#the bad news is that there are still four yellows and four of the dreaded orange scenes

[workingforitallthetime]

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[napakmahal]

Drop your pin

Chat i MIGHT have cooked with this one

This is bad, this is so bad.

Less than two hours ago you left your house to drive over to a nice restaurant in downtown San Fransokyo and now you were pulled over at a gas station parking lot staring at your dreaded flat tire. If you hadn’t turned off your music to take a phone call from your friend mid-drive you probably would have never heard the dreaded: BANG!

What’s even worse is you were running late for your first formal date with a guy you met at an off-campus study site where you worked as a barista. He looked so cute in his little academic grind, so focused you thought his eyebrows were stuck in a permanent scowl. Thankfully, said the boy was studying so hard that he refilled his caffeinated iced tea almost four times and he came up to you. He started the conversation by rubbing his beautiful brown eyes tiredly saying “I am really tired, but I’m trying to stay away from coffee for a little bit.”

And somehow, his voice made him almost ten times more attractive than you originally thought him to be. By the time you finished pouring his tea, he’d complimented everything about you. From the hairstyle, you had dawned that day to how well you did your job. He was perfect and you were so excited for this date.

Until the universe had just to come and ruin it.

Canceling is one thing, but canceling because your tire popped is another. Everyone knows that whenever someone cancels last minute because they’re having ‘car troubles’ actually means ‘I wanted you to get lost from day one and now I have a reason not to see you.’ That and the lame excuse of ‘Oh I’m just really busy this week.’

This is why you can’t help but feel a sense of dread boiling in your stomach while you hear your phone ring and ring, waiting for him to answer. You like this boy, honest. But after this, he may not be so sure.

You swear you can feel your heart drop to the pits of your stomach when you first hear his voice.

“Hi, I’m not there yet. I just turned onto the 5 and-oh shit! Are you already there? I’m so sorry.”

You would laugh if you didn’t feel like crying. “Umm no, I’m not. Tadashi I have some bad news.”

“Uh-oh, what’s up?”

You took a deep breath. “Okay umm, so when I turned onto the highway my right tire popped and now I’m outside this sketchy-looking gas station trying to figure out what to do.”

Silence. All you could hear on his end of the call was the zooming of other cars next to his.

“Tadashi?” You confirmed. “Are you still there? Look I know it sounds like such a lie and I’m sorry. I really was looking forward to going out with you and I feel so bad about-”

“Drop me the pin.” The sound of his voice forced you to have such a visceral and public reaction.

Drop the pin? Like-to him? Why?

“L-Like,” You stuttered. “My pin? Right now?”

“Yeah, your pin.”

So you did. You sent him your GPS pin and waited for a little less than ten minutes. What did he want with your location? Maybe he just wanted to make sure you weren’t lying to him about being at the gas station. He could just never show up. After about seven minutes had passed, a rusty old work truck drove off the exit and into the gas station parking lot. Flashing bright yellow headlights. The truck pulled up almost directly in front of you and for a moment you felt fear. A stranger just coming up to you in a car in a sketchy area while you have no other way of escaping. But that fear dripped away when you saw it was Tadashi who was driving.

“Oh my gosh, hi.” You stared at him, slightly confused but extremely relieved.

He opened the door and walked towards you. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but my tire isn’t and I really don’t want to have to pay to get a new one.” You groaned at the thought of dealing with car troubles.

Tadashi squated down with a grunt at your popped tire. “Do you know how to change one of these?”

“Erm, kind of.” You answered honestly. “I don’t know it well enough to try it. I’m too scared to try it on my actual tire.”

He hummed before asking you to pop open your trunk so he could reach in and get your spare. And for the next twenty-two minutes, you watched your date grunt, sigh, groan, and flex all the muscles he had lifting and changing your popped tire. You learned two things in those thirty minutes.

1)That your date is one hell of a handyman and 2) That your date is not only cute but damn is he hot.

When he finished, he stood back up stretching out his limbs and cracking his neck.

“Now, you can’t really drive on a spare for too long so we’ll just go back and change it.” He said as if it were the most nonchalant thing in the world and not an act of pure chivalry.

You, who was almost starstruck at this man practically launched yourself and him in the biggest hug you’ve ever given someone.

You gushed, “Oh! Thank you so much. You’re so sweet!”

Thankfully, he hugged you back. Arms fully wrapped around you and jaw rested on the top of your head. When the two of you let go, he took your phone and put an address in it. One you had never even heard of. A place called the Lucky Cat Café and when you asked all he said was “We’re going there to change your tire.”

So the two of you got back onto the highway and drove backwards from your original date spot. For most of the drive you tried to keep the back of his car in your sights even though you had the GPS on. By the time you’d arrived, the street that the Lucky Cat was located on was practically empty. Everyone and all businesses seemed to be asleep for the night, which is why you both had decided on a place in Downtown San Fransokyo where the city rarely sleeps.

You shut your car door behind you. “What is this place?”

“It’s my aunt’s café, we live on the top. You see?” He pointed at a window in the top of the building with a glowing light through it like someone was home. “So my garage is on the side over there, do you want to just park there and I’ll change your tire.”

Wait he was serious. Like he was full-on going to change your spare tire.

“Seriously?” You double-checked.

Tadashi smiled followed by a light and airy laugh. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

So you drove past the main building and into the rather large alleyway where his garage was. From where you were you could see the garage door that was painted on the sides with traditional Japanese art.

“Did you paint that?” You pointed at the door.

Tadashi fumbled around in his pocket for the garage door key. “Me and my brother worked on it when we were in middle school.”

“So you guys are close?”

Guys that love their families are mad hot.

The door slowly propped open. “Extremely close and- oh. Speak of the devil.”

Sitting inside the garage was a boy who couldn’t have been any older then fifteen on the couch resting flat on his back. Scrolling on his phone and eating a green melon popsicle in white calf socks.

He lifted his head to see the two of you standing in the frame of the garage, large brown eyes that resembled Tadashi’s staring like a deer in headlights.

“Oh shit,” He grunted. “What’s up?”

Tadashi alternated his hand between the two of you. “Hiro this is y/n, y/n this is my little brother Hiro.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Hiro.” You smiled. Tadashi had mentioned him a few times and you’d heard him in the background of some of the FaceTime and regular phone calls you had with Tadashi.

Before he could respond, your date looked around his garage with a look of confusion on his face. “Dude, where are the tires?”

“Behind the dumpster.” Hiro said like it was obvious.

Tadashi rolled his eyes. “The unused ones, dumbass.”

“Oh, side shed.”

Your date excused himself and pulled out his phones flashlight to navigate his way through the dark of the night to his familys storage shed. Leaving you alone with his younger brother who had since put his phone down.

“You’re y/n?”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’ rocking back and forth on your feet.

Hiro’s face filled with a sudden smugness. “You know he’s like super into you, right?”

You tried to fight the obvious smile that wanted to come to your face. “Really?”

“Before he left he called all of his friends to make sure he looked good enough to leave the house.” He scoffed at the memory.

Just then, Tadashi came back rolling a brand new tire for your car. He told Hiro to scram before setting it down and grabbing his own tools. The garage itself was crazy, filled with tools, walls of water stained blueprints, chalk drawings, and premade machinery including a 3D printer and two different computers.

While changing your new tire, you took the time to really apologize for the messed up ‘date’ you were having.

“I’m so sorry about this, this is not what I planned at all.” Your voice laced with sincerity.

Tadashi’s face fell into one of fake disbelief as he joked, “You mean you didn’t intentionally pop your own tire so I would come and get you and we had to change it instead of going out to the restaurant we’re both appropriately dressed for?”

You laughed and gently punched him in the arm. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I know, I’m just joking.” He reassured you. “You look really beautiful though, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that before.”

“Aww, thank you. You look half decent as well.”

The two of you laughed as he continued to change your tire. There was a point where the new one he brought out for you had weighed so much he had to take off his dress jacket and lift it up like a deadlift. At his obvious struggle you offered to help but it was pointless.

“No it’s okay I got it.”

“Really?” You asked. “I can help you out. Plus it would teach me for the future.”

“Well when you’re with me, you won’t ever have to change your own tire.” Just as he said it, he regretted it. The two of you hadn’t even really been on a first date, just a few flirty texts and calls. That’s it.

He covered his mouth. “Oh-that’s not- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

To his relief and surprise you laughed in the most adorable way he’d ever heard someone laugh. “It’s okay, that was cute. Really cute.”

“Oh thank god.” He breathed out.

After a couple more flirty conversations and remarks, he’d finally finished installing your new tire and placed the spare back in your car.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” You cooed and kissed him on the cheek.

A warm blush expanded across his face after the kiss your given him as he dizzely responded, “No problem.”

You had your arms hooked around his neck as you both just stared at each other. Tadashi looked down at his watched and hummed.

“You know, they’re still open.” He referred to the restaurant from your original plan.

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. He did all of that for you, and he still wanted to go out?

“Y-you,” You began to stutter in disbelief. “You still want to go out with me.”

“If anything I want to go out with you even more now.” He whispered so low only you could hear. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes.” You whispered back, falling into his dark brown eyes.

He smiled, face getting closer and closer to yours. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Ye-”

Kissing before the first date even starts is unheard of for you. It’s not something you would ever do…normally. But to be fair nothing about that first date was normal. You ran you hands up his jet black hair, lightly pulling at the strands while his hands held yourl ower back. How could making out with someone you hadn’t even gone on a proper date with in the middle of his garage with the door wide open feel so incredibly intimate?

When you two had pulled away all you could do was laugh. What was so funny? You don’t actually know, but something about it had made to so giggly. Face pressed into his chest, laughing.

You two had decided that it seemed like a better idea for Tadashi to drive to two of you downtown and when you opened the passenger seat door there was a large bouquet of pink tulips and daisy fillers on the seat with a calligraphy card with your name on it wrapped in brown paper. You covered your smile with your mouth as you picked up the bouquet.

“I was going to give those to you when we got there.” Tadashi said shyly, embarrassed that he missed the opportunity to give them to you when he pulled up to the gas station parking lot.

All you did was stare at him, endearence in your eyes before kissing that boy straight on the lips another time.

[scoops-aboy86]

♠️♥️Famous Rockstar Eddie leaving the spotlight mysteriously and going off the radar for the next 10 years. Unbeknownst to the world, it was because he broke up with his then secret boyfriend Steve Harrington. Steve wanted to settle down, Eddie wanted to play for the world. The love never left but they both had dreams they wanted to pursue. Then very randomly he's spotted by paparazzi with a cute hubby, a wedding band on his finger, and 100lbs more than he had 10 years ago, enjoying brunch like he wasn't quote unquote "missing" to the public. 😂

Aww. I’m picturing a mostly amiable breakup… They’re both bummed to do it, but Eddie wants to leave and Steve wants to stay. It’s the 80’s, so no cell phones, no email… Much harder to keep up a long distance relationship. Both of them feel like they’re setting the other free. 

~

Cut to ten years later. Corroded Coffin made it big, and they’re coming up on the end of a tour that they’ve already said will be their last public appearance in a while. Gareth has a fiancé he wants to settle down with, Jeff is already married with a kid on the way, and Freak is thinking about going back to school for… something, he hasn’t decided what yet. 

Eddie is toying with the idea of doing a solo album or something, nothing big, but music is his life. It’s basically what he replaced Steve with after the breakup. He’s maybe leaned into food a little, especially during tours, but mostly burns it off with his on-stage antics. Over the years, he’s stuck pretty exclusively to hookups and situationships, nothing serious. As long as he has his music, everything’s fine. 

Which is why he’s dreading the end of the tour. After the second to last concert, right after they get to the next city, he does something he doesn’t usually do: he goes out and gets fucked up. (He saw what drugs and alcohol did to his parents when he was little and things were starting to fall apart, and No Thank You, but. It’s not bad if he only does it once, right? It’s fine.) 

The city happens to be Chicago. Eddie goes out, accepting just about anything anyone hands him like a moron… and wakes up having blacked out on everything except the vague impression of pop music blasted too loud for even his concert-hardened ears. The bed he’s in is comfortable in a very not-hotel-room sort of way and smells like the essence of a warm hug. He burrows into the blankets and pillows on the principle that maybe if he snuggles in deep enough he can hide from the raging hangover. 

It doesn’t work, of course, and a few minutes later he drags himself across the room on all fours to hurl his guts out into a waste basket. Which turns out not to have a liner. Oops. 

That’s when the door opens, and a mildly exasperated voice says, “Eds, seriously? I left you a bucket on your side of the bed.”

Blearily, Eddie turns and sees, of all people, Steve Harrington. Standing there in a yellow sweater and both hands on his hips like a blast from the goddamn past. He’s still handsome, still has the amazing hair, and the glasses he’s wearing lend a new kind of adult-ness to his face that hadn’t been there when he was twenty. He looks good. 

Eddie, meanwhile, feels like a stepped-on cockroach. It’s not fair. 

“Woke up facing this way,” Eddie rasps, but his heart leaps at the way Steve says your side. Like it’s still his. And it’s true, he does still prefer the left side of the bed, despite usually sleeping alone. “How are you… here? Where am I?”

Steve brings him a glass of water. “This is my apartment, I’ve been here for about three years now. I brought you here last night after you propositioned me because, and I quote, ‘You look just like the love of my fucking life that I walked away from like the dumbest idiot alive, wanna fuck and maybe marry me if my dick’s good enough? I’m kind of rich and famous, I could write so many songs about your eyes.’”

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie takes a sip of water, feeling like he might throw up again from embarrassment. “Did we…?”

“Nah, you passed out practically before finishing that second sentence. I carried you here to sleep it off, and answered your cell when Jeff called to check on you.” Steve, helping Eddie stand up at this point and guiding him back to the bed, raises an eyebrow. “He was extremely thorough in explaining that you don’t usually do things like this.”

Eddie groans. “Fuck… Is he sending a car or something? We’ve got a concert in… in… soon.”

“Two days,” Steve fills in easily. “Don’t worry, you have time to recover. I’ve made breakfast, if you think you can stomach it.”

Groaning again, Eddie face-plants into the pillows and realizes that wonderful scent is Steve and that’s why it was so nice when he first woke up. That smell still means home to him, even after a decade apart. “No, can’t do cereal and pop tarts right now.”

Steve snorts. “Excuse you, but one of us has learned to cook over the years and Jeff assured me it wasn’t you. There’s bacon, eggs, pancakes, and fresh strawberries. Vanilla ice cream in the freezer, too, if that still helps settle your stomach.”

“…It might,” Eddie mutters into the pillow. 

“Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready, there’s clothes at the end of the bed, and Advil and more water on the desk. I’m just going to, uh, take this basket out to the dumpster.”

Sorry, Eddie bites on his tongue to avoid saying. He’s just now realizing that he’s stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, which, like. Doesn’t even show off the coolest of his new tattoos. Not that that’s important, fuck, but it’s the first thing his hungover brain spits out about the whole situation other than, you know. 

The fact that he randomly ran into The Ex of All Time while so loaded he doesn’t even remember it happening. And Steve is acting like this is just normal even though they haven’t even been in contact for years. 

Eddie falls asleep while freaking out about this, and feels marginally more human by the time he wakes up. The clothes Steve left him are… Christ, it’s one of his old Metallica shirts, and the sweatpants that were technically Steve’s that Eddie had always stolen to sleep in, back when they were together. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Stumbles his way out of the room to a bathroom, noticing along the way that the couch has a pile of folded blankets at one end. Because Steve probably slept there instead of his own bed. 

“Coffee?” Steve asks when Eddie finally puts in an appearance in the kitchen, passing him a mug that’s already doctored exactly the way he likes it. Eddie takes it and sips cautiously, but his stomach seems to have settled now and nothing bad happens, so he takes a longer, grateful gulp. 

The food is still waiting for him, kept warm in the oven with tin foil over the plates and heat set to low. Eddie sits down and feels something well up in his chest, in his eyes, at the first bite of scrambled eggs; it’s like eating clouds, they’re so damn fluffy. 

“‘S good,” he mumbles through a full mouth, then swallows and turns his tired eyes towards Steve. “I… I didn’t even know you’d moved to Chicago.”

Steve gives him an amused smile. “It wasn’t exactly news worthy of Rolling Stone, dude. Don’t worry about it.”

“Kinda have to,” Eddie mumbles, and jams bacon in his mouth. “I mean, I—Holy fuck, Steve, this is good. Are you a chef or something?”

The smile turns sheepish. “Sort of. It’s a long story, but I kinda teach cooking classes now? It’s a program for teens and preteens who’ve had trouble at home or with the law and need, like, better outlets that are also practical life skills. Robin’s girlfriend hooked me up, she teaches yoga and self-defense stuff at the same place.”

“Wow.” Eddie stares blankly at him for a second, before physically shaking off the surprise and looking back down at his plate. Steve had spent the past decade learning new skills and helping kids, whereas Eddie has written songs about sex, drugs, rock and roll, and… Steve’s eyes. “That’s great, Steve. You sound really happy.”

Because he does. And Eddie feels really, really bad about barreling accidentally back into Steve’s life, probably throwing a huge monkey wrench into it since there’s no way a guy this handsome and this good and this fantastic in the kitchen isn’t seeing anyone. He’d be snatched up in a second by any discerning man or woman with, like, eyes and a heart and taste buds. Which is what Steve deserves, really. He deserves someone who won’t run off at the first whiff of potential fame and fortune somewhere he can’t follow. 

“I do alright,” Steve replies modestly. 

“I’ll replace your waste basket,” Eddie blurts out. Because Steve deserves someone who doesn’t ever get fucked up enough to puke in and ruin his stuff, even if it’s not something he does regularly. “And, this is great, really, thank you for breakfast, but I should get out of your hair. I’m… sorry for ambushing you last night, or whatever it was I did, I can’t even remember—”

His hand is clenched around his fork so tight that his knuckles have gone pale, and he almost jolts out of his chair when Steve puts a hand over it, massaging his grip into loosening slightly. “First of all, I got that thing at Costco,” Steve informs him. “It’s not a big deal. Second, you didn’t ambush me. I mean, I was surprised, for sure, but… it was nice to hear that I’m still the love of your life.” Steve gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Really nice, Eds. And third, you didn’t exactly walk away. You asked me to come with you, I was the one who wasn’t ready to leave Hawkins then. We agreed, remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He feels like careening back into Steve’s orbit now must count as some sort of violation of that agreement, or something… and yet Steve is still holding his hand. 

“I actually…” Steve hesitates, looking unexpectedly shy for someone who Eddie must be bothering. Then, instead of finishing the sentence, he lets go of Eddie’s hand to pull something from his back pocket and lay it on the table.

It’s a ticket. A VIP meet and greet pass for the Corroded Coffin concert in two days. 

“Everybody pitched in and got this for my birthday,” he says sheepishly. “They went on presale on the exact day, Dustin kept saying it was a sign.”

Eddie, who’s never paid much attention to ticket sales in general, much less the dates they become available, can only stare at it. His throat feels tight knowing that he would’ve seen Steve anyway, that it could’ve happened while he was riding the adrenaline high of performing instead of feeling like roadkill freshly scraped off the asphalt. 

“Which, if it was a sign, I’m guessing it wasn’t on purpose, since you didn’t even know I live out here now,” Steve continues. “But, well, they got it, and… I told Robin I wasn’t sure if I’d go, but I knew from the second I opened the envelope it was a done deal.”

“What about… A-aren’t you seeing anyone?” Eddie asks. He remembers, in wistful, rosy detail, Steve being in his element as a boyfriend. Knows that he loves having someone to share everything with, to learn through and through, to kiss and murmur I missed you even if it’s only been an hour, even when it wasn’t safe for two guys to do that openly in small town Indiana and he’d had to limit himself to a fleeting touch and saying it with his eyes. 

“No.” Steve shrugs. “I tried putting myself out there on and off, but there was never enough of a spark to make it past three or four dates. I always knew you were it for me, Eddie, even if we never got another chance. And this…” He taps the concert ticket. “I was going to ask if you wanted one, because god knows I’d give it to you. You don’t have to answer now, because going by how you look you must feel like crap—”

“Oh fuck you, dude.” Never one to sit stoically through Steve’s teasing, Eddie groans and hides a grudging you’ve got me there smile behind a handful of his own hair. 

