#the scroll wheel having a button to just let it loose and let it scroll forever its great when you have problems with your hand cramping up

[ozymoron]

absolutely fucking unreal i have to download a program just to change my mouse settings so when i ever so slightly tilt the scroll wheel to the left it doesnt type a p or when i press the wrong button it doesnt just go back a tab like are you fucking serious

[syddsatyrn]

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Warnings: Fluff, sexual themes, Eddie takes nudes for the reader, smoking, Characters are all 18+

Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 1.8k

☆Summary: Eddie doesn't have a lot of money, but he’s determined to get you a Christmas present. He gets creative with a polaroid camera and comes up with a more "personalized" gift. (You're gonna want to scroll to the bottom lol, trust me)

☆Notes: This fic is apart of a holiday prompt challenge @hellfiremunsonn and I are doing for our Christmas event. You can find that post Here. We will be doing holiday prompts and request all month long so come join us!

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Eddie might not be the smartest, the strongest or the most well behaved person on this planet. But one trait he did possess was determination. Eddie had been saving up, selling extra weed, pinching every penny from his shows. But he just still didn't quite have enough to pay for all the things he wanted to get you. You deserve only the very best after all. It's the middle of December, he doesn't have very much time left to curate the perfect Christmas gift. Okay, maybe he did procrastinate a little. 

Eddie sits crisscross on his bed, sorting coins and loose paper bills. When he realizes he only has about 55 dollars, he sighs. Maybe Uncle Wayne was right about getting a real job. That wasn't going to stop him though. This is actually a rather important Christmas. In January, your parents want to take you to Italy as a graduation gift. Now, don’t get it wrong, he was happy for you . But he's never been away from you for this long and it worries him.

What if she meets some hot Italian guy with money and class? You come from a pretty wealthy family, it’s never been a problem before, but Eddie can help but feel a little inadequate in comparison to what he imagines you should go for. He taps his chin, trying to turn the wheels in his brain. “C’mon, Eddie, think…”

Eddie’s mind wandered for a bit but his eyes suddenly focused on your polaroid camera hanging off his bedroom door handle. You had left it here and Almost immediately the thought popped into his head. He gets up and grabs the camera strap, trying to remember how this thing works. He inspects it carefully, noticing the timer on the lens barrel, “Seems easy enough…”

Eddie has never done this before for girls he’s dated in the past. He’s thought about it, but he didn't feel like he could be spontaneous or confident enough. Eddie trusts you far more than you know, and wants to show you that he does. He feels completely safe with you and knows you love him no matter what.

He places the camera on top of his amp and removes his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He sets the timer and sits on his bed, leaning forward, elbow on his knees, and an evil look in his eye. His long brown curls cascade around his face. The camera flashes and makes a whirring noise then the polaroid slowly prints. Eddie takes it between his fingers and shakes it gently. After some waiting, the picture was clear enough to see.

He was initially rather surprised it came out looking exactly how he wanted. With heightened confidence, he grabs the camera and hops onto the bed. Eddie leaned against the wall and angled the camera low. Another flash and another polaroid but this one featured his waistline in a pair of low hanging sweatpants. Examining his work, he’s kind of proud of himself, they actually look really good.

Eddie grabs an envelope from his desk and places the photos inside for safe keeping. He pulls a cigarette from the pack near his bedside table and lights it. He takes a second to think, staring at the camera on his bed, maybe he should take a couple more?

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Loud chimes from the alarm clock fill the room, shaking Eddie from his sleep. He scrambled to hit the button on the top to silence it. He lets out a weary sigh and pulls a cigarette from the pack on his nightstand. He lights it and saunters over to his bedroom window, it has stopped snowing, but a blanket of white coated the trailer park and it didn't look like it was going away anytime soon.

It's Christmas day, he's been looking forward to giving you this gift for over a week now and the suspense is killing him. Eddie opens his bedroom door, figuring now is a good time to make coffee. But to his surprise, sitting in his doorway is a red paper bag with a note attached to it.

“Nephew, I know we agreed not to get presents this year but I couldn't pass this up. I went to town to help some folks get their cars unstuck. Be back before dinner.”

Merry Christmas, Ed

- Uncle Wayne

He peers into the bag and pulls out a pair of chunky black boots. Great timing considering he has to leave the house in this weather. Uncle Wayne really came through today. He makes a mental note to thank him later tonight. Eddie proceeds with his normal routine, a cup of coffee with a joint and then he gets dressed. He layers up with a long sleeve shirt under a black hoodie. Eddie added a red flannel on top of that, then his leather jacket. The boots Wayne gifted him are extremely comfortable. His other pair are completely tattered and the tread is worn down to nothing.

Eddie grabs a large dark blue bag out of his closet. He goes over his mental check-list before heading out the door. Keys, wallet, smokes, lighter, present. When he opened the door a rush of cold air cut through him like a knife. He shuts the door and locks it behind, the snow crunches under his feet as he makes his way down the front steps and to his van. She started right up and Eddie breathed a sigh of relief.

You didn't live far from him, about a 15 minute drive. The roads had been plowed so the operation doesn't seem so treacherous. Eddie popped an Iron maiden tape into his vans cassette player, music always helps him concentrate. He parks down the road a little and trudges his way through the snow and up your driveway, gift in hand.

He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell to your family home. He could hear all sorts of clamor behind the door. Children laughing and playing, conversations, and classical music meld together. Then you open the door, a bright smile on your face, the same smile that melts Eddie’s cold heart every time.

“Hey! Merry Christmas!” You say as you throw your arms around his neck. Eddie uses his free arm to pull you closer, you look down at the black paper bag then meet his gaze. “What do you have here, handsome?” Your voice is smooth and sweet, it sends a chill up his spine.

“Just a little something for the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He peppers your face with kisses and you pull him inside by the collar of his jacket. Immediately after that, your mom walks around the corner and visibly gets excited.

“Eddie! I’m so glad you made it! Are you hungry?” She asks, always offering him food every time he visits.

