but not blazingly hot like it should have to suffer one. To your mom, you were only doing it for the attention. And after moving to Washington, when you were 5, the faintings stopped, making her believe more in her assumptions.

It also made you remember those winter days when you were little, where all your friends would be covered head to toe with fuzzy clothing whilst you had nothing more than some jeans and a crewneck. People always believed your mother had sucked at parenting for leaving you so exposed to the weather, but for the first time, they were wrong. Yes, she sucked at being a mother, but at least this time, what seemed to be a lack of caring coming from her was just you not being affected by the freezing air like everyone else.

You were about to ask furthermore questions the tall man with the glasses he could perhaps be able to answer when a bald man in his late forties wheeled in. "How is our patient doing, Hank?". He asked. "Better than expected, Charles. Although I would suggest staying in here for observation another 24 hours, just to be sure". Hank replied, straightening his posture as the older man came further inside the room. But why? Just as you were seeking an answer, he spoke. "Because I am the headmaster, young lady. Charles Xavier, at your service". What the actual fuck, how could he have- "Telepathy, that is how, dear". A foreign voice explained inside your mind as the bald man stared at you with knowing eyes. "Please, don't do that ever again! Not without a heads-up at least!". You yelled fearfully. The idea of having somebody else inside your head unexpectedly had to be the scariest thing you could think of, and after having seen your frightened self, the man spoke ordinarily once again.

"Certainly! But, before we continue, how should I call you, dear?". The man, Charles, asked you with a tender voice. " Y/N".

"Very well, Y/N. Now, has Hank told you anything about what we do in here?". "Not much. That this is kinda like a boarding school but for weirdos like us and that some are of you like to run around the city wearing matching bodysuits playing heroes". You said while sitting down crisscrossed on the medical bed. "Well, you are not so wrong, but we are more than that". With that, the conversation about a brighter future for you began.

You had been brought to Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters by luck, without any clue of what could be there to come for you. When you woke up, you'd thought for that place to be nothing but a fancy hospital and nothing else. Now, after your interaction with the headmaster, you were left with a lingering feeling of something you had never experienced before, hope.

Hope for a future away from the streets you've called home for almost a decade. A possibility to become someone you could be proud of being. To form bonds that could last more than a weak or two. Most importantly, the chance of not being so lonely anymore.

In conclusion, Charles Xavier gave you hope for making your wildest dream come true. Stay here, and you will live a normal life.

Both Charles and Hank left the infirmary wing for you to process the information at peace before accepting his offer of prolonging your stay. You'd been so concentrated thinking about all of it. You missed the moment your angel came in.

"By the expression on your face, I'm guessing Charles already asked you to stay in here". He spoke to you as he was reaching for the stool next to your side.

"How do you know that, Angel?". You asked, squinting your eyes in a questioning look.

"He told me after proposing to me the very same thing". Warren said.

"Well, are you?". You eagerly said.

"I don't know, are you?". If you were honest, everything about living at Xavier's sounded perfect to you. You would have accepted right away if it hadn't been for Charles himself who stopped you and made you think about it. After all, it was a 180° lifestyle change.

"Hell fucking yes! Why wouldn't I? It's not like you're allowed to live in a mansion every day" This was the answer which caused the mutant next to you to chuckle slightly. "Is that the only reason you're staying?". You would have said everything you'd been thinking about before warren showed up. Yet something in you told you. If you didn't, you could have plenty of time to do so.

"Not really, but if you decide to stay here, I might tell you all about them, Angel". You told Warren, who had now his eyes fixated on yours, those piercing blue eyes which seemed to be searching for something, what? You didn't know.

"Seems like we got a deal, Y/N".

[someobscurereference]

For one: whenever the concept of the Nohrians meeting the young trio comes up, my first thoughts are 1) Inigo being cripplingly shy and terrified of Xander 2) Severa being Extremely Unreasonable and Aggressive especially toward Camilla and 3) Owain gravitating toward Elise because she's reminiscent of his mother, because he's a mama's boy who probably lost his mom very recently and that's pretty fucked up!!

That being said, I'm screaming at the idea of Owain gravitating toward Elise because mother, Xander because cool sword, and Camilla because cool armor, and Not Trusting Leo because he's a Dark Mage and Dark Mage Means Plegia Means Grima Means Evil (almost always) and Leo being so upset about it. It turns the tables entirely, where Odin was originally the one who thought both Leo and Niles were so cool and they thought he was a weirdo idiot until he proved himself, now he thinks they're creepy and Evil and have to work for his trust. And I will always love the Nohrians realizing the trio were Fucked Up Kids and the idea of them watching the three of them take down a faceless with Brutal efficiency because of how much more dangerous Risen were...I'm so into this. AND!! The trio fucking hating each other!! They're so used to them being Best Friends and Inseparable and understanding each other on a whole different wavelength. And now? Sev and Inigo aren't very kind toward Owain's dramatics, Sev and Owain are Bothered by Inigo's flirtations, and Severa is just so harsh with both of them (and most people). Of all the people they could be stuck with, they would Not choose each other. I'm rambling but I'm so into it I'm so so into it. One of the previous asks you linked spoke a lot about Inigo, but if you could talk a bit more about Severa and Owain? Especially if their adult selves were involved with their lieges and partner retainers and how different the dynamic is now and the way they each react when realizing the trio went through something so clearly screwed up and beyond even what they've seen

(prev ask) Ayyy, glad you got a kick out of all of that, lol. And yes!! Leo Trio origins reversed!! With Niles and Leo being the ones who have to prove themselves to Owain instead of the other way around. And the Trio not getting along!! They're 100% there to save each other when they think they're in mortal danger, but as soon as they realize they're not in Plegia? Don't touch me, don't breath on me, don't look in my direction, any of you. Owain & Inigo can't be alone in a room together or else they'll scuffle, Severa stomps away whenever Inigo tries to compliment her, nobody wants to talk to Owain, etc.

Also sure! I spoke a lot about Inigo in that last ask because I wanted to be clear about what I meant with the shyness thing, but for Severa & Owain...

I don't know if they would have been in romance with their lieges before this! I obviously ship the royals & their retainers, but I don't ever see the appeal of that dynamic in deaging fics? I get the idea of like "oh, this is a new side of my partner I've never seen before," but the deaging part is such a huge part of the plot that I don't really see the benefit to that dynamic in these types of fics.

But just in general! The friendship/platonic shift!

I mentioned before about Camilla trying to dote on little Severa but struggling because Severa rejects her So Hard, lol. In general she'd want to dote on Severa because of her personality and how Severa is a tiny version of her beloved retainer, but the more it becomes clear that Severa has issues (especially re: family, which is a major reason Camilla feels the need to dote on Corrin), the more she wants to spend time with her and make some happy memories with her. Which makes Severa's rejection of this attention even stronger bc who the hell are you to presume you know her? And also you're not her big sister/mom/whoever.

Eventually, I almost feel like Camilla would?? I don't want to say "give up," but eventually you're going to get more flies with honey than vinegar. By which I mean the less Camilla tries to push the relationship, the more open Severa might be to spending time with her. But I'm not sure Camilla would get to this point within the timeframe of the Trio being deaged! I think this would take many days or perhaps even weeks to figure out. If the Trio return to normal before this, I think Camilla might feel different (Hard to say how... maybe guilty??) about the way her Selena dotes on her and wants her attention all the time vs little Severa rejecting her. But!! If the Trio stay deaged for a while and Camilla learns to stop pushing the relationship, Severa may slowly grow to approach Camilla on her own and may then be open to being doted upon once they understand each other more (bc she canonically wants all the foods and fun stuff Camilla is offering; she just wants it from someone she trusts. And primarily from her parents ((see: awakening supports w/ parents)), but they're not here).

tl;dr Camilla would have to go against her doting instincts if she wanted Severa to get comfortable with her. Otherwise Severa would avoid her/take advantage of the things Camilla is offering while not wanting to be near her very much.

Re: Beruka!

Unlike Camilla, who has a lot of sad and sympathetic feelings for Severa, Beruka really leaves feelings out of it. Which is probably to her benefit in this scenario, as she's approaching Severa's trauma's from a logical (perhaps even detachedly relatable) standpoint rather than sympathetic. She's more direct than Camilla, so Severa might be a little more comfortable with her, just because she knows what to expect.

Severa, for her part, may even seek Beruka out once she knows they're partners because (1) she wants to know what sort of person her future partner is and (2) she wants to prove that she's the better retainer than Beruka. Which of course she can't do because (a) Beruka would never compare them like that, nor Camilla and (b) Severa is younger, more hotheaded, and less skilled than her older self, so anything she tries to prove now, she'll probably fail at and will blame on her older self having more experience. This competetive spirit may start as an inferiority complex thing, but with Beruka never really fanning the flames, Severa may eventually calm down about it and just feel more driven to get better on her own/respect Beruka as her partner (sort of like her Cynthia Supports in Awakening, though a little different).

Leo & Owain, I already talked about. Owain will immediately take note of the fact that Leo & Niles are his future lord & partner, which he is very curious about, but once Xander, Camilla, & the other very cool people with melee weapons come into the picture, he's very drawn to them, which makes Leo jealous, lol. Leo dedicates himself to "solving" the deaging issue, using this as an excuse so he doesn't have to spend time around Owain and get compared to his "cooler" siblings. HOWEVER, joke's on him bc the fact he's avoiding Owain means Owain doesn't get the chance to quiz him even more and tell him about how cool Brynhilder is. When this finally happens, Leo feels incredibly foolish for trying to show off for Owain & avoid him in turns. Owain, meanwhile, may or may not have ever picked upon on the fact Leo was feeling weird about him at all (although he will admit he felt nervous around Leo at first bc Pelgian Mage Memories and had to take time to get over that).

Niles is a little hard to consider because I actually think?? He'd be good with young/immature folk when he's genuinely trying to be? (See: Niles's interactions with Elise & Nina). However, he can also be quite cruel to people who don't really deserve it (See: Mozu C & B supports) despite having a motto of only insulting "people who deserve it," (Peri Support). So!! I think Niles's interactions with Owain ultimately come down to how well he respects Odin/how good their relationship was. If they were besties when Odin gets deaged, then I don't think Niles will purposely try to make Owain feel bad, though a lot of what he says with metaphors & double meanings will probably go over Owain's head anyway. I also don't know if he'd purposely go digging for information or not?? Depending on how much he feels asking would be a betrayal to Odin's trust vs his own curiosity and all the hints Owain doesn't realize not to drop?? I think Owain would really determine what Niles does or doesn't learn about him. They have the potential to have a really good talk where Owain talks about his parents' deaths and the struggles he & the kids are going through and Niels talking about his own life on the streets. (BTW, despite Owain literally going through a war & both parent death, I think he might think Niles has the worse situation bc he's never known parental love at all, which baffles Niles).

Similar to Leo, I think Owain would be really cautious around Niles at first, both because he's an intimidating sort and because he takes cues from how everyone acts around Niles too. But!! Also just like Leo, if his future self trusted them, obviously that means something, right? So he'd approach Niles a bit more after a few days of settling in.

Niles & Owain's interactions are really hard to imagine because they depend on so many factors that I haven't decided upon! But hopefully the other ones make sense, lol

Thanks for asking!

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

*cracks knuckles* Clearly I’m going straight for the Blackout. 

ENJOY, FRIENDS. FOR YOU, I THROW IT UNDER THE CUT

Under 1000 Words

take my burdens (and bury them deep) by @thelionshymnal​ Rated M Nothing makes me happier than a fic of my favorite BroTP, especially when Obi is offering to disappear Kiki’s dirty dealings. Content warning for attempted sexual assault and Obi doing what he does best: getting rid of the body.

A Fic That Got You Involved In Fandom

Seven Suitors for Shirayuki by @sabraeal​ Rated T Look. You all are just going to have to accept that there is a certain generation of this fandom that was dragged in, kicking and screaming, by this fic. I wanted to diversify by saying something else managed it, but no. It was the fact that this story was stuck on chapter five for MONTHS that made me vibrate until my own fic fell out. XD

Made You Laugh Out Loud

An Extra Rise Before Dawn by @sabraeal​ Rated G I don’t often worry that I am going to pee from laughing so hard when I’m reading something, but this one definitely does. In one spot in particular. You might be able to guess it. It is simultaneously an incredible sweet and incredibly funny fic that hits all the right notes for me.

Favorite Trope Reversal

Fussing with Firedrakes by @leewritingrecs​ Rated T 1) Dragons. 2) Damsel in distress is no damsel and she is NOT in distress thank you very much 3) Kiki is a DRAGON 4) Obi is cursed, and 5) DID I MENTION D R A G O N S ???

Fic That Made You Friends With the Author

The Wide Florida Bay by @sabraeal​ Rated E I had to think about this because while I read Seven Suitors first, this was the series that made me start sending anons and eventually made me join tumblr where I proceeded to endlessly play the ‘what if’ game with Jen. CLEARLY this is where our friendship was forged.

Action-Packed Fight Scene

Agent, Parts I, II, and III by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated T Like Jen, I was positively torn, because both Andi and Sarah do fight scenes SO WELL, but Agent ultimately won out because there is just something so delightful about Shirayuki flailing and clinging to Obi like a cat that doesn’t want to go in the bath while arrows zip all around them

Edit: Screw it, I’m reccing them both

Republic of Tanbarun by @claudeng80​ Rated T An action adventure series where romance is involved but is by no means the focus. Zen and Obi adventures abound. Politics galore. And some masterfully done slow-motion to quick motion fight scenes that I L O V E D

Gen Fic

Fugue in Three by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated G Ryuu casually destroys Obi and Shirayuki by breathing as they count down the days until he comes of age. Technically this fic has a romantic pairing, but it is by no means the focus of this fic. If you don’t agree, you are welcome to meet me under the Big Oak between the hours of 12 and 4 for a duel.

Missing Scene

Like Brothers Do by @claudeng80​ Rated G Obi is clearly Kiki’s annoying big brother and handles Mitsuhide’s rejection in the best way he knows how. Also read: Mitsuhide gets what’s coming to him. (ง'̀-'́)ง

Canon Divergent

We work at the mall by @kaedix​ Rated T With how many AUs we got floating around this fandom, I was hard pressed to choose a favorite. But there is just something so sweet and wholesome and American teenager about this. It just latches onto you and never lets go. (Also the gang all work at my favorite places in the mall when I was growing up. What’s not to love?)

Steamiest Kiss

Were Hearts Not An Unknown Country by @sabraeal​ Rated T LOOK. SOMEONE was going to have to go dig this out of the rubble of her compilation fics and it might as well be me. Also the birthplace of the much loved AnS fandom practice of solstice kissing.

Contains Your Favorite Headcanon

The road to Clarines is Gravel by @codango​ Rated E Not the focus of the fic as a whole, but like, Torou and Obi are siblings. GALAXY MIND EXPLOSION. I mean, I loved that so much that I wrote a pre-canon fic of this fic. Additional note totally not related to the bingo square: I will ALWAYS be here for positive sex worker representation in fics. Fair warning, though, this is the most unfair AU in existence because the brain screams that it SHOULDN’T WORK and yet by some sort of writerly sorcery, it DOES. PLEASE READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY.

Wept Real Tears

let it make you by @thelionshymnal​ Rated M It’s not every day that someone manages to write a fic that makes me stare numbly at the very first line for a solid 15 minutes, big fat tears rolling down my cheeks, but Hymn did it. And then she somehow managed to kiss it better. All in 1100 words.

Free Space

AnS Role Swap AU by @owlsshadows​ Rated M This series has it all. Shirayuki as an assassin. Obi as both a royal bastard and a pharmacist. A mysterious meeting out in the woods where it makes you question whether Nanaki and Obi are two different people or the same. Also Zen having some very conflicted feelings regarding his royal authority and how he can choose to handle rejection.

Edit: Since I’ve already doubled up once, let me double up again, I have so much love to give and not enough space to give it!

Blizzard by @nebluus​ Rated T This is one of the earliest fics I read in this fandom and it remains to date one of my absolute favorites. Obi gets hurt protecting his Miss and a blizzard rolls in. Thankfully they find a cabin where Obi, who is definitely on his death bed if no one finds them and SOON, proceeds to still fuss over his Miss. Best scene: When he warms her hands with his. Also the second chapter is all sorts of delightful domesticity I IMPLORE you to please read it and soon.

Favorite Fan-Made OC

All Pain Will Turn to Medicine by @sabraeal​ Rated M All y’all should’ve seen these coming from ten miles out. I fucking LOVE Herr Anda, the cantankerous little bastard. And Jen knows this because she designed him specifically with me in mind. Academic catnap >:|

AU That Made You Find the Source Material

All Knotted Up by @sabraeal​ Rated G Admittedly, there are a great many AUs out there that made me look up the source material, but this Tangled AU is the most recent because I finally got on Disney+. And yes, Mitsuhide is the horse. Ryuu may be Pascal a little bit, but Mitsuhide. He’s The Horse. XD

First AnS Fic You Read

Loyalty by Evelyn Fiedler Rated K+ (which is basically G on AO3) My one and only ff.net rec from my earliest days in the fandom when I was combing for absolutely any content I could find, begging the fandom to help me decide if I was down for Obiyuki and all that it implied and this author most assuredly delivered.

Favorite Minor Character

Undertow by @jhalya​ Rated E The fic itself is a space odyssey of sorts. One mission among many where humanity attempts to colonize Mars. However the real selling point here, if you didn’t know, is Lord Seiran. He is a delightfully eccentric billionaire who clearly always wanted a large family, judging from how easily he fills out the adoption paperwork.

WIP

Caulk dirty to me by @leewritingrecs​ Rated E Have I mentioned I love the sex worker trope? I. Love. The. Sex. Worker. Trope. Also Obi is clearly divine at all of his jobs. Shirayuki already got to experience his skills at one of them. I wait with BAITED BREATH for her to experience the other :3

Canon Compliant

Thicker than Blood by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated G In the aftermath of the death of King Kain, Izana and Zen must decide on which path they will take moving forward. Amazing fic. Unfinished, but a wonderful look into the dynamics between the Wisteria brothers and their absent mother.

One-Shot

Worth his Weight in Rice by @claudeng80​ Rated T AU set in an Edo-adjacent Period where a disease has wiped killed off a significant portion of the male population. Resulting societal shifts occur. If you go into the comments, I have a couple of pages worth of reasons why I love this AU, but what I appreciate even more is how you have an absolutely perfect oneshot in this fic. It is a well-translated universe where we get a delightful clear, beginning, middle, and end, all in 5k. NOT an easy feat. Please enjoy.

Rare Pair

the fog pushing through my mind by @thelionshymnal​ Rated E Obi/Yuzuri, friends with benefits. Two pining idiots with some sore feelings decide to get stoned and take comfort in another warm body for the night. I just really enjoyed the casual intimacy of the encounter and how this is clearly neither of their first experiences with a one night stand. Neither of them are going to make it weird in the morning, they just need to take the edge off, ya know? Additional bonus for Obi being ready to stab the dumbasses who made Yuzuri feel like she was a weirdo in her past.

AU You Took a Chance On (And Now Love)

Lightning in a Bottle by @jhalya​ Rated M I mean, if Jules is gonna play dirty by making Obi the hot fish man running around without his shirt on 99% of the time, then of COURSE I’m going to enjoy Deep Blue Sea. It’s, like, one of my favorite movies now.

Favorite Trope

Moonshine Phantom by @leewritingrecs​ Rated T We got a murder muffin who ALSO used to be a sex worker? Sign me the fuck up, I am 1000% here for this. Also all the showgirls who clearly love their coworker and only want him and his adorable wife to have the best. They may have never heard of her before, but she looks sweet, and they all have a silent agreement between them that if she breaks his heart, they’ll cut her.

Fic That Gave You a New OTP

What the Heart Wants by @sabraeal​ Rated G Haruto/Mukaze. An attempted kidnapping and subsequent rescue makes Zen and Shirayuki painfully aware that their parents have had, at some point in their lives, sex. Izana may not be happy about someone banging his mom, but is HE rather pleased at having a new sister. >:3c

Pre-Canon

The Wolf in the Woods by @krispy-kream​ (YES I STILL HAVE THIS BOOKMARKED) Rated G Everyone knows that I have very delicate food feels and this ALMOST went under the Wept Real Tears category, but I like to spread out the crying as much as possible XD Shirayuki finds a boy at the edge of the wood and decides he needs something to eat. Filed under: Guaranteed to wreck me in 500 words or less.

[codevassie]

Superpower TS Fic Recs

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

[**Do Not Ask Authors for Updates!]

[*Leave these authors Comments, please and thank you!]

What You Can Stand by manyfandomsonelog

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary:  Virgil tried so, so hard to avoid becoming a supervillain. He really did. But when your superpower is literally manifesting a person's worst fears, it's a hard thing to avoid. Still, he really, really tried. Even when his own parents feared him. Even when the whole school feared him. Even when he hated himself and his Propensity so much that he wanted to give in. He might've succeeded, if he hadn't met him- Roman Reyes, AKA Roman Spectacular, AKA The Prince, AKA the worst thing that has ever happened to him (which is saying something).

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality 

CW: Psychological stuff, nightmares, bullying, physical harm, spiders, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, brief discussion of racism, self-hatred,  bomb, explosion, blood, injury, bad/abusive parenting, imprisonment, fire,  homophobia, pedophilia mention, discussion of child abuse, evidence of physical abuse, sexual innuendo, anxious thoughts, death, funeral, flashback, reference to sex, fairly aggressive arguing and yelling, public speaking, secondhand embarrassment

My thoughts: My quarantine savior!!! I started the fic like a week into quarantine, so I really mean that literally. The characterization is absolutely fantastic--I love seeing all of them interact. It’s so natural and fun and interesting. The plot is also just wonderful--one thing keeps happening after another and these guys just cannot seem to get a break. The pacing is awesome, and whether it’s a character or plot chapter, you just can’t look away. Log is such a fantastic writer and a wonderful person, so if you like awesome prinxiety, superpowers and secret identities, trust and betrayal, humor and angst, you really need to read this one! 

Rewind by ravenclawicecream 

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: When a group of superheroes show up to kill him, it's just another Wednesday for Virgil Messana. After five years of being on the run, he's used to the idea people want him dead. That fact is just an unfortunate side effect of having the power to destroy everything you touch. What does surprise him, however, is when he finds himself agreeing to join those superheros and become part of the team. It's not long until Virgil learns that all the heroes have chapters of their lives they'd rather keep unpublished, along with events they'd rather not relive. And, as he spends more time with the team, he realizes that he may know certain members much better than he'd originally thought. Virgil longs for a moment to figure everything out but by then it's too late. He's already caught up in a bigger scheme; one where they no longer have the power to control their own destinies. With every movement monitored and every action proven to be calculated, the lines between allies and enemies blur, leaving Virgil caught in between. When the stakes are inevitably raised, the remaining heroes must do all they can to change the future of the world. But time has always been a cruel master, and sometimes the only answer is to rewind.

Relationships: Loceit, Logicality, Prinxiety, Remile

CW: Major Character Death, Murder

My thoughts: Gosh, I wish this one got more love. It’s probably the MCD tag, so understandable, but also take into consideration the time travel tag and perhaps give it a chance? I feel like this fic is setting up for so much, and I cannot wait to see how it all goes down. I have so many questions for this fic which is always a good sign (so many that I may have freaked the author out with my WALL of questions on chapter three don’t worry about it /j). Please. Read. This. 

Powerless by patentpending 

Status: Complete

Summary: “People like us,” Logan had once remarked to Virgil. “Are statistical anomalies.”(Almost) Everyone in the world has powers. As for those who don’t, well, they’re such a small part of the population - only 0.04% - why would anyone care about them?Ever since he realized what people mean when they call him Powerless, Virgil Sanders has tried to fight back against the system that oppresses people like him, Patton, and Logan. When Patton’s bakery is targeted in a hate crime, he finally snaps. With the help of a mysterious sponsor, Virgil becomes a villain, ready to remake a broken society. The only thing standing in his way is the world’s most Powerful (and infuriatingly charming) superhero: The Prince, who is hiding the fact that his gilded life isn’t as perfect as it may seem.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Roman/Female Fanon Character 

CW: Classism, Unreliable Narrator, Thinly Veiled Criticism of Society,  emetophobia, violence, gun mention,  implied suicide attempt, dub-con, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of a riot, non-graphic description of a wound, possessive and abusive behavior, kid being kicked out of the house by parent, kidnapping, kinda torture (?), body horror, gore, graphic descriptions of injuries, emotional abuse, police brutality, pain and injury, burning building, swearing, vomiting, murder, panic attack, dysphoria, misgendering, minor character death, major character death, self deprecating talk, mentions of suicide

My thoughts: Well, doing a TS superhero rec without Powerless is just treason. I don’t know--I’m trying to figure out a way to describe it and instead launching up to pace around the room with an instant replay of different scenes in my head. I mean, the grocery store chapter?!?! This stuff lives in my head rent free. The characterization, the banter, the tension, the motives--I can’t describe it y’all. Just, if you love yourselves (love yourselves, please <3) then just go read it. Or reread it. Do that for yourselves. 

Waterspout by Greenninjagal

Status: Complete

Summary: "Hail!” The boy says all smug smiles that Virgil immediately hates. “You’re Recluse aren’t you?”As if there was some other spider themed weirdo who clung to buildings in their free time.“No,” Virgil says, because he can. *** Virgil finds himself stuck on the side of a building in a rainstorm and is helped by an annoying-admittedly attractive-guy.

Relationships: Prinxiety

CW: Mild cursing, storms

My thoughts: This one is very cute. Virgil is a spiderman-like hero who went up a waterspout, and down comes some rain trying to wash him out. Roman comes to help, they banter a bit, and, maybe, there’s a little surprise at the end. I would not mind more of this AU. In fact, I would love it. But that should not discount how wonderfully made a oneshot it is either. The author wrote it perfectly for the length it is, presenting the charm of the characters, great plot and symbolism, and left me wanting more at the same time. Definitely go check this one out. 