Steve grins. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding or looking sorry at all. 

Which is where they leave it, for now. Eddie finishes his breakfast, clearing his plate and dishing up seconds because once he starts eating in earnest his stomach settles and he’s starving, and it’s all so good. And it’s not like they’re magically back together—Steve had slept on the couch instead of in the bed with him, they haven’t been close enough to share so much as a meal and conversation like this for ten years, but it’s a start. A chance to get to know each other again, see if they still fit. 

~

Fast forward another ten years. Eddie’s solo career is doing well but he doesn’t do public appearances, got all of his recording done at home in his private studio. He’s pretty much a homebody, which surprised some of the people who know him but not the ones that know him well. 

Steve still has the same job, not because he needs to work but because he loves it. He’s also Eddie’s de facto private chef, and he loves that too. 

But he’s not cooking today, because it’s their anniversary and Eddie is dead set on painting the town red. “Of course I still want to,” Eddie assures him again, nuzzling sleepily up against his unofficial husband (they’re holding out until it becomes legal in either Illinois or Indiana, whichever comes first) when Steve wakes him and asks if he’s still sure about their brunch reservations. “I want to take you out and show you off. Remember how I promised you how rich and famous I am and how cool that would be?”

Steve huffs in amusement, leaning into the nuzzling. “First of all, it was more of a statement than a promise. The actual promise was to write so many songs about my eyes. Second of all, you don’t remember that.”

“Kept the promise either way, didn’t I?” Eddie nips at his collarbone, bare because Steve never was one for sleeping with a shirt on, even when the weather turns cold. “I’ve written songs about your eyes, your smile, this ass…” He grabs at it with a little growl, leaning more of his weight onto Steve to reach and enjoying the way his sweetheart happily squirms. 

“Mmm, yeah,” Steve sighs. “But we could still stay in… have breakfast in bed…” His own hands find Eddie’s love handles and settle there. “Not have to get dressed.”

“Nope.” Eddie props himself up on one thick arm and kisses him on the nose. Then yawns hugely. “It’s about time I get some fresh air, and I’m taking you out, baby.”

So Steve crawls out of bed, fetching Eddie the clothes he asks for and gamely taking suggestions for his own outfit—though he anticipates every article with a smirk, starting to grab each hanger before the words are fully past Eddie’s lips. Jeans that are just a little on the tight side and highlight the ass that Eddie so loves to grab (and sing about grabbing, the horny lovesick goblin man), a t-shirt that shows off his muscles and broad shoulders (because he may be turning forty next month but he takes damn fine care of his body), and the leather jacket from Eddie’s Corroded Coffin days that no longer fit their original owner. 

Because Eddie, who loves Steve’s food, has put on at least a hundred pounds in the past decade,maybe more. Most of it has gone to his belly, but he’s pretty round and soft all over—except his ass, for some reason, which is his excuse for how much attention he regularly bestows on Steve’s. 

That’s not why he’s stayed out of the public eye for so long though. It’s more because he got his fill of being a rock star, being recognized everywhere he goes, being photographed all the time and known for his wild antics. He’d wanted that when he was younger, so badly, needed the accolades and acknowledgement as someone who hadn’t gotten a lot of that as a child. But that rock star life took him away from Steve for so long, which he both regrets and doesn’t because it all worked out in the end. He’d been in it just as much for being able to make and share his music, too, which he can still do, so he’s happy. Happy and so, so in love. 

Their day is back to back reservations at various restaurants, all selected by Eddie because of dishes he knows that Steve will want to try and recreate at home. “Inspiration for your craft,” Eddie tells him with a wink, his own cheeks pink and grin lazy with the pleasure of overindulgence. 

Pictures are taken, more by cell phones than paparazzi because it’s the 2000’s now (not long before the Supreme Court of California issues a finding that allows that state to start issuing same-sex marriage licenses out on the West Coast, and Steve and Eddie fly out for Robin’s backyard wedding). They circulate the internet, with thousands of people weighing in on whether that really is Eddie Munson, the “missing” front man from Corroded Coffin. There are comparisons between old photos and these new ones, in depth analyses that range from “he wouldn’t get that fat” to “wow he really let himself go” to “looks like he’s living his best life.”

Eddie and his sweetheart—who is a total unknown except to some of the kids at the program who see the pictures and flip out because since when is Mr. Harrington so close with a famous metal guitarist omg, he’s so lame with all his sweater vests and dad jokes—remain unaware and unbothered as Steve helps Eddie tuck his already full belly back into his pants, get him all zipped up again, and leave brunch for their next stop. 

And they have a very lovely day.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @tangerinesteve @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax

[jojosquires]

A Preview as Thanks for Patience

So, no new chapter last week because... Well, general future-oriented dread. BUT I *did* get some work done, so here's the first scene of chapter 44. Enjoy or don't. I'm not in charge of your happiness.

Tim Drake dove into traffic. Intentionally. Semi-strategically. And, despite his predicament, ill-advisedly.

Though, as brakes squealed and headlights redirected, Tim knew he made the right decision. Even amidst new bruises and bumps, he couldn't help but appreciate how quickly the drivers reacted, swerving to avoid him.

He was less enthused about the requisite honking that accompanied their decisive action. Granted, Tim understood, intellectually, their knee-jerk reactions. It just wasn't really appreciated given he was clearly abducted and just doing what it took to survive.

“Ow,” Tim grumbled as he pushed off the asphalt, attempting to sit up. A good tuck and roll wouldn't save anyone from cuts and scrapes. Even an expert could expect a few injuries. With two incidents in the past week, Tim was still just a novice at the whole “car-adjacent physical trauma” thing.

“Ow,” he repeated as everything came back into focus, arms barely holding him up.

HONK!!!

Even still, it took a few seconds for the severity, the REALITY, of the situation to catch up with everyone involved. The motorists recognizing an abduction. The kidnapper recognizing a momentarily successful un-abduction. Tim recognizing that he had to move. Not for his safety (Gotham might be, well, Gotham, but not a single good citizen would just allow the red taillights screeching to a halt ahead to reverse and reclaim their quarry), but because he was the only one who had all the pieces to the bad guy's game…or, well *most* of them.

Drivers began climbing out of their cars. The road wasn’t too busy. The snow had chased most civilians home to hunker down for the impending holiday and potential storm, but there were still stragglers out and about. Ones whose traffic-infused anger had waned quickly, replaced with curiosity and, probably, horror.

Tim staggered feebly to his feet before the first concerned motorist approached, resolute and intent on providing aid. Conversely, the kidnapper seemed…conflicted. Tim couldn't know for sure. They'd stopped a half a block ahead, but remained in their vehicle. Microseconds ticked by.

“Hey, kid, are you alright?”

“You in the yellow jacket, call 911!”

Tim stumbled towards the sidewalk. All he had to do was get to the subway station. He'd chosen this street (thank goodness for phantom maps in the recesses of one's mind) on purpose. Slower speed limit, only four lanes, three blocks between traffic lights, and access to Tomasi Station.

He just had to get there.

No phone, no allies. Just the barest bones of a plan and a metrocard (well, and a nearly-filled punch ticket for a free soup or sandwich at Gio’s, but that was hardly relevant).

Tim stepped off the road. Voices called, feet rushed to catch up, the kidnapper's car door finally opened.

Alas, all their plans were for naught. Tim was tripping down the stairs before his captor even climbed out of the driver's seat. Protocol demanded confirmation in the form of a visual, but identification didn't matter much right then. Distance did. Continued survival did. If it came to it, Tim would be able to pick the man's voice from a recorded lineup.

Tomasi Station was only half full. Good for Tim's anonymity. Reduced risk of collateral damage if his captor managed to pursue.

Swipe!

BZZT!

-DENIED-

Swipe.

BZZT!

-DENIED-

Time was running out. Shouting filtered in from the streets above.

Again.

Swipe!

BZZT!

-DENIED-

Footsteps. Hurried. Horrified gasps.

Come on, come on, come on!

Swipe!

BZZT!

-DENIED-

The familiar scrape of hurried boots against aged concrete. A train car just emptied of its passengers.

Time was up. One more shot or *get* shot...

Swipe!!!!

Ding-a-ling…

-Transaction Approved-

Tim surged through the barrier and lunged sideways into the train just as the doors snapped shut. Legs gave out as the entire structure lurched forward. No matter, he was alone and he deserved a lie down.

You realize you could've just jumped the turnstile, right?

“Please shut up,” the teen replied in an exhausted grumble.

Tim Drake slipped into unconsciousness. Accidentally. Improvisationally. And, given all he'd been through, sensibly.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Ladies Whistledown - chapter four

Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington Rating: T Chapter: 4 / ? Word Count: 2322

read on tumblr: one | two | three

To witness the formerly affianced Prudence find herself suddenly without a fiancé was akin, Penelope guessed, to watching a confused bird. Like a bird, Prudence was adorned in her typical bright, mama-approved plumage, but she darted and strutted and skittered about the house, squawking out inane questions and comments in such a way that made it exceedingly difficult for Penelope to read the novel her turbulent thoughts were already making it challenging to concentrate on.

Seat yourself and be still, Penelope wanted to tell her, but nobody ever listened to Penelope, and so she herself sat quietly, and was still. Only her eyes tracked Prudence’s bobbing, swivelling head. The poor bird whose mate had flown away in the night. Part of Penelope did feel for her sister; she felt it must have been a terrible thing to believe oneself prized only to be left without a single word of explanation or comfort. Their mama had many words for Prudence, but none were the right ones. Penelope doubted any of them were even true. For herself, she believed, in such a circumstance, she would have preferred the truth over a well-meaning coddling. The truth was more soothing in the end.

It had not been love, and Penelope was certain Prudence would cease her restless movements when she remembered that. Cousin Jack had not loved her—possibly would never have loved her—and so it was better that Prudence escape a bad match to preserve the possibility of being loved in the future. To be loved, completely and for oneself exactly as one was… well, Penelope cherished a belief that this was possible. She believed it despite watching young women lose hope after too many seasons out, despite overhearing men discuss them as the means to producing heirs and appeasing their mamas, despite matches of convenience being the rule rather than the exception. Being Lady Whistledown, placing herself in such a position, ought to have made Penelope, if anything, a cynic. And yet hope flourished within her, a nest cradling the heart that believed love was real.

In the wider nest of their home, Prudence collapsed onto the chaise with all the grace of a fledgling’s first descent. Penelope could feel her sister staring at her. When she flicked her gaze from the unread page of her book to meet her eye, Prudence let her mouth sag into a pout.

“Mama has sent Varley to the Modiste to cancel everything ordered for my trousseau.”

“Well,” Penelope said slowly, trying to be patient, “you are no longer getting married.”

“That should not matter! I should still have found occasion to wear the dresses.” Prudence sunk further into the chaise as she sulked.

“With the money saved, I am sure we will both have more new dresses at the start of the next season, when mama will select whatever will be… most fashionable.” She would, Penelope supposed, when it came to things like the shape of the sleeve or the placement of an embellishment, but Penelope would have bet the Queen’s jewels that her particular gowns would still be yellow.

“I suppose…” Prudence tentatively allowed. Then she sighed. “I despise saving money.”

Penelope could not help the volume of her laugh, but she lifted a hand to her mouth to aid in shortening its duration. Her sister scowled at her reaction.

“It is dreadful!” Prudence said defensively. “I hate the word ‘frugal’ more than any other! I should never have liked to be called a ‘frugal wife’—it sounds horrid.”

“You must congratulate yourself, then,” Penelope rejoined (rather flippantly), “on escaping both parts of the title.”

Prudence scoffed and planted her hands on the cushion to shove herself upright. This was a tactic with which Penelope had become accustomed in childhood; her sisters had often used height as a substitute for being correct. They had made themselves big and spoken down to her. Once Penelope had understood how this worked, she had stopped finding it intimidating. She gave her sister a bland look.

“At least I have been engaged!” Prudence announced haughtily.

“And you haven’t so much as a trousseau to show for it,” Penelope muttered.

Prudence had heard, but her habitual, quotidian quarrel with her sister lived a short life in the shadow of her broken engagement.

“Cousin Jack should’ve paid for it before he ran off.”

“He clearly is not any better with money that you would have been as his wife,” Penelope pointed out. She then condescended to translate, “You would not have been in fine dresses long once you had married him.”

“Hmm.” Prudence considered this and played with her bottom lip. “I wish I had my own money with which to practice.”

Penelope could not think of a response right away as this was a surprisingly reasonable wish from her sister. She certainly would not be volunteering her own hidden funds so that Prudence might learn restraint while purchasing glittering hair accessories, but she was proud of her sister’s self-knowledge and clarity of thought. It made Penelope feel suddenly warm towards her. She reached out a hand to cover Prudence’s on the cushion.

Prudence snatched her hand away, making a face.

“Do not touch me! You will make my hands smell of books!”

Before Penelope could question this baffling criticism, Prudence flung herself upright and left the room.

Surreptitiously, Penelope raised her hand, touching the back of her fingers to the underside of her nose. She inhaled. She frowned. Was there a trace? If there were, she could comprehend how Prudence would attribute it to the novels which were her constant companion while at home and observed. More likely though, Penelope believed the scent of paper and ink emanated from her nightly writings, her fingering of pages, a stray drop from her quill, besides anything she might have touched at the printer’s, or even on an errand like buying a replacement letter for the press. If these scents clung to her still—though she had not been to Chancery Lane, though waiting on Eloise stayed her hand—it made Penelope wonder whether they would ever leave. Perhaps, she thought, writing became her so well that it had become her, something others could smell on her skin. Something that could be contracted, like an illness.

Penelope sat with downcast eyes. Surely not an illness. Yes, she had written words that had done harm, but to think them an illness meant she was the one who was ill, not the ton. Was this what Eloise thought? That Penelope was undergoing some sort of moral sickening? That the time to save her had passed, and so she must simply be given up as lost?

She would not be easy until she and Eloise had spoken again. If Eloise allowed it. If she came, since Penelope found even the thought of crossing the road again unless invited entirely impossible.

Until then, she had other people’s words, printed on other printers’ paper in long-dried ink. And she had Prudence. As trying as that sometimes was.

She did not know whether life would have been more tolerable had Cousin Jack whisked Prudence away to America, but Penelope was relieved that the household’s proper hierarchy had been reestablished by his exit. Her mama was back at the helm—or, rather, fluffing her feathers atop the nest—and at least that was predictable. With their family the object of the ton’s sympathy after the departure of their scheming relation, Penelope supposed she would look back a year hence to see that the Featherington Ball had marked their return into good society’s good graces. So, no doubt, her mama would invite people to dine, and receive, in turn, invitations for them to dine out. She would smilingly repair frayed connections and, robust with charm and cunning, suss out which other mamas’ sons may be surrendering themselves to parental pressure and entering the marriage mart next year.

Penelope did wonder, after the turbulent start to the season just gone, how they were to attempt to pay for it all, all over again. Their supposed saviour of a cousin had only playacted wealth, but without him, they had less than a façade. And yet she watched her mama—watched her sweep in and out of the drawing room with a command for Penelope to put that book away swiftly smoothed over with a smile, watched her lead Varley into the office that had been her papa’s, then Cousin Jack’s, watched her order a good dinner—and knew there was something she had missed, some information that had not been revealed to her. She did not expect it ever would be intentionally, so Penelope kept her eyes open all day and all through their evening meal, and tried to see what had made her mama suddenly so comfortable about their finances.

Their finances, Penelope well knew, were something she was not meant to give the slightest thought to. As an unmarried young lady, her purview was restricted to ways of getting her dance card filled and practicing the embroidery of flowers on scraps of silk. She felt she was practically meant to be bored, for if she was bored, she was safe. Things like finances would come later, after marriage, and they were not to be understood or controlled, merely accepted as another field upon which she, as a wife, would be expected to concede to her husband. This had not bothered Penelope. It had not bothered her until she had begun to notice her papa’s dejection, the strain between he and her mama, the shop credit that went on and on and on until it did not.

She had made her own money, and that had been the reason; and yet, the more confidently she relied upon herself, the further she found herself to be from those she wished to make comfortable. It was not that Penelope wished to pay—it was the stability such a possibility represented. She could be counted upon. She could be trusted. When Eloise had discovered her and criticized and railed, she had left Penelope’s money where she had found it. Penelope had almost craved its removal for the mercenary colours in which it painted her. All the words she had written, all the ways in which she had tried to protect herself, her family, her Eloise, and Eloise had seen the money and decided it was all so simple. So very, pitiably simple.

This pity, combined with the accusation that Penelope had done all that she had done for money, had driven Penelope to her quill and paper. She would never have believed Eloise capable of looking down her nose at her the way she had. They had thought the worst of each other then. Eloise was prosperous and privileged, raised up and away from the scene before she had even left Penelope’s bedchamber. Penelope was the grasping Featherington, forever dancing on the edge of ruin in shoes that could not be paid for. She could only hope, now, at a distance of a day and a street, that Eloise saw more. That money was her freedom, that it was a byproduct of using her voice, not payment to silence it.

But what good was a voice when the one you most wanted to hear you refused to listen?

Penelope went to bed that night and rose the next morning. She did it again… and again, and in between, she sat by the drawing room window and looked for the fluttering pastels of Bridgertons coming or going.

Finally, four days after she had left the pages with Eloise, Penelope heard news of their neighbours. There was to be a wedding. Her mama had heard of it from Lady Cowper at tea. (Lady Cowper was carefully realigning her position after the Queen had overheard her cutting speculations on the perimeter of the Featherington’s dance floor; the Featheringtons were considered currently in favour as the ball had been such a success.) Lady Cowper had it from her housekeeper, who had it from one of their maids, who had it from one of the Bridgertons’ maids, and it was as good as confirmed, the invitations as good as sent. Anthony Bridgerton would wed Kathani Sharma. The Viscount’s proposal was alleged to have taken place at their ball, beneath their very noses. When their mama informed them, Prudence’s shoulders sunk and she pouted, deeming it unfair that another engagement should be formed the very night hers had been broken.

What struck Penelope as unfair was the fact that her work as Lady Whistledown was suspended in limbo just as this opportunity to break the news of an exciting—nearly scandalous—engagement to the larger ton was dropped in her lap. Not that she would have portrayed it as a scandalous happening. She did not wish to injure Anthony or Kate or Edwina or Eloise. It was merely news, substantial news, and news was her trade. It was difficult for Penelope to do nothing, to say nothing. She knew that when word of the engagement spread without her, readers would look for Whistledown’s comment on the matter. They would feel a veritable itch in their fingers to flip open the pamphlet and cast their eyes over their gossipmonger’s spirited remarks. In many ways, she had been teaching them what to think, how to feel, for which questions they still ought to hunger for answers. They wished to be on the right side of public opinion, to think what it was popular to think, to not get it wrong. What Penelope wished was to not be forgotten. With her creation, she had not only expressed public opinion, she had dictated it. She had been it. Now, she was a girl who sat alone all day in a drawing room.

Thankfully, terrifyingly, on that fourth day, a visitor was announced, and Penelope rose as though for royalty when Eloise walked into the room.