“Yes ma’am, of course I am. It’s always nice to see you again.”

“Oh you too, sugar.” She notices the bag, “Awe! How sweet! Did you bring that for y/n?”

“Should I open it now?” You laugh at your mom’s usually nosy antics.

“No! No…uhh it's very personal.” Eddie falters, attempting to save face.

“Okay, whatever you say. We can go to my room.” You giggle at how worked up he is, the curiosity is killing you, what could be so “personal” in this mystery bag. You take Eddie's hand and lead him upstairs, once you pass the threshold of your bedroom, Eddie shuts the door behind him.

“Oooo so secretive.” You giggle and Eddie smiles, his eyes however tell you that he's a little nervous. Eddie hands you the bag and you sit on the bed. The first thing you pull out is an envelope, but Eddie tells you to open that last. The second thing you grab is a hoodie, you unfold it and immediately recognize the texture. It’s the Metallica hoodie you steal from him every time you come over.

“It's yours now.” He says with that signature smirk you still can't get enough of.

“Eddie I–”

“Nope. I will not be taking any criticism at this time.” He retorts and crosses his arms. Next, you pull out a small, rectangular black box with a red ribbon. You open it and gasp softly and stare in awe at the beautiful stainless steel chain with a small heart shaped lock pendant.

“Oh my god, Eddie, this is so pretty. ” You turn your back to him and motion for Eddie to help you put it on.

“Only the best for my girl.” He says proudly, grabbing both ends of the chain and clasping them together. You push all your hair to the side and reposition the pendant. You look at him for approval but all he can do is smile. His nervous thoughts about not being able to spend more on you faded the more he saw how much you love it. “Okay, okay. Now you can open the envelope.”

“Saving the best for last?” You tease as you carefully tear open the front of the envelope.

“Maybe.” Eddie can't stop smiling, but there is a slight red tint spreading across his face as he watches you open it.

Upon looking inside, you see a piece of paper, most likely another one of his hand written love letters you adore so much. But there are about 5 polaroids in there. You take them out and carefully examine the first one, you can feel your face growing warm. You flip through each one very quickly and immediately hide your face in your sweater sleeves.

“EDDIE! Oh my god!” You’re absolutely shocked. This was definitely a surprise to you. Your face felt like it was on fire. Why does he have to be so hot at unexpectedly, Eddie always seems to keep you on your toes.

He starts cackling and saunters over to you and cups your cheek. “I didn't want you to forget what you’re leaving behind when you visit Italy.”

“A very good reminder indeed.” You giggle and lace your fingers with his other hand, “I couldn't forget you even if I tried.” Eddie presses his lips to yours, starting off slowly, you hook your index finger around the collar of his hoodie and pull him just a little closer. Eddie carefully crawls on top of you while his lips travel across your jaw, pinning you to the bed.

“Do you wanna know what I got you for Christmas?” You coo in his ear as you card your fingers through his long brown locks and tuck some of his hair behind his ear.

“Hmm..?"

“ I can't tell you because it's personal.” You mock his earlier statement and he chuckles under his breath followed by a huff.

“But I could show you.”

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“I wanted to do something different, make it so you can’t get me out of your head, you know? These are FOR YOU only. Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Enjoy your Vacation, you deserve it.”

-Love,

Eddie ♥️

Disclaimer: (Not my photo, I shopped this with photos from Pinterest)

[gretavanbear]

Different Worlds - Jake Kiszka / Reader

Chapter 8: Home*

[Notes:

back to our regular scheduled program !

:) ]

Jake and I settle in my car. He's being quiet and I'm covered in worry. I never expected to see them fight like that, and I know brothers fight but this feels different. We sit in silence, until I start the car and pass my unlocked phone to him.

"Pick a song out of my library, any one, and I'll sing it for you" I say to him. He takes my phone, his fingers brushing over mine, and scrolls through the hundreds of songs.

"[y/n].. oh god. Your music taste" he laughs. I'm just glad to see him smile again, and if mocking my amazing music taste cheers him up then so be it. I shift to drive and he finally picks a song. The intro to 'Next to Me' by Imagine Dragons start to play. I look over to him in disbelief.

"You like them?" I ask. He nods, smiling shyly. I tell him that I love their music, and then start singing loudly for him. He listens quietly as I drive towards my apartment. It was dark out and I tried my best to focus on the road but also do my best possible singing under these circumstances. As we stop at the red light, I look over to him and bring my arm out as I loudly sing 'Still you want meeeee'. Jake giggles at my singing and I start laughing. I turn the music down a little using the button on my steering wheel and drive off.

"I have to say" I pause, looking over at him as we're stopped at another red light. "I really did not take you as an Imagine Dragons fan, you're like, a guitar god." I finish. He laughs at my comment and rolls his eyes sarcastically.

"They're good" He answers, fidgeting with his fingers. "I like a couple of their songs." He adds, and looks out of the window.

_ _ _

I unlock the door to my small apartment and let him in first. It was a studio so there wasn't much of a tour to do. The first thing that greets you when walking into my apartment is the little kitchen to the right. My bed was in the left corner of the room, facing the window. I had fairy lights hanging over the bed and my small desk area which was in the right corner of the room. My computer was the only thing on my desk. In front of my desk was a little table with only two chairs, there was a small fake plant in the middle of it.

"This is where the magic happens!" I say, sarcastically, extending my arms out and giving jazz fingers. Jake smiles and looks around, walking around the small room. I close the front door and lock it, then take my shoes off and place them on the little mat next to my front door. Jake does the same and I thank him quietly. I walk up to my bed and sit down, leaning my back against the wall. Jake stares at me and I pat my leg, inviting him to come lay his head down; he does. I stroke his hair as he relaxes into me. His eyes are closed as I play with his soft brown locks. With my other hand, I draw circles and little shapes with my fingertips on his back.

'Does he always talk to you like that?" I massage his scalp with my hand, he sighs. "You can talk to me" I add.