Technically. It’s A Secret by supervillain 

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Virgil Storm, the adopted son of a reality TV star with telekinesis was born without a power. That's been a problem for him all his life. His only friend is Patton Vega, his only chance at romance the irritating Cros Corson--until he gets a job at a top-secret facility, playing babysitter to a bunch of kids with dangerous powers and even more dangerous minds. Kids who happen to be exactly his age.Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake, especially when the enigmatic villain Believe (aka Roman Torres) takes a liking to Virgil. And even worse, when Virgil starts to more than like him back. Pull in some evil mad scientists, a plague created to decimate the world, a murderous villain, an obnoxious stalker, and the greatest Kinetic the world has ever known, and you're in for a hell of a ride.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality 

CW:  Anxiety attacks, arson, murder, minor character death, blood, spiders, being eaten alive, falling, death, sleeping, fighting, cop mention 

My thoughts: I’m behind on this one, and I wanted to catch up on it before I posted this rec list. Today is the last Friday of the year though, so I decided to just go ahead and do it. I love this fic a ton so far, and I can’t wait to read more. I can tell the author put a lot of thought into writing the world and characters, and that the plot is interesting and deliberate. There’s mysteries unfolding which intrigues me So Bad. It’s a super interesting one, so I’d say go read it!

[captainscanadian]

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 3)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: When an old friend stops by, you decide to revisit your past for the sake of writing inspiration. 

Word Count: 2100+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader, 

Warnings: Heartbreak, Bullying, Alcohol, Death

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup​‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

If anyone asked Rosie Bender what she valued the most in her life, she would always say that it was the people who had been a part of it. Regardless of whether she had just met the person or if she had known them her whole life, she had always believed in keeping people close. 

Being the social butterfly that she had always been, it was often a wonder why she hadn’t managed to leave this boring old town. But she had to blame her love for a certain Rebecca Barnes for keeping her in her hometown.

Becca had been the reason why Rosie and Bucky had gotten close. Although she had been in the same year as the man during high school, she had never really hung out with him. Truth be told, who would have hung out with him? Considering that he was the guy who had humiliated his best friend in front of the whole school, she had loathed him with a certain passion.

Back then, all he had cared about was hanging with the popular kids - and Rosie, as social as she was, she was considered one of the weirdos. But now, she had no choice but to accept that Bucky was an inevitable part of her life, being Becca’s brother and all. 

But that did not mean that this nurse could ever forgive her friend for the dickhead he used to be. While she hadn’t been close to you back in high school, she had certainly felt bad for you after the incident. A part of her had wanted to be the friend you would have needed at that time, though she had been unsure about approaching you when literally everyone had made you the joke of the school. How could she have gotten you to trust her when Bucky of all people had caused you so much pain?

Nevertheless, Rosie found herself walking up to your front door that morning. Whatever the issue that you had with Bucky, it was between him and you. She was not going to get involved in his business anymore. 

But she was not someone who could keep away from you, especially knowing that you’ve been back in town after a whole decade and that you were staying alone in your childhood home. She was certainly glad about your return to Shelbyville, that too in time for your ten year reunion. 

So, there she was, holding a basket of baked goods in her hand as you opened the door, her heart beating against her chest as she grew slightly nervous of how you would treat her, but giving you a smile nevertheless. “Hello, Y/N!”

“Rosie… what a surprise.” You raised your eyebrow. “What brings you here?” 

“I’m sorry to show up at your door unannounced. I’m sure you’re busy… with whatever you’re doing, painting the house- Nick told me that you were, not that I’ve been stalking you or anything.” She bit down on her bottom lip as she drew a sharp breath. “I just… I just wanted to stop by, because I didn’t get to speak to you the other day when I saw you at The Tavern, seeing that you pretty much stormed out of there… but I brought you some cookies?” 

You could not help but chuckle softly at how she was fumbling with her words. “Rosie, it’s okay… I really appreciate you coming by. I’ve been here a few days and it’s starting to feel lonely.” You admitted, accepting the basket of cookies from her and stepping away from the door to let her in. “Why don’t you come on in? I apologize for the mess. I still haven’t finished with the painting, you know, it’s just me.” 

Certainly relieved that you hadn’t shut the door in her face, the nurse stepped inside of your home and looked around. She hadn’t really been inside of it before, but from the way Bucky and Becca had described it, she understood that the pop of colour that she was now seeing was your doing. “I think it looks great.” She smiled, turning over to look at you. “It’s good to have you back here, Y/N.” 

You wouldn’t call Rosie Bender your close friend, but you had been acquaintances back when you were in high school. When your mother had been sick, she had been her nurse for some time and they seemed to have gotten quite close. “Thank you.” You smiled back at her as you led her towards the dining room, which had remained untouched by your attempt at home improvement and therefore lacking the pop of colour. “I don’t know if I can say that it’s good to be back, but it’s lovely to see a familiar face and not feel a certain sense of murderous rage.” 

Chuckling softly at your words, she nodded. “Oh I can imagine…” She could not help but agree, for she had been a witness to your worst nightmare on that dreadful day. “So, for how long will you be in town for?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you set down the basket of cookies. “I don’t know, really. I actually came out here to get some writing done for the last book of my series, but I saw the state the house was in and decided to fix it up.” You replied. “I’d say I should be here for a few months. I’m hoping to stay until I can meet my deadline.” 

She nodded, understandingly. “I have to say, I’m a huge fan of Hopeless. I’ve read all three of your books. It’s one of my favourite series.”

“Oh you’ve read them?” You asked, taken by surprise that she had actually read your books. Not that you wouldn’t have wanted anyone from your past to read your works, but you had assumed that the people you had left behind in Shelbyville wouldn’t have been willing to take a chance on your works. 

“Your mother used to have me read her the first book every night when she was first admitted.” She replied with a sigh. “She used to tell me that she wanted a part of her daughter to be there with her, and that if you couldn’t be there in person, your book would do. I only started reading them for her, but somewhere along the line, I fell in love with Hope Anderson and her own quest for love.” 

“And that reminds me…” You took a step towards her as you smiled, feeling your eyes glazing over for a moment. But you told yourself that you weren’t going to cry. “I never got to thank you in person, for taking care of my mother while I was gone. I know now that I’ve missed out on a lot of time that I could have had with her, but thank you for being there for her. I’m sure she really appreciated that.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” Rosie shook her head as she pulled you into a hug. “I was only doing my job, and I knew… I know what happened. I know why you left. I guess I kind of figured that you wouldn’t want to come back to what you left behind and I did my best to be there for your mother, because I knew you couldn’t.” 

You finally let the tears slip as you accepted her warm embrace. “I should have been there… but I couldn’t, I never wanted to come back here.” 

“I know…” She rubbed your back, gently. “But I’m sure your mother’s watching over you now. She’s probably glad to have you home again, Y/N. She wanted you to have the house. She told me that it’s why she never wanted to leave, no matter how many times you asked her to move out to LA. Now that you’re back here, and… you seem to be putting your personal touches to the house. I’m sure she’s happy, wherever she is.” 

Leave it to Rosie Bender for being so warm and comforting, just as she had been on that day ten years ago. Even though you weren’t friends, she had been someone who treated you like one. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know… I’m still a sobbing mess, aren’t I?” Pulling back from the hug, you were quick to wipe away your tears. “Can I make you some tea? I wasn’t expecting any visitors but I feel like it’s rude not to serve you anything.” 

“How about I make the tea and you help yourself to some cookies?” She chuckled softly as she walked towards the kitchen to put on the kettle. 

You nodded, grabbing yourself a snickerdoodle that still felt warm against your tongue as you took a bite. You immediately recognized them; they were Winnifred Barnes’ secret family recipe. “So, you and Becca, huh?” You asked, turning over to look at her. “How did that happen?” 

“Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either. I’ve known her since we were kids, but we never… we never realized that we had feelings for each other until we both finished college.” She replied, laughing softly. “You know what they say, sometimes the love of your life would be right before your eyes and you wouldn’t have any idea.” 

Now she may have said that on purpose, but she certainly played it off like an absentminded thought. 

“Yeah… you wouldn’t have any idea.” You agreed. 

Rosie poured two cups of tea before looking up at you. “Y/N, are you coming to the 10 year reunion next weekend?” She asked, curiously. 

She wondered if you even knew about the reunion, considering that she had left multiple voicemails to your LA office but you hadn’t returned any of her calls about whether you would be attending the reunion. 

“I wasn’t planning to.” You admitted, shrugging. “Do I really want to go there when I know that the people who made my teenage years miserable will all be there under one roof?” 

“You know, the Maximoff twins RSVP’d.” She informed you, cracking a smile at the thought of those two. “I don’t think those two would really qualify as people who made you feel miserable.”

“I see enough of Pietro and Wanda back in LA.” You clarified, laughing softly at the thought of the two people from high school whom you had still kept in touch with. “Wanda works for my Publisher and Pietro is a frequent guest at my book launch parties.” 

“Connie Chapman would be there.” 

You raised your eyebrow. “What?”

“She RSVP’d too, just thought I’d let you know, in case you needed a reason to be there.” She replied, setting down a mug in front of you before pulling herself a chair. “The invite still stands. I understand that you might not want to be there, considering what happened during senior year. But I would really appreciate it, if you could come… and show those people that you’re much more successful than all of them could ever be.” 

As you sipped your tea in silence, you pondered if you should really attend your ten year reunion. Surely, your senior year happened to be the worst years of your life - and you had wasted four years with a certain Ivan Petrov who couldn’t have bothered to put a ring on it. Not even your relationship with the ex-boyfriend who had inspired the plot of your second novel had been as bad enough as your senior year of high school. Was it really worth revisiting those memories for one night? 

Considering that the working plot of your fourth novel currently revolved around Hope Anderson revisiting her high school days and that your writer’s block had still gotten you to the point where you were killing the time by painting your house, you could certainly use the experience for a little more writing inspiration. The book was not going to write itself, and you couldn’t really figure out what to do with Hope and Jason’s story without having them attend their ten year reunion and face some harsh truths about their past. 

You were well aware that Bucky would be at the reunion. Having run into him at The Tavern, you had avoided having any kind of confrontation with him by drowning yourself in alcohol and dashing out of there before either of you could address the elephant in the room. But you knew that it was not best to avoid him for any longer. You needed to find closure for that chapter of your life, so you might as well find it at your ten year reunion. 

“Fine, I’ll be there.” You finally spoke up, making Rosie look up from her cup of tea with wide eyes. “I can’t promise that I’ll actually enjoy myself. But I don’t think I should be hiding away from those people for any longer.” 

What even was the point of hiding anymore?

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Resentment Ch. 1 (Ethan x MC)

Summary: After 2 months of not seeing each other, Ethan and Naomi do not have a pleasant reunion.

A/N: So...I’ve been writing this for the past 2 weeks. Open Heart 2 is ripe with angst and untapped drama. Tbh, this is my 5th draft, and I kept deleting and writing, and deleting and re-writing this, and I had to step away multiple times, as this was probably be one of my more draining fics to write. But anyway, if you’re still reading this long winded ass note, thank you lol. And enjoy, as always!

Tags: @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @doroshi-desu @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @dr-nancy-house @adrian-motherfucking-raines

~v~

Seeing Ethan Ramsey again nearly knocked the wind out of her. It feels like she saw a ghost. But here’s here, at Donahue’s, strolling through the garden as if this is any other night. As if he didn’t disappear off of the face of the earth for 2 months.

Naomi didn’t plan on having such a visceral reaction to seeing him, but she has little to no control over her body these days. Her heart speeds up, beating twice as fast, a cold sweat breaks out, starting at her forehead, and there’s the flip of her stomach and unmistakable taste of bile rising in her throat.

‘Do not throw up,’ she silently begs herself. ‘Do not throw up. Please, keep it together, Valentine.’

The chant doesn’t work, the nausea hitting her hard, like a wave crashing against the shore. She jumps out of her seat, ignoring the looks of confusion from her friends, and makes a beeline to the restroom, pushing past the other patrons at the bar. She barely makes it into a stall before she’s on her knees, emptying the contents of her stomach into a dirty public toilet.

Naomi isn’t sure how long she’s like this, embarrassingly clutching the toilet, but a knock at the stall door breaks her out of her trance. “It’s occupied!”

“It’s Sienna,” the voice on the other side says softly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door swings open slowly and Sienna attempts to squeeze into the small space. It’s a tight squeeze, but she manages to make it work.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Naomi mumbles weakly. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Yes I did,” Sienna argues. She helps Naomi to her feet and pulls at the roll of cheap toilet paper. She bunches it up and wipes the corner of Naomi’s mouth. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“I feel like I’ve just seen one,” Naomi quips back. “Let’s just say I did not expect to see Dr. Ramsey here tonight.”

“You didn’t know he was coming back?” Sienna asks. “I thought you two were close.”

Naomi thought they were close too. But she got ghosted. It was jarring, going from sleeping with Ethan and openly flirting with him, to him being her boss again, to him disappearing and cutting off all communication within a span of 3 days. “I thought we were too.”

“How do you think it’ll be, working with him tomorrow?”

“I have no idea what to expect,” Naomi replies honestly. “Hopefully the rest of the team is nice.”

Sienna lifts Naomi up, helping her stand on her feet again. They exit the stall and Naomi washes her hands furiously like she’s about to perform surgery.

They walk out of the bathroom, Sienna with a protective arm around her friend’s waist. The rest of their friends are now inside, at their usual booth.

They all stare at Naomi, and she hates it. Now they’re probably going to think of her as the weirdo who threw up upon seeing her boss (an ex-lover, though not everyone is privy to that information).

“You just missed the wildest shit,” Bryce says, almost breathless. “Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Thorne nearly got into a fight!”

That was the last thing Naomi expected to hear. “What?”

“Thorne was being a real creep, and he tried to feel up some young girl. He touched her and she broke his hand!” Elijah exclaims. “He got loud and rowdy, he pushed her down, and Ethan came out of nowhere, swooping in like freaking Batman. I thought he was going to snap Thorne’s neck at one point.”

“Where is the girl?” Naomi asks. 

“She ran out of here as soon as she could.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Naomi murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Are you okay?” Bryce asks. “I’ve never seen you get sick before.”

“Whatever virus is fermenting in your body, please keep it away from me,” Jackie says, not even giving Naomi the chance to respond.

“Jackie!” Sienna tsks in annoyance. “Have some compassion.”

“She’s either drunk or it’s the stomach flu,” Jackie says with a shrug. “She’ll survive a little teasing.”

“It’s okay, Sienna,” Naomi insists. She loves her friend’s protective nature, but it really isn’t necessary. “You don’t have to go into mother hen mode.”

“Fine. But I’m making you soup after work tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

Reggie announces last call, and the gang starts talking about their post-bar plans. Be it getting food, going downtown, or just going home. Naomi drowns out the conversation as her eyes settle onto Ethan. His back is turned to her and Naomi notices that he’s the only one left at the bar while Reggie is cleaning up.

“Does last call not apply to you?” Naomi asks, getting his attention.

“Reggie and I go way back. We have an arrangement,” Ethan says simply.

“An arrangement.” Naomi rolls her eyes as she repeats the words. “Is that what you call a friendship?”

“I don’t have friends. But...I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you were so inclined.”

Naomi weighs her options. She can go home and put this night behind her, or she can stay out with Ethan. And actually talk to him.

She turns back to her friends. “You guys go on ahead. I want to check in about tomorrow with Dr. Ramsey.”

She doesn’t believe that excuse for one second. And if her friends don’t believe it either, they don’t say anything. Sienna just tells her to not stay out too late, before they all leave, going their separate ways.

Once they’re gone, Naomi joins Ethan at the bar. She looks at, really looks at him. He’s still the same handsome guy, just more...rugged. He’s much more tan than she remembers, it looks like he’s gained weight—muscle, not fat—and he’s sporting an entirely new look.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a brand new Ethan Ramsey,” she muses.

Ethan looks down at his green jacket, a vast departure from the sweaters and button ups he usually wears.

“This jacket’s been through a lot with me,” he explains, toying with the sleeve.

“I like it.”

She doesn’t miss the way he perks up at the compliment, almost as if he was hoping she’d say something. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Duly noted. And the beard?”

Ethan doesn’t know why he needs her stamp of approval so badly, but the validation she gives him feels nice. He likes to know that she thinks he looks good.

“It looks good on you,” Naomi answers honestly. Ethan scratches the beard, his fingers flying towards it unconsciously at her words. He nods, soaking in her praise.

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Naomi looks around as an almost awkward silence settles between the two of them. She’s now actively aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them, alone.

“Why don’t we move this outside?” Ethan suggests, some of the tension dissipating. “It’ll be winter before we know it. Might as well enjoy the weather while we can. You want something to drink?”

Naomi’s stomach flips at the mention of alcohol. “You know what I want? A cup of ice water.”

Ethan’s eyebrow quirks up at the answer. They’re in a bar and she wants...water? He shrugs but heads behind the bar, nonetheless. Grabbing a Pilsner glass, he fills it to the top with ice and he also finds a bottle of water. He hands them off to Naomi. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They make their way outside. It’s so quiet now that everyone is gone. It feels peaceful. Ethan drops down in a chair near the fire pit and Naomi joins.

“I can see why you like it here.”

“Because nobody’s annoying me?” Ethan jokes.

“More or less,” Naomi concedes. “It’s peaceful.” Ethan nods in agreement. “So...how was it, being in the Amazon?”

“It was quite the experience. It kept me on my toes.”

“Fighting an epidemic in a different country sounds...thrilling. And scary. You’re brave for doing it.”

Ethan snorts. Naomi always manages to see the best in him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. “That wasn’t bravery.”

Naomi looks down at her lap. “You didn’t keep in touch. Two whole months without any form of communication seems extreme, don’t you think? Especially after everything that’s happened with us?”

“Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you.”

“192,” Naomi says. 

“Huh?”

“192. That’s how many times I’ve called you in the past 2 months. I also sent 75 texts and 30 emails. You could have responded to at least one of those.”

Hearing the numbers out loud makes Naomi feel ridiculous, like a stalker. And Ethan just feels...awful. He remembers his chest going tight every time he saw her name flash across his screen. He remembers the restraint it took him to not call her back, or reach out in any way. He needed to stay away. It was for the best, for both of them.

“Naomi, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start. Your professional development is too important to jeopardize it with whatever...what is was that we had.”

Ethan probably would’ve been better off taking this glass of ice water and throwing it in her face. The callousness in his voice chilled her to the core. “That’s how you’d describe it? As ‘whatever’?”

Ethan sighs heavily. Of course his relationship with the younger woman meant something to him, but if he was going to be her boss, they needed boundaries. There had to be a line.

“Pouring my heart out to you on multiple occasions and vice versa, secretly saving our boss’s life, you bringing Mrs. Martinez’s son to my ethics hearing, the sex, it all just culminates to a...whatever. What? Is what we went through just a casual experience in the life of Ethan Ramsey?”

“Of course not, but Naomi, I can’t go down this road with you again. We need to have a reset if things are going to work.”

She doesn’t know why the word ‘reset��� makes her laugh, but it does. She laughs, hard, almost maniacally, until her sides hurt and she can barely breathe. Ethan says nothing, staring at her in confusion.

“You know what, Ethan? Fuck you.”

That catches him off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me loud and clear. Fuck. You. You’re a coward. And a runner. You run at the slightest hint of something being hard, or if you have to face your own emotions and vulnerabilities. You run off, drinking yourself silly and keeping your head in the sand, and then you come waltzing back as if nothing happened, but guess what? Life still happens. There is no reset, no do-overs, no pauses. Time still moves forward.”

Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she wills herself to not cry in front of him. He doesn’t deserve any more of her vulnerability. She doesn’t know why it hurts so much, but it does. The idea of him moving through life as if what they shared was minuscule and insignificant burns. It causes a sharp ache in her chest she didn’t realize she had the capacity to feel.

“While you were in South America, ignoring the almost 400 pieces of correspondence I sent, I was still here, still dealing with shit, still caring about you, worrying about you and your safety every fucking day. I don’t have the luxury of turning my feelings on and off whenever I see fit, and I don’t get to delude myself into thinking I can turn back time.”

How many times are they going to play this game before she realizes she’s always going to be the loser? She and Ethan get close, he rejects her but leaves just enough space and opportunity to keep her hanging on.

Naomi wraps her arms around her midsection and slightly curls into herself. Not even her own embrace is soothing at this point. The rejection stings, and she feels...stupid. Why does she keep holding out hope for Ethan, hoping he’ll want her the same way she wants him? Why does she keep coming back, waiting diligently like a little puppy, nipping at his ankles for the slightest bit of attention? Maybe she’s just a glutton for pain.

“If you want to hit the reset button, you can do it by yourself. I’m not playing that game with you.” Naomi abruptly stands up, clutching onto the back of her chair for stability. “Goodnight.”

Panic settles in his chest. He doesn’t want things with her to end like this, with her hating him. He wants her to stay. He wants to take back everything he just said. “Naomi, I–”

“Save it!” Whatever he’s about to say, whatever line it is that’ll feed her just enough false hope to keep hanging on, she doesn’t want to hear it.

After gathering her belongings, she turns on her heel, looking for the exit. Her entire body is rigid, defensive and ready to strike at any given moment, and she feels like she’s going to throw up again, which is something she truly does not have time for.

She’s fully prepared to walk away from him with whatever shred of dignity she still has, but she stops herself. She turns around, facing Ethan again.

“I called you a lot while you were gone. I left countless voicemails until your mailbox was completely full. Did you listen to any of them?”

“I haven’t listened.” Ethan feels ashamed by the answer, and he refuses to meet her big doe eyes, opting to look at the ground.

Naomi doesn’t dwell on the answer. She shakes off the hurt, and powers through.

“Last Wednesday, at 5:21 am, I called. You obviously didn’t answer, and I left a message. I’ll set the scene for you because I’ll never forget the moment. I was sitting in my bathtub, crying, almost hysterically. It was the type of crying that gets Meryl Streep and Viola Davis Oscar nominations, the kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach. But I live with 3 other people, so I had to sob into a face towel until the worst of it passed. And then I called you. Logically, I knew you probably weren’t going to answer, but I figured one last Hail Mary couldn’t hurt so I did it anyway. 

In the voicemail, I practically begged you to talk to me. To answer at least one of my calls. It was so...desperate. And pitiful. The old Naomi would rather get buried alive than to ever be so emotionally available and needy, but I didn’t care. In that moment, I needed you, I needed solace that I thought only you could give me, but I know now that it won’t happen. You’re way too emotionally stunted and unavailable.”

She inhales, something shaky and full of vulnerability, and every bone in her body is screaming out to just shut the fuck up and turn away.

“But you didn’t answer, you didn’t acknowledge it, and I was just absolutely gutted,” Naomi continues. “Because had you answered that call, or called me back some time that day, I would’ve told you that I’m pregnant.”

With that confession, Naomi visibly deflates. It feels like a crushing weight has been lifted off of her chest.

But Ethan feels the exact opposite. Unable to move, he gapes at Naomi. “You-you’re what?”

“Pregnant. 9 weeks, 5 days. It’s the size of an olive at this point, and before you ask, yes, it’s yours.”

Paternity hadn’t even crossed his mind at this point. He’s still stuck on the fact that she’s pregnant. 

“So while it hurts to know what you want a reset, and to pretend we didn’t share anything, it is also literally impossible to do so,” Naomi says with a humorless chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ve received the message loud and clear. See you at work tomorrow, Doctor. Oh, and congratulations.”

Ethan watches as she leaves, even though he calls her name, asking her to stay. His chest feels tight like someone is squeezing him from the inside, and he struggles to inhale. The revelation stifles him, and he can’t get his bearings.

Unable to do much else, Ethan falls back into his chair. Despite trying his damnedest to get things back on track, it feels as if he’s made everything so much worse.

[prettyboongi]

Obligatory 100+ Followers Post!!! Hell Yeah~

Happy weekend everyone!

I’ve been meaning to make this post earlier but sometime during the week, my blog reached a little bit over 100 followers! (⊙ꇴ⊙) I cannot tell you the joy I felt when I saw the follower count go from a two digit number to a three digit one. As I’m writing this, the follower count is actually now closer to 200 (⑉⊙ȏ⊙) Like what the heck?! I honestly feel I don’t deserve this. Like seriously I don’t. But I’m super happy nevertheless. 

I first started this blog around the first week of quarantine. When it turned out the quarantine was going to last much more than 2 weeks as I was originally told, that gave me more time to devote myself to this blog. I’m relatively new to fanfiction writing and, after reading some amazing BTS fanfic, I wanted to try my hand at it. Not only it was fun writing these stories, it really helped me keep my sanity during these crazy times. And with the world becoming increasingly more insane, and also my own personal issues getting in the way, I rely on this blog more than ever. And I know I’m not the only one having a rough time. For anyone that has read my fic as a way to escape from their lives, please remember that you’re not alone and that we can all get through these hard times together. I’m so thankful for my readers and I can’t wait to see this blog continue to grow! (ᗒᗨᗕ)

Special thanks 

There’s a few people that I really wanna give a nice shout out to

♥ @krreader​ -This is gonna seem so random to you, you probably don’t even remember me. But when I was first starting out, I asked for advice and I always kept what you said to me in my mind. And now I feel like it’s paying off lol But really though, I love your writing so much, you’re one of the first fanfic writers I followed. Good luck on everything you’re dealing with right now. 

♥ @cheonjae-min​ - I am so glad I took the chance to message you on here. I was so scared that you were going to think I was some weirdo and ignore me. But to my luck, you’re actually a very sweet and special person. It’s probably too early to say but I really do consider you a friend and I hope our friendship continues to grow. 