[d0cthunder]

There's this dream I used to have as a child. I had it again last night. My parents drop me off at a daycare center. My mom holds my hand and walks me into the room. She tells me to behave and listen to my teachers. The walls are cement, but there are still construction paper cut-outs in pink and yellow taped on them at little kid height, maybe four feet up the wall. There are little tables and a colorful rug. There are cubbys and buckets filled with toys. I am in awe of this. In awe of everything really because I'm still new to the world. I'm looking around at it all taking it in and my thoughts are normal little kid thoughts. Like very simple, basic. I feeling like I can't believe I get to play in a new place all day. I'm excited. I run around, I play with toys. I color and cut paper. Then I realize that the other kids have gone except for these two other girls. Two day care ladies lead us down a hallway where the floor is little squares of green tile. I am nervous. I am afraid. The lady says there is a fire and that we need to leave. I tell her I left something upstairs. (I don't know how we got downstairs?) She takes me back up in a little elevator. The elevator is narrow and I feel scared being in it, but I can not cry because I will get in trouble. Adults don't like it when I cry. We get to the fourth floor(I dont know how I know it's the fourth floor. I just do.) I run around looking for my forgotten item. I have a sense of urgency. I keep thinking I need to find it because it is Mine. I need to get it because it is Mine. I go into a public restroom with brownish greyish stalls. The same little square green tiles make up the floor. I duck a little to see under the stall. My item is there. I am relieved to find it. I grab it. I go find the lady. For some reason she is side tracked distracted and not taking me back down stairs and I know I need to get down stairs because someone said there was a fire and fire is a bad scary thing. But I'm scared to get in the elevator alone. so I just stand there feeling doomed, feeling dread.

I dreamt this last night. I struggled with a shift in my brain waking up. Like asleep I was having little kid thoughts and little kis feelings, but awake I was my adult self again. so strange.

[earnestly-endlessly]

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

[majimemegoro]

Meet the Nishikis follow-up to this

At 3 a.m. Nishikiyama Kazuya arrived home. Kikyo was already in bed, dozing. After opening the door, her husband stood there for a minute, silhouetted tall and thin in the light, like he didn’t know what he was doing there. Kikyo could tell from the shape of the silhouette that his vest was undone.

“Kazuya,” she said softly.

Dreamlike, he moved into the apartment, letting the door fall shut behind him. The room returned to blue darkness, but the window was open and even in the nighttime Kikyo could still see. As Nishikiyama approached, it became clear that there were bruises all over his neck and jaw.

“Oh,” Kikyo said. A familiar, quiet dread and anger.

“It’s okay,” Nishikiyama said. “I’m… fine.” His voice was wrecked. The only time she’d ever heard him more hoarse than this was a few years ago, when he and Akira and Yuko all caught laryngitis. Nishikiyama’s case had been so bad that he couldn’t speak for three whole days, only make a rough wheezing whisper. That was the power of a virus. It had taken a few days to reach that climax. A man, however, could accomplish the same effect in hours. Or perhaps it had been minutes.

Kikyo had heard rumours that Nihara could be a brute. She tried to keep tabs on information like that. But if she was being honest, she hadn’t led much credence to the rumours. Nihara always seemed so measured and reasonable. And amid the preparations for the party and everything else going on lately, she’d forgotten to worry about it anyway.

Just as well. Her husband wouldn’t have changed his mind, and neither would she.

“I’m… going to shower,” Nishikiyama said.

“Okay.”

Still at a glacial pace, as though sleepwalking, Nishikiyama moved around the bed to the bathroom, dropping first his vest and then his shirt on the way. He flicked on the light, making the room turn yellow once more. Then he closed the door and the yellow was carven down into four thin lines, pale amid the darkness.

Kikyo let her eyes shut. She heard the faucet turn on, and then turn off, and retching, and the toilet flush. A few minutes after that the steady drumbeat of the shower began.

Kikyo drifted off. When she woke again the clock read 5:32 and the sound of the shower had stopped. Nishikiyama emerged from the bathroom just then, hair dripping wet and dressed in the fluffy white bathrobe.

“Hi,” Kikyo said.

Her husband nodded.

He climbed into bed, still wearing the bathrobe. He lay on his back and closed his eyes. He’d left the light in the bathroom on, and up close Kikyo could see how exhausted he looked. The little wrinkles visible around around his eyes. He hadn’t had those a few years ago. He would have to be very careful if he wanted to keep looking a decade younger than he was. She wished he didn’t have to. Maybe.

As she watched, slowly Nishikiyama swallowed and opened his eyes again. “…Can you pass me my-“

Wordlessly Kikyo reached over and passed him a bottle of pills from the nightstand. Nishikiyama unscrewed the bottle and dry-swallowed a pill.

“Long night,” he said. His voice sounded a bit better, but not very. Two hours of steam could only do so much. “I’m… sorry I couldn’t keep more of an eye on you.” Aside from the raw throat, it still sounded like voicing each word took a concerted mental effort. The phrases drawn out, like he couldn’t remember how to speak. “Did Dojima bother you?”

“No,” Kikyo said. “I stayed away from him and he didn’t cause trouble.”

Nishikiyama let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank god,” he murmured. “I don’t want to have to-“

“It’s fine,” she said. “It all turned out fine.” Silence. “How did things go with Nihara?”

“He’s… on board. I guess.”

“That’s good.”

Nishikiyama hummed.

“…Did you… check on Akira and Yuko,” Nishikiyama said. “When you… got back.”

“Yes. They’re fine. Sleeping.”

“Thank god. Thank god.” Then, “Oh, there’s… a new problem,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Awano-san said she’s divorcing her husband.”

Kikyo thought about that. “For you?”

“Yes.” A miserable whisper.

“And she was serious?”

“I think so. …Kikyo, I swear I didn’t try, I made it so clear to her I wasn’t interested-“

Letting out a soft laugh, Kikyo rolled over to look directly at her husband. “My poor dear love,” she said. “You don’t need to try. You just breathe, and the world throws itself at your feet.”

“Awano… is going to be pissed.”

“We’ll deal with that when we have to,” Kikyo replied. “He‘s just a high-ranking enforcer, anyway. Not even an officer, technically. If we had to please every person like that…” She was going to say that Nishikiyama would never get a moment’s rest. But he already didn’t, and neither did she. So, “It’s impossible,” she said. “Kazuya, put it from your mind. If Awano-san wants to make herself available to you, that doesn’t force you to take any actions.”

“…I know that. But her husband is going to be dead set against us from now on. That… isn’t what we need.”

“The cost of beauty,” Kikyo said, half bitterly. “People always want you to be theirs.”

Nishikiyama turned his head to look directly back at her for the first time since he’d returned. Face haggard, haunted eyes, even if she could ignore the bruising. “You shouldn’t have to be in a room with Dojima for even a minute,” he said.

“And you shouldn’t have to be in a room with half the people at that party. It’s fine; we all make sacrifices.”

“Maybe…” There was a slight slur in his voice. Most likely the medication was kicking in. “Kikyo,” he said. “How did things go with Higashiyama?”

For a moment she didn’t answer. “Good, I think,” she said at last. “He seemed open to the idea.”

“Thank god…”

“But-“ She hesitated.

“What,” Nishikiyama said.

“He… kept saying how he was disappointed that we didn’t bring Akira along. That he’s such a good young man, and growing to be so handsome, and that it would be wonderful to see him…” She trailed off. The implication curled heavy and ugly in the air.

“I - do we-“ Nishikiyama looked like he was struggling to verbalize. “We’re not… Higashiyama isn’t nearly important enough to even consider that. Right?” Uncertainty hanging on the words.

“Not to me. Not yet. No.” And, unspoken, she really hoped not ever.

Nishikiyama let out a sigh of obvious relief. “Thank god,” he murmured again. “Kikyo, do you ever worry that-“

“Shh,” she said quickly. “Kazuya, you need to sleep. You’ve been through a lot. Don’t fight the meds, okay?”

He swallowed, and she watched the purple bruises on his throat shift ever so slightly. How strange and sad, to have the most beautiful, brilliant husband in the world and see him repeatedly demolished.

“The kids-“ he tried again.

“I’ll bring them by myself. You should rest-“

“No,” he said, hoarse and desperate. “They’ve been looking forward to the aquarium since November. I told them we’d do it for Christmas. It’s New Year’s now. I want to go tomorrow.”

“Today, Kazuya. The sun will rise before too long, and you haven’t gotten a minute of rest. And you were in the hospital over Christmas, the kids can’t blame your for that.”

“Fuck… but I can still go.” He let out a sound between a cough and a wheeze, and winced.

Kikyo slid her hand slowly across the sheets to touch his forearm. Through the bathrobe, she pressed it lightly. “Sleep now. If you’re up to it later, we’ll all go, as planned.”

“Fuck Nihara,” Nishikiyama said, voice cracking on the syllables.

“Yes,” Kikyo agreed quietly. “Fuck Nihara.”

“Fuck Higashiyama.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck Awano, too.”

“Both of them,” Kikyo agreed.

“This better fucking work,” Nishikiyama said. It sounded like was crying, but no tears were visible. “This whole thing better be fucking worth it.”

Everyone, even the most steadfast visionaries, suffered moments of doubt. Kikyo had to believe that.

“Sleep now,” she said. “Aquarium later. And tomorrow…”

“I’m going to bring this world to its knees,” Nishikiyama said, weak but vehement. “I’m going to finish this. No one will be able to touch us again.”

Without looking, Kikyo’s hand found his. She squeezed. His fingers twitched. Perhaps the best response he could muster under the circumstances.

Kikyo woke up at 7:30 and put on her makeup and did her hair and put in earrings and got dressed. She started cooking breakfast, and then went to rouse Akira and Yuko.

“Good morning!” she said, brightly but quietly. So as not to disturb her husband. “Akira-kun, Yuko-chan, happy new year!” She gently shook Akira’s shoulder.

He instantly sat up. “Happy new year, mom!” he said, eyes shining. “Are we-“

“Don’t you want to hurry and get your breakfast?” Kikyo said in her peppiest voice. “I made a western food, and I think you’ll like it.”

Akira’s face turned pleading. “But, mom, are we-“

“Hush, Akira! Hurry and come eat,” She pulled Yuko out of bed, giving her a kiss on the head. “Come now!”

She returned to the kitchen to check the fish-shaped pancakes. After two minutes the kids, still sleepy, came in and climbed into the chairs. Perfect timing. Kikyo flipped the first two pancakes one last time, scooped one onto each plate standing ready, decorated them with strawberry sauce, and placed them with a flourish in front of her children.

Akira looked to the pancake and back to her, eyes wide. “Mom, it’s a fish shape! Are we-?”

“Yes, of course we’re going to the aquarium, you silly boy,” she said, smiling. “We promised, didn’t we? Now hurry and eat so you can get ready.”

Yuko started making a high-pitched sound that was blessedly faint.

“Stop that, Yuko,” Kikyo ordered. She cut Yuko’s pancake into pieces so Yuko could grab it with her chopsticks.

“Whoa,” Akira said after tasting the pancake. “It’s like a dessert.”

“Special occasion,” Kikyo said. She served them each another pancake and sat down with some of her own.

The kids ate quickly, and got dressed on their own in passable outfits. Kikyo handed Akira his coat and pulled Yuko over. She managed to get a coat over Yuko’s shoulders before Yuko started fidgeting.

“Mom, where’s dad?” Akira asked. “Isn’t he here? Is he going to meet as at the aquarium?”

“Your father is tired from work,” Kikyo said, trying to stop Yuko’s right arm from flailing. “He’s resting. Maybe he’ll join us for dinner afterward. Akira, button up your-” she reached for his coat.

Akira’s face fell. “What?” he asked, distraught, tears already welling up. “Dad’s not coming?”

“Who’s telling tall tales about me?” Nishikiyama asked from behind them. Kikyo turned. He was leaning on the doorway, smiling broadly, all dressed and ready to go. There was a scarf wound around his neck, and no bruises visible on his chin. Well - if he could cover up eye circles every day, what was a little bruise?

“Dad!” Akira extracted himself from Kikyo’s attentions and ran to his father, immediately latching onto his leg. Yuko followed, laughing in excitement. She immediately started biting the other leg.

“Ow, stop that, Yuko,” Nishikiyama chided. He scooped her up in one arm, kissing her on a round little cheek. With the other hand he ruffled Akira’s hair. Nishikiyama’s hair was wavier than usual from having foregone its usual post-shower blow dry, but other than that - well, no one would ever guess the state he’d been in just a few hours ago.

“Dad, dad, you’re coming with us, right?” Akira pleaded, tugging on his arm.

“Of course I am,” Nishikiyama replied, the smile never for a minute leaving his face. “We agreed on it, right?”

“Yes!” Akira’s eyes shone.

“Daddy, I wanna bring the shark,” Yuko said. “Can I bring the shark?”

“Your shark is in my purse,” Kikyo said. “Ill give it to you once we’re in the car so you don’t drop it. Kazuya, give me Yuko so I can finish putting her coat on.”

Obligingly he lowered Yuko to the ground. Kikyo started trying to get her to put her arms through the sleeves of her coat. It was an involved task.

Vaguely in the background Kikyo could hear Nishikiyama and Akira negotiating over Akira possibly being picked up. The terms apparently agreed upon-

“Whoop! Here we go!” Nishikiyama lifted Akira onto his shoulders. “Okay, now, warn me if we’re going to run into anything, okay? I don’t want you to hit your head.”

Beaming, Akira nodded vehemently.

When they finally made it out the door and to the elevator, Nishikiyama put Akira down. Yuko started racing circles around them and bumping into the walls while Akira tried to stop her.

Kikyo kept her voice low and looked at her own smeared, vague reflection in the burnished gold walls of the elevator instead of looking at her husband.

“Kazuya, are you sure you’re-“

“Yes,” he said.

“Did you take your-“

“Yes.”

“You should eat something,” she murmured.

Nishikiyama pulled a clementine out of his pocket and brandished it at her. Insufficient. As usual. But at least it was something.

The elevator dinged and they exited in the parking area. When they reached the car, Nishikiyama hesitated. “Kikyo, could you-“ She went to the driver’s side and he got in on the left. They buckled Akira and Yuko into their car seats and then peeled off.

“Shark!” Yuko said. “Shark!”

“Say please, Yuko-chan,” Kikyo said, but Nishikiyama was already handing Yuko the shark. He cast Kikyo an apologetic glance at pre-empting her order. Kikyo sighed.

In the back seat, Akira started talking about the fish documentary he’d watched at school.

“Kazuya, how are you feeling?” Kikyo asked, voice low.

“Great!” he said, flashing a grin. “Excited to see some marine life, right, kids?” He swivelled around to address them, and they cheered.

He never knew when it was safe to stop the fucking performance.

On they drove. It was only a twenty minute drive to the aquarium, but traffic was a bit dense. Akira babbled on about the documentary and about his fish report that had received an top grade, and Yuko slapped her shark against the back of Kikyo’s seat.

Kikyo put on the blinker and glanced over her shoulder as she changed lanes. She remembered that the other day she’d left a coupon for the food court in the mall outside the aquarium in the glove compartment. “Kazuya, could you pass me-“ A second glance revealed that his head was leaning way back on the headrest: eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He was asleep.

Under his jaw there was a little spot of green bruising that he’d missed covering up with concealer. Her hands tightened on the wheel.

“The shark is going to eat you, Akira!” Yuko was saying shrilly. “She’s biting your fingers off!”

“No, she isn’t,” Akira said, voice striking a balance between petulance and dignity. “She’s not even a real shark, she’s made of plastic.”

“No!” Yuko shouted. “Real shark!”

Nishikiyama’s head jerked up. He’d been awoken by the noise. There was an incredibly blurry look in his gaze.

“Indoor voices, Yuko!” Kikyo said. “Don’t shout in the car or I’ll take the shark away.”

“No!” Yuko said. “She’s my shark!”

“Dad,” Akita said desperately, “Did you know that oarfishes are the longest fishes in the world?”

“Oh?” Nishikiyama said, turning around, smile plastered back on his face. “That’s crazy! How long do they get?”

There was a beat of silence, and Kikyo knew instinctually that Akira was upset. Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Sure enough, he looked stricken. He didn’t know how long oarfish got.

“I bet they get almost as long as a dragon,” Nishikiyama said quickly, realizing his mistake. “Do you think so?”

“Probably,” Akira said desperately. “Probably they get even longer than a dragon.” He paused. “But they’re better than dragons, anyway, because dragons aren’t even real.” He finished in a rush, and another look in the rearview showed him flushed with pride at the speech.

“Holy shit, are you - I mean, geez Louise, are you sure, Akira?” Nishikiyama said, shooting another glance at Kikyo. Apologetic, and maybe, this time, panicked, too. Kikyo didn’t think she’d ever heard him slip up like that in front of the kids. She wanted to take him home and wrap him in a blanket and force him to get some proper rest.

“Yes,” Akira said, doubling down. He gripped the sides of his car seat and strained forward. “Dragons aren’t real. They’re like Santa Claus.”

“Wow,” Nishikiyama said. “You’re a smart kid, Akira. That’s pretty advanced stuff.”

“I guess so,” Akira said modestly.

“Santa Claus is real,” Yuko said quietly.

“Of course Santa Claus is real,” Nishikiyama said. Kikyo cast him a sidelong look just in time to catch him winking, presumably at Akira.

“So kids!” Nishikiyama said. “What kinds of animals do you think we’ll see at the aquarium? Elephants?”

Akira and Yuko laughed. “No!” Akira said. “The aquarium is for fishes, not land mammals, dad.”

“Oh, I see. So… like giraffes?”

Again Akira and Yuko burst into laughter. Nishikiyama echoed them. It was the host laugh. The same laugh he’d been making for Nihara last night. Kikyo flexed her hands around the wheel. 

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

People have this boundless and terrible propensity for wonder, that shows us fear, and drags our first nightmares to worn pillows and makes us look into sunset into our eyes burn, and it’s one of my favorite parts of humanity, as a whole, I think. But as someone who’s belong to a fair few schools of thought, who’s watched people I care for trudge down that spiral of quicksand that is nihilism, that man-eating tar pit that I dragged myself out of on screaming elbows, and I can’t help but want to… wave semaphore flags, launch red flags into the stratosphere, fall to my knees and beg, ‘Please, I know it’s easy to fall into, I know because I was you, for four years, and if I can save you half of what I did to myself, please, let me try.’

Because when you turn over to the evening news to watch your species tearing itself apart, when you find a working balance between empathy and being able to sleep at night only to watch a hail storm kneecap your desperate future, it’s terrifyingly easy to slip into that morphine drip of, ‘Nothing matters, everything is cold and hateful, and we’ll all die anyway.’ With the heat death of the universe constantly looming over the concept of legacy, of lasting impact, that’s the conclusion, isn’t it? That’s the end of the yellow brick road, just a mass grave and a high dive, so we might as well get our swimming suits on now, right? 

And maybe it’s overstated, maybe I’ve simply carved my place into this rock tunnel too firmly to get anything more than the crystal warped echo of events from the mouth of the cave, but I can’t seem to strap on enough shame to stop myself from shouting down every saline-drenched hallway, every screen door that’ll never close quite the right way again, every all-nite laundromat cracking apart at it’s concrete seams, that love, for the sake of itself, is the point. That neutral has never slept in the same bed as cruel, that there’s such a yawning abyss of distance between an uncaring universe and a hostile one. 

Because once you get far enough out from your paralyzing grief, and guilt, and fear, there’s so much life, happening everywhere! All at once! And you had nothing to do with it, and that’s beautiful! There’s this… fucking epiphany that happens in your sleep, and on your couch, and across the dinner table from someone you never would’ve gotten to see again if just one of those plans, those backups, those bad days had gone a little bit farther, a little bit worse then it did. That just because some of those stars sit so distant in time they’ve been dead for millennia, does not mean they don’t matter. Everything matters, so damn much, because none of it has to. We decided to care, we decided that this life was ours and full of energy and dread and passion and grief and we decided, it’s not nirvana but it’ll have to do, and then we built lives here!

Love’s been the point since we had the words to wrap around it with inexperienced fingers, it’s been the point since two sets of eyes could meet each other and know that the thing staring back was worth just as much to the wriggling membrane beneath it as to wrench hearts from their chests should that quiet distance be enforced further than the other could go. It’s been the point since death became a barrier, rather than a stage in existence, when tears were shed for the first time for love, for happiness, for shame, for the aching separation of an ever-silenced pulse. 

Insignificant and worthless are so, so far from each other. And once that comes naturally to you, once that winds itself around your small intestine and pokes around every few weeks to make sure you remember it’s still kicking around down there… You can find this want to share it with somebody, anybody else. Because the love’s what makes this worth it. Not because we were born with it, not because there’s a greater fate pulling strings into a majestic, tragic tapestry to be remember for eons, worn around the shoulders of god-kings!