"Not always, I think- I think he's just used to getting what he wants, or sharing- I guess." He replies. I feel my heart hurt at the sight of him like this.

"Well I don't want to be shared." I reply. He turns himself on his back, facing up at me.

"You mean that?" He asks softly. I nod and smile at him. He sits up and sits on my bed, his body turned towards me. He gets closer and I lay on my back, my head on my pillow- he crawls over me slowly. His hair draped over his face, his button down loose- exposing his whole torso. He's so sexy and I want him. He bites his lip, his face only a couple inches from mine. I feel his warm breath on my face, and I get full body shivers. My skin tingles as his body weight crushes me in a good way. His face gets closer to mine, our foreheads touching.

"Will you be mine, [y/n]?" He asks softly. My stomach is full of butterflies, and my tongue feels dry. My fingers shake as I trace the muscles on his back, making eye contact with his beautiful brown eyes. He backs up his face a little, only to really look at me. To watch me answer the question he already knows the outcome of.

"Yes, Jake. I'm yours." I finally answer. He doesn't waste a second to pull my body closer to his, my legs wrapping around him. All I can feel is his chest against mine, his lips on my neck kissing it repeatedly, his hands wrapped around me, the soft bed against my back.

"You're mine." He repeats, kissing my neck over and over again, making his way down slowly. He gets up on his knees for a second, so I can pull my shirt off, exposing my black lace bra. He comes right back down, kissing my chest, untying my bra with one hand, taking it off with the other. He attaches his soft lips to my breast, licking my nipple in the softest and sexiest way possible- looking up at me and making direct eye contact. I watch as his tongue flicks my nipple in his mouth and I'm so wet for him.

"I'm yours." I repeat, moaning softly, playing with his hair. I feel one of his hands make their way down to the button of my jeans. He stops licking me and backs up a little, coming up to my face.

"Can I taste you, my pretty girl?" He asks. My heart flutters as I shake my head 'yes'. He unbuttons then unzips my jeans, pulling them off softly. He gets off the bed to place my jeans on the floor. I'm remaining on the bed with my black panties. He pauses before coming back to me, examining me on the bed.

"You are such a beautiful, ethereal being; I'm almost afraid to break you." He says softly, climbing over me slowly. My breath hitches at the sight of my underwear between his teeth, pulling it down slowly. I'm so wet for him, he affects me in the best way possible. I lift my feet as he pulls them off, throwing them on the floor and meeting me back on the bed, his lips on mine. I moan against his lips as his fingers caress my inner thigh. I feel his necklace rub against my bare chest and my nipples harden at the arousal of the coldness on my skin. I slip my tongue in his mouth and he grunts in response, kissing me harder. His fingers rub my clit softly but quickly, taking over all other sensation in my body.

He pulls away and plants soft kisses down my chin, down my chest, all the way down to my arousal. I feel his breath against my skin, and my heart flutters at the thought of him touching me. He licks slowly from the bottom to the top, making me flinch in a good way. I make eye contact with him as he devours me, tasting me inside out.

“Jesus- Jake. You’re so good” I whimper, he grunts softly as he licks me harder, his hands grab my thighs and squeeze them a little, it feels so good. I feel like I belong to him, and I don’t want it to change. I think of him ‘protecting’ me earlier, his raspy angry voice turns me on so much. Jake backs off for a second and looks up at me.

“What’s on your mind? Is it not good?” He asks, with a worried look in his eyes.

“No! no, I’m sorry Jakey, I spaced out.” I pause. “I was thinking about how hot you were earlier, defending me, all.. possessive?” I finish my sentence, he sighs out of relief and smiles up at me.

“I see.” Is all he says with a smirk on his face, he brings his face up close to mine, his fingers rubbing my clit. His lips are next to my ear, nibbling my earlobe slightly.

“You’re all mine. No one else is going to be touching you like this.” He whispers. I shiver and he feels it. I feel one of his fingers at my entrance, I grab the back of his neck, awaiting them to move.

“You want me to fuck you with these fingers, my love?” His warm breath sending tingles down my whole body. I feel stuck in the best way possible, frozen in time. I nod quickly, interlocking my fingers in his hair and pulling slightly. His breath hitches and he slips one of his fingers inside.

“Fuuuuuck. You’re so tight” He whimpers softly against my ear. He stops moving when his finger is all the way inside, giving me time to adjust. He feels so good, and I feel ready to move, rocking my hips a little on him. He kisses the back of my ear, and then sits up, so he can reposition himself. He slips another finger inside slowly, as he’s towering over me. Fucking me softly with his fingers, still letting me get used to him.

“Faster, please, Jake” I plead, rocking my hips back and forth on his fingers. He doesn’t waste a second, slipping his fingers in and out of me, curling them so he hits my g-spot. He does not miss it once. I shake under his grasp- he knows exactly where to touch me.

“You like that? You want more?” I don’t know how much more I can handle, feeling my climax approaching quickly. I nod, curious for what will come next.

He places his mouth on my clit as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me. The feeling pushes me over the edge.

“J- Jake I’m gonna-“ I begin.

“That’s right, fucking cum on my fingers. Do it.” He says, almost aggressively. And right now, my orgasm belongs to him. I gift it to him, moaning his name loudly as I squeeze my bedsheets with my hands, letting my orgasm ride out in waves over my body. He watches me closely, slowly lowering the pace of his fingers, and I’m in complete shock. I lay in bed, out of breath as he lays down next to me; licking his fingers clean and resting his head on his hand, facing me.

“I- where did that come from?” I ask, in disbelief at the way he talked to me.

“[y/n], I’m full of surprises.” He smiles. I can’t help but look down and see his hard-on. I lick my lips and look back up at him, biting my bottom lip. His smile drops, captivated by my actions. I sit up and scoot down the bed, so I’m sitting next to his hips.

“Please, talk to me like that again.” I ask, unbuttoning his jeans, and then unzipping them.