♥ @soft-hard-peaches​ - god I hate getting all mushy and you definitely know that about me. Thanks for introducing to these seven nerdasses and for scandalizing me with smutty fanfiction. Thank you for encouraging me to start a blog and putting up with me constantly pleas for help. I know I irritated you to no end but it’s because I’d be lost without you. It’s almost like we’re sisters. Wait… 

And of course thank you to all of my followers and anyone who stopped by to read my terrible stories (๑♡3♡๑) Gang!

xoxo gwen 

[cultureaddictconfessions]

Uncertain Love - Cubicles CYO Ending #1

(As requested by readers, I’m posting all the endings for Cubicles! I hope you enjoy them, and I am excited to bring you more choose your own ending fics in the future. Shoot me a message if you want to be tagged. Stay tuned! xoxo, Bri)

The party was in full swing, and thanks to the couple of drinks bubbling in your system, you were feeling much more chatty and confident. You flitted through the party, chatting with everyone as you went along. You couldn’t help but notice that James was sticking close to his friends, even though plenty of the girls (and honestly, some guys) were pining from afar. He had been so friendly with Mary earlier that you were surprised he wasn’t mingling more. Plus, he’s a known flirt. Feeling a little bold, you sauntered over to the group of guys with a grin. “Hey lads, how about we liven up this scene with a round of shots?!” Remus looked at you surprised, but Sirius and James immediately crowed with joy and dragged everyone over to the bar to grab glasses. James and Sirius went through the party and handed each person a drink before heading up to the DJ booth. James grabbed the mic and people in the crowd started cheering. “Hi gang! Thank you all for coming! I’ve always wanted the place I work to be somewhere that I enjoy, and where I feel like I can make connections and a difference in the community. That’s why I plan these events, so we can all let off steam and get to know each other! If you ever have any suggestions for things you’d like to see at a future event, don’t hesitate to reach out to me; I’m a friendly guy, I promise!” James winked, pausing his speech for a moment as you heard a nearby group of girls squealing, prompting an involuntary eye roll. Then you noticed James look over at you, a warm smile planted on his face. “Now before we take our communal drink, I just wanted to give a little shoutout to my partner-in-decorating, Y/N Y/L/N, who is an absolute dear for helping me get this whole setup together. Wouldn’t have been half as fun without you, so thanks for putting up with my crazy antics.” You felt a blush creeping over your face as people turned to look at you, smiling and cheering. You didn’t hear the words that came next, from Sirius this time, but everyone counted down swiftly from 3 before knocking back their shots. You quickly mirrored them, feeling the firewhisky slide down your throat like a shooting star. You felt your pupils dilating as the alcohol hit your stomach, and you slowly tipped toward the edge. Now seemed like the best time to confront James about earlier, after that rather heartfelt toast. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found, so you wandered through the activities until you happened upon the photo booth that James had been working in earlier. You decided to slip in and recollect yourself. Perhaps you’d had more than you thought… “Merlin’s beard is this thing even on?! I better not have to pay for this or…” Just then, the curtain slid open to reveal a red-faced James Potter. You stared at him slackjawed, feeling your face begin to mirror his. “Oh gosh, sorry Y/N, I didn’t realize you were already in here. I’ll go…” But as he started to turn, you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside, reaching across him to yank the curtain shut. He looked at you nervously. It was almost cute how he was so flustered. “What’s up with you? I feel like we were having a good time earlier, and then as soon as Mary showed up, we got awkward. And then you made that sappy toast in front of everyone!! Was it something I did or said?” You murmured, looking away at the screen in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the confusion wash across James’ face before he seemed a little frustrated. You swallowed anxiously. “Well, you’re the one who seemed rather peaked when Mary asked if we were having a moment, Y/N. I just played along so as not to make you more uncomfortable than you already seemed to be.” There was a bit of bitterness in his tone, but also a dose of sadness, and you now wondered why you’d gotten so distant then. Not that it excused the way James had responded, which made your temper flare up again. “Yes, well you didn’t have to act so keen on her arriving, you know! I know what they say about you sometimes, and I wanted to believe that it wasn’t true! But maybe they were right…” You spat this out at him before looking morosely at your shoes. The stunned look on his face was quickly replaced by one of determination. He reached out and took your chin, turning your face towards his. He leaned forward and you inhaled. “Listen, Y/N, I like you. I asked you to help me set up for the party as a ruse to spend time with you. I thought that was rather clear, but I guess it’s a gesture that friends do as well. But I want to be very direct with you. I arranged the whole party as a chance to talk to you. I knew that…” James paused for a second, looking twisted around. “Your best friend doesn’t like me very much, so I needed a venue where she wouldn’t be present so I could actually talk to you… alone. I’m sorry if you thought I was being flirty with Mary; that’s just in my nature. It was a nervous, and if I’m being honest, somewhat wounded response to you blowing off the moment. Which was incredibly immature of me, but sometimes I just can’t help myself. I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry for going to all the trouble to get your attention because here you are.” Exhale. He looked at you desperately, and you felt his shaky breath on your nose. It smelled of liquor and candy, and suddenly it was the best thing in the world. You leaned forward and pressed your mouth across his, a smile warming its way over your lips. His response was stalled, surprised probably, and without realizing it, one of you tripped the photobooth and the second you opened your mouth to him, the light flashed. You pulled apart swiftly, staring at the screen. Another flash, and suddenly you were laughing. James couldn’t help joining you, and with the last flash, the moment was sealed. You turned back to him, and he leaned forward again for a rather heady kiss. Your brain was dancing, thick with affection or alcohol. James sighed, brushing away a lock of your hair. “As much as I’m enjoying this, what do we do about Evans? I… don’t want to ruin your friendship. Girl power and all that…” You pursed your lips, ruminating on this inconvenient truth. Lily would probably never accept you going out with James. Why shouldn’t your happiness matter though? Maybe once you felt things out with him, you could tell her. You didn’t really want to lie or keep a secret from your best friend, no matter how much you liked this weirdo sharing the photobooth with you. “Well James, I think, for now, this can be our little secret. Who doesn’t love a little danger once in a while?” You chuckled, and he gave you a smug look before recapturing your lips. ——————————————————————————————————— Tag List @supremequeenofthenerds​, @wizardwritings​, @couragetocontinue​, @fudgefight​, @lionnottheanimal​, @crtreg​, @shehassomuchsoul​, @formersovietunion​, @serenefreakgeek, @bibimagines​

———————————————————————————————————

(In an effort to keep the “secret” element of the stories, I will only be linking to each ending in the main post, so check there if you want to read more endings!)

[smallblueandloud]

on that bumpy road to love

summary: “And- you are?”

“I’m Eleanor,” she says, and holds her hand out. “I’m the Architect here.” The capital letter is obvious. “Welcome to the Good Place, Chidi.” 

(or, five times someone in chidi's afterlife was a really big weirdo and he didn't know what to do about it)

relationships: chidi/eleanor, chidi & everyone in team cockroach (although he doesn’t know what that is, lol)

notes: the song to listen to is 'they can't take that away from me' (the sarah vaughan version), which i like to think was comforting to eleanor during the course of this fic. behind the scenes, obviously. 

oh, man, this one took me a long time. i've had the idea for this fic since the season ended, and google drive says i created the doc in FEBRUARY, so uh, take from that what you will lol. i just really love the idea of outsider pov, and outsider pov + amnesia = the best tropes in existence.

check out the notes for the ao3 link! (which will include the italics as i wrote them instead of how i had to redo them for this post. i promise you, i’ll have missed some.) and feel free to like/reblog/leave the vaguest impression of happiness, like the faint notes of a flower’s fragrance on a summer’s breeze, on this post - i’m not picky. thanks for reading <3

1. Janet

Chidi opens his eyes.

He’s sitting on a couch, in a small, beige room. There are three notable things about where he is: a lot of potted plants, a door to his right, and big, friendly, green letters on the wall in front of him that read Everything is fine.

Yeah, right, he thinks, bracing himself for the usual anxiety spiral. The last thing he remembers, he was going to his friend’s wedding, and the fact that he’s here and not there means-

Nothing. It means nothing. It doesn’t matter that he’s at his friend’s wedding, because he’s here, and everything is fine.

Scratch that. There’s a fourth notable thing: the anxiety that has plagued Chidi his entire life is gone. There’s nothing - no butterflies in his stomach, no sweaty palms, not even an anxious rant directed at the plants. He doesn’t even have anxiety about his lack of anxiety.

He doesn’t know where he is. And he’s not panicking. He has to take advantage of this, immediately.

He’s sitting there, trying to memorize how it feels to just be without freaking out, when the door to his right opens. A blonde woman pokes her head out and looks straight at him.

(He doesn’t even feel the need to apologize for his presence. What’s wrong with him?)

“Chidi?” she asks, smiling. Chidi nods. She jerks her thumb behind her. “Come on in.”

As he follows her, he notices several things: a portrait of a white man who looks like a stoner on the wall, a bowl of paper clips in the corner, and the sheer normalcy of the blonde woman now sitting at the other side of the desk, which seems very out of place in this strange, anxiety-less set of rooms. What is going on?

He sits down in the only other chair (thank god for small mercies - no choices needed). Then he adjusts his position. Then he does it again.

“You okay there, buddy?” asks the woman, looking like she’s trying not to smile. Chidi laughs, sort of nervously, and realizes that the anxiety is back. Oh, great.

“When I opened my eyes, I felt really- uh- calm,” he says, hearing his voice get higher without knowing how to stop it. “And there was only one chair, so I didn’t think about- I didn’t have to- well, now the anxiety’s back? I don’t know how to-”

He can feel himself spiraling, so he takes a deep breath, drying his hands on his pants, and starts at the beginning.

“Uh. Where am I?”

The woman smiles, settling her hands onto the table in front of her, very carefully. “You, Chidi, have died.”

“Oh,” says Chidi, feeling unsurprised. That’s weird. Everything here is weird. Why is everything here weird?

“You’re now in the afterlife,” she says, and then frowns. “In the Good Place, that is.” She smiles again, and shoots him a thumbs up. “You made it! Good job!”

Chidi doesn’t know what to say to that, so his brain turns to the nearest thing to comment on in order to avoid processing. “They speak French in the afterlife?”

She laughs quickly, and for the first time he notices that she seems sort of nervous. “No, no, this place automatically translates whatever someone says into a language you’re comfortable in. I’m speaking English now.”

“Oh,” he says, nodding. And then: “And- you are?”

“I’m Eleanor,” she says, and holds her hand out. “I’m the Architect here.” The capital letter is obvious. “Welcome to the Good Place, Chidi.”

“...Thank you,” he says, shaking her hand, sort of awkwardly, because it’s just a little too close for him to stretch out his arm but far enough that he can’t really keep his elbow close, either. “I have- uh- a lot of questions? First, uh-”

Eleanor holds up a finger. “I’m gonna have to stop you there, buddy. I have a few more residents to get ready for, so I’m going to introduce you to Janet, and you can ask her all of those questions. She can also give you a tour of the neighborhood.”

Chidi nods, slowly. The Architect seems very competent, and he always does well around people who are good at their jobs.  “Okay.” He stretches out the first syllable of the word and pats his thighs, the way he does when he’s starting to calm down, and that helps even more.

Eleanor smiles at him, seeming to understand that. “Great. Janet?”

A woman pops into existence right next to her. “Yes, Eleanor?”

“She- she just appeared,” says Chidi, tearing his eyes away from the woman in the purple dress. He’s not feeling relaxed anymore. In fact, he’s feeling dangerously close to having a full-out panic attack, and he doesn’t like that. “She just- appeared, out of nowhere? In plain sight? Is that even-”

“Remember, you’re in the afterlife, buddy?” asks Eleanor. For the first time, her calm demeanor is starting to really crack - her voice sounds panicked, and she reaches out a hand as if to touch his arm before pulling it back, quickly. “Chidi? Can you hear me?”

Chidi takes a deep breath, and then another one, and then chances a look at the strange, physics-defying woman. She smiles at him, calmly, and that helps. “Y- Yeah, I can hear you.”

“Good,” says Eleanor. “This is Janet. She’s not a resident, and she was never alive - she’s just here to answer any and all questions you have, about- Janet, what is your formal job description?”

“I am the source of all information and knowledge for humans within the Good Place,” says Janet, in a calm voice. Chidi’s shoulders relax. “I can also provide you with any object as requested.”

“Wow, your voice is really soothing,” says Chidi. Janet nods. “I am designed to be as helpful as possible to both the residents of this neighborhood and the Architect. To do that, I have a soothing voice and no real emotions, so I won’t judge you for whatever questions or requests you may have.”

“That’s- thank you,” says Chidi, and then he realizes he’s still leaning away from her, as if in self defense. He consciously moves back to the middle of his chair and smiles at her, apologetically. “Sorry, I’m still not- uh- over the whole appearing-disappearing thing. You just- show up? Out of nowhere?”

“Yep!” says Janet, smiling, but it’s smaller now. “Just say my name, and I’ll be there.” She glances at Eleanor, looking almost nervous - she must have simulated emotions, he realizes - and the Architect smiles at her, reassuring.

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” says Chidi.

“It’s my job,” says Janet, and takes a deep breath like she’s bracing herself for something. Which is weird, because he’d assume she doesn’t have to breathe. “Now, just for safety reasons, I have to do a little checkup on you.”

Before Chidi has time to consider what that might mean, she’s right next to him, and she’s asking questions faster than he can keep up.

“How are you feeling? Have you ever met anyone from Jacksonville? What’s the last thing you remember? Do you feel in any danger of spontaneously bursting into flames? Do you have a strong urge to drink almond milk? Does the name Shawn mean anything to you? What is the Time Knife? What-”

“Janet!” interrupts Eleanor. She mimes a cut it out gesture, looking worried. He doesn’t know why she’s bothering. He’s confused, but he’s not going to panic again over just some weird questions. “Tone it down, dude.”

“Sorry,” says Janet, and backs away, her face starting to crumple into tears. “I’m just so nervous about this experiment-”

“Janet!” says Eleanor, her voice getting more urgent. “Stop talking.” She turns back to Chidi, noticeably forcing a smile onto her face. “Why don’t you go explore the neighborhood, bud?”

He hesitates. It feels like something’s going wrong. Janet seems to be too emotionally volatile for someone with fake emotions. “Is everything okay?” asks Chidi, frowning. “Didn’t she say she doesn’t have emotions?”

“She doesn’t!” says Eleanor, louder than necessary. “I don’t know where you’re pulling this stuff out of, dude! Just- go explore the neighborhood - here’s a map, okay, bye!”

Chidi finds himself unceremoniously dumped back into the room that he woke up in. He spends a few seconds standing there, baffled, before noticing another door, opposite the one into Eleanor’s office.

Time to go exploring, I guess, he thinks, and tries not to think about his diagnosis of directional insanity. He glances back at the door, where he’s pretty sure he can hear raised voices belonging to both Eleanor and Janet. They sound upset, although he can’t imagine what about.

He can’t stop thinking about how weird Janet was just acting. If she’s only supposed to be pretending to have emotions, why was she pretending to have such weird ones?

And why is she yelling at Eleanor now? he thinks, and then shrugs. He’s in actual, literal heaven now. Maybe it’s time he started to accept that some things are out of his control.

Time to explore, he tells himself, and pushes open the door.

-

2. Tahani

Chidi has a tiny apartment in the middle of the neighborhood, and it’s kind of perfect. Which is weird, because determining a dream home involves a lot of choices that he knows he would never be able to make in a normal situation and-

He’s just grateful it seems to have showed up out of nowhere, with no conscious input from him. Eleanor really knows what she’s doing, and it’s comforting to have something nice for once without having to go through the anxiety beforehand.

Speaking of which: the usual anxiety seems to have calmed down. Significantly. It’s not absolutely gone, not the way it was when he woke up, but he’s able to make small choices with almost no freaking out. His theory is that since Janet created the whole neighborhood and everything in it, he doesn’t have to worry about repercussions like supporting the exploitation of workers in China or giving money to homophobic business owners.

He’s not sure, though - so he’d asked Janet what she thought the cause was, since she knows everything there is to know in the universe. But she apparently doesn’t know everything, because she’d stammered for a few seconds before saying that residents tend to keep their emotional state from their last few seconds and that he probably died perfectly at peace.

Which can’t be true. Chidi wasn’t at peace for a day in his life. Plus, he doesn’t even remember his death because traumatic memories hinder adjustment to the neighborhood. Eleanor had refused to go into any sort of detail, which only made him more sure that Janet’s theory was wrong.

He didn’t have to tell that to her, though. She’d winced as soon as she said it and changed the subject to meeting the other residents.

“I have a few that I think you’ll hit it off with,” she’d said, her voice sounding conspiratorial, before getting his permission to invite two people to his apartment: Jianyu, a Buddist monk who’s sticking with his vow of silence, and Tahani, a former British socialite who’s planning a welcome party in a few days. 

“I’d host it tonight, but we still have two residents who haven’t arrived yet,” says Tahani, her gracious smile never wavering. She had ducked under his doorway with the same ever-present grace, but Chidi had gotten the distinct feeling that she was holding back several comments about how small his apartment was. “Isn’t that right, Eleanor?”

For some reason, Eleanor had tagged along. Chidi’s chalking it up to making sure no one starts off on the wrong foot.

“Huh- oh, yeah,” says Eleanor, studying the pictures on Chidi’s walls. “Where were these taken?”

“In my home city, in Senegal,” says Chidi. It’s weird that she doesn’t know about his decorations, given that she designed the whole neighborhood, including this ideal apartment. “That’s me and my parents. Why?”

“Oh- just curious,” she says, glancing at him, and goes straight back to staring at the wall. Tahani swats Eleanor’s arm, quickly, as if in reproach, and then looks back at him, her smile intact. Jianyu keeps grinning at her side. The monk had spent the first five minutes poking Tahani until she’d whispered something very fast and angry-sounding about pizza and he’d calmed down. “Please disregard her rudeness. I’d love for you to come to the party. It will just be a small get together, but formal dress, please-”

“Yes,” says Chidi, feeling slightly awkward. “Of course.”

“I’m so glad to see you arrived safely,” she says. How does she talk through a smile that big? “We were really quite concerned - strange circumstances surrounding your death, you know.”

“I... don’t, actually,” he says, slowly. “No one will tell me how I died.” He stops. “Do you... know... how I died, Tahani?”

She looks at him for a second, somehow looking like a very wealthy deer caught in headlights, before she laughs awkwardly and waves her hand dismissively. “No, of course not! How silly of you to think so. No, I only assumed- since, after all, Eleanor was so- well, anyways, it doesn’t matter much. You will come to the party?”

“Yeah,” says Chidi. He hesitates, but he has a bad feeling about the way that she just dodged his question, and anyway, it’s heaven, the anxiety is still at a low boil, and if Chidi can’t be a little rude here, where can he?

He takes the leap before he overthinks it. “Any other reason why you’re all in my apartment?”

“No!” says Tahani, brightly. She doesn’t seem terribly offended, just artificial. “We’re leaving now. Come along, Jianyu,” she says, grabbing him by the elbow. As Chidi watches, Jianyu gives him a wide smile and then bows slowly, before Tahani drags him out.

Eleanor doesn’t move.

“Uh- Eleanor?” he says. She doesn’t react. “Eleanor?” He reaches forward to tap her on the shoulder, and she jumps about a foot into the air. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says, without turning around. Her voice sounds watery.

“Um. Eleanor. Do you... need anything?”

“What?”

“Tahani said there are still two residents who haven’t arrived yet,” he says. “Shouldn’t you be- I don’t know, preparing or something?”

“Right,” she says, turning around quickly. Her eyes are dry, which is slightly surprising for reasons he doesn’t understand. “Fork! You’re right. Oh, I gotta go,” she says, hurrying to the door. Right before she gets to it, though, she flips around to look at him. “Thanks for hosting us. I know Tahani can be a handful sometimes.”

“No- problem?” he says, curious despite himself, because it sounds like their Architect has known those two for much longer than a couple of hours. “How long have they been here?”

“Not long,” she says, and spins around just as quickly as she’d dodged his question. “Bye!”

Then she pulls the door open and disappears through before he can register what’s happening. It strikes him as odd, sure, but next to what just happened with Tahani - maybe not so strange.

I can’t believe I’m stuck with these weird people for the rest of time, Chidi thinks, and then, since there’s not much he can do about it, goes to see a man about some frozen yogurt.

-

3. Michael

“Ah, Chidi,” says Tahani, gliding over to him in a blue dress that could be described as a wedding cake, if a wedding cake could have an excellent sense of fashion and a British accent. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“This place is huge,” he says in response. He’s kind of incapable of saying anything else. “I’m sorry, I’m just- your house is enormous.” It’s not that he’s jealous, it’s just that - he’s taught in lecture halls smaller than this foyer.

“Isn’t it just?” says Tahani, beaming. “Well, make yourself at home!” she says, patting his chest. And then she moves away, presumably to welcome someone else.

Easier said than done, he thinks, looking around. Tahani invited every resident to her welcome party, and it seems like all 322 of them have shown up. The decorations are exactly tasteful, all of the attire is appropriate, and the music is perfect. It reminds Chidi of one of the fundraising galas his university used to host, only actually appealing; he’d always hated them back then, but tonight, he wants to get to know the people he’s going to be spending eternity with. So he puts his best foot forward and walks in.

Except, pretty quickly, he gets stuck in a conversation with a woman named Helena, who seems perfectly nice but has been saying absolutely nothing for five minutes. Coincidentally, Chidi has been silently discarding his ideas of being social for four and a half minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Eleanor and quickly makes his excuses, sending a silent thank you to- well, probably Janet, if anyone.

She jumps when he says hello from her left, and he sees that there’s an older white man on her right arm as she puts a hand on her chest and smiles at him.

“Sorry,” he says, smiling slightly. Don’t make me leave. “Didn’t realize you had a date.”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” says Eleanor, glancing at the man next to her, who looks like he’s just been handed a pin and a grenade, separately. “No, this is Michael. He’s- he’s my partner Architect. I’m the newbie and he’s the experienced one,” she says, laughing slightly. She nudges him. “Say hello to Chidi.” Her voice is gentle.

“Hello, Chidi,” says Michael, getting over himself enough to wave both of his (very large) hands awkwardly. “It’s very nice to meet you.” His smile seems strained.

He’s very tall, has glasses, and is wearing a grey suit with a black bow tie. The clear symptoms of anxiety he’s showing make him look very harmless. Chidi likes him instantly.

“I like your bowtie,” he says, trying to make conversation. Please don’t make me go back to Helena, he thinks, and immediately feels guilty.

“Thank you, Chidi. Although it is rather plain,” says Michael, and something in his voice eases the guilt. “But then again, we are mourning. Your deaths, that is!” His laugh is loud, but when neither Chidi nor Eleanor join him, it peters out quickly, before something else hits him and he raises his left hand like he’s a fictional lawyer about to present episode-changing evidence. “And it matches Eleanor’s dress, which itself perfectly illustrates the human concept of irony.”

Chidi glances at Eleanor’s completely black dress, which is sleeveless and has some sort of tie in front. He doesn’t recognize it at all. He also doesn’t get the joke, although Eleanor evidently does, because she hits Michael’s arm with the back of her hand, softly. “That’s not funny.”

“I guess not,” he says, his gaze settling on Chidi. They stand in silence for a minute, awkwardly, until Chidi manages to think of something to ask him. “How did you and Eleanor-”

Michael looks away from him, his gaze falling on something over Chidi’s shoulder. “Oh look, Janet needs our help!”

With that, he clamps his hand over Eleanor’s shoulder and rushes her away. Chidi turns, but can’t see any hint of their resident Google.

Consciously, he shrugs it off and looks away. His feelings aren’t especially hurt - if Michael needs to take a breather, Chidi understands more than most. 

Anyway, even though he doesn’t know who the last two residents are, he feels like he should welcome them, and hopefully save them from any extended encounters with the very odd people who live here.

Maybe they’ll even be slightly interesting, he thinks, and that’s what finally gets him to square his shoulders and start to search.

-

4. Jianyu

A few hours later, Chidi’s taking a break from wandering around the party. Everyone here is really nice, but rather boring, or as in the case of the two new residents, sort of annoying, and he has a bad feeling that the majority of intellectuals didn’t actually manage to make the cut into the Good Place.

He leans against the wall, thinking about asking Janet about where Kant ended up, and hears voices - Eleanor and Tahani’s, to be specific. They’re standing outside, he supposes, and this wall just happens to be thin enough that he can hear what they’re talking about.

“Eleanor!” says Tahani. She sounds exasperated. Chidi’s never heard her show so much genuine emotion, and it’s surprising enough that he leans closer. Against his better judgement.

“What, Tahani? What do you have to say to me?” hisses Eleanor. “How can you possibly understand-”

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself!” Tahani interrupts, sounding imperfect and unsmiling and worried. “You can’t, darling. You can’t keep watching that godforsaken video from Michael every day-”

“I do what I want-”

“You’re torturing yourself-”

“Well then, I fit in just right, don’t I?” says Eleanor, her voice low, and even Chidi knows that sentence was meant to wound. “Look, you need to get the fork out of my life and let me take care of myself, ashhole. Capiche?”

There’s a moment or two of silence that certainly sounds very stunned.

“I’m your friend, Eleanor,” Tahani says eventually, her voice quiet. “I’m your friend, and even if I may not understand, I’m here for you. That’s how this works, right? How we become better?”

Eleanor doesn’t say anything.

“It’s what we owe to each other, even if we’re all hurting,” says Tahani. The words sound vaguely familiar and he’s not sure why. “You know that.”

Chidi hears nothing, and then sniffling, and then something that sounds like Eleanor swatting Tahani’s shoulder. “You’re such a bench.”

“You know I’m right,” Tahani says. Her British accent makes it sound arrogant, even though he figures she meant it teasingly.

How long has she been here, anyways? Because it sounds like they’re really close.

“Yeah,” says Eleanor, and her voice gets quieter. “I guess I do.”

There’s a long period of silence. Chidi’s leaning closer, trying to determine if they’re just whispering, when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“I’m not eave-” starts Chidi, whipping around, but it’s just Jianyu the monk, smiling at him very wide. He’d thought he’d heard something about a vow of silence, but apparently that wasn’t true, because Jianyu waves and says, “Hey, dude!”

“Hi,” says Chidi, hesitantly. Something about this guy strikes him as weird. “Look, this isn’t-”

“How do you like the pizza?” asks Jianyu. “I asked for Tahani to get it so you could have some.”

“It’s... good,” says Chidi, feeling very lost. “Uh- why?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember pizza,” says Jianyu, as if it’s obvious. “Because you don’t remember anything else. Like how you think my name’s Jianyu-”

“Jianyu! Hey, buddy,” says Eleanor, from behind him. Chidi jumps - he hadn’t even heard her coming. “Remember what we’ve talked about? About Chidi and the other residents? We don’t-”

“We don’t talk about the Judge, or Mindy, or Derek,” says Jianyu, making a face. Then he brightens. “Or about me and my girl J-”

“That’s good enough,” interrupts Eleanor. “Thank you, Jianyu, you can go mingle now.”

Jianyu doesn’t move. “This reminds me of that time when we were planning this surprise party for my friend Pillb-”

“Pilibuster,” interrupts Eleanor, reaching out and grabbing Jianyu’s upper arm, glancing back at Chidi. “It’s Irish. He was the foreign asphyxiate at Jianyu’s monastery.” She turns her eyes up towards the ceiling. “Janet, please help me out here.”

“Did you mean novitiate?” asks Chidi, but Eleanor ignores him in favor of Janet, who’s just appeared.

“What do you need, Eleanor?” she asks. Eleanor sighs, her shoulders barely relaxing. “Can you take Jianyu home, please? I think he’s had enough excitement for tonight.”