But because we saw the wickedness of our fellows, because we saw the unfairness of snarling natural disasters and unforgiving animal kingdoms and unstoppable aging, the pain caused by time itself, and said to each other, ‘Yeah, but… We’re already at the party, and that six-dollar wine isn’t going to drink itself. It might swallow us whole, in an hour or two, but the stars look incredible from the bottom of this pool, and it’s a hell of a view to waste.’

[blossom-hwa]

Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS. 

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones. 

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

i.

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

v.

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight. 

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

[hes-writer]

Birthday

Summary: harry forgets y/n's birthday

Warnings: angst and fluff if you squint

Word Count: 2871 words

A/N: I’m tired. My head hurts (sucky ending ahead)

___

How silly was it to stare at a phone in anticipation for hours, waiting for it to buzz and light up with a simple banner stating ‘happy birthday!’ from your closest friends? It was a sad reality for Y/N. She was never very outspoken, often opting to keep to herself and speak only when she was comfortable. Friends were a touchy topic because she had lost so many in the past that she didn’t bother making new ones for the sake of not going through another fallen friendship.

What was the point of going through the cycle over and over again if Y/N knew the dreaded ending? She was better off saving herself from heartbreak and stick with the true friends she had.

For the past years, Y/N’s closest friends brought her joy and animated presents to celebrate her birthday. She appreciated them very much, declaring that they only had to give her greetings and she would be happy. They cared so much until they didn’t. Was it because of quarantine that they failed to realize what day it was? Were they busy with work? Were they finishing up a university project worth half of their marks? Did they forget? Y/N wondered what changed.

Having stability within herself was something that she always struggled with. As much as she tried to convince herself that she is important and that she’s worth it—Y/N knew that it was only a matter of time before all those reassurances blew up in her face.

Sometimes she feels as though she cared too much, expected too much and got nothing in return. It wasn’t a competition; really, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t want to sound entitled but the fact that she remembered the important days and the special occasions, bringing gifts and cheery greetings only to have nothing but empty silence when the day was about her hurt more than a metal scooter to her ankle bone. 

And for the sake of it, Y/N forced herself to understand that her friends didn’t remember. They were still her friends even if she hasn't spoken to them in a while. Their life didn’t revolve around her even if it felt like she dedicated too much of hers caring for them and making sure that they felt good about themselves. Y/N hated to see them sad, doubting themselves to the point where she had to step in—too irritated to bite her tongue because they didn’t deserve to be put down that way whether it was by their own thoughts or somebody else’s.

It was a completely different story with Harry. She and Harry have been together for three years and counting, sharing memories between the two; affection, intimacy and caressing touches imprinted on one another’s skin. He was the most amazing person Y/N had ever met; always pleasing others but knowing when to draw the line. He was both logical and affectionate, never letting his heart rule too heavy on his decisions but always using his head to think it through.

Recently, Y/N felt as if their relationship was taking a low. She wasn’t too concerned because it had happened before and a simple, meaningful talk was often what she and Harry needed to get back on the right track for a long-lasting relationship. The days were passing by continuously, sometimes even confusing her until she found something to look forward to. Her birthday.

—-

The rays battled through the blinds, blinding her with faint yellow sunshine yet Y/N could see the clouds covering the sky, indicating that it was cloudy and frankly, a little bit cold today.

She yawned, pressing her fists against her eye to knuckle on them, rubbing the sleep out before stretching them outwards. She expected to hit a body laying beside her, Harry, but she was met with open-air and a sudden chill enveloping her body despite the thick comforter laying on top of her.

Y/N pressed her palms on the mattress. The creases imprinting indents on her skin as she pushed herself up slightly in alarm. Sure enough, Harry’s side of the bed was empty, wrinkled with his movements from sleep but he was nowhere to be found. His usual humming habits didn’t echo from the bathroom, nor did his constant yelps of clothes falling off the rack reverberate from the walk-in closet. She concluded that maybe he was in the kitchen preparing a special breakfast in bed—waffles and freshly cut fruit were always her favourites.

Y/N smiled at the thought, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, slipping her feet in her fuzzy slippers before dragging her legs to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Aside from a few work emails needing to be responded to, her day was essentially empty, hoping that her time would soon be filled with long-lasting memories.

Ten minutes later and a questionable frown on her face, Y/N entered the kitchen with a beating heart. The smell of breakfast food didn’t linger in the air as she had expected. In fact, there was nobody there. No one in the living room, nowhere. There was no note taped to the fridge, no gifts sitting on the counter, no cake cooling on the stove rack.

Y/N felt the corner of her mouth dip in disappointment, returning to the bedroom to switch her phone on.

A hole in her chest formed at the sight of an empty lock screen—no messages or calls needing to be tended to because no one had remembered her birthday. She tried not to think too much about it, maybe they were busy or forced by Harry to stay quiet because he had planned a surprise party later in the evening. Y/N sighed, tapping her thumbs to text him ‘where are you 🥺’.

The damage ripped her further apart at a notification showing pictures of ‘Today, 1 Year ago’. She contemplated whether to view them or not, aware that she was torturing herself for not getting the same amount of sentiment as the previous years.

‘meeting. I’ll call you x’ - Harry

Y/N swiped the message up, opting not to reply and wallowing in self-pity as she tried not to let her thoughts get the better of her. Today was supposed to be a happy day so why was she feeling so sad?

Wandering around Harry’s large house, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a cold blanket of loneliness draping over her shoulder. She wished that Harry was here to ease the ache quelling in her heart. All she wanted was to share sweet kisses with his soft lips, to feel his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Hearing his voice whispering dirty thoughts and compliments in her ear while she buried her face on the nape of his neck where his scent was the strongest. Maybe they would bake a cake in the kitchen. Flour dusting the air as Harry let his fingers wiggle to get it off of him. The finished product didn’t always look good but it tended to taste delicious. At least it was edible.

The daydreams in her head moved with the branches swaying outside the window, the fluffy white clouds moving westward as Y/N reeled in memories of her past birthday like a camera roll, creaking with each spin. The flickering blinking with forgotten remnants of happy flashbacks.

It was nearing four in the afternoon when Y/N decided to stop antsily waiting for the device to buzz in hopes of a message from Harry or anybody, really. The slight grief she felt washed over her mind, echoing that she wasn’t important enough to be remembered.

She didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

Y/N didn’t know what bothered her the most. Is it fair for her to expect Harry to remember her birthday? Was it a given? If he came home right now with a present on his left hand, balloons and flowers on his right with a sheepish smile inching up the lower half of his face—would Y/N still feel angry? Sad? Disappointed? All she wanted was him to remember on his own. Maybe then she’ll feel as though she was worth his time. It wasn’t even about the gifts or a celebration—just a simple acknowledgment that meant he cared for her.

She kept asking herself if she should feel sad. If she had the right to feel disappointed. It wasn’t like they made any plans. It wasn’t like he promised to do anything special with her. It felt more and more like a normal day instead of her birthday and Y/N’s heart twinged with realization.

If Harry ‘made it up to her’, was it overpowering guilt that would make him do it? Or because he genuinely forgot? Maybe both? Nonetheless, the hours passed by with barely anything productive being accomplished, having taken the day off for nothing. The device beside her vibrated once, a message from her aunt saying ‘happy birthday’ left a smile on her face. It wasn’t every day that Y/N received a text from her extended family-- she concluded that it was because her birthday was on the same day as her grandfather’s.

____

The sun sunk down beyond the horizon, darkness littering the streets that the light disappeared due to nighttime slowly cycling through the rest of the day. Y/N spent her time as she would any other day, except this time she baked a cake. A pity cake for her gloomy day. She was like a burnt cigarette crumpled on the ashtray, the last traces of orange hue fire spotting into black traces.

Y/N felt foolish wearing a party hat with a string that was way too short stretched around her head. The tightness tramping her that would probably cause slight indentations on her skin. It was nearing midnight when she decided to sing herself a happy birthday and made a wish.

The door unlocked, followed by keys rattling on a hardwood. The flame on her wax candle dancing with the gasp she released as Harry rounded the corner to the kitchen.

“Y/N, you in here?” He froze in place as his eyes caught up with the rest of his body. Harry’s fingers tightened around his phone before slipping it in his back pocket. His mouth parted open, throat closing up as he tried to swallow the lump that formed. The party hat sitting on her head almost took away from the severity of the situation.

He messed up. Really bad.

“Hey, Har,” Y/N greeted, crimping her lips to bare a small ghast to the candle. The flame disappeared in the blink of an eye. Harry’s heart hammered harder in his sternum, Y/N’s plunged to her churning stomach. “Where have you been?”

The tone of her voice was mundane. Harry was trying his best to decipher how she was feeling so that he can act accordingly and that was exactly why Y/N purposefully voided it of any susceptible sentiment.

“Y/N, I-I’m sorry,” He padded his feet closer to her, the kitchen island putting distance between them. She sat on the barstool, removing the hat from her head. She fixed her hair as Harry spoke. “I’m really sorry,”

Green eyes bore through her with a sincere expression, shooting daggers in her heart for staying quiet while Harry apologized profusely. The chocolate frosted cake drooped on the edges--she had a habit of smothering the layers with frosting before it fully cooled down-- just like the corners of her mouth.

“What are you sorry for?”

Harry blinked at her, resting his hands on the edge of the counter. “I forgot your birthday,”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, you did.”

“Happy birthday, baby” His voice was tender, like a bowl of sweet, milk chocolate. Decadent and rich as it released the words she had been waiting to hear all day long. And frankly, it would’ve been enough to put a smile to her face, but the lack of content for the day embedded her in a mindset that not even Harry’s simple words could dig her out of. The amount of self-reflection she did today was a topic that she had tried to avoid for so long because it was too destructive--she never handled these thoughts well.

Y/N peered at the digital clock on the stove just as it switched to ‘00:01’. Harry followed her gaze, hitching a breath in his throat. She stared at him deeply, "Where were you?”

“Studio. I had a flow, couldn’t stop and I--,” He rambled on, nervously scratching the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the tiny curls. A part of Y/N couldn’t help but feel selfish for making this all about her (even if it was about her). Harry had other commitments besides her. He had a music career that depended on him writing songs. She knew how much it meant to him when a flow was just too good--lyrics spewing out of his mouth, melodies humming from the base of his throat. Harry wrote some of his best work in the middle of the night after dreaming about something that absolutely puzzled her to no end. Remorse spotted in her chest.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said slowly. “You were working hard. I get it,” Her hands reached out for his waist, his Gucci hoodie soft to the touch.

Harry hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, wondering if he should uncover the whole truth. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin jutting on the crown of her head. A sudden breeze slipped up his back when she slid her warm palms under the fabric. “No, I wasn’t,”

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat, leaning back far enough that he could maintain eye contact with her, “I wasn’t working hard. I was sleeping. I did write some tunes bu’ then I got knocked out for hours and didn’t wake up until eleven,”

“Oh,” Y/N let her hands dangle beside her, a rush of disappointment flooding her every being. She carefully sewed up her next response, “S’okay, you were tired,” And she was too. All she wanted was to cuddle up in their bed and he can make it up to her another day.

“It’s not okay!” Harry retorted. “I forgot about your birthday, left you all alone. I didn’t even text you,” He pounded his fist on the counter, way too close to the chocolate cake that had Y/N sneakily pulling the tray away from him but he caught her, “Didn’t get you a cake. Didn’t buy ya’ a present,”

“Harr--,” She tried to intervene in his monologue. Disappointment still weighed heavily in her chest. However, the sight of Harry fuming at his ability to remember reminded her that she didn’t enjoy seeing him blaming himself. As much as she wished to have this day play out differently, everything was already said and done.

“Stop that, Y/N! I was sleeping while you were blowing a candle out on your own. I was s’pposed to be there with you,”

Salty tears flooded her waterline, overwhelming emotions swamping her and saturating her mind, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry,” He rushed out, willing his legs to stand between hers from the distance he created. His thumb stuck out to pad a tear to her temple, “I’ll make it up to you. I swear it,”

Earlier, she contemplated if he would be acting out of guilt. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes and hearing the intensity of his voice asserting that he had messed up so badly that he reprimanded himself; there was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that Harry would do everything he can to make her feel better.

“Do you care about me?”

“‘Course, I do,” He cringed internally at his words, visibly shuddering as his actions surely emphasized the opposite. “Dunno how I forgot. It must’ve slipped my mind,” The groove in between his brows thickened, his cheek absentmindedly leaning towards her palm cupping his cheek. “I care about you a lot, Y/N.” He breathed through his nose, letting the scent of her fill his lungs.

“Do you love me?’

His lids snapped open, jaw tensing against her skin, “Loads. I love you so much,” He turned his head to kiss her palm, holding her wrist to press kisses on her fingers, her wrist, her forearm.

“I’m really sorry,” He rested his forehead against hers. Y/N tangled their fingers together as she held him close.

“You’re sorry?” She asked, the crest of her lips brushing over his plump ones. Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Very,”

Y/N let her eyes fall shut, peering closer to his cloudy lips and attaching his mouth to his. Her hands travelled to his broad shoulders, straightening her back to reach his height. Harry bent down in retaliation.  They pulled away with a smacking sound, lips glistening from their intense kiss. “S’that mean I’m forgiven?” He mumbled, pressing a kiss on her head.

She scoffed, turning her attention on the cake, “Have you made it up to me yet?”

___

sucky ending, i know.

___

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[morgansmoreid]

Do You Still Love Me • Derek Morgan • Chapter Nine

Chapter Name: " Reasonable"

Fic Masterlist

Italic writing stands for flashbacks.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Parental Abuse, Drugs Mention, Homophobia

Bold Writing stands for what happened at the station while Y/n was not present

---

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four.

Y/n's feet clacked against the concrete floor.

Rubbing the palm of her hand against the outline of the pills, Y/n moved along the cars as she slowly walked to the station, this time her mind as empty as an open field.

The station was in her view quicker than anticipated. She pulled open the front door, the bell above it causing everyone who was in ear's views to turn their heads. Scanning each face carefully, relief swayed through Y/n as no face was anyone she dreaded to talk to.

Her relief was cut short as Aaron walked down the hall to her left with the team, her father, and James.

"That was all we needed to know," She heard him say as Aaron shook her father's hand.

James was the first to see her, alerting the rest of the people surrounding him by clearing his throat. Y/n made eye contact with James, her breaking first as her eyes fell to her feet. Thoughts of turning around and sprinting on her heels again popped in Y/n's head, but she ignored them and just looked to the floor.

"Y/n Y/L/N-Fields, please come with us." Emily moved from the center of the group and to Y/n, reaching out her hand to lead Y/n the way of the interrogation room. Y/n took it, keeping her head down as they walked past the group, eyes burning through her back as the pills in her pocket scream her name.

Emily opens the door and lets Y/n take a seat before heading outside again. Everyone is looking at the young female through the one-sided window, their eyes still leaving the same burning gaping hole.

Aaron and David come in, both faces stoic and tense. In hand, Aaron has a yellow pad and a pee cup while David has a blood test. Y/n's eyes grow wide at the objects placed in front of her before she sits up straight and lays her hands on the table.

"You aren't drug testing me." She says, her tone assertive but calm.

"But we are," David replies, looking over to Aaron.

"You understand that this is a federal investigation now? If you comply, these samples will not go on record but will be used for further inference. If you don't, they will go on your job record and you will be on leave effective immediately." Aaron threatened, leaving Y/n no choice.

"I'm clean." She mumbled as she rolled her sleeve for the blood test. Even if she wasn't, it wouldn't show for another 2 days, so it would be negative anyway.

Aaron said nothing as he opened the blood kit and wiped Y/n's inner arm with a sanitary wipe. Y/n winced at the needle entering her arm, the pain lasting as blood filled four tubes. Placing a bandaid on her arm, Aaron disposed of the needle in a different bag before opening the door and handing it to a hand outside.

Y/n may have not seen the person who took the bag, but she saw Derek. He was leaning against the wall across from the door, arms crossed. They made eye contact, this time neither one breaking it, just before the door closed.

"Do you need water?" David's voice pulled Y/n out of her thoughts.

Yes. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

Yes. Water would go well with the pills in her pocket.

"No thank you," Y/n looks up to David. He gives her the look of pity and sorrow and she feels herself hanging on by a thread.

"Come with me then," David holds the look as he turns around, cup in hand, and opens the door for Y/n.

Walking out, Y/n and David turn to the right from the small room while the team and others are on the left. David stands outside of the unisex bathroom as Y/n pees in the given cup. Washing her hands, Y/n stares at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes are red and her arm is now in pain. She feels like she's in one of those bad teenage romcoms, where the main character fucks up her life and in the end, it gets better. She's just waiting for her cue.

The silence lasts in the bathroom as Y/n bags her cup and places it on the small window ledge. She could run right now if she wanted to, but it wouldn't be worth it. Y/n turns on the bathroom faucet again and pulls out the baggie of pills from her pocket. 7 white tablets look at her as she takes one into her hand and shoves the rest back into hiding.

Just before she could bring her hand to her mouth and consume the evil, little miraculous wonder, David knocked on the door causing her to drop the pill in fright. Right into a puddle of "water," the pill went as Y/n hissed at the closed brown door.

"Fuck!" Her words echoed in the small room.

"Y/n? Is everything ok in there?" David's voice is muffled on the other side.

Instead of answering him, Y/n grabs the cup and pushes open the door, slamming the cup into the elder's hand and walking back into the integration room. She passes everyone, this time not bothering to even acknowledge Derek's presence, or his attempt to talk to her.

She slacks down in her seat and waits for the next person to walk through the door. It's Aaron again, with Penelope's laptop and a tape recorder in hand as he carries a file in his armpit.

"Before we start, shall I address you as Fields or Y/L/N?" Aaron precautions.

"Y/L/N, and only Y/L/N," Y/n says, voice cold as ice.

"Ok then, for the record, can you please state your full name, your age, and the year?" The first question leaves Aaron's lips.

"My name is Y/n Y/L/N, I am 29, and it's the year 2008."

Hotch scribbles Y/n's words down and opens the laptop. When he turns it to her, it's already open to a cheer photo from Y/n's sophomore year of high school.

"Please state who you recognize in this photo." Aaron opens the file that was once under his arm.

Eyes read the screen multiple times as the memories resurface in Y/n's head and the names leave her mouth.

"Sabrina Chains, Joanna McCarter, Daisy Miller, Rose Henry, Arianna Anderson, Megan Smith, Daniela Choi, Christina Middleton, and Catarina Paredes."

It's not in order, Sabrina is actually next to Daisy and Joanna is standing next to Daniela, but when Y/n recognized the face, she said the name.

"And who is this?" Aaron hits the right arrow key to move to the next slide. Y/n is horrified by what she sees. It's not another group picture or even a single picture of one of the women, it's a crime scene photo.

It's Arianna's crime scene photo, the only crime Y/n wasn't surrounded by the group for. The hotel room is way messier than others, the behavior completely changed from the last 3. Blood is everywhere, money and jewelry are splattered across the floor and there are no numbers on top of the body or anywhere for that matter. If the other kills weren't personal, this was. Arianna was killed by someone in rage and mixed emotion.

Just how Y/n left the team.

She can only look at the gruesome crime scene for so long until she reaches for the hood of the laptop to shut it off. Aaron is quicker and pulls it out of her sight as he switches to another picture of the crime scene, this time the bathroom.

Two looks and Y/n is ready to throw up. She trained for this, she worked her ass off for the last 5 years on how to keep her composure, yet, she's failing to keep herself together. The bathroom is a mess, clothes are ripped and makeup is smeared on walls, this unsub lost control or this is a new killer. Either way, it's not Y/n and there is no way that the team can possibly deem her that low.

"Please turn it off." Her voice is tense and demanding.

Aaron does shut the laptop and turns it to him. He takes a minute to write down his observations and proceeds with the integration further.

"When you left the Police Station, you were gone for 2 hours and 13 minutes, where did you go?" He asks, writing down the question as he says it.

"James, where is she?" David asks, handing Spencer a miniature Newton's cradle to calm him down.