“Suck my cock, princess” He says. I gasp softly, not expecting him to bounce back this quick. I look at him, as I pull down his jeans and rub him over his underwear.

I move closer, so now my legs are between his and my stomach is on the bed. I pull his dick out of his underwear and look directly at him, licking him from the base all the way to the tip. He gasps, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

“Fucking suck it. I know you want to.” He says, quietly. And I follow his orders, taking in his whole length, all the way down to my throat. I bob my head up and down, wrapping my hand around the base of his dick and stroking him softly.

“That’s right. This cock belongs to you, suck it like it does.” I look up at him, and he’s smiling down at me, then looks up at the ceiling. He knows the effect he has on me. I bob my head up and down faster, sucking him harder. With my free hand, I cup his balls and caress them. I watch him as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his throat flexed out as he moans.

“My girl, making me feel so good, I’m close” He whimpers. I remember my trick from last time; I begin humming loudly on his cock, and he moans my name loudly- it’s so hot. He places his hand on top of my head, pushing me down on him.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck. Don’t stop” He moans. He looks down at me, playing his arm under his head so he can watch me swallow his load. My humming vibrating his dick in the best way causes him to burst, and I make direct eye contact as he bites his lip and cums in my mouth.

I lick him clean, and climb up to him so we can lay next to each other. I turn to him, so my body is facing him and he does the same, catching his breath slowly.

“You. You are a mystery I love to unfold.” He smiles sheepishly, kissing the tip of my nose.

“Thank you, Jakey. I’m sorry we can’t do more” I pause. He looks at me with furrowed, confused brows. “I don’t know if I’m ready for more than this. I- haven’t done it before.” I finish. He places his hand on the side of my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek so sweetly.

“Darling, I do not mind at all. I’m perfectly happy right now. You make me feel so good, better than anyone ever has.” He says, his eyes focused on mine. His hand on my cheek brings me the most comfort I could ever receive. He pulls me closer and hugs me tightly, my face in the space between his head and his chest.

This exact moment is the moment I slowly realized I fell in love with Jake Kiszka and nothing could ever change the way I feel about him.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

This is so long and so angsty, and I am so sorry! Also, I took the “Music” prompt a bit loosely and based this off music lyrics? Hope that counts. Song is I Do by Wild Rivers :) @nessianweek

My sweater on your bedroom floor, you can take that // You don’t want my love no more, honey I can shake that

Cassian swallows down a sigh as he opens up the trash bag in his hands. The crinkle of it as he shakes it out is especially loud in the quiet of his bedroom, like a crack of thunder ringing in his ears. Leave it to Mor to demand that he “spring clean” and “finally get rid of that shit you hoard” only to bustle out of his apartment without even an offer to help. 

The living room had been an easy place to start. The photos had been one of the first things he had removed post-breakup, so there wasn’t much left out there anyways. But his bedroom. Well, he isn’t sure the last time he'd really gone through his closet. 

He opens the doors to find various clothing and items strewn about haphazardly. Some are on hangers, some are stuffed onto the shelf above, and a good chunk litter the floor. He tries to organize as he goes, pulling out and sorting through the different items to decide which to keep and which to donate. He’s sifting through the pile on the floor when his hand brushes against something soft and somehow familiar. With a tug, he comes face to face with a small cream colored sweater. The sight of it has him falling back onto his ass, his breath hitching as he runs his thumb along the cable knit pattern. 

If he closes his eyes, he can see them here, see her in this very sweater. He can feel the sweater under his palms as he slides his hands over her waist, feel the delicious warmth of her skin as slips his fingers under the hem. He can hear her laughter in his ear, like a favorite song he wants to bottle up and play on loop, as he presses kisses to her neck and behind her ear. 

Cassian digs the palms of his hands into his eyes like he can scrub the image from behind them, but all it does it make his chest ache. Like a damn full of splintering cracks, barely held together with tape. He can feel that familiar thickness clawing its way into his throat, and he can’t take it. He tosses the sweater into the trash bag and heads for the kitchen, desperate for a beer. 

I come, you go, back around back around // I see your ghost on a train downtown

Downtown is a mess as always. All Nesta can think about is a glass of wine, the chocolate cake in her fridge that she picked up from Trader Joe’s, and the next chapter of her book waiting for her on her nightstand. But instead, she’s weaving her way through busybodies and tourists who don’t know how to stand on the right and walk on the left. 

Once she gets through the crowds, she walks with practiced ease to the platform she needs, scrolling aimlessly through the array of texts from her sisters and friends from earlier today. She sends off a quick reply to Gwyn and Emerie before sliding her phone back into her bag. She turns to look at the board above the platform to check the wait time of the next train when her eyes catch on something else. Someone else. 

The sight of broad shoulders and a tangle of curls corralled into a top bun has Nesta’s heart stuttering to a painful stop and clenching hard deep between her ribs. She can already feel that all too familiar prick pressing in behind her eyes, threatening release. She can practically hear his laughter from here, loud and booming and so full of life, as he throws his head back.  

All it takes is one thought to send her spiraling back. Back to a calloused hand sliding against her own, fingers curled firmly around hers. Warm. Safe. It takes her back to a nose brushing against her hair at her temple, that laughter in her ear, a promise that screaming at passing trains is the best form of therapy. 

Nesta has to turn away and press a hand over her mouth to keep in the choked sound trying to spill forth. When she looks back down the platform, he’s gone, and all Nesta feels is the hollowness pressing in on all sides. 

It’s just a baseball cap, I ain’t even missing // And a Springsteen track, I don’t listen 

Cassian’s late. He knows it. Azriel is going to kill him if he’s not out the door soon. He does another quick check around his room, pulling out drawers in his dresser and even checking under his bed. And then it hits him, a flash behind his eyes harder than a slap across the face. 

It’s the hat being placed on a head of golden brown waves. It’s a soft press of lips against his own and lithe arms winding around his neck. It’s a mumble of “it looks better on me anyways” and clear eyes piercing into his own, deep and smokey blue and glinting like the roiling ocean under a setting sun. 