There’s a pause. Chidi almost says something, like Are you okay, Janet?, but she starts to speak.

“Sure thing,” says Janet, nodding more than seems necessary. “No problem. I can take Jianyu to his house. The house that I know the location of. Which I only know the location of because I am omnipotent, and know everything. No other reason.”

“Janet.”

“We’re leaving now,” says Janet, turning around quickly. “Goodnight, Chidi.”

Jianyu waves over his shoulder as he’s marched away, with much more enthusiasm than Chidi thinks the action really deserves. He watches them go, feeling totally baffled. “What just happened?”

Eleanor sighs. “Trust me, bud, you don’t want to know.”

-

5. Eleanor

“This is your house?” asks Chidi, walking inside. It’s his third month in the neighborhood, and this is the first time he’s ever visited Eleanor’s house. “This is your house?”

Eleanor makes her way to the kitchen, starting to put dishes away. “Yeah, I know.”

“You- but- you hate clowns!”

“Yeah,” says Eleanor, absent-mindedly. “It’s sort of an- an inside joke.”

“You live in an inside joke?”

“It’s- it’s really not a big deal, bud- Chidi.”

Chidi looks up from his examination of the corner of clown portraits, because Eleanor doesn’t stutter often. Sure enough, she’s stopped what she’s doing, the way that she always does when she stutters or hesitates or looks at him like he’s not who she’s expecting to be there.

“It’s- it’s a nice house,” he says, lamely, because he never knows what to do in these situations. He’s not even sure why he’s here - she’d asked him over yesterday, with zero explanation. He’s hoping it’s not because he’s teaching ethics to someone who definitely doesn’t belong in her perfect heavenly neighborhood.

“Thanks,” she says eventually, emerging from wherever she was. “If you don’t know what to say, I get the feeling. Michael designed it, and I don’t know what the fork he was thinking-”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he interrupts. “Why do you keep saying fork?”

“Oh,” she says, looking down and blushing. Her smile is very pretty, although Chidi tend to try not to notice it, most of the time. “In the Good Place, not everyone appreciates cursing, so there’s sort of an automatic filter. I can’t say anything worse than hell. Fork. Bench. Ash. Shirt. And so on.”

“Makes sense,” he says, before realizing something that doesn’t. “You curse a lot for someone from a place that doesn’t approve of cursing.” If she’s an angel or whatever, shouldn’t she be as pure as the rest of them?

“What?” she asks, confused, looking up again. “Plenty of people- Oh, right. Yeah. I’m-” she  stops, hesitating. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I’m not actually from here. I was human.”

“What?” he asks, frowning. He wasn’t expecting that. “How does- how does that work?”

“Well, I died, and through a really forking long series of events I became an architect,” she says, not really explaining anything. She does that a lot. “Michael sort of took me in. He’s not the main architect because- well- technically, they have to interact with the residents, and he’s not really- uh- good with people. So I got the short straw. And I’m trying my best! But I wasn’t really meant for this job.”

“Ah,” says Chidi. The anxiety in his chest is starting to get worse, and he has a bad feeling that a stomach ache’s on the way. He’s not up for this kind of constant lying. Eleanor’s done such a great job on this neighborhood (besides the obvious mistake), and he knows that things are harder than she likes to show. He doesn’t like lying to her about her life’s (actually, apparently, her death’s) work.

“You good, buddy?” asks Eleanor, probably noticing his expression. She’s finished with her dishes and is wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “What’s wrong?” She rounds the island and puts her hands on his shoulders, trying to help him sit.

“It’s just a stomach ache,” he says, silently apologizing to Kant as she gets him settled. Lying is immoral, he thinks, and then, Getting them caught would be worse. “I get those sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

Eleanor stops and pulls back to look him in the eye. “You sure? You can’t lie to me, buster.”

“Yes!” says Chidi, louder than he was expecting, and then tries to backtrack. “I mean. Yeah. I’m fine. There’s nothing causing it, I don’t know why it’s suddenly coming on.” He looks up to smile at Eleanor and finds her looking up as her eyes unfocus, her brain a million miles away again.

“Uh- Eleanor?” he says, waving his hand slightly in front of her face. “You in there? It’s me, Chidi.”

She doesn’t react for a couple seconds, before suddenly starting to move again. “Yeah, I know,” she says suddenly, blinking rapidly as she backs away. “I know it’s you.”

He doesn’t say anything, because she’s looking at him like she doesn’t quite recognize him and he doesn’t want to make it worse. This odd behavior is getting more and more common, as time goes by, and he has no clue how he’s supposed to react. After a short while of silence, though, she seems to back down, sighing as her shoulders relax. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s okay,” Chidi says, and is surprised to find that he means it. “Uh- so- what am I doing here, exactly?”

Eleanor stops, looking at him.

“I mean-” he says. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you.” He curses himself, inwardly - she’s The Architect and you’re a dead moral philosophy professor and you’re lying to her about who’s not supposed to be here and-

“I know what you mean,” says Eleanor, giving him a small smile. “It’s not a big issue, really. I just wanted to apologize for all of the weird stuff that’s been happening.”

“You mean-?”

“The sinkhole, the giraffe stampede, that time that trash started falling out of the sky...” she says, counting them on her fingers. “I could go on. But I know you don’t deal well with uncertainty, and I know it’s been kind of- weird, here. So I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” says Chidi. “I know you’re doing your best, and this is your first neighborhood.”

“Yeah,” says Eleanor, looking at him like they’re friends. “No kidding. And- I know-” 

And now she looks nervous.

“I know some people here have been acting weird around you, too.”

“That- that is a thing that’s been happening, yes,” says Chidi. “But that’s not your fault-”

“I know,” she interrupts, studying his face. “But I’m still sorry. I’ve been talking with them about it, and trust me, it’s not about you. Tahani’s been having some trouble with John- I don’t know if you’ve noticed-”

“I hadn’t, actually, but that’s reassuring,” says Chidi, smiling at her. She smiles back. “Anyway, I’ve spoken with everyone - including Janet - and things should be a little more normal, now. At least, as normal as things can be, in the afterlife.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she says. “And- Chidi?”

“Yeah?”

She looks away from him. “I really am sorry.”

He’s lost. He hates feeling lost, but it seems to keep happening here. “About what?”

Eleanor sighs. “About everything.”

He stares at her, and she looks away, throwing her hands up. “Don’t look at me like that, dude! I’m doing my best here.”

“I don’t know what any of this means, Eleanor.”

“I know,” she says. “It’s okay. Things’ll make sense soon. Just a few more months.”

“...Eleanor, what does that mean?” She doesn’t say anything. “Eleanor, I don’t know what that means.”

She takes a deep breath. “I know.”

“Eleanor,” he says, hesitating - except that the answer to this question seems like it’ll solve every mysterious thing that’s happened to him, in the months that he’s been here. “Why is everyone being so weird?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, quietly, and then she smiles gently, like someone who’s about to beat you in a poker game and is waiting for you to spot the final clue. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He glances at the clock and jumps. It’s five minutes until the ethics lesson Chidi holds in his apartment, and it takes him six to walk there.

“Yes! Sorry, Eleanor, I have to go-”

And he stops.

Does she know about the ethics lessons?

What else could she be talking about?

Chidi studies her face, quickly. She’s looking at him calmly, but there’s no way she can know about the lessons. Even if she is the Architect, and she knows everything that happens in the neighborhood.

Or, well. Hopefully not.

(And it’s not like he can do anything, if she does know. Best to try not to worry about it.)

“I have a- frozen yogurt date,” he says, slowly. “That’s where I have to go now.”

“Right,” says Eleanor, nodding and shaking her head at the same time. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“So I’ll be- going now,” he says. “To the frozen yogurt place.”

“Yep,” says Eleanor, and then she shoots him a thumbs up, smiling like they’re keeping a secret. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Thanks,” he says, walking out and closing the door behind him. He stops, taking a deep breath. If she knows, she knows, and at least the conversation they just had makes some measure of sense. And if she doesn’t?

It’s just more proof that everyone here is completely insane.

[quirkydahlias]

Surprise Party (Part 3 ) (Dadzawa)

Sorry for the delay! The Monoma scene was bugging me, so I had to revamp it a few times. Hopefully its accurate to his character! I’m also currently experimenting with length in my writing and seeing if shorter HCs or long fics like these work with my audience better. So please give me feedback if possible! :O

“Everyone, please calm down!” Iida demanded, the chittering and chattering of his classmates in the early morning slowly dying down. With his arm swinging about, everyone’s attention eventually drifted to their representative, the long-awaited silence giving Iida reprieve before he lowered his hands, careful to not physically touch the teacher’s podium.

Its the only respectful way for him to treat his instructors’ property after all.

“If we’re too loud, we could draw the attention of the UA staff,” he sternly reminded everyone, coughing into his fist before continuing, “I’m glad that we’re caught up with all our collected intelligence, but I do have to ask-er, Midoriya?”

“Y-Yeah?” Deku responded, feeling a little shy and nervous about being singled out. He didn’t do anything wrong, did he?

“Why is Shinsou Hitoshi here?” 

Everyone turned around to the back of the room, the dark-haired student finding solace amongst the shadows that still clung to the corner, safe from the slowly rising sunrise. Even with the shade masking his presence and the lights in the room dimmed for the sake of security, purple orbs emerged from the darkness, giving away Shinsou’s presence.

Iida’s question itself wasn’t out of spite or malice of any kind, the class representative not being the type to sneer at outsiders and strangers alike. Instead, the question was of genuine confusing and a little hurt. This was supposed to be a class 1-A bonding experience after all and Deku, and Ojirou seemed to have been unable to maintain the secrecy of the party. And if they of all people succumbed, what chance did the rest of the class have, remaining on task?

Shinsou decided to pop in as he wasn’t really invited by anyone in particular and just happened to have been awake around the time he saw the gaggle of class 1-A students sneaking into the main school building.

"I wanted in. He’s...my teacher as much as he is a teacher to all of you.” Hitoshi offered, his eyes shifting downward as he avoided the eyes that studied his every move- sounds of Mina’s cooing trickling down his back.

“Well, although the sentiment is appr-”

“I say he’s in!” Mina exclaimed, jumping up in her seat as she waved her hand in the air, “He’ll be a great help, and the more, the merrier, right?”

Her closest friends, consisting of the rest of the girls in the classroom immediately nodded, both backing Shinsou because of their friend’s stance on the matter and his sweet sentiment towards their teacher.

Mineta rubbed his chin, looking Shinsou up and down. Oh, this wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. There was already enough competition to deal with, and now this brooding miniature Aizawa was trying to butt in?

“Hmmm, I dunno guys, just-” before he could utter another word, a long pink tongue flew at him, smacking him across the face before reeling back to Asui.

The rest of the class shared looks and would pipe up to show their approval and disapproval of letting more people in on what was supposed to be a semi-covert operation.

Surprisingly, it was Ojirou who was the last to raise his hand, Hagakure quick to silence any other mouths to allow her friend to speak.

The blonde felt a purple gaze brush the back of his neck, his own eyes lowering to the ground. Shinsou barely paid attention to what he was saying, though, from what he could piece together, Ojirou was going on about how two others were already aware of what class 1-A was planning and something about having another helping hand wouldn’t be too bad.

The more exceptional details of his speech lost on him, Hitoshi instead studied each of the students. Most ignored him, instead devoting their attention to Ojirou. Now, whether it was out of respect for their friend or classmate or fear of him and his steely gaze was another matter entirely.

Midoriya blushed when he felt Hitoshi’s gaze, offering him a nervous smile and the smallest of waves before turning back to the conversation the class was having at that moment.

The blonde one with the black streak- Hitoshi wasn’t too familiar with that one, gave him the friendliest reaction by excitedly waving at him.

What a weirdo.

“Alright, although by a slim victory. We’ve decided that we can enlist your help.” Iida nodded, shooting Shinsou the most polite smile he could. He was class representative after all, so it was naturally his duty to speak on behalf of his classmates.

“Cool.” Shinsou replied, inspecting his fingernails for a moment before shifting his weight onto his other leg and leaning against the wall, “Though, you don’t really have a choice. I could’ve always gone and spilled your plans to Aizawa after all.

Although the unspoken notion was already in the minds of many in the room, Iida was the first to react to the subtle threat, “That would be extremely villainous of you to blackmail your fellow UA students! Don’t you want to be a hero?”

That line seemed to hit the wrong chord with the purple haired boy, though Shinsou decided to let it slide and bite back the urge to control class 1-A’s representative.

“I apologize,” Iida stammered, realizing that he shouldn’t be asking such questions to a general studies student. Especially one that was already trying so hard to join the hero program, “It was unbecoming of me!”

“Just get this meeting over with four eyes!” Bakugou yelled, slamming his heel against his desk to get everyone on track, leaning back into his chair as he propped his other leg on his desk. “Stop fucking wasting my time. I have things to do!”

Shinsou simply nodded along with the vulgar statement, wanting to go grab some food before he’d head to class.

“Okay, today we’re going to begin preparations and planning. We first need to scout out a venue,” Iida instructed, taking a glance down at the checklist he and Mineta were both secretly drafting yesterday. “Let’s keep in mind that the venue itself should not be pricy nor too large.”

“Ooo, let’s find a cute place!” Hagakure suggested, clapping her hands in excitement with all the ideas bouncing in her head. “I mean, there are cute cafes we can rent out right? Or enter a reservation. Maybe one of those cute maid-”

“I like the maid cafe idea,” Mineta agreed, his immediate response stopping the class as all eyes locked onto his small body.

“Okay...” Hagakure drawled, her eyes shifting anywhere but the perverse classmate of hers, “We’re definitely not having Aizawa sensei’s birthday at a maid cafe.

Everyone aside from the grape haired child nodded, agreeing that it neither suited their teacher’s preference or was a suitable place for all of the students to hang around in.

“Um, maybe a cat cafe could work...?” Kouda suggested, the usually silent boy finally speaking up. “I’m sure I can use my quirk to keep them calm while we decorate and set up.”

Momo smiled, finding the idea to be spectacular, “Thank you so much Kouda, Hagakure can use the internet to look up a good spot nearby and I can pay for it.” 

“No.”

Everyone turned their heads over to Todoroki, who churned his thoughts around in his mind.

“Why not?” Momo asked, concerned that she was doing something wrong- saying something wrong.

“I can pay for it,” Todoroki explained, his thoughts drifting over to his father for a mere second before he pushed that man out of his mind for good, “I have someone who would be... willing to pay for the venue.”

“Oh really? That’s wonderful!” Momo sighed, relieved that she wasn't presumptuous when she volunteered to pay for the venue.

“Wait, what about decorations, Iida?” Uraraka asked, the talk about the venue bringing about the topic, “How are we gonna decorate it?”

“Minimally? I don’t think we need much in the way of decorations.” 

“Ooo, two of us can go buy them!” Ochako suggested- though she had no idea who would be shopping for supplies.

“Hey, let me do something!” Mina whined, giving the desk a slap with each syllable, “I love to shop!”

Tokoyami glanced her way before raising his hand, “I can come along as well...to keep her from going overboard.”

“HEY.”

Iida seemed to like this group, though his eyes shifted over to Shinsou. He needed something to do, didn’t he? “Maybe Shinsou could tag along too!”

“Wait.” Shinsou blurted, eyes widening ever so slightly to indicate his surprise, “I-”

“Oooh,” Mina cooed, rushing over to the poor boy and throwing her arm around his shoulders, “This is gonna be so. Much. Fun!”

“Alright, alright. Please return to your seat, Mina,” Iida sighed, letting the pink skinned girl settle herself and release poor Shinsou before he gave a curt bow, “I think I can happily call off this meeting for now. Please eat and gain some energy before class begins everyone!”

“Yes, sir!”

It took five days.

Five days until the students at UA could get permission to leave campus and follow along with their plans.

Though it was now Sunday, the one day the students had off, Shouto and Hagakure both decided to make the best of it and sign out with Present Mic before heading into town and touring the streets.

“Hey, Todoroki! Look!” Hagakure beamed, bouncing to show her excitement since it wasn’t like he could see her facial expressions.

Shouto, who was busy peering into a nearby cafe, turned his head to see the invisible girl put on a silly hat from the neighboring accessories shop. “What do you think?”

“Shouldn’t we stay focused?” he asked, ignoring the hat as he scanned down the other side of the street. No cafes in sight.

“Well,” Hagakure shrugged, putting the hat back onto the rack whence it came from, “We can have fun while we look for a venue, right?”

“We have to locate the venue today if we’re to set up everything in time. So is it really wise to waste time like this?” Shouto mused aloud, fighting the urge to rub his temples as he continued to walk down the street, making a turn at the corner with Hakagure whined.

It was a little amusing to see her fussy attitude, Shouto keeping his eyes focused on the shops the passed before speaking over his shoulder, “Maybe after we find the place, we can have some fun.”

That sentence alone brightened Hagakure’s mood, the girl snatching up his hand and dragging Shouto as she took the lead to frantically look for the perfect birthday venue.

“Glad to see you’re finally into this,” Shouto joked, keeping pace with each of Toru’s steps, passerby shifting to one side or the other to let the two UA students by.

“Duh!” Hagakure teased, “I really wanted that hat you know.”

The two came to a skidding stop, pausing at the sounds of mewling and meows coming from the cafe across the street. The two looked at each other and then back at the venue, Hagakure giving Shouto another look just to ensure that the two were on the page (In which they were).

This was it.

The perfect venue.

Crossing the street, the cafe door gave way with a tiny ring of a bell. A few heads turned to the students as a waitress walked over with two menus tucked under her arm. “Hello! Is it a table for two?”

“Actually,” Shouto interjected, giving the place a cursory glance just to make sure this was the perfect venue before continuing, “If we could, can we speak to your management?”

The waitress blinked, confused and unable to see Hagakure’s frantic nodding. Sparing a small glance over her shoulder at her coworker who was operating a cash register, she gave the two a curt bow before dismissing herself.

“Look at the kitties, Todoroki!” Toru whisper-yelled, eyes twinkling as she hunched down to get a better look at a rather fat feline who basked in the sun’s radiance. “Do you like cats?”

Shouto kneeled down next to her, giving the cat a small scratch behind its ear before shrugging, “I guess. There are a lot of strays in my neighborhood.”

“I just love cute things, like cats! They always get scared of me though.” Hagakure admitted, petting the cat, only for the cat’s eyes to widen and hiss at the unknown source of the sudden touch. “I just don’t think animals like me to be honest...”

“Understandable,” Shouto nodded, calming the cat by giving it a few scratches behind the ear and neck where Hagakure was just touching, his fingers occasionally brushing against her invisible ones. 

“Sometimes I just wish people could see me, you know? Or that I could see myself for that matter,” Hagakure admitted, pulling back her hand for the sake of the poor cat and her pink cheeks. “Maybe that way, animals like me more.”

“I can imagine how others might react. Never knowing if you were there or not, spying on them.” Shouto admitted.

Silence.

Odd. Usually, Hagakure always had something to say. Did he overstep? “It still is an extremely useful quirk-”

“It’s not that,” Toru interjected, her shifting shoes indicating that she was rocking back and forth a little, knees pressed against her chest. “You don’t...You don’t really think I’d do that, right?”

“You’re awfully serious all of a sudden.”

“Because I am being serious!” Hagakure huffed, her pouty tone failing to sell her point, Shouto’s face growing a small smile to see her more characteristic behavior return to her.

“I apologize. It’s extremely noticeable when you change your behavior.”

The words that teetered on the brink of expression were suddenly cut off as the waitress called them, her voice accompanied by clicking heels.

The source of the clicking echoed from behind them, alerting the two of the position of the waitress who proceeded to escort them into a room down the hall, filled with office supplies and a woman sitting at a desk. “If you need anything else, please inform one of the staff.” She reassured.

And then the waitress was gone, leaving the two with the manager who looked up and smiled, inquiring as to why they wanted to speak to her. The store itself wasn’t really open for hires after all.

“We actually were hoping to rent this place out,” Hagakure explained, filling in the women on the nature of the deal they were hoping to strike. One day, a day and night max. All they needed were the cats and store itself, including the kitchen.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” the manager sighed, “My business needs to open tomorrow, and all these cats here are mine. And most come with me when I go home for the night.”

“I can cover the expenses. All of them.” Shouto offered, his “emergency” credit card at the ready. “It’s fine if the cats can’t remain.”

“It is?” Hagakure asked, though her question was mostly rhetorical.

The manager was dubious. Not fully believing that two high school students could afford to rent out a business for a day. At least, until she noticed the name the credit card was under.

Huh. A Todoroki?

“Seems like you really can afford to pay,” The manager mused, pointing out the name on the credit card, though Shouto’s facial expression didn’t change all too much. “I’ll let you use this place for one night, and the entire day of that surprise party you’re going to throw- so long as you clean the place afterward and try not to damage anything. Got it?”

The two nodded, the manager and Shouto taking care of the payment while Hagakure dismissed herself to bother watch the cats once more.

Shouto was out in a blink of an eye, returning his card into his wallet before leaving the store with Hagakure, taking a breath of the cold city air.

“So, can we have fun now?” Hagakure asked, already ready to go shopping for cool knick knacks- maybe even a gift for Aizawa while they were at it!

“Of course,” Shouto nodded, giving a text into the class 1-A group chat to fill everyone in on their progress, “Someone else can take care of recruiting all the cats.

With their mission being done, Hagakure took the reigns and lead the way around the city, though her speed was slower and easier to follow. Noticing a stall, she brought the two of them over to try on the pro-hero bootleg merchandise.

As she tried on a Presentation Michael t-shirt, holding the shirt up to her chest, Shouto slid in next to her, admiring the poorly drawn renditions of his father on a pair of socks. “To answer your question from before...no.”

“Huh?” Hagakure asked, turning her head at Shouto, torso following to indicate that her attention was on him.

“I’m not afraid of you spying on me or any of our classmates.”

His attention returned to the socks, wondering how upset his father would get if he gifted them to the pro hero for father’s day.

“You can’t just leave it like that,” Toru whined, clearly displeased with the answer- as reassuring as it was. “Why aren’t you suspicious of me?”

“Easy.” Shouto shrugged, taking a pair before heading up to the cashier to buy them, “I trust you.”

Hagakure stopped, almost dropping the bootleg shirt. Though the realities of her quirk were never something Toru liked to dwell on, it had its moments- plaguing her headspace with doubt and angst. But to be consoled like this- by him of all people!

“No fair,” Toru whined, shaking her fists as she hurried after him, ready to give his back a few playful beats with her fists, “You can’t just say something so cool and walk away like that! Drama queen!”

“Can’t fucking believe he has me catering for this shitty event.” Bakugou hissed, picking up the groceries as they were dropped off at the class 1-A doorstep. “And all the help I have comes from a mute like you.” 

Kouda decided that it was best to not speak, in case he angered the already temperamental student even more as the two loaded the common room kitchen with all the foodstuffs Bakugou had placed in order with the school. Sero and Midoriya helping to guise it as anything but surprise party supplies.

“B-Bakugou...”

Silence.

“Ahem. Bakugou-”

“What?!” Bakugou yelled, all the way across the room as he stored the vegetables in the fridge, not bothering to look up from his task.

Kouda gulped, trying to figure out how to break the sudden news to Bakugou as he looked around the entrance to the dorms, hoping to have missed something.

“DAMN IT. Can’t you speak up?!” Bakugou hissed, already growing irritated at the reserved, weak nature of his partner.

Having lost his voice under all the yelling, Koji just gestured at the entryway.

The ash blonde stopped, placing the last of the onions in the fridge before slowly shutting it close with all the restraint he could muster. “What?” He hissed, looking over at Kouda to see what the shy boy was on about. 

Then he saw it.

Kouda immediately paled the moment eye contact was made- holding his hands up in the air in surrender. Though the punch he was expecting from Bakugou was replaced with a passive aggressive bump in the shoulder as Katsuki stalked over to the doorway, let out a small string of curses under his breath.

Shit. They were missing bags of food.

Bags that he fucking knew had arrived.

“Who the fuck took our shit?!” He screeched to no one in particular, Katsuki’s temper ready to burst as small, mini explosions popped from his fingertips.

Kouda offered the smallest shrug, still looking around near the entrance for any sign of the missing groceries. Tapping his forehead, he signaled to Katsuki that someone, maybe one of them, had just forgotten to order the needed food.

That was definitely not the right thing to say, the moment the words were uttered bringing Katsuki’s palm inches from the back of Kouda’s head. “OH. So I’m incompetent enough to just forget to order some fucking groceries, huh?”

Koji frantically shook his head, eyes wide as he backed away from the ash blonde as fast as he could. He didn’t mean to offend at all!

“Grow a spine,” Bakugou muttered, not wanting to hear any more from Kouda as he surveyed the horizon at any neighboring dorms. “Obviously, someone jacked our shit.”

But who could they be?

Kouda noticed Bakugou walking down the path that looped around all the dorms, beginning to follow along Bakugou’s line of thinking as Katsuki tsked, still unable to find anyone within his peripheral vision.

“Either they want to fuck with 1-A, or they want to fuck with teach’s birthday.” He decided, coming to a stop before shoving his hands into his pockets and turning right around to head back into the dorms without a word.

Kouda gestured down the path, wondering just why he was suddenly abandoning the search, though he quickly realized that with the time crunch, they would have to work with what they got in order to save on time.

“We don’t have-” Bakugou began to explain, knowing that he was probably confusing the kid. However, something stopped Katsuki in his tracks, his left hand releasing an explosion that made Kouda back away a couple steps for safety. 

A light smoke wafted around the room, blocking Kouda’s line of sight. Though, the boy was smart enough by now to know not to ask any dumb questions like “What’s going on” or “Did something happen” when he could easily see for himself by moving closer.

He’d just move closer, very, very slowly.

“Okay. We’re going after the fucking food.” Bakugou decided, brushing past Kouda and out the door, leaving Kouda gawking at the empty counters, all barren of bags and food alike.

No wonder why he was so upset...

Joining up with Bakugou outside, Kouda caught his breath while Bakugou stalked down the path to the class 1-B dorm. He wondered why Katsuki was walking out again.

But then, a light bulb, at that very moment, brightened itself in Kouda’s mind. Did he think that class 1-B was behind this? Better yet, was one of the class 1-B kids behind this? The two classes were rivals after all- so it was only natural for pranks like this to happen, right?

Once they reached the class 1-B dormitory, Katuski knocked against the door for the both of them- though knocked was a heavy understatement, as the pounding of his fist brought an irritated Kendo to the door.