Everyone looks at James for an answer. After Y/F/N was questioned, he and James were separated for the sake of the case. James was working on a different case file, wrapping it up on the end of the conference table while the team focused on Y/n.

"I'm not positively sure," James lied, rubbing the back of his neck as his handwriting started to get sloppy against the manila folder and its contents inside.

"Well, where do you think?" Derek spoke, his tone snappy and agitated.

After Y/F/N gave up his truth about Y/n's past and her drug problems, Derek was also questioned, not officially, just about how much he knew and what he wasn't letting on. Derek was honest with Hotch and the team, telling them he had no idea about Y/n's problem. Yes, it was true sometimes it intrigued him when they had date night and she never drank anything besides sparkling water, but when she blamed it on "past issues," he assumed it ran in the family.

He assumed because he trusted her.

And she broke that.

"Michael? The guy that Chief Fields couldn't stand? He lived right over here." James gets up and points to the computer screen. Y/n's last coordinates were still up so he dragged his pen across the screen, measuring out the distance for the team as he landed on the only colorful house in satellite view.

"I thought Michael was who introduced her into the drugs in the first place?" Aaron walks over to James.

"It's not really his fault, I've always told Y/n that she could've said no," James responds, becoming silent from everyone's glare at him.

"Saying no isn't easy," Derek mumbles, so low, no one heard him.

No one could say anything as another policeman came into the room frantically about a new body.

Y/n had only been gone 34 minutes at most. There was no way it could be her so quickly, but that didn't stop everyone's thoughts from going to the deep end.

As the team flies into the SUVs, Aaron orders Penelope to keep watch on Y/n's coordinates and dig very thoroughly of the lives of the 9 women, 5 now potential victims.

"Someone has it out for these women, and I wouldn't put it past that Y/n is the glue." He said, tightening his holster.

"I just walked around, took time to clear my head." Y/n lied.

Everyone knew where she was, but Aaron didn't call her out on her false truth and asked the next question.

"When was the last time you purchased any narcotics of the sort, Opioids, Cannabinoids, Hallucinogens, and or Stimulants?" Aaron asked, unsure he wanted to hear the answer himself.

"Last time I was in town, 5 years ago." Y/n lies again.

This time, half of the team is unsure if it's true. James knows deep down it's a lie, but the rest of them don't want to believe it.

So Aaron doesn't push.

"And the last time you consumed any of the narcotics listed before?"

This question, everyone wants the truth, everyone is determined to figure out if they let another team member sink into their addiction before their eyes or if Y/n truly did put her life here behind her.

"As I said, last time I was in town, 5 years ago," Y/n says, her tone changing. It speaks of truth, which tells everyone, even her father that she lied about the last time she bought drugs and where she was, but they don't care about that at this moment.

All they care about is her sobriety, they were still her family after all.

Aaron smiles internally as he writes Y/n's answer on the yellow pad, then ripping the sheet off and sliding it underneath the cardboard. When he does this, the next yellow sheet visible is not blank, it's all of Y/F/N's previous questions. The horrible lights make it hard to see all of them but it still shines bright on the first one.

"What was discipline like as Y/n grew up?" Aaron asks his first question.

The question throws Y/F/N off guard. That had nothing to do with the investigation, what did the FBI want to know about his parenting?

"I believe you were asked a question," David says beside Aaron, arms crossed.

"This has to do what with the investigation?" Y/F/N asked, finally understanding the concept of what he was being asked.

"Agent Hotchner, are you implying that I abused my daughter?" He accused, now not feeling so compliant.

"I didn't say anything to imply, did I, Agent Rossi?" Aaron says loud and clear, bringing the tape recorder to him.

"Not at all, but I think you should repeat it, someone seems confused," Rossi taunted.

"Y/F/N Fields, what was discipline like as Y/n, your daughter grew up?" Aaron demanded an answer.

"Reasonable," Y/F/N said.

"Reasonable how?" Rossi pressed.

"If needed, I taught my daughter wrong from right," Y/F/N replied confidently.

"Did you at any given point in time, use your power as a parent to hit Y/n as a punishment?" Aaron asked bluntly. He hated abusers, it was something about finding pain and taking it out on others that he just could never understand.

"I did. But like I said when it was reasonable." His mouth forms into an undeniable smirk.

Y/F/N's hand went across Y/n's face.

"I said I was sorry!" The girl cried, she was only trying to show her dad an A+ she got.

"You're always sorry, there was no reason for you to knock that down." The angry male pointed to the empty cup on the floor.

Out of excitement, Y/n's elbow hit the plastic cup and knocked it down, but she was backed into the wall before she could pick it up, dropping her graded test midway.

"Reasonable," Y/F/N mumbled to himself.

Anger filled Y/n as her eyes went over the word reasonable.

Never once was Y/F/N reasonable.

Never.

Clenching her fists, Y/n sits up straight and zones back into her conversation with Aaron.

"Can you ask it again?" She says, making straight eye contact.

"Your relations to Daniela Choi?" Aaron asks.

Y/n doesn't know how to reply, she knows Derek is watching so she has to careful with her answer.

"I was-," She gathers her thoughts. "We were pretty close."

It's not a lie. They were close, extremely.

"Who would you say Y/n was closest to?" Aaron asks James.

The team started the investigation from the very beginning, so now everyone was a suspect.

"I've got a funny feeling about that dude, Hotch," Derek says, but his judgment is clouded, he's angry and hurt so to make him feel better, Aaron took James in for questioning.

"Daniela." James's answer is short.

"Why?"

"They dated, for a long time, blew up our whole group," James explains.

"What group?" Aaron flies through the files that he brought in.

Instead of answering, James takes out a picture.

"He's prepared." JJ points out.

The picture is a cheer team, James is nowhere to be found but the first person to catch Aaron's eye is the babyface of Y/n, she in middle, engulfed in a hug by a female with curly mixed hair- Arianna he later finds out. He wants to question why James has this but James continues to talk.

"Not everyone was supportive."

"What?" Rose asked.

"I'm dating Y/n," Daniela said slowly, it was time the two told their friends, the thought of banishment slipping their minds.

"You and Y/n? But your both girls!" Rose exclaimed, as the pastor's daughter, she was raised to what she thought was right.

"So? My mom said it doesn't matter and we both know Y/F/N won't bat an eye." Daniela spoke for both her and Y/n.

"Guys! Help me out here, tell them it's wrong." Rose looked around the booth, empty cups filled the large table as her high pitch voice filled the empty diner.

"How is it wrong?" Caterina scoffed, she could never have the courage to do what Danny and Y/n are doing but she'll stand by them no matter what.

"The bible-" Rose protests.

"For the last time, not all of us live by the damn bible!" James slammed his hand on the teal table before them.

Everyone loved each other, no one cared for anyone's flaws, like Rose's, who always ignored everyone when they try to tell her they don't want to hear bible quotes, or Y/n who always inserts herself into drama.

They were each other's little family and until now nothing has torn them apart.

"I refuse to be around them and their sins," Rose shoved her finger into Y/n's, finally the young girl to stand up.

"And we refuse to be around you." Y/n's tone is cold and tense.

"We all do." Arianna stood up.

"Christina?" Rose looked at the oldest for help.

"You heard them, you can't hate one without hating all of us." She said.

Christina's word was final. If she said someone was out, they were out, no discussion. She just had to say the words.

"Rose, are you staying or leaving?" She asked.

"I'm leaving, my dignity lasts." Rose proudly held her head high.

"Bye then. You longer are allowed to hang out with us." Christina said with much more pride.

The 10 at the table watched the first walk away.

"Not everyone agreed." James rephrased his sentence, fists clenching in anger.

As James told Aaron how the day that Rose left the group went, his fingers dug deeper into his hand, and when he finally let go, crescent marks left their place.

"When you say close, what do you mean?" Aaron wants to hear from Y/n, James is not trustworthy enough right now.

"I had a relationship with Daniela," Y/n admits.

Hearing the words makes Derek turn on his heels and leave the group in the hall. He needs air, he needs to be away from Y/n right now. He told her he was sorry about her friend and she just went with it, in his eyes, she lied to him.

She did the one thing that he always asked not to.

"Derek?" Spencer's voice called from behind him.

"Not now," Derek says, but it's more of a plead. He doesn't want to take his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, he wants to take his anger out on Y/n.

Spencer leaves him alone and Derek takes a few minutes to himself. When he heads back to the station, he refuses to join back with the group, he heads back to the table in the conference room and starts working, the way his handwriting fills each paper and picture easing his mind.

As the minutes feel like hours, Y/n's interview is finally done and she feels bare. She hates how much she revealed, she hates how much has been stripped, how her walls came down and she had no say.

She hates most of her answers were lies that found their way into her truth.

But she won't tell them that, they don't need to know.

They don't get to know.

Aaron lets Y/n head to the hotel first, but when she steps outside, it's dark. Her phone is dead and her body is tired, yet her feet take her to the hotel doors, they let her step into the elevator and into her room. Her hands ache but they plug her phone in and they pull her shirt off. Her hands ache but they turn the knobs of the shower and unbutton her pants. Her legs hurt but they step out of the jeans and help her feet kick them to the side. Her body is a temple of pain but as she removes her bra and underwear, as she steps in the shower, as her fingers run over her body and squeeze the soap out of her cloth out, letting it slide down her figure, she finds her self sitting in the middle of her bed, the air silent where she finally lets her self cry.

So many years of bottling up feeling, so many years of trauma, and it took 34 questions to strip her of who she was. Every single question she counted, every single time she felt betrayed, she counted, her life was out there to know, memories she hid taunt her.

A knock on her door pulls her out of her thoughts.

When she gets up, she takes notice of the black shirt she was wearing 24 hours ago. The feeling of Derek's hand run up and down her body in chills as she walks closer to the door.

24 hours ago everything was peaceful.

Now it's a shithole.

Cracking open the door, Y/n is surprised, to say the least. Both people are silent as she opens the door more and lets the person step in.

"Derek-" She tries.

"No. You don't get to talk. It's your turn to listen." He says, meaning every fucking word.

[darkeninganon]

Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

[littlekatleaf]

The Dreams in Which I'm Dying

Well wtf, it's a new fandom for me. Unexpected! I started watching D/imension20 RPGs and fell in love with F/abian Seacaster and G/arthy O'Brien from F/antasy H/igh and P/irates of L/eviathan. This takes place 20 years after the events of the games.

And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying Are the best I’ve ever had. ~ Tears for Fears, Mad World

It begins with nightmares - dark, heavy things Fabian doesn’t remember on waking. At least, not the first few nights. He’s left with nothing more than vague shadows and a lingering sense of unease. Everything seems wrong - his apartment simultaneously too big and claustrophobically small. He’s suffused with restlessness. He knows something’s coming, like a squall brewing just beyond the horizon. He might not be able to see the gathering clouds, but feels the barometric pressure plummeting.

At first he attempts to dance out of the way - to dodge and evade - but the dread wraps around him like his own battle sheet, tangling him tight. He tries to ignore the tension singing along his shoulders, the constant twist in his gut. It’s nothing, he tells himself, less than nothing. There’s no time for it to be something. Rumor has it the ship carrying one of the last pirates of the Crimson Claw will reach the mouth of Leviathan in mere days. If he’s going to meet it, he needs to pull together a party. Barely enough time remains to cement plans once he knows the group’s strengths and weaknesses.

As he paces his living room, trying to outrun the apprehension, Fabian’s eye is caught by a piece of red string, like Riz always used in his conspiracy boards. In that instant he longs for them. The Bad Kids. No matter how many years passed since any of them were kids, it’s still at the heart of who they are. (Isn’t it?) They fit together in their roles. Like that movie Kristen made them all watch once - a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess and a criminal. The others had bickered good naturedly over roles that night - specifically who was the basket case. Kristen joked it was Gilear. Ragh said it was her. Fabian didn't need to argue because he knew the truth - Riz was the brain, Gorgug the athlete, Adaine the princess, Fig the criminal, Kristen the saint. Himself the basket case. Even in all the intervening years, he’s never found a group that connects as well as they had, before they all went their separate ways. Even if they hadn’t lost touch, none of the others adventure anymore. In their absence he needs to choose alternatives, like he always does, attempting to fill the holes they left behind - and failing.

He picks up his crystal, turning it over in his hands. The group chat is saved, they are all still members, but no one has used it in years. Maybe he’s wrong; maybe he needs to let them go.

He knows there’s no time for self-indulgence. But he still stalls, the trepidation casting a fog of doubt over every option. He cannot decide on even one person to trust. Perhaps this time he should go alone. He can defeat one single pirate himself. The rest - crew and spoils alike - is irrelevant. The Maelstrom’s Maw will likely bring in the boat and then he can attack. He rubs his forehead against a growing headache and puts the decision off again.

Two nights pass, with only the lightest veil of sleep and even that torn by disquiet. The intervening days feel equally foggy with a mix of exhaustion and dread. Fabian drags himself through the necessary tasks by his fingernails until he’s done everything he can without a crew. A crew on which he still has not managed to settle. In the midst of circling the problem for the five hundredth, or five thousandth, time his crystal flashes an alert. The ship’s been sighted just a few nautical miles off Harroway Bay and will reach Leviathan before dawn. He’s waited too long, he realizes. It will be a solo adventure, then. Nothing else for it.

Fabian knows, almost from the moment he engages, that he’s made a deep mistake attempting the attack this way. Though he comes upon the pirate in the dead of night, alone as planned, he hadn’t considered that the pirate’s shipmates might still be within earshot. His blade only crosses the pirate’s once before he hears heavy boots closing fast.

The pirate thrusts and he manages to parry, but only just. His body feels strange and disconnected, as though he’s a half-beat behind in the dance, perpetually off-step. The pirate presses his advantage; Fabian retreats. Suddenly there’s a flash of light on another drawn sword and several more pirates surround him. At his best he can handle eight, maybe ten. He is not at his best, and light from the streetlamp falls on fifteen.

The pirate grins. “Yer goin’ down, boy.”

“Not a boy anymore.” At least he’ll die in battle, and if he’s very lucky he’ll take this scourge to hell with him. Make his papa proud.

“That remains to be seen,” another says.

The battle is fierce. Swords clash, lunge and dodge, strike-parry-riposte, movements Fabian knows in his sleep, but something is wrong. His body won’t obey. His lungs ache and he can’t catch his breath. Sweat drips into his eye, burning. And then - an opening - the pirate attacking leaves his flank unguarded and Fabian darts in fast - too fast to pull back when he realizes it’s a feint.

I’m fucked, he has time to think, as the pirate whirls. A sharp blow cracks across his elbow, his fingers go numb and his sword falls, clattering to the cobblestone. One of the crew kicks the back of his knees and he stumbles forward and drops. He grabs for his sword, but just as his hand closes around it, the point of the pirate’s sword is at his throat. Should have known it would end this way. Alone. On Leviathan. Fitting for it to be here, tonight - on the anniversary. The way it should have ended if he hadn’t run like a coward, abandoning Alistair to Captain James. Fabian fumbles in his pocket for his crystal, wishing for just enough time to send a last message to the Bad Kids. “Do it,” he says from between gritted teeth.

The pirate barks a laugh, but shakes his head. “Ain’t worth the world o’ hurt that would bring down on me head, boy. Chungledown Bim’s a right devil and yer marked as his. Can’t let ya follow for another go at me, though this has been a delight.”

A brilliant flash of pain blinds him. The crystal slides through his fingers. He falls… and falls… and falls…

through ropes that burn his skin and do nothing to slow his speed and his body hits water that closes over his head like he’s been swallowed whole and still he falls through freezing darkness until the ocean parts and he falls through fire and the flames crackle and whisper - What will you tell the Captain when you meet him in Hell? Have you written your name on the face of the world, Fabian? No, you have written nothing. Nothing to be remembered by. Even your friends have forgotten you. How does it feel to be a failure of a pirate and a failure of a friend? the whisper turns to choking smoke and

Fabian coughs himself awake, lungs aching like he’s been breathing water and smoke, but he still lays where he’d fallen, in some Four Castles back alley. His body’s not been hijacked. Not dropped here by imps. He blinks up at the sky for a long moment, struggling to orient himself. The sky is heavy with clouds, hiding even a sliver of moon. Fat drops of rain pelt down, edged with ice. He blinks the water from his eye and pushes himself to his feet. Once again he staggers through the streets of Leviathan, shivering hard enough to rattle teeth. This time, however, there’s no Cathilda to wrap him in a blanket, no Hangvan to disappear into. No Kristen to slap sense back into him. He wraps his arms around himself, but the rain soaks his shirt and finds no warmth.

Those he passes take no notice of him, perhaps assuming he’s nothing more than another drunken pirate. Even so, he needs to find a place to lay low. Given enough time someone will roll him just to see if he has any coin. Or simply for the fun of it. He’s not even sure, at this moment, that he could defend himself against a single assailant. His head aches where the pirate hit him and his throat is unaccountably raw. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he sneezes. Once, twice, thrice, smothered in the sleeve of his shirt. He always sneezes in threes. Riz teased him mercilessly about it.

“If you’d just sneeze like a normal person, instead of those pinchy things, you’d be done in one, Fabiahn,” Riz would say, drawing his name out like his elvish grandfather did.

“It’s called being polite, The Ball,” he’d reply. “And what do you know about normal?”

“About as much as you.”

They’d laugh together and Fabian’s embarrassment would ease. He would give anything for Riz to be laughing with him now.

Suddenly a door slams open and a wash of warm yellow light spills over the ground in front of him. He glances up. Maybe Kristen sent Cassandra to watch over him, because his meandering path has brought him to the Gold Gardens. The exiting patron brushes past with a muttered curse, but Fabian barely notices. As the doors swing shut, Bob’s voice slips through, full of dream and promise. Fabian checks his pockets and breathes a sigh of relief at the comforting feel of coin.

He stands straighter, raises his chin, allowing the light to fall on his face, scars and eyepatch and all, as the Goliath guard regards him suspiciously. Though it has been some time since he’s been on Leviathan and longer since he’s sought refuge at the Gold Gardens, he trusts the reputation he’s built in the intervening years yet holds. “Good evening. I find myself in need of a room for the night,” he says. “I have payment.”

The other guard, a half-orc he vaguely recognizes from previous visits, turns to him. Her face betrays no reaction to his disheveled state. It’s likely that she’s seen worse. “Ah, Master Seacaster. Garthy O’Brien has made it known there is always room for you here. Please, enter.”

Fabian sketches a small bow. The doors swing wide and the heat that flows out and envelops him is nearly as heavenly as Bob’s voice. But the change in temperature makes his nose run. He sniffs, presses the back of his wrist against the tickling itch, but can’t stop the inevitable. He’s barely inside before he’s sneezing again and wishing for something other than his sleeve to cover with. “H’tchsh! Chh! H’tsh!” He hopes the music and general merriment of the patrons is enough to hide the slight sound, but of course he is noticed.

“Blessings, Fabian, darling. Are you ill?” Garthy touches his shoulder gently and before he can stop himself, Fabian flinches away. His skin feels too tight, even the light pressure too much sensation. They take a step back, one hand raised in a calming gesture.

“I beg your pardon, Garthy,” Fabian says, attempting his usual charming smile. He’s not sure he pulls it off, because a small frown of concern still lingers between their brows. Somehow the expression does nothing to mar their beauty; the proprietor of the Gold Gardens is exquisite as always, the few silver threads in their black dreads the only indicator of years passing. “I’m fine. Just a little chilled from the rain. And you, my friend, are a sight for sore eyes. Eye.” His mouth quirks. “Might there be a room for a traveler seeking shelter from the storm?”

Garthy considers him for a long moment, gaze intent. Fabian resists the urge to look away, to avoid scrutiny. It’ll only make them more suspicious. He concentrates on keeping his expression vaguely flirtatious, his stance loose and easy. At last Garthy gives the smallest nod, allowing him his ruse. “I have told you before, lovey, you are always welcome here. You and yours. Come.” They turn down a hallway and Fabian follows.