Cassian has to clench and unclench his fists a few times to get his head right, but then he’s pulling open his closet doors and digging out a different hat to throw over his mess of hair. He snags his keys and sails out the door to his car. When he turns the key in the ignition, the radio hums to life, the familiar lyrics of Springsteen flooding out of the speakers. Cassian almost wants to laugh at his luck. It would be this song. 

Even with Springsteen’s vocals blaring, all Cassian can hear is his own voice singing along, purposefully off-key, her laughter-filled pleas for him to stop as she reaches across and tries to stifle the sounds with her hand over his mouth. With a hard jam of his finger, the radio cuts out. Cassian takes a deep breath, throws the car in reverse, and drives in silence the rest of the way. 

It's just an old habit, I don't gotta kick // Or your best friends' pictures, I don't check 'em

The pile of blankets atop Nesta is the only armor she needs. She curls her body and burrows deeper into them as she opens Instagram on her phone, the small rectangle the only light in her otherwise dark bedroom. She takes a few moments to scroll through the posts on her feed and click through some Stories, but there’s no beating around the bush. She knows why she’s here. 

Her finger hesitates for only a moment over the search button at the bottom of her screen, but then she’s selecting it. It only takes her typing in the “A” before the page comes up, and Nesta refuses to let the shame threatening to heat her skin win at what that means. She clicks on the first picture, taking in the wide smiles, the arms slung casually over shoulders. Nesta bites her lip so hard, that tangy metallic taste floods her tongue. 

She shuts her phone off abruptly, tossing it onto her nightstand before rolling over. She curls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms tightly around herself, focusing on the phantom feel of different arms holding her close and warm breath ghosting across her shoulder. If she closes her eyes tight enough, she can feel the press against her back with each breath he took, feel the words “I love you” whispered against her spine. 

Now I'm driving by the place we met // Could you go there?

Cassian’s so distracted, he doesn’t even realize he missed the turn for his apartment. He’s not even fully sure where he’s going until the familiarity starts to sink in. It’s too easy to pull up alongside and throw his car into park. At this hour, it’s all dark through the large windows, but there’s no mistaking the small wooden tables with the chairs stacked atop them. The register and the glass display case. The chalkboard declaring the seasonal drink specials in bright colors and swirling writing. 

Cassian can still taste the sweetness of her drink against his tongue. Can still see her pointedly raised eyebrow and unimpressed frown like it’s branded at the molecular level of his brain. Those eyes cutting through him from the minute they locked with his own. That lilting voice of hers still ringing in his ears and asking him what he thought he was doing with her drink.  

Cassian grips the steering wheel of his car until his knuckles turn white, letting his head drop until his forehead meets the leather. He takes a few deep breaths, then he’s throwing the car back into drive, letting the coffeeshop fade away in the rearview mirror. 

Now you wanna talk? // Babe I don't care

“Nesta.”

It’s a simple sound. Just her name. But in that soft timbre, in that voice that Nesta’s heard rumble through his chest, it makes her blood freeze over. She knew she never should have agreed to come to this garden party. As soon as the text came through from Feyre, she should have declined. But that voice in the back of her mind, it had niggled, it had gnawed, it had climbed to the forefront, and now she’s standing in Feyre’s backyard, a cup of some sort of punch clutched between her hands and Cassian approaching her.  

“You look good,” he says once in front of her. 

Nesta is sure that has to be a lie. All she feels is weighed down, like every second of every day is spent trudging through thick mud. Concealer can work wonders, but it’s no miracle worker. And with him standing this close, close enough for Nesta to feel the warmth that always seemed to radiate off his frame, to smell that combination of fabric softener, cologne, and just him. All she can think about is the air stuttering through her lungs. 

At her silence, Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “So, how have you been?” 

It’s casual, and Cassian throws an easy grin her way as he says it. Nesta hates it. She hates the way that he does look good. Hates the happy ease he didn’t even have to try to muster or pretend when he arrived, hugging and laughing with their families. Hates that she can tell the laughter lines around his eyes have gotten deeper. 

“No,” Nesta says, turning on her heel abruptly and heading back toward the house. 

She hears Cassian call after her, but she doesn’t stop. She’s surprised the whole backyard doesn’t hear the crack resounding from her chest, leaving shards of glass embedded deep in the skin. 

I see you out in a bar downtown, but you look so different like you don't go thinking, but I do

Cassian watches the ice cubes bubble and clink in his glass of whiskey. He gives the glass another swirl before throwing the amber liquid back, reveling in the burn against his throat. He tosses a couple bills onto the bar-top and slides off the stool with a sigh. He turns toward the exit but his eyes catch on the other end of the bar. 

Nesta is there, and Cassian’s entire body feels like it’s been set on fire as he takes her in, the gentle waves tumbling over her shoulders, the small black dress clinging to her every curve. He recognizes Gwyn and Emerie standing with her. He sees her laugh at something one of them says. Over the music and the crowds of the bar, he can't hear it, but it still rips through his chest like an arrow. Before he can even make a conscious decision, his legs are carrying him toward her, always toward her, like a ship brought home to safety by a lighthouse. 

“Nesta,” Cassian says once he steps up behind her. 

She turns and looks up at him, and his breath hitches in his chest all over again. His fingers itch to brush the hair away from her face, tuck it behind her ear and run the pads of his fingers through the ends. Her eyes are guarded and it makes his gut twist, urging him to press his lips against her skin until that look melts away like it used to. Maybe if he’d had another glass of whiskey he’d be feeling more brave. But the alcohol thrumming in his veins gives him enough courage to ask the question that’s been burning a hole through his head and heart. 

“Do you ever think about us?” he asks, voice quiet and just for them. 

A silence settles between them, but it’s charged, like even in this crowded downtown bar, everyone is holding their breath, waiting with baited anticipation. As the seconds tick by, Cassian begins to wonder if she’ll even answer, if he’s made a mistake, but then her hand is reaching up, smoothing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. 