“Um, what do you two want?” She asked, clearly in the middle of something before the two showed up to her doorstep, “We’re kinda busy here.”

“Shut it.” Bakugou hissed, patience already wearing thin as he slammed his fist against the doorframe, “Give us the fucking food back before I pop your little head open with my bare hands.”

Kendo cocked an eyebrow, apparently amused taken aback by the sudden threats. Were these two really going to come out of nowhere with threats and baseless claims? Shaking her head at the notion, she placed her hands on her hips.

“We don’t have your food. In fact, we’ve been here all day.” She explained, keeping her voice as calm as she could manage, although, her eyes were speaking volumes in her stead. Her gaze alone making Kouda just want to leave the class B students alone before they created an even bigger disturbance.

Bakugou paused for a moment, reading her facial expression. 

Huh. 

Didn’t seem like she was lying.

“Where’s the brat,” he asked, eyes shifting to the background where the rest of the class was hanging out. A few of the students, names all lost on him, watched and whispered amongst themselves, which only fueled his irritation. The fuckers were probably just waiting for an excuse to hate him and his class even more.

And it looks like they just got it.

Kendo frowned, following his gaze to her classmates, “Monoma signed himself out today. He said he was going to head out today.” Craning her head back to him, she gestured with her hand towards the class 1-A dorms where they should probably be heading back. “He’s not here, alright?”

She paused for a mere moment before turning back to her friends and shooing them away, allowing them to head back to what they were doing. Dealing with the boys in front of her, she ushered the two out from the doorframe and shut the door, ignoring the curses coming from Katsuki.

“Listen.” She sighed, addressing both Bakugou and Kouda, “You can’t just walk in here and start blaming us for everything that’s going on with your class.”

Kouda could barely listen the moment Bakugou engaged in a “conversation” with the representative from 1-B. Their words all fighting amongst each other as they filled the air with chaos and anger.

“And you,” Kendo added, bringing Kouda from reality, the shy student straightening up under her gaze, “I can’t believe you’d stay silent and let him just trample around like this. Bakugou is just going to get your class into more trouble unless you all as a class do something about it, you know?”

Wait. Kouda paused.

Oh goodness...

Was he really responsible in some way?

Kouda nervously toyed with his hands, twiddling with his thumbs and finding great interest in his nails as he realized all the changes he had to speak up. To calm Katsuki down and prevent this entire nasty confrontation from ever happening.

All chances he squandered.

A form moved in front of him, though not entirely as Bakugou glared daggers at Kendo. “Fuck off. No one tells me what to do, got it?” He hissed, venom dripping from every word, “If you really want to preach responsibility then you should have taken care of that asswipe long ago.” 

Kouda couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was his classmate- as mean-spirited as he was, defending him? His words spoke in volume, but his actions screamed his intent as Katsuki placed himself physically between the two.

“Come on,” he snapped, grabbing Kouda by the neck before leading him away from Kendo and back onto the concrete path to the dorms. Once they were a distance away, he released the shy boy and shoved his hands in his pockets, brooding to himself.

Kouda opened his mouth, feeling it dry as words tried to form themselves. His gaping attracting Bakugou’s slightly confused gaze. But it was under his gaze, that Koji finally got the push he needed to speak up.

“...thank you.” 

Bakugou blinked. Was this the first time the mute spoke to him? His words were barely audible, though that certainly wasn’t surprising to someone who surrounded himself with explosions everytime he used his quirk. “Whatever.”

As they made their walk of shame back to the dorms, Katsuki cursed himself internally. He let his guard down. And now look what happened!

All the fucking food was gone.

Kouda’s said something, something Bakugou ignored, still brooding over his failure. Shit, even Deku could have done a better job now that he thought about it.

“...Bakugou.”

Still ignoring Kouda, Katsuki continued stomping along the pavement. Kouda stopping the grumpy blonde with a sharp tug onto his arm, Katsuki wheeling around to glare at the quiet boy.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Kouda stammered, words failing him. The next few moments were filled with a multitude of attempts to speak. Jeez, was he really that scary to Koji? Katsuki stopped walking and turned, quirking an eyebrow at the flustered Kouda.

“U-Um...”

“Yeah?”

“Someone told me that they saw someone up ahead in the dorms. Someone strange...”

Wow. Full sentences. Katsuki would’ve given that a small, sarcastic mental round of applause if it wasn’t for the content of his words.

“Who said that?”

Kouda averted his eyes to the ground below, a tiny trail of ants passing by. “One of the ants did. They said they smelled someone off.”

Katsuki frowned, eyebrows furrowing on confusion. So it had to be someone who wasn’t usually in the dorms, right? One of the teachers?

Or was it their culprit?

“Alright.” Katsuki decided, turning right around and beginning to quicken his pace towards the dorm, “We go with my plan.”

“W-What plan?” Kouda asked, suddenly being dragged along with Katsuki towards the entrance of the dorm, though they stopped there and didn’t enter.

Katsuki spared Kouda small glance, “Just get her over here.” Then he began to yell, calling for the culprit to come out before he gets even angrier.

Monoma walked out- taking his sweet damn time doing so. Taking a causal bite into an apple he had snagged from the fridge, the class B student leaned against the doorframe, “Such a shame you two didn’t bother to check any of the rooms for the missing food.”

Kouda moved to follow Bakugou’s instruction, but the ash blonde had his arm and dragged him back and behind him. Confusion was plastered all over the silent boy’s face. Didn’t he want Kouda to get Kendo over here? Then why wasn’t he letting him go??

“How the hell did you move all that stuff?” Katsuki questioned, already digging through his memory for any quirks that could allow Monoma to do something of that magnitude so quickly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know, you don’t pay attention to anyone other than yourself, do you Bakugou?” Monoma sneered, his other hand pulling out a pair of horns, twirling them in the air.

So it was that Pony girl’s quirk, huh?

Bakugou slowly pieced everything together, gritting his teeth at how obvious it was. “So I’m guessing you noticed the delivery and used that Pony girl’s quirk to steal the stuff. That carrot head knows you though, so you weren’t lying when you said you were heading out. Right?”

“Whoa, looks like we’ve got a Sherlock Holmes over here,” Monoma gasped, taking another casual bite from his- er, their apple. “I wonder if you’re sharp enough to notice that there’s a definite limit in how much a dorm can order. And that deliveries are usually given to us first years last.”

Both Kouda and Katsuki fought the urge to look at each other, knowing that today’s delivery to the dorm was early and large- larger than usual.

“Made me wonder if this was UA giving special treatment to class A yet again! I mean, look at all the produce you guys have,” He waved, gesturing to the stacks of food behind him before sinking his teeth into another bite of apple. “Really makes a person wonder, right?”

Kouda gulped. Normally, Monoma was out of his mind when accusing UA of treating one class above another and his tendencies to nitpick at the differences between the classes usually got him nowhere.

But they did get special treatment this time.

It was Mic who arranged for the large delivery to go through unnoticed by their homeroom teacher- with permission of Principal Nezu of all people. So, at least in this case...

Monoma was right.

Bakugou however, didn’t care for whether or not he was in the right or wrong. Facts were facts. And if Monoma knew of the party they were planning for Aizawa, nothing would please the kid better then to either spoil the surprise or hold it over their heads.

Kouda racked his brain, trying to figure out what Katsuki wanted him to do. How was he supposed to signal Kendo without moving? And more importantly, without tipping off Monoma?

After the little argument between Bakugou and her, it was only natural that she had a little suspicion in her mind. So she was probably a little more on guard for anything out of the ordinary. That, Kouda was certain of.

So what would tip her off?

His mind then went back to her words, Kendo sounding disappointed to see his quietness when Bakugou was behaving the way he usually was.

Was that the key? Maybe if he yelled loudly enough, she’d notice and come to check out the noise.

No. Just hollering and yelling wouldn’t do anything. Monoma wasn’t an idiot. He was smart enough to figure that the quiet kid suddenly yelling was a huge red flag.

But, maybe. Just maybe. It’ll work.

Remembering more of Kendo’s words, about how Bakugou’s behavior would only lead to more trouble, Kouda pipped up.

“We have a good reason for buying all of the food.”

Katsuki immediately turned and glared at him. What the fuck was he doing?! They were not going to tell Monoma anything. The. End. End of story.

“Uh, huh. Sure,” Monoma rolled his eyes, clearly not believing the shy kid. I mean, what kind of reason was there to buy all this excess food? “And what occasion calls for this much food?”

Kouda closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Alright. Alright. He could do it. Just take a deep breath and channel Bakugou Katsuki.

“N-None of your business!”

Katsuki bit his lip to keep from snorting at that attempt. Jeez, this guy was too much. It was almost sad.

Monoma, on the other hand, was irritated to get that from the quietest kid in class A. “Oh really, then I’m sure that Mr. Aizawa could give me a better look as to why you guys are getting all this stuff, right?”

Kouda clenched his fists at his side, raising his shoulders as he looked straight forward at Monoma.

Cold blue orbs stared back.

Okay, no. Not looking at his eyes anymore. Too stressful. Glancing instead between his eyes, Kouda frowned, “Of course, you would.”

The jab of his barbed words clearly got Katsuki’s attention and more importantly-Monoma’s ire. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he pressed, trying to figure out where Kouda was leading this train of thought.

What did he mean? Kouda wondered as well, trying to figure out where to go from here. He needed to push some buttons. Think, Kouda, think!

“I...I mean, just look at you,” he managed, gesturing up and down at the blonde who was more confused than offended at this point, “It’s only natural that you’d rely on someone else to do the heavy lifting.”

Monoma glared, clearly not liking where this was going. Good. Kouda was getting somewhere.

“You can’t do anything on your own. You have to use our own teacher against us. And your own quirk even uses the quirks of others too.”

Monoma flinched a bit, the twitch of his eye keying Katsuki and Kouda. Obviously, it was a raw nerve.

Knowing that he couldn’t possibly raise his voice the way Katsuki can, Kouda opted to do the exact opposite, lowering his voice to a more comfortable whisper, slipping his hands in his pocket and leaning forward a little the way he’s seen Katsuki do numerous times before thinking of the harshest, more Bakugou Katsuki thing he could say, “How does it feel? To be nothing but a quirkless child without someone holding your hand?”

Even Bakugou flinched at that. A low blow, but one he could respect. Monoma’s outraged cry being enough to signal Kendo if the entirety of the conversation didn’t.

Monoma, clearly insulted and bitter by the blatant reminder of his faults, was ready to throw his own words right back at the child who relied on animals to do his work for him, but was interrupted by not only a frustrated Kendo, marching over to them at this very moment, but a defensive Katsuki who shifted from his place in the sidelines to right smack dab in the middle of the two boys.

“Monoma!” Kendo hissed, hands on her hips, “I thought you said you were leaving today!”

“I was, I was,” he reassured, giving a nervous chuckle under the sharp look of his class representative, “Just got a little, sidetracked?”

“Right.” she deadpanned, fist getting ready to whap him in the back of the head, but Monoma wasn’t in the mood, waving her off before leaving of his own fruition.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kouda apologized to Kendo, waiting till after Monoma had left the scene, “I had to distract him with some harsh words...”

Kendo shrugged, giving him a gentle smile, “He recovers quickly, he’ll be back on his feet in no time. Thanks for the commotion though. I just wonder why he-” she stopped, looking though the open doors of the dorm and into the kitchen area. “Oh. That’s why.”

Figuring that they could trust her, Kouda smiled softly, a small heat growing in his face, “It’s for Mr. Aizawa’s birthday. Could you please...?”

Kendo nodded, “I’m not too keen on keeping secrets from Vlad sensei, but for the sake of your teacher’s birthday, sure.” She paused, grinning before she added, “Just as long as you keep the same secret when Vlad’s birthday nears.”

“Whatever, he’s not our problem,” Katsuki shrugged, heading inside and leaving the two alone so he could get back to work putting away the food.

“Could I come over later...?” Kouda asked, stopping Kendo before she made her way back to her own dormitory.

“What for?” she asked, clearly confused as to why he wanted to drop on by.

Kouda looked down, Monoma’s flinching still etched in his memory, “To talk to Monoma.”

Finally comprehending his words and his intention, Kendo clasped Kouda’s hands into hers for a moment, giving him a small wink, “Alright, be sure to bring over a sweet or two. It wins him over every time.” 

And with that, Kendo returned to the dorms, leaving Kouda standing awkwardly in front of the dorms.

Trudging back in, Kouda barely made it a few steps in before Katsuki slapped the back of his back, throwing his arm over Kouda’s shoulders. “You absolutely sucked. You could barely intimidate that kid.” Though his words were harsh, the sly grin on his face certainly wasn’t.

Releasing his grip on Kouda, Katsuki moved ahead to put back a few jars in the correct shelves. Kouda helped, a small part of him feeling a little swell of pride around Bakugou. He clearly had made a good impression on the ash blonde at the very least.

“Um...yeah, you’re right. Thank you.”

“Huh?” Bakugou blurted in confusion, wondering just what he was being thanked for and why. After all, all that outside was all Kouda. Right?

Kouda just continued to put away more bundles of produce, “All I did out there...was copy you.”

Katsuki paused. Did Kouda just turn his own insult right back at him?

...

Maybe there was hope for this kid after all.

[femslashy]

2018 fic year in review

thank you so much for tagging me @homosociallyyours !! this was really fun (and also a bit hard haha) to do ^__^

1. number of stories (including drabbles) posted to ao3: 19 (6 100 word seasonal drabbles, and out of the rest 4 are under 1k and 2 are chaptered but one of those is still a WIP)

2. word count posted for the year: 142,383 which is def more than i’ve written in previous years but my initial goal for this year was 200k and then i lowered it to 150k and then decided i should focus less on word count and more on actually finishing the fics lmaooo

3. list of works posted this year in order of posting:

the tesco fic (although i didn’t make the tumblr post until recently)

three spring drabbles (100 words each)

begin again [timestamp] (my only snowbaz fic in 2018)

we’re swimming with the sharks until we drown

SPHERICAL

got me an appetite, now i can taste it

Take a Chance on Me

Getting Naked on Camera (NOT CLICKBAIT)

my favourite colour is you

louis tomlinson’s completely 100% foolproof guide to snagging the fit bloke next door (3 100 word drabbles)

no better place than right by your side

days gone by (WIP)

love the cronch

zero to sixty

where the love light gleams

4. fandoms i wrote for: mostly one direction and by that i mean i posted a timestamp for a carry on fic from 2017 and the rest was one direction lol

5. pairings: harry/louis, simon/baz (ONCE)

6. story with the most hits: Take a Chance on Me with 10975 hits :o

7. story with the most kudos: Take a Chance on Me with 426 kudos

8. story with the most comments: Take a Chance on Me with 52 comments threads

9. work i’m most proud of and why: well Take a Chance on Me was both my first time doing a big bang as well as the longest thing i’ve ever written (twice the length of the previous longest!) and i’m still completely in love with the art for it courtesy of @vulpixlou and i def don’t go back to stare at it ever nope 👀👀

10. work i’m least proud of and why: i mean i could nitpick the hell out of my stuff and i know there are certain bits i would write differently now but at the same time i created something with my brain that didn’t exist before and that’s just too cool not to be proud of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11. a favorite excerpt of your writing:

this is from Take a Chance on Me (shocker) and i was having trouble thinking of my fave but then i was skimming through all of my fics and ngl i had forgotten about this bit but y’all i’ve been trying to work a Dramatic Airport Reunion into a fic FOR FUCKING EVER and i finally did it and i actually don’t hate it? (spoiler for the ending of Take a Chance on Me)

“See…” Louis starts. “See, there’s this guy. And, oh god, he’s an absolute twat. Wanna know what he did to me?” Harry nods faintly, and Louis, emboldened now, goes on. “So, I already knew who he was, right? I knew him, because he’d been in this god-awful boy band for years, and even if me bloody sisters hadn’t been so bloody in love with him, I’d still have known him, because he was just that famous.”

“I wasn’t that famous.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Louis chastises, and Harry mimics zipping his lips. “So this guy, I knew him, but he didn’t know me, but, fucking hell, I think someone forgot to tell him that, because there I was, minding my own business, when this kid just…” Louis giggles then, because the memory is just so ridiculous, “he just starts fucking singing to me, can you believe it?”

Harry shakes his head. “What a weirdo.”

“Right? The weirdest.”

“What happened next?”

“I fell in love with him.”

“What? That soon?”

“Of course not, Jesus, Harold. I’m not that pathetic. I waited the appropriate amount of time to fall in love, thank you very much.”

“Is that why you’re here, then?” Harry whispers. “Is it because you love him?”

“That’s part of it, yeah. I love him, and I love the way we just fit, and I adore his daughter, and our pets are friends now, and I think our sisters are best friends now, so they didn’t actually give me a choice, but do you want to know the biggest, most important reason?”

Harry nods quickly, so hard his chin bumps his chest, and Louis’ so fucking in love with him at that moment that these are the easiest words he’s ever said.

“I’m here,” he tells Harry, “because I was lying in my own bed, in my own house, surrounded by all my things, and all I wanted to do was go home.”

He’s yanked forward then, Harry’s fingers digging into his shoulders, and he barely feels the pain because it’s Harry, and everything’s good when it’s Harry. He’s babbling into Louis’ neck, and the only words he can make out are his name and “love you” and he shivers with the feeling.

Harry’s hair has grown out enough since the night Louis snuck in to see him that he can tangle his fingers in the strands. So he does, pulling Harry’s face away from his neck and pressing their lips together. Every kiss feels like an apology. Every kiss feels like home.

12. share or describe a favorite review you recieved: so this miiiiight be cheating but i received two comments on a fic i wrote in 2015 and it was kind of a surprise that something that old still held up and people still enjoy it? def made me feel better about my current writing and also anyone who quotes my fics back to me has earned my undying love and affection

13. a time when writing was really, really hard: i have adhd so p much always ahahaha

14. a scene or character you wrote that most surprised you: the entirety of “we’re swimming with the sharks until we drown” ngl because i struggled with the like… morally gray criminal-y elements? and portraying the two of them in such a different way while still staying in character which i like to think i nailed? hopefully lol

15. how did you grow as a writer this year? i don’t feel like a i have? but i’m also bias and hypercritical so maybe i did and just didn’t realize ahaha

16. how do you hope to grow next (this?) year: i want to enjoy writing again and i want to finish more fics and not let them rot in my docs because of self-doubt

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer: okay so first @amandaisnotwriting is the real MVP as she bears the brunt of my whining/complaining/drama queen moments as well as the fact that she listens (some would argue is forced to :p) and reads over fic for a pairing she doesn’t ship for a fandom she doesn’t care about 😂😂😂

@rainbowbaz always makes time to look over my fics even when she’s crazy busy and is honestly amazing and saves my fics from americanisms ahahaha

and FINALLY we met p late in the year but but @livingatthelairport ‘s comment on “the tesco fic” helped me out of a writing slump and now she’s become my cheerleader (and friend 💜) and that’s make a huge difference in my attitude towards writing! it’s also easier to write a fic for a specific person than worry about the opinion of a crowd which is def something i’ve been missing in this fandom rip

also to everyone else who has read my fics, listened to me rant about them or just helped the process along in any way at all this is a GIANT thank you!!

18. anything from your real life show up in your writing this year? i mean i can’t think of anything off the top of my head but a lot of my inspo comes from the world around me so probably lol

19. any wisdom you can share with other writers: there’s nothing wrong with feeling jealous of other writers because i’m not a fan of hiding feelings just because they’re ugly as long as you don’t let it fester and turn into resentment or make you bitter. there are a lot of factors that go into a fic becoming “big” in a fandom but honestly most of it is just random chance so don’t beat yourself up because someone else’s success is not your failure and it’s nice to get recognition for your hard work but if you’re writing solely for the feedback then you’re writing for the wrong reason and that will lead to the resentment and bitterness mentioned earlier

also if you compliment someone you say you like their outfit but if you complement someone then you complete them

20. any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I’M GLAD YOU ASKED

these are all the things i didn’t start and/or finish in 2018 that WILL be completed this year

the cat fic

the doctor fic

the final three chapters of days gone by

penpal AU

Space. Florist.

teenage fanboys who are also best friends

baking blog fic

a short follow up to tacom

twitter drama fic

80’s/’high school’/secret admirer!AU

something based on yawning grave by lord huron

part three of the alien harry series

chocolate orange holiday fic

LA fic (wtwm)

70’s fic

monkey fic

i’m also planning to do the @larryabroad challenge again because i had so much fun with it last time :D

21. tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read:

p sure everyone has done this but if you haven’t then do it now! and also tagging @cosyblack k bc you’ve had a really good year even if i have beta bias 😂

this took waaay longer than i thought it would omg but it was nice to take a look back!!

[btshogwartsauheadcanons]

The Chaos Next Door (pt. 2)

Pairings: Gamer!Taehyung x Pianist!Yoongi

Summary:

What happens when a famous Gamer/Youtuber moves into the apartment in front of a nationally-renowned genius pianist?

A. Lots of bickering and name-calling B. Self-discovery (the kind that only happens in fanfictions) C. The two fall in love D. All of the above

Whatever it is, it’s pure, utter, chaos.

Ratings: Fluff, slight Angst, Slow Burn

Featuring: Matchmaker Kim Seokjin, Namjoon as the Barbecue Destroyer, Hoseok being the Most Caring Boi, potential JiKook (and some betting), and much more Taegi

Word Count: 10.7k

A/N: Finally here’s the second chapter! Sorry this took so long I kind of got busy and there were quite a few scenes here that were difficult for me to write. I originally planned having a few members in the fic but now all seven of them are involved somehow :/. 

Part 2 of 3.

(read part 1)

“I can’t believe you live next door to V Gamer, the Youtuber who I’ve been following and loving ever since he released his first video, and Closet Gamer, another Youtuber I’ve been following and loving, and you didn’t even think of telling me!” Seokjin ranted by way of greeting when he and Hoseok went over to visit Yoongi.

“I did think about telling you, I just thought it would be funny not to,” Yoongi shrugged and grinned, before reaching for the plastic bag full of food that Seokjin brought along.

“No!” Seokjin yanked the bag away, making Yoongi pout. “You don’t deserve any of the special Kim Seokjin soybean paste stew!”

“Come on, just let it go,” Hoseok grinned and thumped Seokjin on the back.

“Don’t think you’re out of this either!” Seokjin huffed. 

“Yoongi-hyung probably didn’t tell you about it since he kind of hated Taehyung at first,” Hoseok nudged Yoongi. “By the way, why don’t you tell us about your night?”

“What night?” Seokjin asked.

“We got stuck in a maintenance closet,” Yoongi explained. “And I guess we had time to talk things out while we were there because we finally managed to fix the whole dilemma of having noise-related jobs.” Then, as if on cue, Taehyung’s yelling came bursting through the door.

“GOT IT! TIME TO JUMPSTART THE GENERATOR EVERYONE, AND HOPEFULLY NOT DIE ALONG THE WAY!” It was his time now to game since it was noontime. Taehyung offered to keep his DIY soundproofing up during this time but Yoongi told him not to worry about it during the day. Partly because he wasn’t sleeping, and partly because he was pretty much used to his voice at that point. Or maybe because he kind of liked it already.

“Is that… him?” Seokjin pointed at the door with wide eyes.

“That’s the door,” Yoongi said sarcastically. Hoseok burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe it… one of my favorite Youtubers… just two doors in front of me…” Seokjin reached a hand towards the door longingly.

“Hey! I thought Jimin was your favorite Youtuber,” Hoseok pointed out.

“Shut up, you know I can’t dance nor can I follow Jimin’s dance steps or covers,” Seokjin waved him off.

“Well, now that you’ve finished fanboying over my neighbor, can we please eat lunch?” Yoongi asked, reaching again for the bag in Seokjin’s hands.

“I guess you’re forgiven since we have great ambience here,” Seokjin gave the bag to him.

“Weirdo,” Yoongi rolled his eyes but accepted the food gratefully. He only knew how to cook simple meals by himself, ramyeon and egg being his most common menu item. He took advantage of the opportunity to eat Seokjin’s delicious home cooking whenever he could.

A few minutes later, Seokjin’s soybean paste stew along with some other side dishes, courtesy of Hoseok, and cooked rice, courtesy of Yoongi, were laid out on the table. It had been two weeks since Yoongi last saw Hoseok, even longer since he last saw Seokjin. The two of them knew how close Yoongi’s next piano competition was going to be so they gave him some space to work. Of course, Yoongi was grateful for their consideration but he still couldn’t help but feel lonely.

However, he did find himself feeling a little less lonely now that Kim Taehyung was around. Most of the time the two of them were holed up in their respective apartments but they did have their little interactions when they bumped into the convenience store nearby or when they picked up their mail downstairs. Now that they weren’t annoying each other, it was very rare that they knocked on each other’s doors now.

But speak of the devil.

“Do you think that’s him?,” Hoseok said when the sound of knocking interrupted their conversation. Now that Yoongi noticed, he wasn’t hearing any of Taehyung’s shouting so there was a strong chance it was Taehyung.

“Oh my god!” Seokjin stood up. “He’s here! Should I change into my cool jacket?”

“What are you, going on a date?” Hoseok laughed as he watched his hyung panic.

“Just sit tight and don’t do anything weird,” Yoongi ordered Seokjin and walked to the door to answer it. Standing outside was Taehyung wearing what appeared to be purple, striped pajamas. He seemed to have a thing for the color purple.

“Ah, Yoongi! Just the person I wanted to see,” Taehyung grinned.

“Yeah, you literally knocked on my door…” Yoongi said.

“Sorry, was I interrupting anything?” Taehyung asked.

“Not really,” Yoongi shrugged. “I was eating lunch with my friends.”

“Wow, you have friends?” Taehyung teased. Yoongi rolled his eyes but smiled at the joke nonetheless. He beckoned Hoseok and a still-nervous Seokjin to come to the door.

“This is Hoseok, you guys met before,” Yoongi said.

“Nice to see you again!” Hoseok grinned. “Thanks for taking care of this guy and not murdering him in the maintenance closet.”

“I think I should be thanking him,” Taehyung smiled at Yoongi.

“And this is Seokjin-hyung,” he continued, gesturing at Seokjin who looked like he was about to faint. “He’s a big fan of yours, as you can see.”

“Ah, Yoongi told me a lot about you,” Taehyung nodded at him. “Thanks a lot for watching my videos.”

“It’s amazing to see you in real life!” Seokjin grinned widely. “I’ve watched all of your videos! Including that livestream when you disappeared.”