Bob’s voice, the rattle of dice, the din of too much conversation fade and Fabian releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The Bad Kids always stayed in a room just off the main parlor, right in the midst of the action. Fig and Gorgug would take over for the house band and practically blow the roof off. Kristen would try to outdrink that biggest pirate she could find, and usually ended up drunk-best-friends with everyone. If Tracker had to pull her out of a fight or two, well, that just kept things interesting. Ragh and Fabian would drink too much mead and take too much snuff and Ragh would challenge the wrong people to wrestling matches and Fabian would beat the wrong people at dice and sometimes fists would be thrown. Good naturedly, of course. Adaine would watch them all over the spine of a book from the Compass Points and shake her head. Sometimes she had to heal one or another of them, but she never seemed to mind. Riz would disappear into the crowd for indeterminate amounts of time, only to suddenly appear at their table with a sharp-toothed grin and clues to whatever mystery they were trying to solve that he’d gleaned from overheard conversations. Fig and Kristen, especially, never wanted the nights to end. Sometime around dawn, though, Kristen and Tracker would peel off, followed by Fig and Ayda. The rest of them shared a room, Fabian, Riz, Gorgug, and Ragh all sprawled on a huge bed while Adaine tranced on a chaise nearby. Somehow Fabian slept better those nights than before or since, even though the room was never peaceful, or silent. Ragh and Gorgug snored. Adaine muttered to herself in her trance. Riz, when he slept, was restless, taking up more room than a three and a half foot tall goblin should. When he didn’t, his pen would scratch across his notebook for hours. None of it ever bothered Fabian.

A door creaks open, startling Fabian out of his thoughts. The room Garthy offers is a small and simply furnished space, just a bed, desk, and fireplace. Fabian crosses the room to a large window and looks out over the edge of the city to the black ocean beyond. It’s still raining, drops pattering against the pane. He should say something to Garthy. Thank them for the room, make a joke about another Leviathan brawl gone badly. He can’t find the words. Any words.

“Would you like something to eat? Or perhaps a warm drink?” Garthy’s voice is quiet, as though they might be intruding.

“No, thank you,” he says. Kippers, Master Fabian? Cathilda’s voice in his head. I don’t deserve kippers. He didn’t. Doesn’t. Twenty men dead. Twenty innocent men. Worst of all, Alistair Ash. Still a child. Dead because he needed to prove that he was a true pirate, heir to his father’s fame. That he is worthy. Instead he left Alistair to the fate that should have been his. He rubs his hand over his eye as though he could rub away the ache. The failure.

Garthy whispers something Fabian doesn’t catch, and flames rise in the hearth, hot and bright, crackling cheerfully. “At least let me take your wet things,” they say. “You’re shaking.”

He hadn’t realized how cold he still feels, despite being out of the wind and rain, until Garthy points it out. He takes a breath to declare, again, that he’s fine, but a chill cascades over him, followed by several sneezes, instantly proving him wrong. “H’ngxt! Fuck. H’Ntch! Ngxt!” He straightens and Garthy offers a handkerchief. Abashed, he takes it, blows his nose. “Pardon me.” Before he can gather himself, he’s overtaken again. At least this time he has a handkerchief to mute the sound. The sneezes shiver through him hard enough to send drops of rain spattering from his hair.

“Bless you, darling.” Garthy draws him closer to the fire. With deft fingers they undress him, peeling sodden clothes from his body, then wrap him in a thick robe. He doesn’t resist, suddenly beyond exhausted. Everything feels like it’s happening at a distance. Or maybe through a pane of glass. “Come, have a lay down. Things’ll look better in the morning.”

Fabian nods, even though he’s certain things will look just the same. He barely slides between the sheets when his eye drifts closed. He feels the bed dip slightly as Garthy sits beside him and, seeking warmth, he curls close. They smell spicy and sweet, like cinnamon and sandalwood and orange blossoms. Garthy curves a hand over his forehead. It’s strangely comforting and he wants to bury his face in Garthy’s hair, but instead he drifts out and out and…

floats in a strange grey emptiness. He can only identify his surroundings by absence. No color. No sound. No touch. He thinks he lifts his hands, or tries to lift his hands, or what should be his hands, but there’s nothing. He tries to look down, what he might assume is down, only to find no body. Nothing. It’s like the Nightmare Forest, but worse because they defeated the Nightmare King. They defeated Kalina. Which means this must be real. This nought. Of course no one reaches out… you don’t exist.You never existed. You are not even memory. You are a nonentity. A nullity. He opens his mouth to argue, but there’s no mouth, no vocal cords, no lungs, no breath. No words. No thoughts. Just deep, endless cold. Bone aching cold, if he had bones.

“...safe…You’re all right. Wake up, Fabian, love.” Garthy’s voice coalesces from the cold, at first sounding sharp as ice breaking. But they know his name, beckon him back into form by shaping the word. “Come on, darling. You’re dreaming.”

“Should’ve left me; felt better there. Nothing hurts when you don’t have a body,” he mumbles, and even though he has vocal cords again, he sounds nothing like himself. He clears his throat, sniffs.

Garthy laughs, low and kind. “Let me help you feel better, here in your body.” They cup his cheek gently, then urge him up and through a door to a bathing chamber.

A large bathtub stands in the center of the room, steam rising in soft curls. It is surrounded with dozens of candles and in their light Garthy glows, irises and tattoos molten gold. Fabian reaches for them, hesitantly. As if touching them might dim their shine. They smile tenderly, allowing him to trace the Zajiri script, the flowers and leaves with one tentative finger. He wonders what the writing might mean. Their skin is soft under Fabian’s own calloused hands. He longs for Garthy to wrap their arms around him, to hold him close until his shivering stops, until he’s finally warm. He doesn’t know how to ask.

Instead he moves back, putting a bit of distance between them. “I’m not w…” he starts to say, but an unexpected set of sneezes interrupts and he only just manages to pull the handkerchief from his robe pocket. “Ht’ngxt! Heh...ihh… Nxgt! H’tchh!”

“Not well?” Garthy suggests, steadying him. “Blessings.”

Heat rises in Fabian’s cheeks and he coughs a laugh. “That either. But no.” He gestures broadly, including the room, the bath, Garthy themself. “Not worth this.”

Garthy tilts their head with a puzzled frown. “Oh, lovey, of course you are.” They press one finger to Fabian’s lips before he can continue arguing. “Shh. It’s all right.” They take Fabian’s elbow, guiding him into the bath.

Fabian sinks into the heat with a deep sigh as his muscles begin to relax. He slides down, submerging himself completely in warm darkness. The water closes over his face; he rests his head on the bottom of the tub, and the only thing he hears is the thump of his own heart in his ears, still beating, beating, beating. At last his breath runs out and he surfaces with a gasp.

Gathy’s pulled a stool up beside the bath and as Fabian wipes water out of his eye, they wet a cloth and begin to wash his back, humming quietly. The soap smells of eucalyptus and peppermint, cool and clean. Fabian shivers once, and only slowly eases into the touch, closing his eye as Garthy washes his hair, gently working his fingers over his scalp. A memory rises, unbidden - himself, in the bath, he can’t be more than five and he’s sobbing. His papa is away, his mama asleep in her room even though it’s not even dark outside and he’s sick and scared. But then Cathilda’s there, as she always is, and she’s cleaning him up and humming a lullaby. Tears rise now, before he can stop them, dripping into the water.

“What’s distressing you, love?” Garthy asks.

It takes him several minutes to gather his thoughts; they feel ephemeral as clouds floating through his mind. “It’s been twenty years, Garthy. Shouldn’t it have faded?” He coughs, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “I still see them, you know. My father’s warlocks.” He presses the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. Breathe, he tells himself.

Garthy hums a listening noise.

“I shouldn’t have gone alone that night. I just wanted a moment in Crow’s Keep - we’d gone there together, my papa and I. When I was little. It was the one time Mama got angry at him, for bringing me to Leviathan, when he wasn’t supposed to be interacting with pirates. But he’d taken me up to watch the sun rise. He said he’d bring me to the top of the world, that we could touch the clouds. If I was lucky, I might even bring some home in my pockets…

“He gave me cotton candy, told me it was one he’d harvested himself. I’d never imagined clouds tasted so sweet…” he licks his lips, remembering how the candy had melted on his tongue, just like a rain cloud.

“I thought, maybe… somehow… if I spoke to him from the top of the world, he might hear me.” Fabian laughs at himself, coughs on a sob but manages to swallow it back. “Of course, Papa wasn’t listening. He was busy taking over Hell and selling spells to pirates. Always on to a bigger adventure, even in death.

“When the warlocks came, I let myself get swept up. Figuratively, as well as literally. I told them about Papa. About what I’d done… and it wasn’t enough. I killed him and it wasn’t enough.” He takes a ragged breath and Garthy rubs his back in slow circles. “I thought we could take Captain James. I thought I could take Captain James. It would make up for… everything.” He sucks in another breath, on the edge of desperation. He can’t get enough air. When he blinks, he feels Whitclaw’s tentacles on his face, cold fingers gripping him tight, raw hatred pulsing in the air between them.

“It went so fast. So fast. If I didn’t run… if I didn’t… he would have killed me… with the others. I didn’t stop to think, I didn’t even grab Alistair and he was fighting for me. I abandoned him… and I didn’t die, but he did. Because I fucked up.” Fabian sits in silence for several minutes, jaw clenched, struggling to breathe and not cry.

“I thought the guilt would fade,” he finally says, voice rough and not much above a whisper. “I thought the good I’ve done since would make up for it. I thought the adventures I had with the Bad Kids would make up for it. But it hasn’t. It doesn’t. And they’re gone… I thought killing the last of Whitclaw’s men would be penance. But I fucked that up, too.”

The only sound for a long moment is the rain on the roof, thunder rolling in the distance. Then Fabian takes a breath like he’s about to dive into the ocean and turns to face Garthy. “Am I forgivable?”

“Oh my darling Fabian. Of course you are. You are already forgiven.” They lean forward and brush the lightest kiss across his lips. “Yes, dire mistakes were made. And you have repented of those mistakes, and made reparations. You did not follow in your father’s footsteps; you found your own way. You have made a good man of yourself. You help those who are in need. You do not take advantage of anyone. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. Tales of your deeds are not spoken of as widely as Captain Bill Seacaster, but I have heard them nonetheless. Be proud of who you have become, Fabian Aramais Seacaster. And you should know that Alistair Ash lives again.”

A warm breeze whirls through the room and the candles suddenly go out. It’s as though the light has been transmuted into a seed of hope in Fabian, gold as the irises of Garthy’s eyes. Back in bed, Fabian curls into Garthy and they wrap their arms around him, holding tight until his trembling passes.

[smortbokuto]

Paper love.

warnings: utter and absolute tooth rotting fluff crack.

pairings: Bokuto x Akaashi.

a/n: here to bless you with soft bokuaka <3 AKAASHI HAD HIS HANDS ON HIS THIGHS JSOIWDEDW BYE

summary: if asked "how did you both meet?" it was simple for them to smile and say "i left my notes in a library and he left a note for me." that's all.

word count: 3.3k

Late afternoon of autumn season. a weather just as the liking of the ravenette who shuffled through the busy streets of the Tokyo with a fixed motto to reach the city library before the dusk paints the already orange yellow tinted sky. his gunmetal eyes landing on every moving figure, every breathing soul, every sign board all through the way till they bored holes into the brown, heavy gates of the library.

a breathy sigh left escaped past his lips at the contact with the antique handles stuck on the wooden doors as he pushed open the doors. thick cool gust of heavy temperature air conditioner fell over his, leaving his tousled hair to fall over his winter evening eyes.

pushing his hair back, slender, calloused fingers carding through the hair as he squinted taking a while to adjust to the dimness of the library which he was not acquainted with after being under the blood- orange sun.

two receptionist sat there behind a huge table, a glass wall over the table that reached the ceiling. to the opposite was huge tables, all dark brown with lit candles and lanterns in the middle of them, were standing on all fours side to side with equal distance. the shelves behind the tables. books and books, sea of books were stacked in a proper order. step stools randomly near every shelves. people balancing themselves on those stools to reach the destined choice of books. level two of the library was just the same, a curvy staircase going from either side of the receptionist table.

the blue and ocher yellow tinted windows all over the huge huge walls allowed the drowning sunlight let into the dim place. walls, painted in a pleasing aesthetic colors, paintings of ancient wars and other artefacts from different places hanging around them with their circa and details.

a perfect place for his anthropology studies.

walking towards the reception table he took the pen that rested between the crease of the entry book which already had listed numerous numbers of visitors.

'#762 Akaashi Keiji.'

padding his way towards a table of his liking, a table just beside the window with tinted shades on the upper level of the library. sitting down he allowed all his required material to spill out from his bag on the table. his journal, pointers already jotted down before hand, different loose sheets from his classes stacked under the journal, written in his pristine sharp writing. books open in front of him allowing him to soak in all the words of knowledge while he took notes and pointers in a fresh page. writing staying constant and neat even with the speed of writing them down.

slowly the minutes slipped into hours and he didn't realize when the already drowning sun had been reigned over by the full moon and stars hanging all around it.

sighing he looked at the analog watch wrapped around his lean wrist.

08:47 pm

picking up all his material he bolted out from the library, not before bowing slightly in front of the already leaving receptionist who returned his gratitude with a humble smile.

--

walk to the college next day was as monotonous as ever. reaching the class felt like slow drags of tired legs but alas, it all about the attendance. a must. ought to be done.

god, he hates it. but it can't be helped.

settling in his seat on the front row of the class he sipped on his warm coffee. the warmth seeping down his throat and heat blooming into the pits of stomach. a tired sigh left his throat.

all the chatters from the students nearby him felt distant as he closed his eyes to take in the reality and prepare mentally for all the upcoming long and slow classes.

"hey, Akaashi." a low voice, a little hesitant, came up from behind him making him open his eyes to turn around and face the owner of the voice. a blond, lean man stood in front of me.

'god, his eye bags can hold water without a miss...'

the male looked in distress.

"what is it?" the ravenette cringed internally at how deep his voice came out and how much sleep was still mixed with it.

"do you, perhaps, have the sub- headings for Human Evolution? i can't really figure them out.." his words turned into a whisper to himself by the end of the sentence. his hands scratching nape in anxiety and his eyes boring holes into everything and everyone but akaashi.

after a silence of fraction of seconds akaashi nodded reaching out to his bag as he felt the gloomy aura tune into a flowery pink aura of gratitude for the helping male.

a life saver, indeed.

for a second, Akaashi thought he had his life in control, his homework and notes on him but to his dismay it wasn't.

what a fucking joke.

disappointed with the lemons life kept giving him he retracted back his hands and rested it on his thighs as he turned back to face the confused male.

"uhh Akinori- san? looks like i have left it in the library i visited yesterday." he apologized telling the blond that he would click the picture of the lone sheet and send it to the male.

--

the whole day continued in a constant restlessness. he left an important somewhere in a public place. questions flooded his brain to the brim and no one could answer them but him.

no way in the living hell he is ready to make those sub- headings again. he felt like he would loose his last straw of humanity and sanity if he didn't find the page.

cursing internally he ran like a mad dog was let loose after him, ready to pounce and tear him apart. skidding slightly he stopped at the library entry. a chill went down his spine as he opened the door, dread settling in the pits of his stomach at the thought of him loosing the sheet.

oh, he really didn't want that.

writing his name on the entry book hastily he ran upstairs, skipping 3 steps at a time in a thought to reach fast. his lungs and calves burned to give them a rest from all the running without to which he ignored, too determined to find the sheet.

reaching the seat he had been siting yesterday he felt his heart pang within the captive of his ribs.

the sheet was still there. safe and sound.

but?

his eyes squinted at the small sticky note sticking on the sheet that's dear to his life. walking towards the page he collected it into his hands. reading the note a smile creeped up on his lips.

//hey! your name is really pretty. i found this sheet today and i kinda took notes from it. thanks for it!!//

thanking the person for the nth time he took out a sticky note from his bag and wrote a small thanks.

//hello, thanks for leaving the note. this sheet is important to me. and it's fine if you took notes, haha. what's your name?//

if he was honesty, he was not expecting any reply from the said person who had left the note.

but when the next day he came with Akinori to issue some books for the upcoming projects.

//oh!! my bad, sorry i thought i really did mention my name in the end. it's Bokuto Koutarou!! 22, going professional in volleyball and i have to study history as a side subject...

oh!! you seem nice. here: #xxxx xxx xxx. you can text me if you feel comfortable!!//

carefully folding the piece of yellow sticky note he kept it in his jean pocket.

later that day he sat there on his comforters of his bed, conflicted between texting the number or not.

what if it's a sick prank? someone else's number? perhaps a random number?? should he even take the risk?? scam??

ignoring all the thoughts he decided to take the risk. something about the name and the way the chits were written made this said man 'Bokuto Koutarou' very magnetic in nature.

texting a simple 'hello' and his name he threw his phone on the other end of the bed, groaning. he seemed desperate about this.

but he can't help! this guy Bokuto seemed really nice and he could be more, he guessed????

after what felt like godly slow centuries he felt his phone buzz, muffled by the covers around it. reaching the phone he checked the time, eyes widening.

03:05 am

he saw the text from a contact name from 'Bokuto?'. wasting not a single minute he saw the reply as smile tugging over his soft pink lips.

[oh! hey hey hey!!]

[i didn't expect you to reply.]

why was he even awake? well he was being a hypocrite to think like that when he was wide awake too knowing he has to reach college for classes. he was sure he would look dead.

but anyways he didn't mind the time and texted back the number. texts going back and forth. getting to know each other. it was basically Bokuto telling jokes, bitching about his teachers and everything he had experienced till now while Akaashi went along with the conversation, laughing at his antics and his bubbly nature.

ah, it felt nice. refreshing. even though he barely had slept in days.

god knows when the foggy night dipped low for the new autumn morning. the sunrays bleeding into his room from the partially open blinds, falling onto his study table. the clock reflecting the light onto the wall that fell on its cover glass.

he was still wide awake. fingers still typing continuously the keys of the keyboard of his phone. smiling every now and then at the replies he got from the other male.

fun indeed.

--

weeks passed with the continuous talking and sharing everyday stuff with each other and soon the autumn took its exit letting winters slide in for next few months.

chits were occasionally exchanged. the secluded corner of the second level of the chit exchange without showing themselves to each other became a habit they adjusted it into their busy schedule.

//ooo i came here today and i thought of leaving a chit for you to read. we should meet someday!!!!//

few days.

//we should, indeed. lets find a right time to meet.//

it was so comfortable.

Akaashi would be lying if he said he haven't sneaked to Bokuto's game.

oh god, it was a mess.

not only this man is fun to talk to and so polite and all but how can he be this good looking?!

"what the actual fuck." akaashi had muttered under his breath as he saw bokuto walk into the arena, chest puffing with pride. the ravenette felt his cheeks burn with a red tint paint purely over his cheekbones.

he could only think of one thing as he watched the pepper salt haired man play the whole match and win it.

'am i gay??????' god it sounded so scandalous.

but looking at him play. his muscles ripple with each moment he took. the way he ruffled his hair to wipe out the sweat, hair messy. the way his jersey rode up as he went in for a powerful spike. everything.

'god, i am so gay. what the fuck.'

akaashi decided he would never tell this to the other male. about him going to his matches only to fall more and more for him with every passing moment. the conversation, the antics, the looks, the nature. everything.

he won't admit that he practically got hard as the first thing in the morning when Bokuto had sent him a voice message of him saying a simple 'good morning'. the problem was not the good morning message but his fucking deep, heavy sleep laced voice.

god, he was down bad for the man.

the early winters slowly turned into mid winters with the call of snow. November slowly turned December and new year approached. a day where they both decided to meet. well for akaashi, he would see him for the nth time now. for bokuto.... first time.

akaashi decided to not tell this to bokuto. jesus, he felt like a damn stalker.

tapping on the shoulder of the man with pepper salt hair, who had his god sculptured back faced to the ravenette.