“I do.”

[bloodpacks-archive]

saeyoung and ‘smiling while kissing’ ma’am. please and thanks. i’ll sob.

hey everyone i love saeyoung choi send tweet. 

radiance | saeyoung choi

warnings: idk man they be driving. vroom vroom y’know. they be uh. goin. and saeyoung gets sad for a moment but aye no worries whoop

word count: like 2k or smth idk

His hand curls around her waist late into the night. It’s been hours since she pulled him from his chair, her hands delicate as they traced over the curves of his face and when she asked him to please, come to bed.

Yet as the sun dipped further under the horizon and as the stars grew brighter in the sky, he continued to listen to her breathing. He tried to stay still as he laid next to her, tried to stop his fingers from tracing the divots of her skin as his hand fell beneath the loose shirt that hung off her body.

But he knows it’s the stiffness in his body that gives it away. The way his torso refuses to melt into hers, the way his fingers itch to tap at her skin. She can feel it as he lays next her, he knows. He feels the way she tenses to bring her hand down to his whenever his fingers give in to press against her.

She’s the one who gives in eventually, allowing her hand to drift down to where his head lays against her chest. She runs her fingers through his hair and his eyes slip shut—but it’s never enough for him to slip into a rest.

“Can’t sleep either?” She asks, her voice quiet even against the silence of their bedroom. It’s at the sound of her voice that he finally allows himself to move, shifting so his hand travels from her hip to beneath the curve of her back, turning his head so it burrows into her chest.

“No,” He breathes, and part of him wants to say I never can, or to explain that the reason I work so long is to avoid moments like this. So I don’t have to deal with the silence that comes before sleep. Yet when he opens his mouth to speak again, nothing of the like leaves his lips. “Wanna go for a drive?” He asks instead.

When she agrees, it’s in silence. He moves so they can both stand, and then he pulls her through their house. She moves closer to him in the chill of their air conditioner, and he wraps an arm around her—noticing that she’s only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. When they reach the garage, she’s light on her feet, barely letting them touch the cold ground before she moves to the next step.

So Saeyoung’s quick to choose a car, opening a passenger-side door for one of the non-convertibles—he figures they wouldn’t want the top down on a night like this anyway—and allows her to climb inside before he gets in on the driver’s side.

She relaxes into the heat from the car as he pulls onto the driveway and she slowly begins to unfurl from how she’d curled into the seat next to him. Her hand moves up so her fingers delicately rub against his shoulder as he drives—he had leaned into the touch before it ever arrived to him, had known the motion before she had begun it.

The tires hum against the asphalt as he hits the main road. Trees surround both sides of the two lanes, but overhead the sky peaks out. He can see the stars so clearly from out here, catches sight of the moon’s soft glow through the leaves of the trees.

“Music?” He asks, hoping to find some solace in something other than silence. She hums in agreement, and then reaches over to dip her hand into the front pocket of his sweats. She pulls his phone out between soft fingers, plugging it in and scrolling through his music before settling on one of his playlists.

Soft beats settle into the frame of his car, the leather seats shaking with the bass. He moves to turn down the volume, but she beats him to it, allowing the music fall into the background. Then her touch returns to his shoulder, and he continues to stare ahead at the empty road.

He catches her lean onto the center console out of the corner of his eye, notices the way she twists in her seat. Though her touch remains on his shoulder, she balances her chin in the palm of her hand so her gaze can settle on him. He arrives at a stop sign and glances over to her, his brows furrowed at the way she looks at him.

He only catches her for a second, but the sole streetlight that lays above them seems to have decided to settle upon her features. Her hair’s falling into her face, her lips are upturned but her eyes are half-lidded. Not tired, it seems, not by the way she taps her fingers into his shoulder. She seems relaxed, he decides.

“Sitting like that can’t be safe,” He says as he turns back to the road, moving past the stop sign.

“I trust you,” She replies simply. He huffs a breath of laughter through his nose.

“I’m glad,” He begins, but moves a hand away from the steering wheel so he can guide her back to her seat. “But please, sit normally.” She laughs as she sits back, a bright yet quiet thing, and grabs his hand before he can move it away from her. She twines their fingers together, and although she doesn’t twist in her seat again, she leans against the console with his hand in both of hers.

“You’re concentrated tonight,” She notes, and then brings his hand up to press her lips against his knuckles. “Any particular reason?”

“No,” He says, and it’s a lie. It’s so easy to fall back into that habit, to ignore his emotions until he breaks. But he knows that isn’t what she wants, so when she doesn’t speak, and instead presses her lips to the middle of his wrist, he speaks again, “Yes, there is. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” She mumbles against his skin. He allows her to move him as she wishes—he wouldn’t be sure of how to move anyway. He doesn’t know how to comfort like she does, doesn’t know that he ever will. He scrambles for gifts and spends hours looking for solutions to whatever problem leaves her curled in their bed.

But she’ll just press her lips to his knuckles. She’ll run her fingers through his hair and pull him in and just let him be. He doesn’t know how to, sometimes. She’ll have to coax things out of him until he’s mumbling answers into the skin of her neck, curling around her until he’s sure he can feel every part of her against him.

“Are you happy?” He asks, with no prior warning to even himself. She pauses where her hands hold his, both of their elbows leaning against the console. He doesn’t look at her for her response, even as they come to a stop at another sign. He hears her sigh, feels her breath against his skin, and sees her move to look out the window out of the corner of his eye.

“Can you pull over?” Her voice is quiet, and when he glances over she’s looking ahead. She points to a small clearing between the trees. “Just up there.”

So he does as asked, moving the car to the side of the road. As soon as he’s come to a stop, she steps out of the car. He feels the chill of the night air crawl through the opened door and he curses for not bringing blankets or a jacket for her.