“I think that one’s my favorite,” Yoongi muttered. Taehyung glanced at him and another smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Thanks again for watching. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and everyone else,” he bowed slightly but sincerely. “Also, I really wish I could’ve changed into something other than pajamas if I knew I was meeting a subscriber today.”

“Seokjin-hyung doesn’t mind,” Hoseok said, still chuckling at Seokjin’s giddy reactions towards Kim Taehyung.

“I don’t mind,” Seokjin shook his head quickly.

“He wouldn’t mind if you run him over,” Yoongi shrugged.

“Well, I came here to invite you to my housewarming party,” Taehyung said. “I know it’s like a few weeks late but that’s kind of how long it took for me to fully unpack my belongings. I invited Jungkook and Namjoon-hyung to come and I was hoping you could make it too.”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Yoongi looked at the distance between their two apartments. “Looks like a bit of a stretch to me.”

“Is he always like this?” Taehyung sighed and looked at Hoseok and Seokjin. The two nodded quickly.

“I’ll see if I can,” Yoongi nodded.

“Oh, you guys are invited to if you can make it,” Taehyung said to Yoongi’s friends.

“R-really?” Seokjin stammered.

“I’ve always wanted to meet a fellow subscriber,” Taehyung said sincerely. “As long as you don’t disclose the location of my apartment to anyone, you’re free to come. Also, Jungkook’s a big fan of your channel, Hoseok.”

“Th-thanks,” Hoseok blushed and smiled from the appreciation.

“He just didn’t say so when he first saw you. Kookie’s a bit shy,” Taehyung added. “He also loves your fellow dancer’s channel, Park Jimin right?”

“That’s him!” Hoseok nodded. “Want me to bring him along too?”

“Sounds great,” Taehyung said. “Let’s give Jungkook the shock of his life!”

“I think we’re getting the shock of our lives,” Seokjin laughed.

“It’s this Friday, by the way,” Taehyung added. “I hope to see you all there.” Yoongi made a mental note about it. He knew he still had to practice on that day but maybe stopping by for an hour or two wouldn’t hurt. ‘Maybe I can cook something too. Something that isn’t instant noodles, I guess,’ he thought.

“See you there!” Taehyung grinned and waved before going back to his apartment.

“Yah, who would have thought I’d be invited to by favorite Youtuber’s party,” Seokjin sighed and placed a hand on his chest. “My heart feels like it’s going to burst.”

“Wow, never would have guessed,” Yoongi snickered and sat back down at the table to resume eating his lunch.

“Seriously, it’s so frustrating that my non-gamer best friend is Gamer V’s neighbor,” Seokjin pouted. “Hey, Yoongi! Want to—”

“Nope,” Yoongi cut him off before he could fully say his request.

“Come on!” Seokjin groaned.

“He’s gotten used to Taehyung already,” Hoseok grinned at his hyung. “I guess he isn’t that much of a nuisance anymore, right hyung?”

“He can still get annoying,” Yoongi looked down at his food. “It’s just that it’s going to be hard moving my piano again.”

“Yoongi’s such a tsundere,” Seokjin shook his head and resumed eating.

“Am not!” Yoongi protested.

“He is,” Hoseok nodded at Seokjin as if he hadn’t heard anything.

“Why do I even invite you over to my house?” Yoongi sighed.

“Because I make better food,” Seokjin chuckled and high-fived Hoseok. Yoongi scowled but finished the rest of his stew anyway and got seconds. Seokjin did make better food than he did.

…

For some reason, Yoongi found that Taehyung’s invitation to his housewarming party made the week seem even longer. Not even the hardest piano exercises and endless repetition could keep him thinking about what to bring to the party. He expected Seokjin to be the one who was restless but he hardly even called Yoongi to rant about how excited he was.

That meant Yoongi was left alone to fret over this simple housewarming party. And Alexa, of course. After all, there was no one better suited for helping Yoongi search for cooking recipes.

“Chicken pieces, potato starch, gochujang, sesame oil,” Yoongi read out his shopping list to himself as he climbed up the steps to his apartment carrying a bag of groceries. He had a tendency to check and double-check things, especially shopping lists, to make sure he got everything right. As soon as he got to his floor he spotted Taehyung standing in front of his apartment, still wearing his pajamas, checking his mail.

“Morning, Taehyung,” Yoongi greeted. His neighbor looked up at him and smiled sleepily.

“Hey…” he said faintly in a hoarse, raspy voice.

“What happened to you?” Yoongi frowned and pressed the back of his hand against Taehyung’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

“I kind of… exerted my voice,” Taehyung chuckled and gently removed Yoongi’s hand. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“You must have been yelling a lot,” Yoongi remarked.

“It was a 5-hour livestream,” Taehyung explained. “But it’s for charity so it’s worth it.”

“Well, you better rest up then,” Yoongi stepped back towards his house. “Drink some tea or something.”

“Will do,” Taehyung saluted. “Oh, do you need help with the groceries?”

“No, no, I got it,” Yoongi hastily shook his head. “I’ll see you later, okay?” Taehyung cleared his throat, attempting to choke out a reply, before changing his mind and waving before Yoongi entered his apartment. Once inside, he carried his bag of groceries to the kitchen and laid out all the ingredients on the table.

“Alexa, read out recipe for spicy fried chicken,” he said out loud. Alexa beeped.

“Reading: spicy fried chicken recipe. First, wash chicken and marinate with salt, pepper, soy sauce, pepper paste, and sesame oil…”

About half an hour later, Yoongi really wished he had paid attention to Seokjin’s cooking lessons. But then again, he never really imagined himself in a situation wherein he was stressed out trying to cook for his neighbor’s housewarming party. ‘I should have just ordered some from a nearby restaurant,’ he thought as he carefully dropped a few more pieces of chicken in the frying pan.

“Ah—AHHH!” he yelled as the hot oil crackled and splattered on his hand when he dropped the chicken in. Yoongi bit his lip and shook his hand to numb the pain a bit. Why did cooking have to be so hard? He ran a hand through his hair and surveyed the mess in the kitchen that he had to clean up soon before his eyes landed on the plate of hot fried chicken. Yoongi already tried a piece beforehand and, to his surprise, found that it did taste quite good.

“Hopefully they’ll enjoy it,” he said to himself and carefully turned the chicken pieces in the pan using a pair of tongs. An image of Taehyung’s boxy grin floated up in his mind and Yoongi cried out again in surprise when the hot oil crackled again.

“Ahh! They better enjoy this!” he yelled frustratedly and backed away from the pan.

…

“You invited who?!” Jungkook exclaimed as soon as he heard the news from Taehyung.

“Jung Hoseok and Park Jimin,” Taehyung said, or rather, rasped, nonchalantly as he hung up some colorful streamers that Jungkook brought over for the party. “They were Yoongi’s friends so I thought why not invite them? You know how friendly I am around people.”

“Aish, I can tell you have a different motive for this,” Jungkook said irritably. Taehyung bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. Jungkook may be complaining at the moment, but later on he’ll be grateful to Taehyung for bringing in his favorite Youtubers. “You could have told me sooner so I would have worn something cooler.”

“Like another white t-shirt?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him. “How unique.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook threw a plastic cup at him which Taehyung dodged.

“You can wear my clothes if you want,” he offered. “I think I have a jacket somewhere there.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook nodded and headed to Taehyung’s room. Taehyung finished fixing the last of the streamers and fixed the plastic cups over by the drinks table. The chips and dip were ready on the coffee table and the pizza that Jungkook ordered was on the kitchen counter as well. Apart from his sore throat, Taehyung knew that everything was going to go well this evening.

“Does this look okay?” Jungkook asked, emerging from his bedroom with a black, denim jacket thrown over his plain, white t-shirt.

“You could use a tie,” Taehyung joked.

“Yeah, maybe a top hat while we’re at it,” Jungkook added. The sound of knocking on the door caught their attention.

‘Might be Yoongi,’ Taehyung thought as he walked to answer it. After all, he lived the closest. Instead, he saw his old friend, Kim Namjoon, standing in front of his apartment. Seeing him didn’t stop Taehyung from breaking into a wide smile and hugging his friend.

“Ah, hyung!”

“Nice to see you too man,” Namjoon grinned and hugged him back. “Congratulations on your new apartment.”

“Thanks! Come in!” Taehyung ushered his friend in.

“What happened to your voice?”

“I had a five-hour livestream,” Taehyung explained. “But it’s getting better.”

Jungkook-ah! You’re here early,” Namjoon greeted and hugged Jungkook as well.

“Someone had to come and help Taehyung with setting up,” he replied.

“Hey, my apartment’s not that messy,” Taehyung pouted.

“Yet,” Namjoon and Jungkook chorused.

“Anyway, I brought some meat that we can grill,” Namjoon added, holding up a grocery bag. “There are some hotdogs there too.”

“Ah, hyung’s really generous today,” Taehyung grinned and took the bag from him just when he heard another knock on the door. “I’ll get that. Can you start grilling these in the kitchen?”

“Got it,” Namjoon nodded and took the shopping bag back. Taehyung opened the door to find Seokjin, one of Yoongi’s friends, holding a huge cloth bag.

“Hello!” he greeted. “Am I too early?”

“Not at all,” Taehyung cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Let me guess, that’s from the five-hour livestream last night.”

“Yup,” Taehyung sighed and invited Seokjin in. “Nice sweater, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Seokjin grinned and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Jungkook.

“You must be one of Yoongi’s friends,” Jungkook said and waved hello politely. Taehyung could easily tell how awkward he felt being around a subscriber. He knew that the ones Jungkook met would often crowd his personal space, something that he didn’t like, which was why he was a bit hesitant around them. But based on his first meeting with Seokjin, he could tell that even though he was a big fan, he wasn’t someone who would do that.

“Wow, this is probably the climactic moment in all my twenty-seven years of being alive,” Seokjin sighed and dramatically placed a hand on his chest.

“Where’s Yoongi?” Taehyung rasped, looking around.

“He said he’s still cleaning up the kitchen,” Seokjin said. “He cooked something apparently and so did I!” he said while lifting the bag he was carrying onto the table and removing containers of food. Jungkook watched him with wide eyes.

“Wow, you made all of that?” Taehyung exclaimed.

“It’s nothing,” Seokjin shrugged. “I work for a caterer and as a part-time food blogger,” he grinned.

“AHHHH!”

Taehyung looked up with a start to find Namjoon standing in front of a flaming gas stove. “Turn the fire down!” Seokjin yelled, running quickly to switch the dial on the stove back to a medium flame. Everyone in the apartment, including a shocked Namjoon, sighed with relief.

“I thought this was going to be a literal housewarming party,” Jungkook looked wide-eyed at Taehyung.

“Sorry, everyone,” Namjoon apologized.

“Don’t worry, the meat isn’t burnt… yet,” Seokjin announced. “I can handle the grill here.” Even though he’d been standing in front of the stove for barely a minute, Seokjin was already seasoning the meat and adjusting the heat like a real pro.

“I trust you,” Taehyung grinned. “You can ask Namjoon-hyung for help too.”

“I’ll go get plates or something,” Namjoon said sheepishly.

“Hey, Taehyung-ah,” Taehyung felt Jungkook nudge his shoulder. He turned around to find the younger boy already eating one of the lamb skewers that Seokjin brought along in one of the containers. “This tastes amazing. Thank god you invited that guy.”

“Go on and tell him that yourself,” Taehyung chuckled and reached for a lamb skewer himself when another knock on the door was heard.

“Ah, that must be Yoongi,” Seokjin said. Taehyung quickly handed his skewer to Jungkook, who accepted it gratefully, and headed to the door. He quickly checked his hair and clothes before greeting his neighbor.

“Hey!” he said, wincing slightly after hearing how his voice sounded.

“Man, your house sure was hard to find. I got lost twice,” he joked. Taehyung chuckled as he let Yoongi in. He usually saw him dressed in jeans and a hoodie or a t-shirt, kind of like Jungkook. But today, Yoongi was wearing a dark blue, long-sleeved, button-up shirt and dark jeans with a matching shoulder bag. Taehyung would usually suggest not wearing dark colors all the time to his friends but he had to admit that Yoongi’s clothes played well with his skin tone.

“I’m glad you were able to still make it despite the heavy traffic as well,” Taehyung added.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the traffic,” Yoongi grinned and held up a baking dish wrapped in foil. “By the way, where I can set this?”

“I’ll take it,” Jungkook offered, still chewing on a lamb skewer. Yoongi handed the dish to him and Jungkook set it down carefully on the table of food. “Wow! Spicy fried chicken!” he exclaimed after peeling off the foil.

“Wow, did Yoongi cook?” Seokjin appeared from behind the kitchen counter holding a plate of grilled meat. “He must really like you, Kim Taehyung.”

“I do know how to cook, Seokjin,” Yoongi crossed his arms.

“Ahhh, you sure cooked a lot,” Taehyung grinned when he looked at the tray full of fried chicken. “I feel so touched, Min Yoongi,” he placed a hand over his chest and smiled over at his neighbor.

“It was pretty easy, cooking it,” Yoongi shrugged and scratched his arm. Even behind his raised-up arm, Taehyung could spot a small, shy smile on his face. “You better finish everything.”

“It’s really good,” Jungkook said, chewing a mouthful of fried chicken.

“Really?” Seokjin raised an eyebrow. Jungkook nodded and offered the piece of chicken he was eating for Seokjin to take a bite. The older man chewed for a while before looking at Yoongi with wide-eyed surprise. Yoongi smirked and shrugged a shoulder.

“Well, you’re already getting friendly with him,” he remarked. “Weren’t you nervous just a while ago about meeting one of your favorite Youtubers?”

“Food brings people together,” Seokjin answered. Jungkook nodded beside him.

“When are Hoseok and Park Jimin coming?” Taehyung asked Yoongi.

“They texted me saying they’re on their way,” he answered. “Oh, before I forget…” he reached into his shoulder bag and handed Taehyung a warm thermos.

“What’s this?” he asked, curiously opening the thermos and taking a sniff.

“It’s for your throat,” Yoongi said. “Ginger tea with a little bit of honey. It always works for me when I have a sore throat.”

“Wow, thanks…” Taehyung said gratefully. He decided to take a sip of the tea to hide the giddy smile that was about to spread on his face. Yoongi was just being concerned about him, why did he have to get all hyped up about it?

“So, how is it?” Yoongi asked. The tea was pretty spicy due to the ginger and sweet because of the honey but when Taehyung swallowed, he could really feel it soothing his throat.

“It’s really spicy but with a surprising sweetness too,” Taehyung described and raised an eyebrow at Yoongi. “Kind of like someone I know.”

“An annoying old turtle?” Yoongi joked.

“An annoying old turtle,” Taehyung nodded and looked over at the rest of his friends.

“The meat is all grilled,” Namjoon announced, setting the plate of grilled pork over at the food table where Jungkook was still eating. “But not by me, thank god. Seokjin did all the work.”

“Are the slightly burnt pieces grilled by you, hyung?” Jungkook laughed.

“Yeah…” Namjoon sighed.

“Don’t feel bad,” Seokjin patted him on the shoulder. “Practice is all it takes.”

“I should learn how to cook too,” Jungkook muttered and reached for another piece of Yoongi’s fried chicken. “Instead of just making ramyeon.”

“Same here,” Namjoon agreed. “Jungkook-ah, you have some sauce on your face.”

“Where?”

“Here,” Seokjin took a paper napkin and used it to wipe the corner of Jungkook’s mouth.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook nodded.

“Your friend sure gets along well with other people,” Taehyung chuckled as he watched the trio.

“He and Hoseok always were the more social ones among the three of us,” Yoongi smiled at his friend. “Seokjin was kind of like the Mom Friend in our group. And apparently it still shows around his favorite Youtuber and your other friend.” As he spoke, Seokjin was handing out more paper napkins to Namjoon and Jungkook while they were eating.

“That’s Namjoon-hyung, the friend I told you about. I think you would get along with him,” Taehyung said and took another sip of tea. He could already feel his voice getting a lot less raspy.

“More than I get along with you?” Yoongi looked up at him. Taehyung, for some reason, almost choked on his tea.

“Well, we are getting there,” Taehyung said once he recovered. To his relief, he heard someone knocking on his door again. He excused himself from Yoongi for the moment and headed to the door, all the while wondering why he had that kind of reaction earlier. But then again, he had to admit he felt a bit giddy again when Yoongi mentioned that they got along.

Taehyung exhaled, as if that could help, and opened the door.

“Hello!” Hoseok greeted with a bright smile on his face. Taehyung felt as if he was staring into the sun. Beside Hoseok was another boy, roughly around Yoongi’s height, with blonde hair and a sweet, slightly shy smile on his face.

“Not at all, you guys are just in time,” Taehyung invited them in. “You must be Park Jimin, right?” he asked the shorter boy.

“That’s me,” he nodded. “I’m a big fan of yours by the way, too.”

“He jumped to the ceiling when he heard the invite,” Hoseok chuckled and patted Jimin on the shoulder.

“Well, someone else did the same thing when I invited you guys,” Taehyung grinned cheekily and led them to the kitchen area. “Jungkook-ah! Hoseok and Jimin are here!”

“Closet Gamer Jeon Jungkook…” Jimin breathed out in awe. Jungkook turned around with his mouth still full and once his eyes landed on the new guests, started to choke on his food in surprise.

“Nice to… meet you…” he greeted in between coughs.

“A-are you okay?” Jimin rushed over to his side. “Do you need water? Seokjin-hyung, could you get some water?”

“On it,” Seokjin hurriedly fetched water.

“Get ahold of yourself Jungkookie,” Taehyung bit back a smile as he patted his friend’s back. “He’s a big fan of you and Hoseok by the way,” he told Jimin.

“U-us?” Jimin looked at Jungkook in surprise. Jungkook swallowed and hurriedly took the glass of water from Seokjin.

“Aish, he’s really shy,” Taehyung explained.

“What took you guys so long?” Yoongi asked Hoseok.

“Learning a new dance,” Hoseok replied, setting the box of cake he brought on the food table beside everything else. “It’s a bit tough to learn and Jimin kept on making mistakes.”

“So did you, hyung!” Jimin protested.

“Maybe you should replace him with me,” Seokjin joked. “I’ve got the moves and the looks too!” he winked.

“Your viewer rating will rise by eighty percent,” Yoongi joined in.

“Wow, show us a sample then, hyung,” Hoseok clapped.

“Sample? You want a sample?” Seokjin challenged. He put down the plate of food he was holding and started to dance, or rather, flail around with his arms. Everyone burst out laughing.

“Namjoon-hyung can dance too,” Jungkook laughed and pointed at Namjoon.

“Dance Monster!” Taehyung cheered and Namjoon broke into a series of half-assed breakdancing moves.

“With this, the viewer rating will rise by one hundred percent,” Yoongi laughed.

“This really is starting to feel like a party now,” Taehyung grinned as he looked at everyone.

“How about you make a toast or something?” Hoseok suggested.

“Good idea,” Taehyung nodded.

“I can start serving the drinks,” Yoongi volunteered. Minutes later, everyone was gathered around the food table with a cup of soda in their hands, except for Taehyung who opted to finish Yoongi’s tea.

“Everyone, first of all I want to thank you so much for coming over to my party,” Taehyung began. “I don’t mean to brag or anything but even though having a lot of subscribers makes me feel less lonely, it’s different from having a group of friends I can eat with. And even though I’ve only known most of you for a while, I hope we can all hang out again from time to time.

“So, here’s to old friends, new friends, and less annoying neighbors,” Taehyung raised his thermos and glanced at Yoongi from the side. Yoongi smiled and shook his head but raised his cup anyway.

“Cheers!” everyone toasted.

Taehyung expected his party to be a bit awkward from the start, especially considering how shy Jungkook might be around his favorite Youtubers. But in the contrary, everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun and engaging in conversations left and right. Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi were talking about their favorite music while Seokjin, Jimin, and Jungkook were busy playing one of Taehyung’s board games. The last time he had this much fun was with a group of friends during college. But unfortunately, he lost touch with most of them except for Namjoon-hyung and Jungkook. Maybe this time, he had a chance to start over again with a new group of friends.

“Man, this fried chicken really is good,” Taehyung smacked his lips as he finished another piece.

“Right?” Seokjin said. “He must have really worked hard on this.”

“Earlier he said it wasn’t such a big deal though,” Taehyung wondered aloud.

“He has a thing for downplaying his gestures of kindness,” Seokjin waved him off. “But that guy is really sweet.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” Jimin spoke up. “I haven’t known him for as long as Hoseok-hyung and Seokjin-hyung but he’s been really kind to me. Once, he went with me and Hoseok-hyung to our audition at a talent show. I didn’t pass and Yoongi-hyung found me crying outside the room. We only knew each other through Hoseok-hyung at that time but he invited me out to lunch.”

“That sounds like something he’d do,” Seokjin smiled to himself.

“I know he doesn’t have much experience with failure,” Jimin continued. “But he sure knew what to say to me back then.”

“Is that so?” Taehyung looked around to find Yoongi deep in conversation with Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Yoongi-ah doesn’t show emotion much but he is a pretty sensitive guy,” Seokjin added. Taehyung remembered the conversation the two of them had back at the maintenance closet. It sure felt like Yoongi was opening up to him about things, but at the same time, Taehyung wondered what else he still kept inside.

What struck him the most was Yoongi’s story, the one that wasn’t included in the short online biographies about him. Taehyung knew what it was like to have people judge his dreams and goals in life, but here was now making them come true with ever video he released. But Yoongi, he was still stuck in a position his parents forced him into.

It wasn’t any of Taehyung’s business exactly, but he couldn’t help but want to step in.

“I’m getting more food,” Seokjin said, picking up his plate. “You should eat more too, Jimin.”

“Oh, let me get some,” Taehyung offered. “You guys just sit tight.”

“Can you get some for me too?” Jungkook asked.

“Alright, alright,” Taehyung nodded and walked over to the food table. Even though everyone brought quite a lot of food, almost all of it was finished. Hoseok and Jimin were especially hungry from dance practice and Jungkook probably finished half of the lamb skewers. And of course, everyone seemed to love Yoongi’s fried chicken. Taehyung piled some of that on a plate for the others.

“Someone’s eating for two.” He didn’t even have to turn his head to know that Yoongi was standing beside him.

“Four, actually,” Taehyung said, gesturing over at the coffee table where Seokjin, Jimin, and Jungkook were still playing the board game. “But then, their appetite probably accounts for eight people.”

“That must be why Seokjin-hyung brought so much food.”

“So, how’s practice going?” Taehyung asked. “Your competition is next week, right?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded.

“You’ve pretty much got it in the bag,” Taehyung chuckled. “Your playing is perfect.”

“We’ll see about it,” Yoongi shrugged. “Do you… want to come watch?” Taehyung blinked in surprise at the invitation.

“Y-you don’t have to, of course,” Yoongi stammered. “I mean, you might be busy and the competition is a bit boring and—”

“I’d love to come watch!” Taehyung said hurriedly. “I’ve never been to one before.”

“Great,” Yoongi smiled. “We can get something to eat after.”

“How about a movie?” Taehyung offered.

“If it has something with animals in it, it’s a no for me,” Yoongi looked at him seriously.

“Very funny,” Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I wonder what your subscribers would think if they found out about your dark secret.”

“You really are an annoying old turtle,” Taehyung sighed and shook his head while Yoongi laughed. Taehyung felt that weird giddy smile making another appearance on his face. No matter how annoying Yoongi was, he’d probably make five hundred furry jokes about himself just to see him laugh.

“Taehyung-ah! The food!” Jungkook whined.

“Aish, it’s coming,” Taehyung called back., slightly that annoyed that his conversation was interrupted. Suddenly, he heard a phone ringing and Yoongi reached into his pocket to pull his phone out. After glancing at the caller ID once, Yoongi frowned and put down his drink.

“Sorry, I got to take this,” he apologized.

“Sure,” Taehyung nodded and watched him excuse himself out of the apartment to take the call. He was curious as to who could be calling Yoongi and why he looked so uncomfortable and considered maybe eavesdropping from the door when the rest of his friends called him over to eat again.

…

“Hello?”

“Yoongi, how have you been?” his mother answered.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled and picked at his shoelaces while he was crouching down outside by the wall.

“Have you been practicing for the upcoming competition?”

“What else would I do?” Yoongi sighed as he felt himself getting increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation passed. His mother rarely called him, a good thing really, since Yoongi found himself having difficulty listening to her voice and the underlying tones of pity and sometimes hostility.

“You’re right,” she said. “You have learned your lesson after all. You’re good at quickly picking up on things.”

Yoongi fell silent. ‘And you know how to hit the right nerves,’ he thought. Of course she would bring up that gala, the only time Yoongi didn’t hear applause after playing. His parents sat in the front row on that day, it made it easier for Yoongi to see the looks on their faces.

“If you called me for a reason please say it straightforwardly,” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“Alright. I’ll be coming to watch your competition,” his mother finally said. “I’d like to know if you still play perfectly after all these years.”

“I can send you the medal when I’m done,” Yoongi said, disregarding how harsh his tone sounded. “There’s no need for you to come.” No way was he going to allow his mother to meet Taehyung or ruin their plans for that night.

“Don’t disappoint me,” was all she said. Yoongi resisted the urge to throw his phone. “And Yoongi…”

“What?”

“Don’t forget, this is the life you chose for yourself.” And with that, she hung up.

“You don’t have to remind me,” Yoongi whispered and put down his phone. He had already chosen the music life ever since he persisted playing piano and joining competitions. All the fame and praise got to his head and Yoongi found himself dreaming further. It wasn’t unlike that story about Icarus, the boy with wings who wanted to fly even higher. And like him, Yoongi found himself falling instead of flying further the moment the piece he worked weeks on composing was met with disappointment.

It was better for his wings to remain clipped and tied to the ground. After all, he could only go so far with music.

From where he was outside, Yoongi could still hear his friends having fun in Taehyung’s party. During his years in the conservatory, Yoongi often skipped out on parties and hanging out with his friends. He was extremely lucky that his friends were understanding about it. For once, he even thought he could actually enjoy himself in a party. But even with those things, Yoongi could only go so far.

He stood up, hesitating a bit before Taehyung’s door, before turning around and going back into his own apartment.

…

“Hey, where did Yoongi go?” Hoseok asked, sitting next to Taehyung on the couch.

“He said that he needed to take a call,” Taehyung replied and gestured at the door. “He’s outside but he’s been gone for some time too.”