'i don't mind watching his back for the rest of my lif- jesus christ, shut the fuck up please. don't mess this up.' he mentally cursed as he saw the said man turn to face his gunmetal eyes. his grey eyebrows cocking up in a questioning look.

"how can i help you?"

"i am akaashi keiji..." he mumbled. lips parting slightly as he saw the other man grin ear to ear at the slip of the name.

the night went smoothly. they indulged in all the games that were available in the fair. ate every possible dish not having mercy on their hurting pockets.

ending the night at the river bank side, sitting comfortably on the mats that were set up for the viewers to witness the fireworks for the arrival of the new year.

but something for bokuto made it hard to look at the sky. he couldn't help but watch the man beside him from the corner of his eyes. he just looked so ethereal. skin so clear and pristine, basically reflecting all the colors painting the sky by the crackers. his eyes, blue, but shining so bright even under the dark sky.

he made sure to ask Akaashi for a pic together before he dropped him off. setting it as his lockscreen and homescreen.

'god have mercy, i am so gay.' he screamed in his head. mind not moving on from the burned image he he had drawn in his head of Akaashi. how can someone be this beautiful??

he has to keep it low- key. but, can he?

after the new year meet up. they met frequently. akaashi watching his matches while bokuto used to study, more like complain, with him at the library.

they were down bad for each other. but won't speak about it. just because.

time passes quick. seasons changes. winters came to an end. all the dried up trees showing a sign of life again. pink petals decorating every second tree so beautifully. the snow had melted away from the pleasant warmth of spring painting the whole land in fresh green and spots of pink from all the blossom leaves leaving the home of the trees.

feelings that were supposed to stay small and bottled up, filled up to the brim. it wasn't just a crush anymore. the seasons had changed but feelings remained the same within themselves for each other. and it kept building up till it was over flowing.

each glance, each action, each word and each conversation made them fall deeper into the suffocating feeling of love.

the thing is, akaashi is patient and he knows how to showcase his emotions. he knows what to show and what to not. but bokuto? oh honey no. he doesn't think twice before doing or saying something. he is... impatient.

an impatient person in love? disastrous.

he didn't think twice as he wrote a letter on a pale page. a letter on how much beautiful he finds Akaashi. he didn't think twice as he made his way to the library. he didn't think twice as he kept the letter there on their secluded seat of conversation.

he didn't think about the rejection that could come.

he just wished for the best. like he always does.

he waits. patiently, for once.

but again, for how long?

three days had passed but it seemed like akaashi hadn't even visited the awaited library. he had told bokuto about his upcoming project for the end of the semester. he had already issued books for the project a day before bokuto had kept the letter.

so close.

he decided: he can't wait anymore. he jolt up from his bed, hair hanging low over his forehead. he picked his phone typing away to the person he is so desperate for.

[hey!! can we meet at the library real quick?? its urgent.]

he wrote as he threw on a sweatshirt over his shirtless body. reaching the porch of his house his phone buzzed.

[its pretty late rn??? but sure.]

god, at last. but then the dread he had been ignoring settled in. what if he rejects? what if i ruin what we have? no no, he doesn't want this.

panicking he put on his shoes, sprinting out from his apartment. not wanting to wait for the elevator he took the stairs. 12 floors down from stairs... he ran, not giving his lungs the needed break from one block to another. the roads empty with only few passer by walking back home maybe and the light lamps only illuminating the empty sidewalk and roads.

he just wished for akaashi to not have reached before him as he stood on front of the library doors. he pushed them open taking a deep breath as he padded slowly up the stairs.

taking a turn to the place he had to reach his eyes widened at the figure he wanted to see after he reached but no. he was tad bit late.

akaashi stood there, teal sweatshirt hanging over his lean figure. letter, open and probably read by now, between his slender fingers. his head whipped up to see bokuto, mouth gapped, wanting to say something but nothing came out.

"i- i can explain." bokuto never thought his voice could come out so small. "its okay if you will reject me. i mean it will hurt like a bitch but its fair... you have your own choices and i was selfish to write it i guess... i don't wanna ruin what we both have!! i cherish it a lot."

he was rambling at this point trying his best to explain his emotions that where all over the place. he was so messed with his words he didn't hear the multiple times akaashi had uttered his name. it was until akaashi had to practically yelp out his name in a dead silent library.

"Bokuto!! what the hell??"

"wha- what?" oh god, he sounds so upset...

"can you let me speak now? there is nothing for you to explain. the letter did its job already." the shorter man commented.

there was a heavy silence between them as akaashi busied himself in folding the letter back and putting it in the envelop. bokuto couldn't hear the paper rustling as it was being folded but his heart shattering at the due rejection.

the taller man didn't look up from the ground. he didn't have the balls to look into those gunmetal eyes. he figured it would be filled with anger and hatred.

he was so ready to hear the rejection now.

but nothing came.

slowly he lifted his head, taking the risk to look at the man in front of him. he took a step back when he saw akaashi smiling, face flushed in shades of pink and red under the light of lanterns that were lit all around the library for the starry night.

"won't you speak anything now?" he whispered. "aren't you going to reject me?"

"no? why would i?" akaashi answered with a question. smile never faltering.

huh?

"wait- you like me??" his words came out chocked at the realization. maybe it was mutual. maybe it wasn't as scandalous as it looked like. i was a new bloom of love.

"no, i like you too." he drawled out walking towards Bokuto. "like a lot. pretty desperate you can say. i just thought that it would never be mutual so i kept it in."

to say that bokuto was happy was an understatement. all these months together with him as friends was all something he always had wished but now? lovers? yes. how can he ask for anything more than this?

his hands reached out to the male walking towards him, pulling him into a hug he craved to give him so desperately.

"i love you so much."

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Stand In Chapter Two

Masterlist

Your finally about to film your first scene for a teaser and things have just became real but how are you going to get through make up along side Henry for hours without fangirling? especially when he keeps staring at you like that?

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

A/n: so got a few people that like this idea which really shocked me. I'm trying really hard to make y/n one of us fangirls I really want you to be able to put yourself in this one. Like seriously if I had the chance to meet him I'd just fucking freeze on the spot go red scream and melt into a puddle of goo... I'd be way to anxious to approach him or ask for a photo..Any who enjoy this next chapter xxx

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99​ @thummbelina​ @sofiebstar​

You yawned loudly as you trudged out of your new comfy trailer: which was actually one of those fancy ass tour buses. You grabbed your bag with a few bits in it...Phone, snacks, purse, snacks, script, snacks....more snacks. What?You got hungry!You opened the door wrapping your cardigan around you tightly as you ventured out into the dark it was freezing the cold air making you shiver. A four am start was always a shock to the system and today was your fifth, your alarms on your phone had gone of again and again and again, blaring and screaming at you. Since the whole becoming and actress and Lauren pulling a contract seemingly out of her ass thing had happened a few days ago, you hadn't seen much of Henry and Joey they had been busy filming and training.

You were slightly smaller then 'she who shall not be named coughDickcough' so some of the fight scenes had to be reworked...Yes at some point you and 'Geralt' were going to come to blows in a fight scene and you were bricking it. For more then one reason;

One. I mean come on the huge hunk of a man; the star of every single late night fantasy you've pretty much ever had!, tossing you around and possibly pinning you down? Grunting and growling the entire time? and your supposed to look angry? Hahaha no...

And two. Well Henry is a large imposing man and Geralt is supposed to be frightening in those scenes so...How the fuck are you gonna stay in character and fight him when your simultaneously scared shitless , remembering choreography and creaming your panties....Like fuck that's gonna be some crazy self control needed right there. If you get through it with out fangirling; which would be a miracle in itself you deserve a fucking Oscar. But that's a problem for another day...Tomorrow in fact. The point is you felt a little bad because he had worked so hard before and now he has to relearn it all and he has been working super hard on it..you don't want to mess up.

But that’s not to say you have been idle oh no! You'd been hard at work learning lines and undergoing your transformation from y/n into Keira which was completely insane. Once fully kitted out you would be....Well not you...But it was you, a super weird experience you were sure but you was looking forward to it all coming together. You had to wear a wig, your hair was just a little to short naturally skimming your shoulders. You were glad really you loved your lilac hair it took a lot of work to keep up with it!.

The wig was a bright blonde not as bright as Freya's hair for Ciri but still quite light, more golden then pale it was a strange color, hard to describe. The wig itself fell down to just past your shoulders in large loose silky waves and even though you had green eyes you were still going to get contacts, it had been mentioned that they want your eyes to be an impossible bright green, all the mages seemed to have bright eyes and you were no different. You were dreading it , you'd never wore them and have a thing about eyes...You don't like touching them or other people touching them eyes aren't meant to be fiddled with you know? ...You need them to see kind of?

Apart from that things had gone well the dresses just needed to be taken up a few inches and the rest of the transformation was mostly attitude , props and make up thankfully the make up was mostly highlights and color correcting that sort of thing. You walked across the set following the light emitting from the hair and make up trailer, you could see from here a few people were up and about inside. Within a few moments you were inside standing off to the side unsure where to put yourself or your bag ,it was just you and a few of the make up artists there. Holly was in charge of you, you got on well with her helping her out a lot before all this and was glad to have her as your artist she put you at ease which is definitely what you needed ,she came over smiling and directed you to your seat.

"So! Todays the day huh? Your first shoot you excited?" You gave a nervous laugh.

"Terrified more like, Its not long apparently they need a teaser for the character to go out and to stick in the trailer....I'm so fucking out of my depth it is unreal! Each day has been a whirlwind and I still don't know if I can pull this off...I'm not an actress" she stood behind you combing your hair back looking at you in the mirror fixing you with a look and struck your crown with the flat of the comb.

"Hey enough of that, you got this just go out there and give it your best. Joey was actually stunned when you did your reading he said he has never seen an actress like you before" you frowned looking around at her slightly twisting in your seat.

"Probably hasn't seen one like me cos I'm not and actress but okay I will bite..What exactly did he say?" She blinked at you leaning back waving the comb about shocked looking for words.

"You-hah? I don't even, you really don't even know how big a deal this is do you?" You blinked shaking your head as she was caught up in her own shock.

"Err no duh? Not an actress remember" you huffed she pointed the lethal comb to your face and make a circle motion she chuckled when you flinched and spun round twisting to face the mirror again.

"Talent. He and Henry were talking about you the other day, they couldn't believe that someone with talent like yours hadn't been picked up on. Apparently the way you just...Turned off your own personality shut down your personal feelings like that and became Keira so effortlessly is rare... Said it was like flipping a switch. A complete personality change like that with no prior training or mentoring is the holy grail. Untapped talent I think was the term used. Henry said he has only seen it twice before and that is saying something with everything he has under his belt... So trust me when I say your going to do great" you flushed they thought it was that good? Henry though you had talent.. you smiled feeling giddy blushing a little.You watched as she moved getting some leave in conditioner to make your hair behave itself.

"It's...It can't be that rare it just comes from having to hide anxiety...Can't let people know your having a meltdown...That’s all I was doing hiding a fucking anxiety attack!" She scoffed running a comb through your hair making sure the product was evenly spread through the strands preparing to split it into two plaits to hide under the wig.

"Babe I saw the video there was more going on there..Perhaps you should watch it and see for yourself It really was like watching someone flip a switch" You shook your head slightly resulting in having the comb waked across it again making you flinch

"Stay still! Its bad enough that you fucking washed it! I can't plait it if your moving!" You sat straight

"SoRrY MoThEr-ouch fuck not with the brush!!" She smirked and carried on plaiting the strands neatly.

"Did you bring your lines to practice?" You went to nod but stopped when she sighed tugging on your hair a little keeping the plait tight to your head.

"Yes I did thought I could get some last minute reading...I think I've got them all down tho" she nodded

"That’s good because your wig is a little late, they are dying it again...Apparently yellow blonde isn't right for your skin so your getting a white silvery ash blond now...A muted tone they said. Think its basically going to be a super light blonde with a lilac or blue tint, fucking wish they would hurry up and choose I need to settle on your face tones! Any who it should be here in about an hour" you whined

"I could have had an extra hour in bed?! Why wasn't I told!? You know your job would be a lot easier if I had beauty sleep!" She laughed loudly tying your first plait off with an elastic before starting the other one.

"I'm sure it would but you do know this is like a late start? Some of the scenes your booked in here for one and two o'clock in the morning~" she through her head back laughing at your pout.You stayed in the make up trailer for a while and Holly had called over to wardrobe about the delay so,thankfully your costume was going to be delivered over here which was less running about for you. So here you were in hot seat waiting ,there wasn't much you or Holly could do at this point but wait.  She couldn't work on your face until she had the the wig on you for color reference. She had left a few moments ago promising a coffee on her return.

You hummed scrolling through your phone messaging your eldest brother and Mother who you had let slip to about your new drastic career change. they were trying to calm you down, knowing you well enough that you was getting yourself into wound up ball of anxiety and panic. You were so engrossed in your phone you didn't notice a certain bear trot in to the room until you had a huge snoot wedged under your phone trying to nudge your hands for some love. You jumped so on edge you yelled out as you was touched.

"OH FUCK WHAT IS-OOOH well hello there~" you looked around quickly then seeing you was still alone you decided to indulge and immediately placed your phone on the table in front of you and leaned back looking between your legs going gaga over the handsome boy. Kal was sitting looking up at you smiling panting away as you petted him on auto pilot. You blinked it took everything you had not to squee out loud somehow managing to keep it inside 'OH MY FUCK KAL! I'm like petting THE Bear... Wow he is so fucking fluffy!...Okay girl stop he is looking at you weird...That’s it chill don't scare him away...Good remember dogs can smell psycho....Cool and calm yeah he is just a dog...BUT HE FUCKING ISN’T THIS IS THE BEAR!' you leaned down cooing at him making baby talk as he lapped up the love moving his head to make you hit the right spots around his ears and chin. You managed to get over the fangirling and enjoy scratching the good boys ears digging your fingers in the thick fur enjoying the softness.

"Oh look at you!? So sweet huh?.....Are you a good boy?....Yesh you are! Cute baby! Getting your chin scratches such a fluffy good boy!" You giggled as he seemed to take your compliments to heart thumping his tail a few beats then stood up you followed rubbing down his back as he moved.

He must have liked your attention because before you know it he was climbing onto his hind legs leaning over your lap with his front paws. From there Kal had sneakily gone the whole nine yards, the happy Akita had some how clambered up into the chair with you making it squeak under the strain as he engulfed your lap still receiving his well earned scratches. You giggled at him moving your arms around him letting him do as he pleased rubbing his belly and chest he sat content leaning his weight on your chest pinning you to the back of the seat.

You grinned wrapping him in a big hug still twisting his fur in your fingers diligently showering him with the attention the good handsome boy deserved.

"Wow look at you such a handsome boy!... OH kisses to? Well aren't I a lucky lady" you moved at he tilted his head back licking at your face being a right soppy little pup, out for all the love he could get.

"Wow your lucky Holly hasn't done my face yet, she won't like you ruining all her hard work!" He pulled away and just panted happily then rested his head on your shoulder huffing. You smiled still hugging him rubbing you face into his fur. Then out of the blue his tail began thumping your leg in excitement. You pulled back from the hug and brushed your fingers through his coat seeing Holly and Henry arrive.

"Oh haha. Looks like Kal made a friend!" Holly giggled Henry sighed looking for him then gasped doing a double take when he saw the Akita draped across you sitting on your lap leaning his head on one shoulder as you petted him. His heart clenched a smug sort of 'that’s my boy!' he enjoyed seeing you snuggling the bear, it was something he could get used to seeing. He snapped out of it and made his way to you both.

"KAL! You what are you doing boy? Come on down!...Tin-I err Y/n I am so sorry... He doesn't usually do this... Come on Kal you big lump! Your probably crushing her!" Kal eyed Henry from the corner of his eye pretending not to here him huffing loudly past your ear. You smiled and waved Henry off trying to be casual as your inner fangirl raged pretty much foaming at the mouth. You was thankful that Kal was ignoring his dad as his big frame hid your creeping blush giving you the confidence to speak as you tucked your face further into him as you spoke quietly.

"I-its fine really...I...Y-yeah was kind of worrying about today he I... I think he sensed my anxiety...His cuddle is helping a lot..." Henry stopped his approach eyeing the two of you. He meant what he said Kal was well behaved and gentle but he never cuddled on a stranger's lap, not like he did with him anyway. But he knew Kal picked up on anxiety attack's and it was entirely possible he had wandered in here and wanted to comfort you. Henry blushed a little and took his seat next to you nodding trying to take in the scene before him as much as possible.

"Okay...W-well don't let him guilt trip you, that boy gets so many cuddles its unbelievable... Just..I-if he gets to much get him down...He knows he isn’t allowed on the chairs..hehe not that you can tell... Its best not to spoil him too much" you flushed smooshing your face in to the Akita’s neck trying to hide from the man who seemed to be staring yet again. He moved forward placing two coffees before you then placed his in front of him. You rose a brow at the two cups.

"I-I...ahem I wasn't sure how you'd want it-fuck haha... Shit.... I meant the drink....you-your coffee...Fuck... I didn't know how you liked your coffee" you blinked at him as he got a little flustered you groaned as you reached forward peeking at the cup as Holly moved about behind you moving her equipment around.

"Henry was already picking you up a coffee insisted on getting it treated me to~" you smiled and reached over popping the lids the first black the other with milk.

"T-thank you ...you didn't have to" his face split into a grin as he mentally pat himself on the back.

"No no your welcome! These four am starts are pretty brutal for anyone to get used to..." he chuckled as you moved over sipping the coffee slowly, you tried not to pull a face it was a little to bitter for your taste needing one more sugar but you didn't want to seem rude. An awkward silence fell over the two of you and he sat there staring, you kept taking small sips trying to hide more in Kals shadow.

"S-Sorry for the coffee....Its a bit bitter I know...Should of added more sugar"

Henry was kicking himself as the silence grew, great fucking brilliant the first time he gets you alone and he says something like that!? scolding himself and his own fucking stupidity. 'How you'd want it? What the fuck Cavill?! Smooth why not just come out and say how should I fuck you? Yeah wait a go!' He sighed leaning back in the chair eyeing you as you sat clearly uncomfortable with him there 'yeah and now be a creeper and stare that will fucking help...Still staring mate stiilll staring....SAY SOMETHING FOR GOD SAKE!' That did the trick he could see you were trying to hide your distaste over the coffee. 'There apologize for shit coffee!' That was his opportunity!"S-Sorry for the coffee....Its a bit bitter I know...Should of added more sugar"  he watched with baited breath shivering as you licked at a small loose drip off your bottom lip and gulped. Definitely nervous... Or maybe you just didn't like him? That could be it! you did run from him and you flirted with Joey not him. Henry could feel a lump in his throat and felt a weight on his chest...Was that it you just didn't like him?...He hummed trying to ease the heavy feelings around him, his own anxiety starting to creep over him he clenched his jaw. No you had no reason to dislike him...You didn't know him he would just have to interact with you thats all...Make him self known then? And then? Maybe let you know he was interested...Drop hints?. He straightened up in his seat a wave of determination washed over him he tilted his head looking at Kal trying not to be creepy as shit.

"I err no thank you...I-its fine... Ive got a huge sweet tooth anyway..." he smiled you were talking, albeit quietly and stuttering but it was a start! He could work with that.

"I will have to...Err remember that for next time." He watched you spin the cup and frown slightly seeing the scribbled name on it. Shit you must think he was an ass! It wasn't your name it was his and Joeys nickname for you....Wow how could he think that was a good idea! You must think he'd forgot your actual name!

"I err me and-well that’s....Fuck" you looked at him a little sad. Yep definitely thought he'd forgot...Tinks had just stuck.

"Me err me and Joey ...well joey gave you a nick name so...it stuck I'm sorry you must think I'm a dick" you shook your head taking a deep breath closing your eyes then placed a false smile. For a self proclaimed 'non-actress' you did so effortlessly and supposedly without even knowing bottling up you feelings and slapping on a smile... He wasn't sure he liked it, faking a smile when he could tell he had upset you.