She closes the door then and leans back against the car. When she doesn’t move, he gets out as well, walking around the car so he can stand next to her. As he gets closer, he can see the chills that raise across her arms and wraps his arms around her. She leans into the touch of his warm hands, closing her eyes and letting her head fall until it’s against his shoulder.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve looked at the stars,” She says simply. He doesn’t know what to say, so he hums, rubbing his hands into the exposed skin on her arms. “Do you remember what I said to you on the phone? It must’ve been one of the first times I heard you talk about the night sky.”

He does, of course. He remembers nearly every word she’d said to him back then. He’d hung onto the syllables as they passed her breath as though they were the only thing keeping him alive. He’d repeat them far past when he’d hit the “end call” button. He’d whisper them to himself as he worked—mindlessly.

And now his hands shake as they trace against her skin. He knows she could have so much more, knows that, if she ever asked, she could be living a life of grandeur that he can’t offer her. He can’t offer her vineyards, or Broadway shows, or art of his own creation. He’s hardly a person, more a jumble of code than anything that could resemble something so beautiful—could hardly compare to the work of marble and satin and silk that he could only ever imagine her as.

“I told you that I’d give every star to you,” She continues. She cranes her neck so she can face him, and though he wishes that he could make her more comfortable, he’s hesitant to take his hands away from the cool touch of her arms. He doubts he could do it gracefully, he’s sure he would shake and she’d catch his hand in the air. She’d smile and press a kiss to his hand, and though he’d continue to shake, it’d be under her delicate hands. He could hardly complain about that.

“I wish I’d-“ He begins, but she shushes him, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

“Nothing for you to wish. It was my wish to give you every star I could find in the night sky. I still wish for it. You can wish for the rivers, or the moons, or the clouds, but the stars are my gift to you.” Now, she turns so he releases his grip on her arms. She brings her hands up to his face, the pads of her thumbs soft against his cheekbones. His hands rest on her hips without another thought, feeling the way her shirt slips under his touch.

“Does that answer your question, my dear?” She asks. He doesn’t dare speak, not when he can feel every consonant she speaks against his skin. He doesn’t dare move to change the moment—would never dream of it. He’s kissed her before, he’s loved her and loved her and loved her—yet the shake in his hands won’t go, yet the way his chest tightens is a familiar feeling and one he’s grown to enjoy.

“No,” He breathes, finally. A smile pulls at her lips, and she lets soft laughter fall into his chest.

“Then let me say it clearly,” She replies. “Yes. I am happy.” She doesn’t let him reply, already pulling him the small distance that lays between them until his lips finally meet hers. He feels the way she smiles into the kiss, and he can’t help but follow, his lips tugging until he matches her. They both laugh, breath mixing with the night air. She pulls away, burying her face into the crook of his neck and he pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her until he’s sure he’s covered enough of her bare skin.

They stand together, arms wrapped around each other, and finally he begins to feel that pull to sleep—he can feel the stars above them, and he can feel her heartbeat against his chest. Hers, hers, hers.

taglist: @drketim @kimjihyun

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Still Like the Letters in Your Name and How They Feel, Babe | Five Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.4k

✦ modern AU

✦ loosely based on the song Still Feel Like Your Man by John Mayer.

✦ summary — you get snowed in with your ex-boyfriend.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of alcohol, language, fluff, dry humping.

✦ author’s note — the lovely @ohdangitsjay wanted me to write dry humping with Five for kinktober but the slot was taken already so I decided to add some of it here.

════════════════════════

Parties weren’t Five’s thing, much less work parties. He would have skipped the event if he hadn’t gotten a promotion less than four months ago.

He always sat on his own, not interested in his coworkers’ lives. He knew more than he needed already, not only because of their loose tongues but because they were open books.

He would’ve rather been at his place, alone like he had been spending his time for the past months.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get close to you.”

Five lifted his head out of courtesy, he had recognized his coworker’s voice immediately. She was pretty, he could admit that, but he had read her intentions months ago and he wasn’t interested. “Mmhmm. I know.”

“I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He felt buzzing in his pants and he didn’t know whether to thank whoever was calling or kill them for bothering him now. Lifting a hand so the woman in front of him wouldn’t speak furthermore, he withdrew his cellphone from his pocket.

Vanya’s photo almost blinded him. He cursed — he hadn’t lowered the screen brightness like a fucking idiot.

Excusing himself, he pushed his way out of the venue. Letting the phone ring in his grasp, allowing himself to take in a deep breath of fresh air, he stood under the cold night.

Vanya insisted which confused him, she always knew when to stop bothering him. And that night, even his coworker insisted. He shook his head as he saw her walk out of the venue, wrapped in her coat.

Taking the call just to avoid her, he grunted, “What?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as Vanya explained that she needed him to pick you up from a bar. Thinking the worst, he exhaled, “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Not soon enough, it seems.” He dropped his phone in his coat this time. His coworker’s expression of hurt didn’t faze him, but he still explained himself, “Look, you’re not the problem, it’s just that I know your intentions and I’m taken.”

Five had never wished a lie he had told was true until now. He wasn’t taken anymore, but he was still yours, at least he felt like that. He’d never find another you, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to start looking either.

Tugging his car open, he withdrew his cellphone from his coat and slid into the driver seat. Five introduced the key into the clutch, yet he didn’t ignite the engine.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, considering the option of turning his phone off and coming up with an excuse days later. But he didn’t have it in him, not this time when he had a chance to see you — so many days after the morning you left.

The quicker he got it over with, the quicker he would be able to drown himself in alcohol to pretend it hadn’t happened.

His sister was already waiting for him near the entrance of the bar. Vanya turned her head to the side. Five followed the movement with his eyes and ultimately you came into vision. Only you would wear a dress in this weather, always claiming you never got cold.

He knew it wasn’t true, but you were stubborn. His siblings often said he wouldn’t have been so smitten if you weren’t as stubborn and they were right, he liked the challenge. And although he would never admit this out loud, he liked giving in to your stubbornness. He missed it.