“I see,” Hoseok pulled his phone out and texted a quick message.

               to: yoongi-hyung (forever brother)

               >>> hey are you okay? you’ve been away for a long time

A reply came just a few seconds after.

               from: yoongi-hyung (forever brother)

               >>> mom called

               >>> i’m practicing. haven’t done it all day

Hoseok cursed under his breath when he saw the message. Taehyung looked over at him.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yoongi-hyung said that he’s going to practice now,” Hoseok said and put his phone away. “I guess he felt nervous about it since he hadn’t practiced all day.”

“What’s there for him to be worried about? He’s a genius,” Taehyung frowned.

“Taehyung, has Yoongi-hyung told you anything about his life?” Hoseok asked. At the sound of his serious tone, Taehyung looked attentively at him.

“Yeah, he told me about the gala and his parents and why he joins a bunch of competitions,” he said.

“Wow, that’s quite a lot,” Hoseok smiled slightly. “He seems to trust you pretty well.”

“I was hoping that he’d trust me more…” Taehyung muttered. “I… I see him as a friend too.”

“You’re a good guy Taehyung,” Hoseok patted his shoulder. “I’ve been friends with Yoongi-hyung since we were in middle school so I kind of saw everything that happened. He looked so happy when he was composing his piece for the gala but then afterwards… he just wasn’t the same.”

“I can imagine,” Taehyung nodded.

“He may be a grown man but I still worry about him,” Hoseok admitted. “Music used to make him smile but now he’s just overworking himself learning pieces again and again. I know he’s talented enough to do what he loves but what happened in the gala really crushed him.

“I’ve really tried to get him back to what he wanted to do then, but Yoongi-hyung just doesn’t seem to be up for it again,” he finished.

“I don’t think he’s given up on them for good though,” Taehyung said. “When he was talking about his past, I could still tell that he longs for what he let go before. I guess Yoongi could just use a little help.”

“And I haven’t given up hope on him yet,” Hoseok smiled. “Maybe knowing someone like you will change things. But at the moment, I’m not really asking for much, do you mind checking on him from time to time for me?”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung cocked his head.

“Yoongi-hyung has a tendency to forget to eat or take care of himself whenever he’s immersed in his practice, that usually happens before a competition,” Hoseok confessed. “A month ago, he didn’t respond to my texts so I broke into his house and found him passed out from near hunger in front of the piano.”

“I-I won’t let that happen then,” Taehyung said determinedly.

“Thanks Taehyung,” Hoseok grinned. “Also, in case you do need to break into his house, he keeps a key under the mat in front of his door.”

“Got it,” Taehyung nodded.

“Thanks for inviting him and all of us here, by the way,” Hoseok added. “Yoongi-hyung wouldn’t go to parties back when he was studying at the conservatory. I bet he really enjoyed himself.”

“And we sure enjoyed his fried chicken,” Taehyung grinned.

“He must have been really excited,” Hoseok nodded. “So was Jimin when he got invite.” He looked over at Jimin who, despite his nervousness earlier, was deep in conversation with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

“Hey, wanna make a bet?” Taehyung nudged Hoseok.

“What are we betting on?”

“Those two,” Taehyung pointed at Jimin and Jungkook. “I bet they’ll be together by the end of the month.”

“Really?” Hoseok grinned. “Alright, my bet is two months.”

“Hey, can I join in?” Seokjin whispered, leaning over the couch behind them.

“Sure,” Taehyung smiled up at him. “My bet is one month. Hoseok is two.”

“Reallly?” Seokjin shook his head. “Okay, mine is two weeks.”

“Hey, isn’t that pretty quick?” Hoseok frowned.

“Two weeks, guaranteed,” Seokjin nodded.

“Alright, what are the stakes?” Taehyung asked.

“How about, losers have to appear in either one of your channels and do whatever the winner says on-screen,” Seokjin suggested. The other two nodded at the idea.

“I’ll make you guys play the scariest horror game I know,” Taehyung grinned devilishly and rubbed his hands together.

“What are you going to be if you win?” Hoseok asked. “That’s a big ‘if’ by the way.”

“If I win…” Seokjin mulled the thought over. “I get to make a food trip vlog and post it on your channels.”

“That doesn’t sound like that bad of a punishment,” Taehyung frowned.

“But, I get to choose your outfits,” Seokjin grinned.

“There’s the punishment,” Hoseok nodded.

“Deal?” Seokjin raised his hands at the two of them.

“Deal.” The three of them shook hands.

…

“Thanks again for coming!” Taehyung bowed appreciatively at Hoseok and Jimin as they packed up to leave.

“Are you sure you guys don’t need help cleaning up?” Jimin asked.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook waved him off. “You guys live pretty far.”

“Thanks again for inviting us,” Hoseok smiled. “Let’s hang out at my place next time, alright?”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Taehyung grinned.

“Ah, Jimin! You got my number, right?” Jungkook called after them.

“Yeah!” Jimin smiled back. “I’ll text you.” Taehyung glanced at Hoseok and Seokjin who smirked and held up two fingers. ‘Damn, he’s good,’ Taehyung thought.

“Safe trip!” Namjoon waved as Hoseok and Jimin left. Seokjin packed the last of his empty food containers into a bag and walked over to Taehyung.

“I have some pink onesies that I think would fit perfectly on you,” he whispered.

“Whatever, I’ll still win,” Taehyung shook his head.

“Anyway, I’ll be off now,” Seokjin said.

“Are you headed to the bus station?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, want to go together?” Seokjin offered.

“Sure,” Namjoon nodded. He finished off his sweeping and put the broom back in the kitchen before joining Seokjin. “See you Taehyung,” he added, hugging his friend again.

“Thanks for coming!” Taehyung smiled. Jungkook waved goodbye and the two finally left. “Well, that was fun.”

“And tiring,” Jungkook sighed and sat down on the couch. He decided to sleep over since he didn’t feel like going all the way home that night. And because there were still some leftover lamb skewers.

“It’s too bad Yoongi couldn’t stay for the whole thing,” Taehyung pouted. Almost as soon as he heard that Yoongi left, all he could hear from the other apartment was the sound of piano playing. It was going on until now.

“His fried chicken was delicious,” Jungkook nodded.

“I was wrong about him,” Taehyung said. “I really thought he was nothing but an annoying old turtle but he really is a kind person. I think he was cooking that fried chicken for the entire afternoon since he wasn’t practicing. He even brought me tea for my throat.”

“Hmmm… someone seems whipped,” Jungkook murmured. Taehyung felt his face heat up.

“N-no way! I just met the guy,” he stammered. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at him.

“You have that look on your face again.”

It was true. Taehyung could feel the giddy smile spreading on his face again. All he needed to do was laugh nervously for Jungkook to finally confirm his ‘Whipped Boy’ theory.

“It’s not that,” Taehyung groaned. “I just feel this way because I’m surprised that he’s a nice guy! That’s all.”

“Right,” Jungkook nodded, unconvinced.

“Well, what about you and Jimin then?” Taehyung pointed out. The tips of Jungkook’s ears turned pink and Taehyung knew he hit the right nerve. “You guys seemed to enjoy talking.”

“H-hey, I told you to throw the trash earlier, why haven’t you done it?” Jungkook dodged the question and dumped the bag of trash by the couch in front of Taehyung. “Go on and do it already!”

“Why, I’m the one who lives here?” Taehyung groaned.

“That’s exactly why,” Jungkook wrestled him off the couch. “Come on, man of the house.”

“Fine,” Taehyung stood up and dragged the bag of trash with him. “But if you guys do plan on dating, can you do so a month from now?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung shook his head and hurried out with the trash. Once outside, the sound of piano playing was even louder. ‘He usually stops at around this time,’ Taehyung wondered as he walked towards Yoongi’s apartment. The two of them agreed that they would knock on each other’s door if either of them didn’t follow the schedule that Yoongi made but at the moment, Taehyung figured that he’d step back.

He stood right in front of Yoongi’s apartment and gently pressed his forehead against the door. What Hoseok said earlier echoed in his mind with the sound of Yoongi’s piano playing. ‘I haven’t given up hope on him yet. Maybe knowing someone like you will change things.’ It probably wasn’t just Hoseok who was worried about him but Seokjin and maybe even Jimin as well. And now, so was Taehyung.

“I hope you find your way back, Min Yoongi,” he whispered.

…

“Alexa, what time is it?” Yoongi yawned and rubbed his eyes as soon as he woke up.

“7:30 a.m.,” she beeped. “Reminder set for eating breakfast at 8:30 a.m.”

“Thanks Alexa,” Yoongi mumbled and got out of bed. His hands ached from playing piano all night so Yoongi stretched them gently. The competition was tomorrow and he decided to practice for only two hours and spend the rest of the day resting his hands. Despite that, Yoongi knew that resting would be the hardest part of the day since it often drove him crazy not being able to practice.

“But first, breakfast,” he told himself. As soon as he reached the kitchen, however, there was barely anything in the pantry or the refrigerator. The last time he bought groceries was when he was buying fried chicken ingredients. Of course, he didn’t think about buying actual food for the rest of the week.

Annoyed by the extra chore, Yoongi went back to his room and changed into some jeans and a hoodie. He took his keys and wallet as well and headed out of his apartment. Thankfully, the grocery was just a few blocks away across the park so Yoongi didn’t have to walk for such a long time. But during his short journey, he took his time to enjoy the sights of a city that’s just about to wake up. In the park, there were only a few people walking their dogs as well as a few old ladies doing what appeared to be yoga right in front of the fountain. Even though Yoongi loved sleeping in and hated getting up early in the morning, he’d admit that walking in the park was more enjoyable at around this time.

In the grocery, he made his rounds and went directly to the aisles he often visited. Yoongi really didn’t opt to make extravagant or complicated meals like Seokjin did so he settled for buying a few simple ingredients. But as soon as he passed by the meat section, he thought about the fried chicken he made for Taehyung’s party and how good it apparently was. It was a pain to make, but he could get used to it. With that thought, Yoongi added a pack of chicken to his shopping basket.

“Are you planning to make it again?”

Yoongi looked up at the owner of the voice and smiled to find Kim Taehyung standing next to him in the aisle. Even though his head and face were covered by his jacket hood and face mask, Yoongi could still it was him. Primarily because he was almost a whole head taller than him.

“Yeah, after all this competition craziness is over and I have more time,” Yoongi said. He looked at Taehyung’s shopping basket and found a huge assortment of energy drinks and candy in it. “You do know that those things are going to make your voice worse.”

“Yeah but I have an awesome neighbor who makes awesome tea,” Taehyung pulled down his mask slightly and smiled at him. Yoongi felt the corner of his mouth turn up slightly at the sight of that smile.

“But this awesome neighbor isn’t going to help you out when you get a toothache or diabetes,” Yoongi pointed. “Geez, and I thought I had bad eating habits. Can you put at least one vegetable in there or something?”

“Do potatoes count as vegetables?” Taehyung joked. Yoongi smacked his arm making Taehyung laugh. “Alright, alright I’ll get some vegetables or something. Wait for me, okay?”

“No, I’m going ahead,” Yoongi walked off but waited nonetheless for his neighbor at an aisle near the counter. Taehyung caught up to him a few minutes later and after Yoongi checked the contents of his shopping basket to make sure he had enough healthy food, and a little less snacks, they finally headed for the checkout counter and walked back home.

While walking, Yoongi found himself enjoying the morning even more, even though he usually was asleep at around this time. Earlier, he felt as if this today was going to be filled with restlessness and anxiety about the competition the next day. Somehow, finding Taehyung in the grocery store and walking home made it better. Yoongi looked at Taehyung walking beside him and wondered how this tall, lanky guy made his day just a bit brighter.

“So, what time is your competition?” Taehyung asked. The two of them were walking through the park carrying their own shopping bags with them. Taehyung offered to carry Yoongi’s but he insisted on bringing it himself.

“It’s at five pm and it should be done by six-thirty,” Yoongi answered. “We can leave at four.”

“Alright,” Taehyung nodded. Yoongi looked around and found a few middle-schoolers wearing baseball uniforms getting ready for a practice game. “Did you play before?” Taehyung asked, looking over at him.

“No,” Yoongi shook his head. “Hoseok did. I played basketball for a bit but my mother made me stop in case I sprained my wrist or a broke a finger.”

“I see,” Taehyung nodded. “I played basketball too.”

“The actual kind or the one in video games?” Yoongi smirked.

“The actual one,” Taehyung nudged him. “I wasn’t that unhealthy. I bet I could beat you.”

“Yeah right,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I bet I could beat you with one hand behind my back,” he challenged.

“Oh yeah? I bet I could beat you with one foot tied behind my back!”

“How does that even work?” Yoongi laughed. “Speaking of feet, your shoelaces are untied,” he pointed down at Taehyung’s feet.

“Aw, damn, I forgot to double-knot them,” Taehyung sighed. “Give me a second.” He put down his shopping bag near Yoongi’s feet and crouched down beside a nearby bench to tie his shoelaces. While waiting, Yoongi turned around to watch the middle school baseball players. He was just in time to watch the pitcher pitch a fast ball and the batter to hit it back. But instead of the baseball curving upwards, it flew quickly in their direction. Rather, in Taehyung’s direction.

And it was closing in quickly.

“Look out!” Yoongi yelled and ran after him. Taehyung looked up in surprise at the speeding baseball but remained frozen on the spot. Yoongi quickly closed the distance and raised a hand in an attempt to catch the ball.

But instead, it hit him squarely on the tips of his fingers. Yoongi couldn’t tell if he could really hear them snap when the ball hit but he felt the jolt of pain as soon as the ball hit. He looked down at Taehyung to find him in shock but thankfully unharmed.

“Yoongi…” Taehyung stood up. “You’re hand.” That’s when the pain really sank in and Yoongi finally realized that his right hand was trembling. He was too scared to even look at it.

“I-it’s fine. I can… I can still play…” he stammered.

“No! Your fingers,” Taehyung reached down for his hand. That’s when Yoongi finally forced himself to check. He found that his middle and pointer finger were almost bent back and the rest of his hand was bright red and swelling from the impact. ‘So that’s why I couldn’t feel anything in those two fingers…’ Yoongi thought as he bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain. For some reason, looking at it made it feel even worse.

“We need to get you a hospital, okay?” Taehyung said gently, looking him in the eye. “Don’t think about piano practice for now. We need to get your hand treated.”

“Alright,” Yoongi gasped and inhaled deep breaths to focus on something other than the pain. This kind of accident was the main reason why his mother stopped him from playing sports or learning how to cook to protect his fingers. His piano playing fingers.

And just like that, his happy morning ended.

…

“How long is it going to take for it to heal, doctor?” Taehyung asked. He and Yoongi took the bus to the nearby hospital. There, Yoongi’s hand was X-rayed before getting wrapped up with a splint on the middle and pointer fingers.

“Four to six weeks,” the doctor answered. “Try not to exert it and make sure to put it on an ice pack every three to four hours on the first day.”

“I see,” Taehyung nodded. He looked over at Yoongi who was silent spaced out for almost the entire time they were in the hospital. “Yoongi…” Taehyung said gently, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you have a competition tomorrow but you need to rest, okay?” Yoongi only nodded slowly.

“Here’s a prescription of his pain medication,” the doctor pushing a piece of paper towards them. “Follow the instructions on when to take them.”

“Thank you doctor,” Taehyung bowed and got up. Yoongi cradled his injured hand gently and left the office without a word.

He didn’t even say anything after Taehyung bought his medications and during the short bus ride on the way back to their apartment. Taehyung could tell, however, that Yoongi could only be worried about his upcoming competition. It sucked having this kind of accident the day before such an event especially after all Yoongi’s hard work practicing for it. But surely there were other competitions he could join afterwards. Taehyung was sure that Yoongi could get back on his feet.

“Hey, since you can’t cook or anything, what about I make dinner for you?” Taehyung offered, looking over at Yoongi sitting beside him. “I mean, I’m not as great a cook as Seokjin-hyung is but I can make some simple meals. I’ll promise I won’t give you food poisoning or anything,” he laughed nervously. Yoongi didn’t say a word and continued to look out the window. Taehyung bit his lip and hung his head.

And the silence between stretched even more.

After the bus ride, Taehyung used Yoongi’s keys to open his apartment to let him in. He asked if there was anything else Yoongi wanted him to do, but the only response he received was “Please leave me alone.”

…

“Audio message received from ‘Mother,’” Alexa beeped. Yoongi was sitting on the floor of his bedroom with his back resting against the wall near his bed. He still found it hard to believe that the fingers of his right hand were wrapped up with a splint and that he wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow at the competition.

“Play message,” Yoongi swallowed.

“Son, why haven’t you answered any of my calls?” his mother’s voice filled up his empty bedroom. Yoongi felt himself curl up even tighter. “Please let me know what time you’ll arrive at the venue area and when your turn begins. This is serious, please call back.”

There was silence afterwards before his mother said one last thing. “Don’t even think about missing this competition.”

“Audio message ended,” Alexa said. “Would you like to reply?”

“Alexa, don’t reply,” Yoongi said and gazed long and hard at his fingers. This was the first time he’s ever broken them, but it wasn’t the last time he missed out on a competition.

The first time happened after the gala, when Yoongi fell into depression after his failed attempt at showing off something he created himself. He didn’t even want to touch or look at a piano. His parents left him alone during that time but his mother reminded Yoongi that his avoidance would someday stop. He loved the piano too much.

And she was right.

Yoongi stood up and made his way out of his bedroom to the piano, which looked lonelier now as it sat in the very dim light of his apartment. He sat down on the bench, lifted up the lid, and rested the fingers of his left hand on the keys. Then, the bandaged fingers of his right hand.

He remembered that one time he was playing the piano late at night once, back when he was in middle school. Instead of practicing for the piece he was supposed to learn for the gala, Yoongi felt his fingers playing a different melody. One that didn’t come from any famous composer but from himself, from his late nights of tossing and turning in his bed, from the scraps of melodies he wrote in his notebook during class. At that time, Yoongi felt himself asking the piano if it was okay for him to dream farther than the competitions his mother signed him up in. He asked if it was okay for him to create something.

And then he got the answer to that on the fateful gala night.

“Don’t forget, this is the life you chose for yourself,” his mother’s words echoed in his head.

‘No,’ Yoongi thought bitterly and ripped off the bandages from his right hand. ‘This is what was given to me.’ And with that thought, he began to play.

…

“Alright, this should be enough,” Taehyung muttered to himself as he packed some rice into a container and added it into a bag which was already filled with containers of some side dishes and soup. He didn’t have much cooking know-how but he did learn enough from his grandmother to make a few dishes.

Taehyung kind of felt bad earlier when Yoongi told him to leave the house instead of asking for help. But he also remembered his promise to Hoseok about taking care of Yoongi. The poor guy was probably still reeling from the accident earlier so Taehyung brought it upon himself to cook dinner for him.

“Yoongi! I brought some dinner!” Taehyung called and knocked on the door. “Yoongi?”

And that was when he heard the noise: the faint sound of piano playing. Taehyung froze, ‘No way, Yoongi wouldn’t be this careless,’ he thought. He pressed his ear against the door and sure enough, he was hearing the sound of piano playing.

“Yoongi! You can’t play the piano yet!” Taehyung knocked harder on the door. “You have to let it rest or it won’t heal properly!” Yoongi still didn’t answer the door and the sound of piano playing continued.

“Shit,” Taehyung cursed and put down the bag he was carrying. Remembering again what Hoseok said, he flipped over the mat outside Yoongi’s apartment door and picked up a spare key. He quickly unlocked the door and burst into the apartment.

“Yoongi!” he yelled but without so much as a response from his neighbor. Min Yoongi was sitting hunched in front of the piano. Even in the dim light, Taehyung could see his right hand shaking as he pressed the keys. He rushed over to his neighbor and grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders.

“Snap out of it, Yoongi!”

“Taehyung…” Yoongi mumbled, looking up at his neighbor. “Please, just leave me alone,” he pleaded. Taehyung looked down at his injured hand which was starting to swell again. It should be hurting like hell but Yoongi seemed unfazed by it.

“What have you done?” Taehyung shook his head at the sight. “The doctor said it takes four to six weeks to heal. You can’t play in the competition tomorrow.”

“I have to!” Yoongi cried and took his hand back. “I have to make it tomorrow and play perfectly!”

“There are other competitions out there!” Taehyung attempted to reason with him. “I know it sucks that you practiced so long and hard for this one but we have to prioritize your health. We’ll find a new one, I promise.”

“You don’t understand,” Yoongi shook his head. Taehyung could hear the sound of his voice cracking. “These people are unforgiving. Yes, they’ll call you a genius if you have talent. But after just one slip-up they’ll be all over you.”

“Who are you talking about?” Taehyung crouched in front of Yoongi gently placed a hand on his arm. Yoongi sniffed wiped the tears that were now flowing out of his eyes.

“Everyone…” he sobbed and covered his mouth with his hand. “Mom and Dad. The competition judges. The media. The audience. Everyone.” Yoongi shook his head.

Taehyung looked down and felt tears welling up in his eyes as well. He always found himself crying after seeing other people cry. Seeing Yoongi, his tough, strong-willed neighbor like this, crying in front of a piano with broken finger, made Taehyung’s chest especially hurt.

“It was so hard getting back to competitions after the gala,” Yoongi sniffed. “I stopped playing but when I finally started again, hardly anyone would let me join. They knew how much of a failure I was. But when I was finally allowed to join some, everything changed.

“I can feel them all staring down at me when I play,” Yoongi shuddered and sobbed harder. “I know they’re all waiting for me to screw up again.”

Taehyung struggled to find some words to say. All he could think about was how difficult the past years have been for Yoongi. “It must have been hard for you,” Taehyung whispered and took Yoongi’s hands in his. “And I can’t even begin to understand a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of that pain you’ve been carrying around all this time.” He knew it wasn’t the most comforting thing in the world to say, but he’d rather tell Yoongi what he really felt instead of spouting some bullshit.

“It’s so hard being on that stage,” Yoongi confessed. “It’s so hard not being able to play the piano again.”

“Don’t go back on that stage then,” Taehyung implored, lifting up Yoongi’s chin with a finger so he’d look at him. “If you can’t take it then don’t go back. I know you’ve wanted to do something much more than this. You told me yourself that you wouldn’t shit on your dreams so don’t be a hypocrite and shit on your own.”

“A dream?” Yoongi shook his head and smiled bitterly through his tears. “I don’t think I even have that.”

Taehyung sniffed and wiped his eyes. It felt as if he was the one who was crying more between the two of them. Even now, he still felt like hitting himself for not having anything good to say. But after what Yoongi said, Taehyung felt as if he was drawn back to his own high school years. He knew that feeling of not knowing what to do and being stuck in place while everyone was passionately running forward. It all felt like a race to him back then with Taehyung right smack in the starting line. But despite that, he got to where he wanted to be.

“Yoongi,” Taehyung gently rested his hand on Yoongi’s left. “It’s okay to cry about it now, it’s worth crying over. And it’s okay if all you want to do later is eat and sleep for twenty hours. God knows you deserve it.

“It’s okay to feel hurt about this and be confused because that’s the first step to figuring things out,” he continued. Yoongi wiped the tears from his eyes and finally looked him in the eye instead of avoiding his gaze. “You have friends with you and I know they’ll do anything to help you out.”

Yoongi bit his lip and looked down at where Taehyung’s hand was resting on his. Gently, he closed his fingers over it. He opened his mouth as if to say something before hesitating and pursing his lips. Taehyung smiled reassuringly and waited patiently for him to say anything. Finally, he spoke.

“Will you help me?” Yoongi looked down as he said those words before glancing up at Taehyung with a worried look on his face. Judging from that look, Taehyung could only imagine how rarely Yoongi said those words. It was an expression that Taehyung knew he used more than once throughout a day, but with Yoongi, he knew it held more weight than he could ever imagine.

Taehyung smiled and got up to wrap his arms around Yoongi.

“Of course I will.” 

this is so sad alexa play despacito

[thereisnobearonthisisland-arc]

buoy

this is my first chaptered fic and i miiiiight need a little help staying motivated to keep writing it, but i’m aiming for one chapter a week if i can :)

Summary: Dan is a first-year student at the University of Manchester. Jack is his RA. And Phil is Jack's best friend, another RA, and quite possibly about to be the love of Dan's life. Dan and Phil just have a long road of keeping secrets from Jack before they fall in love.

read on ao3

2.2k words

warnings: anxiety, mild sexual innuendos, swearing

chapter one

Dan was tired.  Tired because he’d been staying up until three o’clock in the morning every night for the past two weeks.  Tired because there’s only so much you can read before your brain liquefies and your eyelids start to feel like they’re made of lead.  Most of all, though, he was just tired of uni in general.  Everything was so…monotonous.  Waking up to go to work for a few hours.  Going to classes all day just for the attendance points, but never actually listening to a word that was said all class.  Coming home with every intention of Doing The Thing™, only to fall asleep within five minutes of stepping through the door.  All of this was wearing him thin, ripping apart his motivation one thread at a time.

He was tired, and regardless of whether or not it was a good idea for his GPA, he was ready for some relaxation.  Jack, his RA, had given him the perfect opportunity, too.  As Dan lay cocooned under his blankets, eyes drifting shut to some old-ass document written by John Locke, his school email pinged with a new notification.  He shifted a bit, sitting straighter and wiggling his shoulders to try to wake himself up.  He slid his cursor over to the tab with his email and opened it.  From Jack Swanson, yada yada yada, watching Planet Earth II in the lounge.  Dan’s eyes shot open.  He could be watching Planet Earth II instead of reading for class?  Sign him the fuck up.

He threw the covers off of himself and sprung out of bed.  Were pyjama pants appropriate for watching Netflix in the communal lounge?  Oh, who was he kidding.  It would be dark.  No one would actually give a fuck what he was wearing.  He slipped on a grey t-shirt and a pair of slippers before heading out of his room, not even bothering to lock the door behind him.  

The lounge was in the center of the whole floor, a focal point, the hub for everyone to get together and socialize.  Not that people did very often.  Dan made his way past the elevators and into the lounge.  The horrendous, thirty-year-old blue couches and chairs had been rearranged into a u-shape in front of the TV.  Jack looked up from where he was fiddling with a cord he’d hooked from his laptop to the TV.  He was the only other person in the lounge.  

Dan’s stomach swooped.  What if he was the only one to show up tonight?  What if he had to carry conversation all by himself?  He liked Jack.  Jack was easy to get along with.  But Dan had no idea how he was meant to hold a steady conversation all night without anyone to interject or change the subject.  He was an awful conversationalist.  