"It's fine...I don't think your a-a dick...H-how can I expect you to remember silly details like that... We did only meet once and you've got more things to worry about" 'and award to the biggest prick on set goes to drum roll...you ,you fucking ass! Fix it! Fix it now Henry! Look even Kal isn't impressed!' He quickly lent forward wanting to fix his fuck up like right fucking now!

"No! No nothing like...I mean its not a silly detail! Your name it's- y/n I know it! I know your name! Me and Joey have seen you around for a while he called you Tink's..Its after Tinkerbell!..A-a nickname just a nickname nothing meant by it!.....We called you it for so long it just stuck when we spoke about you and ....Well I thought it suited you so just sort of...Yeah.." you blinked at him then looked back to the cup.

"T-Tinkerbell?"

'Holy shit! They gave you a nickname oh my god! that’s crazy....Right focus girl see he didn't forget either he knows you knows your name!...Fuck me! life got weird quick' You bite your lip looking at him confused then glanced to the cup Tink's scribbled across it haphazardly. You smiled at it trying to fight down the building squeal of excitment, it was so sweet you it made you feel...welcome? You'd been worried that you being on the job now had put a strain on everyone. It seems as if everyone has had to work harder because of you and you felt almost...guilty like an inconvenience. Kal sat up pulling away from you then tucked his snout under your chin snorting into your chest. You moved ruffling the base of his ears lightly.

"T-Tinkerbell?" He smiled softly as you pampered Kal you must have started getting upset as Kal moved digging into you comforting you. He loved how Kal was helping you when he himself couldn't. He hissed through his teeth nervously and moved his head around slightly.

"Well...Yes Joey had seen you...And you reminded him of a fairy he just sort of started calling you Tink's you know? after Tinkerbell....It fits....Small and cute" you pressed your face back to Kal tucking your glowing cheeks. He called you cute 'aaaaahhhhhhhgggggg! Cute he. Henry-Mother-Fucking- Cavill called you cute! He thinks your fucking cute fuckingohmygod! Yes girl GET IT!...Right okay and chill woooo! Right yep done? done!'

"I...We will stop if you don't like it ...Its probably weird right?" You shook your head pulling away from his dog when you were sure you could pass the blush off as a chill or something.

"No its...Its fine...I-I just didn't think...You know cos of me you-everyone has a shit tonne more work now...Just feel like well..I don't know burden I suppose" his face dropped.

'you what? You thought you were a burden?' He blinked forgetting all his anxieties and nerves overcome with a need to help you, you got it wrong so so wrong he is ecstatic you were now his costar! He cant wait to get going! That’s why he is here nearly forty five minutes early! So he can get to know you he gathered you must be nervous and well...He wanted to be your knight in shinning amour....Or witcher in leather doublet a it were. Everyone who was 'in the know' was just so happy that you’d decided to do this, your saving The Witcher for Christ sake! But you didn't see it like that? He moved over grasping your hand without thinking,it was only when he felt you tense he realized he was touching you but by some act of god he managed to beat down a full blown fucking melt down trying not to dwell on how soft your skin was. 'Why it is so soft?....what does she do?...Moisturizer?.....Wonder if she'd let you watch?- WOAH OKAY THERE BOY SLOW DOWN!.....But she even smells ugh fuck could just eat this woman....Henry! Stop fucking sniffing her...Shes upset and your just here being so..FUCKING ...CRINGE! Seriously!?...Now would be the time to speak cavill...I mean you are just rubbing her wrist staring ...Again.' he swallowed managing to hopefully shake away his thought before you got too creeped out by him.

"No! No don't Please don't ever feel like that...Your not a burden to me or-or Joey or anyone here! Your keeping this going if it wasn't for you we'd all be out of work...I-I am really grateful for you choosing to help...I Love this role-this project and your the one who has saved it!...I know it must be hard trying to navigate all this but please if you ever need help or anything you can come to me ....Even if its just to talk ....Promise me if you ever start thinking or ever made to feel like that come talk to me...Okay I mean that y/n you can come talk to me anytime" Henry watched seeing an array of emotions cross your eyes you were still unsure but he would help. He would be there for you if it was the last thing he did, he wanted to be a colleague, friend, someone you could come to and confide in!

He wanted you to come to him if you got overwhelmed of upset he had already been speaking about the press tour after he was trying to make sure you were never going to be  alone in interviews he wanted to protect you form the more public side that was going to be the real shock. Filming was easy you knew what you were in for but tv? Journalists and critics? Yes that was going to be... A wake up call luckily for you Henry was going to be all over you by then he hoped. When it boiled down to it he wanted to be so much more then a mentor and friend but for now he would work towards friendship and try to get one conversation over with out fucking up stuttering or blushing. You blinked and nodded slowly.

"Th-thank you for saying that-" he shook his head you didn't believe him and smiled what he hoped was sincerely.

"Its not just words I do truly mean it Tink’s...I'm here for you and so is Kal apparently" he smiled when he got you to giggled the moment of doubt truly passed as you snuggled the bear again. 'And breath...Well that went well...Fuck she is so cute with him, I should get a picture...you know to commemorate her first proper day...Would that be weird of him? Hey can I have a photo of you to keep on my phone please?..Yeah okay maybe not like that' it was sweet watching as kal quickly become your teddy bear. The pup seemed not to mind in the slightest just happy to be getting away with blue murder and get cuddles for it!. He had moved and was now resting his head on your other shoulder sitting up with his back to Henry, Kal was basically hugging you tucking your neck and shoulder under his chin to his chest.

Henry smiled nodding cutely seemingly pleased with himself as he pulled back then. He blinked quickly as if remembering something and sat up getting his phone out he was about to speak but was cut off by the sound of the door as it opened again it was then that Holly made an appearance, you didn't even notice she had left. You smiled happy feeling better in yourself Henry's words meant something you actually believed that he meant it. It was nice to know he didn't hold anything against you for all the extra work your arrival had dumped on him.

"Haha! Here they are one wig for you sir! And for the lady!" She placed two wigs on the table in front of your respective chairs, both of which were pinned on two wig mannequin's. You placed you feet on the bar sitting up getting a groan for one Kal who was comfy.

"Oh shush you" Henry huffed a laugh as you scolded the bear. 

"Wow that’s... How'd they even do that?" Henry looked over to yours and whistled. It was sleek and very very light ah blonde you could just see a hint on lilac from the toner used giving the hair an almost ethereal look yet still a believable tone. Holly gushed

"I know right! They said they took into account your hair color now because of how it complimented your skin....Honestly it mean you wont need as much color correcting as before with the gold! And along side this these came to!" She moved producing a small pile of contact lenses boxes. You looked to her uneasy making some weird unconvincing sound.

"Oh hush love~ contacts aren't that bad! You just pop 'em in" you blinked and gave her a look.

"Yeah...pop em in your fucking eyes! That you need to see!...God they can't like slip back can they?" Henry and Holly chuckled and shaking their heads.

"No...They can't your lris is slightly bulged they sit on that bulge! I can categorical attest they do not slide back or get stuck...I promise trust me?" He tilted his head at you and you eyed the contacts 'well he has used them for a while..so he would know' you gave a slight nod

"Good I promise I won't stear you wrong! I normally wait until the hair and stuff is done and put them in just before make up, sometimes the hair on the wig can get catch them when styling and that is a bit uncomfortable especially if they move" you snapped your gaze to him

"M-Move!? B-but you- You just said they don’t!" He chuckled rubbing his hand over his neck.

"I-I well yes I did just say that...W-What I meant is they can't go to the back of your eye...But if you touch them once in they can slip just...Once their in don't touch them until you want to take them out and you will be fine" you eyed him carefully and nodded.

Holly moved about the room quickly switching make up pallets and the woman in charge of Henry's hair and make up came in with her kit opening it ready to get started. You couldn't help but be relieved in a way to have him turn and stat a conversation with her taking the heat off you. 'AANNDD BREATH...well that wasn't to bad? Sure you used kal as a hiding spot but the good boy didn't mind' you looked to the content dog still rubbing his tummy absent minded. 'Yeah the bear was happy, soo your first real conversation with the stunningly handsome Mr Cavill wasn't to bad....But fuck he thought you were cute? Oh boy that is just fucking mind blown! There you go girl you could die right now and be one very happy woman!... And he wants to help you! And you know I do think he meant that....He is very sweet, and he got you coffee! AAAHHHGGG! Like not dinner but the man got you food...Well food it was a coffee...Still he got it for you babe! You go girl!' Your thoughts were interrupted when a cheerful Joey made an appearance at the door

"Good morning! How are we all today?" You smiled at how happy he was. He got a series of replies from grunts to 'fine how are you?' He spotted you and laughed.

"Shit Kal? Pulling the moves already? You know she's twice your age a tleast?" The dog huffed and you petted him giggling.

"Don’t listen to him boy~ you be you...such a good little pup huh? Yesh you are...And your keeping me warm huh? Little hot water bottle....Yesh you are...You an sit on my lap any time good baby~" Henry chuckled out of the side of his mouth trying not to move as his make up artist began to comb through his hair readying him for the wig.

"God don't tell him that, he would never get off if he could help it, he love his cuddles...And snout kisses its why he is holding his head like that by the way...He wants kisses" you giggled and looked at Kal who was sitting still holding his cheek near your face.

"Oh baby~ you want kisses?" You quickly moved in peppering kisses on his cheek. When you stopped you laughed as he turned to you giving kisses back. Henry smiled your laugh becoming something he was determined to hear at least once a day!

Joey watched slyly. It seemed Henry was going to have Kal be a wing man...dog? In his journey of wooing you. He smirked he would help to! It was clear that you liked Henry ...Henry certainly liked you so it won't take to much pushing.

"So Henry...What are you doing here? Your early not meant to be here until five. " Henry froze and looked panicked and met Joeys eyes in the mirror. Joey smirked knowing full well You had heard Henry squinted at the singer giving him a 'what the fuck?' Look

."I-I wanted to make sure Tinks was okay...It is her first day...Dont want her to be in here going through the motions alone we are a team" Joey smirked 'well okay if that how you want to play'

"Thats very sweet of you!, Oh! Yes we need pictures! It is your first day Tinks!" He turned to Henry's artist who had just got the wig on. Leaning down he grasped the witchers shoulders squeezing.

"Can I brorrow him?" She smiled nodding with a chuckle Joey smiled and ushered Henry up swiping the mans phone from the side and handed it to Holly, who took it and stepped back as joey spun your chair around to face her.

"Do you mind? We need to document this, The day the witcher was saved!" You blushed as both Joey and Henry stood either side of you ,They each crouched a little placing their faces next to yours and smiled, Henry had tucked kal's head to the side so he could get a good view of you. Once the photos were snapped Joey looked at them excited.

"Wow! Henry you have to send these to me so I can tweet them!" You blushed as Henry nodded grinning then looked you his screen then to you. He could kiss Joey! Henry now had a reason to get your number, whatsapp ,face book fuck everything!

"I will send these to you...You know if you want, I mean you don't have to if Joey is tweeting them... But I could send them....Only if you want... No pressure!" Joey sighed watching the great white wolf fumble over his words still rambling. Even the other women were watching fascinated as the unshakable Henry got himself all flustered.

"You know make memories... A-along the way...You never know Tink’s could be the start of a completely new career!haha..." An awkward silence fell over the room as henry eventually trailed of with a nervous laugh. Joeys eyes fell to you, you sat dead still shocked then finally blinked snapping out of what ever thoughts were going on you were slowly blushing. You were definitely interested.

"I-I err sure you can send them to me... Here I'll give to my number..." Joey smiled nodding pleased with himself. That worked beautifully if he did say so himself. Henry sent him a thankful glance as you exchanged numbers. He turned as he had a tap on his shoulder.

"Oh god its time already? I hoped to get to know our Tink's...Oh well we can chat on set" he moved around you sitting on the other side of Henry and sat down letting his own artist begin.

You had sat in the chair for another hour or so getting tweaked then had been ushered to change in a sectioned off little changing room. You came back out ready to see Keira for the first time. Henry and Joey stole glances at you

"Wow...Fuck you look...Wow" you smiled at Henry shyly as he kept sweeping his eyes over you seemingly awed at the final look. If you were honest it made you a little self conscious. How could it not! he was; if you squinted, kind of checking you out..In a way? you avoided eye contact willing yourself to calm down as your heart pounded away at top speed.

"What he means is you look fantastic!" You smiled unsure and pulled at the skirt of the dress, your first scene with them was a party so it was very elegant it was designed to be seductive with a swooping neckline and swirling delicate detailing over the collar  it was heavy to being made out of a heavy velvet material you were happy there wasn't any running you'd collapse in minuets.

"Th-thanks...Its heavier then I remember..." Joey smiled admiring the look."You look brilliant! Look Henry is speechless!" Henry swallowed  dryly. Fuck you looked quickly then turned away... Wow... His fantasy was nothing compared to you here in full costume... Henry shook his head remembering every detail to recall later.

"Y-you look...Better then I imagined! It-she....Your..." you flushed a little and moved past him to your seat wanting to sit down and calm yourself being in costume had brought it home you were doing this...You were going to actually be in witcher as a cast member!. You sat down taking a deep breath. You could feel the anxiety .Shit. Kal popped his head out from under Henry and glanced up at you he was still sulking.

"What puppy?! I'm sorry...I know Holly is so mean huh? making you jump down like that" He huffed again ears twitching then he heaved himself up again and sat before you tapping you with a large paw, you smoothed your hands across him somehow just petting the gentle boy was calming you down. Henry and Joey exchanged looks Kal must be picking up on your nerves.

"Yes oh I know... But don't worry we can have cuddles after okay?" You said calming considerably as you spoke to him. Henry chuckled at the exchange and Joey piped up.

"Is he being a grumpy boy?" Henry tilted his head.

"No a needy boy I think... he has got a new favorite snuggle buddy" you blushed at that and soon Kal laid down out of petting distance. All three of you were nearly done...Well you were done, you hadn't until now seen the whole get up together wardrobe and hair and make up had been separate until now. You quickly glanced up and froze wow...This new wig was definitely better now, you felt... you didn't know it was completely strange seeing someone different staring back at you in the mirror.

"Wow....Thats-this is crazy..." you leaned in turning your head this way and that moving your hand slowly to your face, Henry smiled at you.

"Yes...It's always strange the first time in character..." you nodded to him dumbly still inspecting yourself moving to run your fingers threw you 'hair'

"So fucking weird"

"And about to get a whole lot weirder! time for these bad boys~" you whined at Holly as you watched her wave the slim box holing your contacts.

"Oh? please tell me she isn't getting blue? I love the green!"Joey protest was flattering as he and Henry came closer wanting to see, you stood awkwardly twisting your hands in the sleeves of your costume. Henry smiled opening your box peeking at the color

"Hey...They're going to look amazing! Tink’s you get green look!" Joey leaned over and smiled

"Yeah and they have that nice dark ring around the outside to! really going to pop...Well come on girl get them in we have what ten minuets?" he directed his question to Holly who giggled nodding. You gulped looking at the small colored discs warily...

"How? I've never...They're safe right? wont get stuck of something?" Henry seeing another opportunity to bond with you jumped up collecting his own contacts box Joey took a step back so you could et closer and watch Henry's lesson smirking knowingly as a stupid uncharacteristic grin spread across 'Geralt's' face.

"Here look its fine...Just hold it like this...And pinch it if it folds like this..see? Like that...Then its okay if it curls out and has a lip then its inside out." You watched as he gave you a quick glance.

"I-Inside out? wh-what happens if that happens?" Henry quickly tried reassuring you.

"No! its not-it will just be uncomfortable...Nothing bad will happen or anything its just irritable....Right pick yours up like I’m doing...That's it!...See...Then hold open your eye and....Just try and pop it in...You can do it looking down or up which ever is comfy, I'm used to it so can do it standing up right....And if it moved like mine just has...Typical! just look around and....There see! easy!" Henry explained his contacts lesson well, it did seem simple he let you watch as he placed in the other contact explaining once again how to put them in as he did. You watched intently blushing each time he moved in closer so you could see.

"O-okay...So just press it and it will stick?" he nodded and you bit your lip 'come on girl...that's it just like when you do liquid eyeliner stab your eyeball with it!' you looked to you mirror and began to poke your eyes with Henry and joey watching closely commenting as you did so. One Joey pep-talk and eighteen tries later you finally got them in with a tiny round of applause ,It was actually pretty cool, your eyes popped a really bright and had a dark ring that made your iris a little larger adding to the ethereal atheistic.

The three of you made your way out of the trailer as Geralt ,Jaskier and keira. You took a deep breath when you saw the cameras and lighting as you walked onto set.

"Fuck...shit, shit, shit" Henry and Joey slowed walking beside you patting your back. Henry wrapped an arm around you making sure you didn't bolt which you looked ready to any second, had you not been so panicked you would have clammed up under his heavy arm but it wasn’t on the top of your list of things to worry about right now. Joey followed suit holding you around your back squishing you between them and smiled down at you directing you to the frightening amount of people milling about doing various jobs.

you’d seen it all before but being behind the scenes was completely different to being in front of the camera you slowed until you was barley moving at all.

"Come on Tink’s" with his prompting Joey had in fact sped you up a little, he was stronger then he looked. You took deep breaths trying not to freak out as everyone turned looking at the new comer.

"Th-thats a lot of people.." Joey and Henry hummed in agreement

"Well its a big deal...you've been cherry picked from the assistants Tink's word has got around but everyone wants a peek.." Joey cheerful as ever chuckled into your hair as they got closer to Tomasz who was waiting for you all.

It  was when you saw the director that you really freaked trying to turn around but they two men grunted

"Oh no you don't...Come on your fine"

"I forgot my lines" Henry scoffed

"That fine we memorized them for you to, besides why do you think Tomasz made you do improv?"

"O-okay....I need the bathroom" Joey giggled still helping guide you into the huge makeshift banquet hall

"No you don't its nerves" you shook as they continued ushering you out in front of the crew

"I'm going to be sick" Henry chuckled as bad as it was he couldn't help thinking you looked pretty cute panicking like this trying desperately to find a way to run off and hide.

"Again that’s nerves just breath...We wont let anything happen okay? just take a deep breath...Good now out your going to be fine" you did as he had said to focused on the upcoming filming to even squeal about him looking out for you.

Finally you stopped in front of Tomasz who smiled at you kindly.

"Wow...Look at you! perfect! absolutely perfect! Ready?" You shook your head looking around it felt like everyone involved in the projects was hear to see the stand in.

"No...Not really" he laughed and shook his head at you...You were serious....didn't he think you were serious you fucking was! You didn't know whether you needed to be sick, panic ,cry or use the bathroom.

"...Why are there so many people?" He eyed the crowd

"Well you did pull this whole production from the brink of collapse...They are bound to want to see to woman who has stepped up...I'm sure everyone has told you already but this is a big deal...I don't think I have heard of someone completely untrained taking a role like this. Any way enough chit chat lets get to work shall we?" you were shaking in Keira's boots but...By way the two men still had you stuck firmly between them he knew you'd have all the support you needed, once you started it would be fine.

"Trust me you’ll do fine" he turned with a huge grin

"Places everyone! Remember camera four you start now from the top a sweeping motion left you right? good!" You gulped stomach dropping soon Henry and Joey are moving to their cue's leaving you with one final squeeze and your left on your own wondering. How the fuck did this happen again?.

You took a breath closing your eyes tight looking down collecting yourself pulling a more confident catty seductive woman from within. Unbeknown to you a hush fell over the scene as you did everyone holding their breath waiting to see if you could pull this off.

Joey smiled from beside Henry and said something but Henry didn't even hear what the man had to say, he just smirked entranced as he watched you transform before everyone about to prove to yourself and everyone in the room you could do this. Its what you did last time you closed your eyes and when you opened them you wasn't there anymore.

For anyone who understood what it was, it was incredible to watch everything changed your posture , your aura, your presence felt heavy and playful he could feel it from way over here. When your eyes opened you was a completely different person you could feel it here and now there was no y/n; you was Keira through and through. then with a slow count down the scene began.

"ACTION" you smirked holding your head high. Here we go!