“Dan!”  Jack grinned from where he was kneeling on the floor, trying to project the show onto the widescreen TV embedded in the wall.  “Glad you could make it!”  

Dan let out a long breath.  Netflix.  They were watching Netflix.  Surely, some other people would be joining them.  And even if they didn’t, Dan wouldn’t have to worry about conversation.  He’d be too busy staring at the screen.

He shook his head, remembering that Jack had just said something.  He grinned crookedly, fixing his eyes just to the left of Jack’s face.  “Heh, yeah, I just really love penguins, ya know?”

Jack nodded vigorously.  “Oh yeah, penguins are definitely one of the coolest animals out there.”  He frowned, pulling his phone out of his pocket.  “Sorry, I left my friend Phil in charge of snacks for tonight.  He appears to have gotten lost,” he said after a minute.

Dan grinned.  “Ha, yeah I’m late to almost everything, so I feel for him.”

“Oh, no.  I mean he actually got lost.  The guy doesn’t know his left from his right.  He took one wrong turn and wound up eight blocks opposite from Tesco’s.”

“Oh.”  Dan bit back a grin.

“He’s on his way back now though.  Hopefully we can still start on time.  I was kind of hoping he’d make it back earlier though.  I’m not really sure if I have this hooked up properly.”  Jack gestured to the set-up he’d made with his laptop and the TV.

Dan scratched the back of his neck.  “I mean, I could take a look at it for you if you want?”

“Yeah, sure!  I’m honestly so technologically incompetent.  I always need help.  I think my mom could figure this out in about two minutes, but it just doesn’t click for me.”

Tittering, Dan knelt as Jack stood up from beside his laptop.  “You’re just trying to project your laptop screen onto the TV screen?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, that’s simple enough.”  He checked the HDMI cord and its input and then played with a few buttons on the side of the TV to switch the input from HDMI 2 to 3.  Jack’s computer screen popped up onto the TV.

“Huh.  That was quick.  Well, thanks Dan!”

Dan ducked his head.  “Erm, yeah, no problem.”  He made his way over to the couch facing the door and sat down, pulling his feet up onto the seat and wrapping his arms around his legs.  He stared at the screen, eyes glazing over and zoning out as Jack brought up Planet Earth on Netflix.  

He snapped back to attention when a giant bumbling figure stumbled through the open door, spindly limbs wobbling with the weight of plastic bags full of popcorn and suspiciously vibrant packaging. The guy was tall, probably taller than Dan himself and definitely taller than Jack.  He was hot.  Pools of saliva were beginning to form in Dan’s mouth, and he was almost afraid that he’d wind up hocking a loogie at this Phil guy before they even got the chance to get to know one another.  He needed to get ahold of himself.

Phil—or at least Dan was assuming this was Phil—dropped his bags on the round table in the corner of the room and let out a few wheezing breaths.  Dan smirked to himself.  Relatable.  Jack said something off to his left, but it just sounded like something from inside a fishbowl.

“Dan?”  Dan shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the tall, handsome stranger and blinking rapidly as if that could make the fog billowing up in his head clear any faster.  Jack was looking at him, head cocked to the side and eyebrows scrunched together.

“Hmm?”

“I said that I’m gonna go grab some plates, but you can feel free to sneak anything you’d like before other people start to show up.  I won’t tell.”

“Oh, yeah.  Cool.  Thanks!”  Dan clasped his hands together and stood up awkwardly.  As Jack ducked out of the room, he crept over to the table with the snacks.

The guy was even prettier up close.  His eyes looked like summer, and they made Dan nostalgic for old family hols when his parents were still together.  He forced himself to look away from them and toward the small mountain of food.

“I’m always the weirdo who winds up in the corner with the food,” the guy said, and Dan started, a surprised laugh tumbling out of his lips.

“Honestly?  Same.”

The guy grinned a thousand-watt smile.  “You’re Dan, right?”  He stuck out his hand.  “I’m Phil.  I’m the RA on the second floor.”

Dan grabbed it for a quick shake, ignoring the way his palm tingled when their hands came together.  “Nice to meet you.  Jack was actually just telling me a bit about you.  Said you don’t know your left from your right.”

Phil groaned, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.  “He’s right!  I got lost on the way to pick up all of these snacks.  I told him it would go much smoother if I had someone else to go with me, but he said he had to be back here.  It’s really all his fault.”

Dan laughed.  “I’d offer to go with you next time, but I actually have no idea where anything is in this city.”

“You don’t know your way around Manchester?  I mean, I guess I can’t talk.  I got lost on the way to Tesco’s.  But you should at least know all the places to go to if your family comes to town or something.”

Dan scratched the back of his neck, unable to shake the broad grin that had planted itself on his face.  He was sure he must look like a maniac.  “I’m sure I’ll get around to learning the city eventually.”

Phil nodded, shifting back and forth between his feet for a minute.  “I mean, I could try to show you around sometime, maybe.  If you want, that is.  I’m not the best at finding my way around.  Obviously.  But at least if you get lost you won’t be alone.”

Dan felt his face grow warm with a flush straight from hell itself.  He opened his mouth to answer, but Jack walked back through the door, and all the words in Dan’s head morphed into a squeak.  Holy fuck.  Dan had just squeaked.  In front of a hot guy.  Shit.

“I’ve got plates!”  Jack wandered over to them, seemingly oblivious to Dan’s growing embarrassment.  He set a stack of plates on the table and then turned around, frowning at the door.  “I thought we might get more people than this.  Maybe I should send one more email.”

He pulled out his phone and ambled over to one of the chairs.  Phil nudged Dan, and Dan tried to will away the blush dusting his cheeks as he looked back at him.  Dan’s eyes were drawn to his lips as he put a single finger up to them.  They were pretty lips, bow-shaped, plump, and pink.  He barely noticed the way Phil gestured secretively to his own phone.  Phil typed something quickly, fingers flying across the screen for a minute before he locked it and slipped it back into his pocket.

Dan’s spine was wracked with the tingle of shivers as Phil leaned in close to whisper to him.  “I just invited my residents to join in if they want.  Don’t tell Jack.”

Dan nodded, holding his breath as he desperately tried to keep his body from shaking too much at the feeling of Phil’s breath fanning out over his ear.  He took one step away from Phil, letting out a slow breath and trying to calm his nerves before he could squeak again.  Phil made Dan nervous.  He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to unpack the reason behind that for that right now, but he could at least acknowledge it.  Still slightly jittery, he gestured wildly to the table.  “So, what would you recommend?”

Phil studied the food for a moment.  “I guess that depends on what you prefer.  Savory or sweet?  I’m partial to sweet things, myself.”

“I guess I like a bit of both?”

“Hmm, then I’m gonna say...try some of this salted popcorn.”  He gestured to one of the plastic bags.  “And maybe some jelly babies?  Or Maltesers?”

Dan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.  “Wait, you have Maltesers?”

Phil chuckled and dug around in a bag until he pulled out familiar shiny red packaging.  “I only bought one pack, so you can have them on one condition.  You have to share a few with me.”

Dan grabbed the pack.  “Deal!  God, one of my favorite pastimes is choking on those balls.”

Phil snorted, turning away from him.  He shifted on his feet again a few times before turning back towards Dan.  

Dan had to be imagining the tinge of pink to his cheeks, right?  His eyes glazed over as he watched Phil run his fingers through his hair, pushing it back into a quiff.  It was a good look.  Dan’s fingers itched to take a picture of him, but that would be weird.  They’d only just met.  In another universe, maybe he could.  But in this one?  In this one, Phil was clearing his throat, and Dan was snapping back to attention.

“Do you, uh, do you choke on those balls often?”

Dan laughed, bringing his hand up to rub at the warm spot blooming on his jaw.  Were they still talking about Maltesers?  “No, uh, only when I take in too much at once.  I nearly died when I was fifteen because I tried to swallow twenty at the same time without even chewing.  My grandma had to give me the Heimlich.”

“That sounds traumatizing.”

“It was.”  Maybe he was biased, but Dan thought that Phil’s eyes were even prettier when he was smiling.  His smile was contagious.  Dan found himself grinning like a fool as he piled a plate with popcorn and Maltesers.  

Phil piled his own plate with a variety of sweets and bumped their shoulders together when he was finished.  “Will you sit by me for this thing?  My residents are lovely, but I’m kind of sick of them at this point.”

Dan’s breath caught in his throat.  He could feel his heartbeat pulsing erratically in his fingertips.  He’d only known this man for a matter of fifteen minutes, but there was already something vaguely familiar about the way he made all the blood rush to Dan’s ears.  He bit his lip.  

“Yeah, alright.”

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Di piano e forte 03

pt. 1 ↠  pt. 2  ↠ pt. 3 ↠ pt. 4

↠Summary: Piano; A keyboard of cypress, played with soft and loud. Was it the ivory and onyx keys that let you escape from your reality…Or was it the man with sable hair and ivory skin. 

↠Genre: Angst, fluff.

↠Warnings: This fic contains slight domestic and verbal abuse as well as mature subjects.

author’s note: Updates for this series on Thursday or Friday, enjoy!

They were fighting again. 

That was the beginning of your sleepless nights.

As dysfunctional as their relationship was you’d think the would’ve split up by now. It was cursing out each other one minute then cursing at you to get out of the room. That was on your list of things you hated most about living here, and you had a long list. That's what you heard all night, they bickered and she went on about why she thought he was cheating and other stuff that didn't concern you. You stood in the kitchen, preparing some tea to take back to your room when you heard a knock at the door. With your mug still in hand you went to peek through the peep hole. She knocked once again, earning a startled flinch from you.

You opened the door, and cherry ran up to greet her as well, seeing her with two large grocery bags on her arms and a bright smile. “Stop it cherry- Hi, Mel? What's all this?” You questioned, immediately helping her inside.

“I haven’t been to your place, it’s nice.” She looked around on her way to the kitchen and you stared at her baffled. “He may be douche bag but at least he doesn’t live in a dump.” She chuckled, still hearing no responses from you.

“Mel...” You looked at the bags and sat your tea on the counter and she gave you an odd look of confusion.

“Don't tell me you forgot.” She went towards the kitchen and sat the groceries on the counter, you were clueless. “You said if I brought you the ingredients you'd make a congratulations cake for Hara’s first dance recital - which is tomorrow night.” She crooked her brow until your your mouth hung open in realization.

“Oh God!- I’m so sorry I don’t know how it slipped my mind, I’ll start it right now.” You rushed to change your shirt and ran into the kitchen to start unbagging the groceries. “Mel, you’ll have to forgive me I’ve been a little distracted lately.” You went to the draws to grab measuring cups you know he’s never used. 

“Oh?” She smirked, peeling a banana as she sat on the bar stool. “Distracted by what? Or should I say who?” 

You leveled a cup of flour and sighed. “I have a piano teacher now...” You grinned.

“That’s so good, you need something in your life that isn’t just work. A hobby like that is perfect for you.” She was halfheartedly scrolling through her phone as she continued to talk to you. “Who’s your teacher?”

“His name is Min Yoongi, he’s a student at my university...” You checked under the cabinet for your mothers cook book and sat it open on the counter.

Mel’s grin stretched from ear to ear and you rolled your eyes at what she was getting at. “Is he cute?” Of course she had to ask.

“Um,” You got a little flustered at the question as you went into the fridge for eggs trying to distract yourself from thinking about him. “why does it matter if he’s cute or not?...” You sat the eggs on the counter and began to crack them into a spare bowl.

“So he is cute, I knew it...” She laughed, knowing she could read you like a book. “Do you have his number?”

“Yes I have his number but it’s not like that.” Rinsing your hands off in the warm water from the kitchen sink you gave her an innocent look.

“Is he nice? Does he have a girlfriend?” 

“I don’t know!” You exclaimed, shrugging your shoulders. “Why are you trying to set me up with every guy I come in contact with.” Both of you laughed in unison, it was true; ever since high school she tried to hook you up with her boyfriends friends. She succeeded once, and the ‘double date’ consisted of her leaving you with some weirdo while she went to make out somewhere. You remember it vividly, your date took you to some weird bonfire and - it was just a bad situation.

“I wanna see you with a boyfriend Y/N, they’re not as bothersome as you think.” Say’s the girl who’s ended every relationships she’s been in.

“I don’t think they’re bothersome I’m just not that interested in anyone right now, and I don’t think anyone's interested in me.” 

“Trust me, if you're a pretty girl in college there’s always someone interested in you, they just don’t say it all the time.“ She would know, she knew everything and everyone in high school and if she were in college right now she’d know all of them too. “Hara’s father is coming to her recital, he asked me to get him a ticket last night.” 

“Seriously?” You knew where the mention of him was going.

“Yeah, he kept her last weekend right, and when she came back he was all she talked about, ‘daddy said this, daddy said that, me and daddy did this’. I try to put our problems aside and be a mature grown woman but it’s not easy. I got pregnant when I was twenty one, fresh out of college with a baby. And now she’s a bubbly five year old wondering why mommy and daddy don’t live in the same house anymore.” She groaned. “I tell her that 'mommy and daddy aren’t like your friends mommies and daddies' but she still doesn’t understand.” 

“Well,” You turned the mixer on low to beat the sugar and eggs, “she’s at a very impressionable age. She’s absorbing everything and anything she comes in contact with, and if she notices that you and Jackson aren’t getting along it will affect her development.” You turned off the mixer to beat it by hand.

“You know, for someone with no children you sure know a lot about them.” You giggled. 

“Is Jae nice to you?” She asked suddenly, catching you off guard. 

“Define, nice?” 

“Does he treat you well? Do you guys get along?”

“No and no. I don’t know why my mom decided to move before I could finish school, my grandmas house is being renovated so I can’t go there for another three months. I’m stuck here. He doesn’t hurt me physically but he does get heated over my being here, I don’t blame him. It’s not like he wanted me to move in, his dad made him.” The last thing you wanted to do was talk about him but you had to let it out to someone. “I appreciate having a nice place to stay but it doesn’t feel worth it. The worst part about all this is that he acts like an angel around my mom but as soon as she’s gone I’m nothing but a verbal punching bag.” You muttered bitterly.

‘What’d you mean?”

“His dad left his mom and he’s not over it. His mom gave him everything he wanted but now his dad wants him to learn some independence when in reality he’s just wasting away his life on sluts and drugs. As soon as I get the chance I’m out’a here.”

“You know you always have a room at my house, if you want to stay with me you know I don’t mind.” She’s offered many times but you declined every time, Mel is a great girl but she already has a lot on her hands and she needs to focus on her little girl. “And hey, you know if he ever acts out you have a place to say and lawyer to call.” 

“Thanks Mel...” Skillfully, you poured the batter in one of the cake pans and continued to do the others. 

After sitting for a while she saw the time and got down from the stool. “I gotta go, her rehearsal and final fitting is in an hour and I have to pick her up from day care.” She maneuvered around the counter to give you a big hug. “Thank you again, you’re a life saver.”

“Anything for my favorite niece.“ You smiled, walking her to the front door.

“Oh and I got you a ticket, and one for a friend. Now you have to bring someone or you’ll be wasting my money.” She quipped, walking out the door before you could get on her.

“Mel! Who am I supposed to bring!?” You pouted.

She closed her car door and opened the window. “Bring that piano boy!” 

During the hour of leaving the cake to cool you made the fruit filling and whipped cream icing. You were constantly checking the time because you had a lesson with Yoongi today, you still took your time though, ensuring the cake was as immaculate as it could get. You stepped back to admire your work, you did a pretty good job for this to only be your second time. 

You boxed it up and sat it in the refrigerator, if your brother so much as tasted the icing you’d have his head. He was notorious for picking off the dishes and sweets you’d make for yourself or other people. Seeing that the time is as merciless on you as ever, you rushed to change and ran out the door with thirty minutes to get there. 

When you arrived to the school and locked your car, you saw his was nowhere to be found, maybe he was late. Shrugging your shoulders to yourself you continued on your way, eager to get out of the muggy humidity. Up the stairs and down the hall was 213. You peeked through the window seeing if anyone was in there, there was one guy, Yoongi’s roommate.

“Hello?” You stepped in, catching his attention with your soft voice. 

“Hey, you must be Y/N,” He held out his hand and you scurried over to shake it. “Yoongi’s coming, he was working with a vocalist and he couldn’t get out of the studio early.” He informed you, before going back to his computer. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of the sleek black baby grand in the center of the room. How you managed not to see it was beyond you. Your fingers glided over the clean, cold material. Not a speck of dust on the thing. Pulling out the black stool you sat, just admiring a work of art such as itself. You rested your fingers on the keys, not pressing on them just resting them there. 

Your father used to let you place your five year old fingers over his, making you feel like you could actually play. As you waited you went over the basic scale patterns, not missing a single note, your practice paid off. 

“Hey, Y/N, sorry I’m late.” Yoongi walked in and saw you sitting at the piano. 

“Hi, it’s ok.” You put your hands in your lap and he pulled up a chair to sit beside you like he did everytime.

He sat his bag on the couch and his iced coffee on the desk where Namjoon had been sitting. “I’m gonna show you some chords today,” He sat down, “do you know the difference between the minor and major formula?” 

“The third is flat in minor.” He nodded in agreement. 

“So can you give me a D minor?” He gestured to the keys. Your fingers made their way to the notes d, f, and a, you pressed down and he was pleased by the sound he heard. 

“Now major.” You moved your finger to f sharp hesitantly and he chuckled as you looked at him with wide eyes for approval.

“Good.” You continued to play every chord in the key of d and pressed your lips in a straight line. You turned to him and smiled, he grinned in anticipation of what you were thinking.

“Can you play something for me?” You tilted your head, waiting for him to respond. The way you asked was similar to the way a child would ask, you were bracing yourself for a no but you also knew he'd say yes.

“This is your lesson but, alright.” He stood to his feet and you pushed back the stool to let him sit. “No, you can stay there.” He tapped your thigh to scoot you to the edge of the stool. You pressed your hands into your lap and when his fingers hit the keys your ears were graced with a soft melody. Pale slender fingers danced over the keys, you couldn't stop looking at him. There was great respect for a musician that was so in touch with an instrument, it was mesmerizing. 

“Can you show me how to play that?” 

“You're quite the ambitious learner,” He crooked the corner of his lip, starinyup at you, “I can teach you but it's really not for beginners...” 

“Come on, just a little, please?” You pleaded, giving him a charming smile, one you knew he couldn't resist. 

“Ok.” He took his time to come behind you, his arms pressing lightly against your upper arms as he reached so his hands could get to the piano. You didn't understand and you looked back at him. “How am I supposed to-”

“Put your right hand over mine...” You did, your hand looked humorously small atop his. 

“I'll play D, F#m, Bm, and G on the bass clef and I'll lead you through the melody.” Your fingers were fighting not to press down, wishing you could play without his help. He could smell a dessert like smell the closer he got to your neck, you had that nice sweet smell that wasn't sickeningly overpowering, it was just right. He liked it. His chest rubbed against your back and you felt him breathe in, suddenly you felt shy at the contact. But you weren't letting that stop you, he called out the notes as he began to play, hoping you were absorbing it all. You weren't. You were just in aw, he's so delicate with his fingers, it makes your heart flutter in amazement. 

“That was the first verse and chorus.” He announced, clearing his throat and slowly moving from behind you.

“Will I ever be able to play like that...” You mumbled, your tone didn't sound so promising and he quickly argued against that.

“You're very hardworking, there's no doubt in my mind that you would breeze through that, you have the gift...” He complimented, bringing a soft blush to your cheeks.

“Thank you...” 

“Actually, this'll be your homework. I'll give you the chords and notes so you can read it easily.” He pulled a note book and pencil from the bag on the table and wrote down the chords. He handed you the paper and you looked it over before sliding it in your bag.

 “Ok...Yoongi, um...” Low and incoherent was your attempt to speak, you chewed on your bottom lip, your hands were clammy and your nervousness was obvious.

“Yes?” 

“Tomorrow, my niece is having her first dance recital, I have an extra ticket but known of my friends can make it. If you're not busy or anything, would you like to come? It won't be long, maybe an hour or so...” 

“A dance recital?” Once again his expression was unreadable, you weren't sure if he was gonna say maybe or flat out say no; you just waited. “What time should I pick you up?” 

“You'll go?” He nodded and your smile grew wider “Ok, 5:45 is good...” 

He grabbed his bag and coffee from the table, “it's a date then,” He glanced down at his wrist, seeing the time, “sorry I have to cut the lesson short I have some work to do. I'll see you later.” With that he left you in the large music room by yourself.

A date?

Jaebum was getting ready to leave, you weren't sure where but he said he'd be back when he came back. One of his best friends sat in the chair next to you, he was scrolling through his phone but you caught him staring at you a few times. 

“What's the big ass cake for?” 

His head was in the fridge and you glared at him from the couch. “Don't touch it. That's for my neice, it's her first recital tomorrow.” 

“My house, my refrigerator, I can touch whatever I want, Y/N.” He scoffed.

“Don't! I'm serious!-” You jumped up from the couch to see him laughing, your face heated up in frustration. You would never understand him. “I can't stand you...” Throwing your blanket on the couch you went to the pantry, getting Cherries dog food. When you found the small bag you grabbed her dog bowl and filled it up half way, sitting against the wall.

“Come here, girl,” you made kissy noises and soon she was running to you from your room, his dad gifted this dog to you when him and your mom first started dating, you began to think she was his version of a bribe. When you stood to your feet and turned around you bumped into a tall figure. "Ah-"

“Jae asked me to get the chips from out of here.” He maneuvered around you, a smirk lingering on his lips as his eyes looked you up and down. 

“You know,” he spoke, looking through the shelves, “you're not as bitchy as Jaebum says. You're actually not bitchy at all.” He laughed, finally finding the bag of chips on the top shelf.

“He says that?” You frowned, crossing your arms in instinctive defense.

“Yep. He said ever since your parents got married-” He paused mid sentence. “well, I don't really want to say what he said...” 

“Y/N! Where the hell is the mail!”

He hissed front the living room, ripping through the papers on the table likea mad man.

“How am I supposed to know?” 

 Of course, he was blaming you for something he screwed up himself. Every month his ‘mommy dearest’ sent him a ridiculous check, you weren't sure of the exact total but you knew he could go without working and still live comfortably.

“I'm not kidding.” He harshly grabbed you by your forearm, making you wince.“Ow! That hurts!- Let go-”

“Where is it?” These we're the times you had to choose your fate, were you gonna tell him off, leave calmly and be the bigger person? You did neither. You just stared at him and calmly spoke.

“Let go, Jaebum.” You retorted with furrowed brows. His friend was getting uncomfortable by the argument that quickly turned physical.

“Or what...What’re you gonna do? Call your mom? She can’t do shit to me and neither can you.” He spat. “If your dad wouldn’t have fucking died, we wouldn’t be in this situation...Honestly, I wish you would've died with him.” At this point, his friend had excused himself from the scene, for it was far too painful to watch.

He could be so cruel.

You were trying your best not to cry, but with words like that, how could you not? Tears began to form and slowly fall down your cheeks. You felt smaller and even more helpless by the second.

Suddenly, he thought about it, he knew you’d make a big deal out of this if he didn’t let you go. “You cry over everything...” He slowly loosened his grip until you could yank away from him, your hand instantly went to your sore arm, knowing it must’ve bruised.

You ran out the front door, holding your arm and trying to keep yourself together. He knew your father was a touchy subject but he could obviously care less. You got into your car and drove off.

Wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

You found a fairly secluded area and parked.

A pitiful form, shaking erratically over a steering wheel was all you were right now. Your body ached at the emotional distress, you couldn't form a single train of thought anymore. Mind completely blank and heart as broken as ever; these feelings wouldn't come often, but when they did it was over. There was nothing anyone could say to help you. It was depressing...

*buzz* *buzz* 

You glanced at your phone screen and took a deep breath, it was your mother. If there were a set time for there to be a bad time to call people you were sure she new all the times. It kept buzzing... “Hi, mom.” 

She chirped. “Y/N! How're you honey?”

You let out a shaky breath before clearing your throat. “I'm good, I've just been busy...” You deadpanned, leaning back comfortably.

“How's Jaebum treating you? How's school?” 

“He's treating me fine, It's fine, schools fine- mom, you know, I um, I'm kind of busy right so...I'll call you later, ok?” You lightened your tone, hoping she'd get the signal.

“Of course, I'll talk to you later, I love you.” 

“I love you too...” You hung up, leaning against the window and resting your head in your hands, excepting the fate of this day, how could this day get any worse? Your phone rang again and this time you brought it to your ear before it could vibrate for the second time.

“Yes...” You sounded curt.

“Y/N?” The voice at the end of the phone sound surprised.

“Oh, Yoongi...” You inhaled deeply, softening your voice and attempting to shake the croaky sound.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner after your nieces recital? Since we'll be out we might as well.” You were silent for a few seconds, letting his question sink in.

“Uh, y- yeah...that sounds nice.” You sniffled, wiping at your eyes and praying that your voice wasn't giving you away.

“Y/N...Are you crying? You sound like you're crying...” He sounded concerned.

“I'm not.” You coughed, trying to get rid of that groggy ‘just cried’ sound.

“You sound like it...”

“But I'm not...” it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him. Silence fell and you weren't sure what he was gonna say, your palms were sweaty and you wanted nothing more than for him to hang up.

“Ok...” He paused. “But you still sound like it...” At this point there was no changing his mind; you were crying and he wanted- needed to know why. “Why're you crying? Tell me what happened...” He was concerned, worried even.

“Listen...I'm fine, don't worry about me....Um, I'll talk to you tomorrow...” There was a small protest from him before you hung up and threw your phone in the passengers seat.

Jaebum was nowhere to be seen, Cherry came jumping at your feet like usual, but right now you didn't have the energy to play. You threw yourself on the bed and laid pitifully on your comforter, just taking in the the silence of being home alone. As soon as you hung up with Yoongi he called back once more, when you didn't answer he resulted in texting you, asking if everything was ok and telling you he was beginning to worry. As kind and thoughtful as he was, you just couldn't do it. In your mind there was nothing to say, you were just having a hard time right now. There was nothing anyone could do about it. You've had tons of those, times where you just wanted it all to end, where there was nothing you want to do more than to disappear. The only difference about this time was that you didn't have the choice to be left alone. He kept trying to get to but you couldn't bring yourself to reply....When the texts and calls seized you had fallen fast asleep. After trying to get you to answer for a few hours he stopped, knowing the more he pushed the farther you'd go. But even then...

He couldn't stop worrying about you that night.