You hadn’t realized he was there, head on your friend’s shoulder as they all talked. He could tell how drunk you were just by the lazy position of your hand on your lap.

“Why can’t you take her home?”

“No, God, no! You misunderstood what I said, Five. I need you to take her with you.”

Five gave his sister an incredulous look, hoping she was joking. When he realized Vanya was serious, he shook his head. “You know she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Besides, she’s drunk out of her mind, she might hug you instead of breaking your nose.”

He glared at her. Although his nose was more than fine, that punch hurt.

“Please? For me? I haven’t spent enough time with Sissy in weeks.”

“Too much information, Vanya!” he chastised, shaking his head as he walked past his sister.

It bordered on cruel, having you so close and knowing you would’ve been against it if you knew he was there.

Vanya placed a hand on his shoulder, not reassuring whatsoever as he defeatedly sighed. Only the two of you could convince him to do anything, and his sister still used it to her advantage.

He stood before you and your friends. Chatter died, you didn’t react. His eyes crossed your closest friend’s after Vanya, and as she nodded downward he understood that everybody thought you would be safer with him.

“Come on, (Name),” he said softly, hoping you wouldn’t make a scene.

You turned your head to the side, facing him. His breath faltered. Frowning, you just stared, mind too hazy to come up with a question to blurt even though a few crossed it.

How was work? Did Grace like the jacket you got for her? Are we going home soon?

He nudged his head to the side, signaling toward the exit. “Come on, you’ve got things to do tomorrow.”

Your friends tensed at his comment, but he didn’t think much of the gesture.

Sissy handed him your coat, watching him carefully. Five held the coat for you to slide your arms in, and out of habit helped you to fold it close and button it up.

You interlocked your arm with his, head lulling toward his shoulder. Vanya shoved your purse into his chest, prompting him to hold it in his hand as he gave her a final nod in goodbye.

════════════════════════

You woke up in an all too familiar room. Absolutely nothing had changed, the walls were the same blue walls you had stared at for hours as you waited for someone who cared more about their job than their girlfriend to get back from work.

By the looks of it, Five had been so busy that he didn't even have time to get rid of things you had gifted him. They were in the place they had been the last time you visited him — books stacked up, music records leaned against the other... the painting you had helped him choose still hung over his desk.

“Ah, you’re awake." His voice made you jump. "Coffee? An aspirin?”

You shuffled, pushing the duvet off your body in order to leave the bed. “Why am I here?”

The cold floor made you shiver. You searched for your shoes, looking down as you inwardly cursed yourself for wearing a dress when Vanya told you not to.

“You don’t remember going out last night? Vanya called me.” He tilted his head as he asked, frowning.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, slipping your shoes on before lifting your head to look at him. “But why didn’t you take me home?”

He winced. “Well, Vanya needed the apartment to herself.”

Dragging your eyes off him, not able to look at his face for too long, you whined, ”Unbelievable! She ditched me to get some pussy!”

Realizing your purse had been on the bed all this time, you popped it open and withdrew your phone. You looked at the time and your eyes widened. “Fuck, fuck. I’ll be late!”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Your gaze snapped in his direction. He looked so serious that it made your blood boil. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

He groaned. “We’re snowed in, idiot.”

“No, no, no... this can’t be happening. Not to me. Not today.” You stood by the window and peered out. He hadn’t lied, the streets were covered in white as snow, which was still falling, piled up. You would’ve found the scenery gorgeous if you weren’t so stressed. “FUCK!”

Only you had such bad luck... getting snowed in with your ex-boyfriend today from all days.

“I’m sure your mom will understand,” he tried to assure you.

In any other instance you would’ve found it sweet that he remembered you visited your mom every Saturday, or that he was trying to comfort you.

You corrected him, “I have a date today.”

“Oh.”

Unlocking your cellphone, you scrolled down your contact list. Your finger hovered over the call button. What would you say? ‘Hey, I’m sorry I can’t meet up with you today, I’m stuck in my ex-boyfriend’s apartment’?

Seeing your exasperation as you went through your phone, he painfully said, “Don’t be dramatic, your date must understand you can’t control the weather.”

“We had been putting this off for a while,” you confided him like you used to when he was your best friend, back when he hadn’t broken your heart yet and he still had time for you. “He’s so nice and sweet... “ you trailed off before sighing, “I was hoping not to ruin it.”

“Why didn’t Vanya call him if he’s so sweet?” he asked, voice laced with venom. He was challenging you to lie to him.

Honestly, you answered, “I’m guessing she doesn’t trust him.”

A shiver ran through you, prompting you to rub your arms.

Five walked toward his closet and opened the doors. “You left some clothes here, I’m sure you can find something in case you want to take a shower or get changed... ah! Your red sweatshirt is in the laundry room.”

Unable to keep it in, you shrieked, “You lent my clothes to other people?!”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, no malice in his tone, “I wore it myself.” Turning around, finding it hard to read your expression, he blurted, “Once.”

You did find something to wear, and for the second time that day, you felt as though nothing had changed. Nothing made more sense than having a space for your own clothes in his closet.

You entrenched yourself in the bathroom as soon as possible. Being around him was worse than you ever anticipated, you wanted to be angry and hostile yet you were too emotionally exhausted for that.

Failed interpersonal relationships were your norm. The day you met Vanya you felt as though you were having a friend for the first time; then Five came around and became your best friend, your confidant. Having him around used to be easy, even when you developed feelings for him.

The day you left him was one of the hardest days of your life. You didn’t cry, only numbness enveloped you in a tight grip — a grip you had gotten free from a little too late.

Your friends tried introducing you to people multiple times, but it never worked. It wasn’t because of Five, not entirely, you simply weren’t good with new people. And you missed Five, but that was different.

Missing him had become an afterthought, work kept you busy in the same stupid way it kept him. Guilt never took over you, why would it when you hadn’t neglected anyone because of your job? In fact, you were sure you would get over him soon when work became your priority.

Until a few minutes ago, the illusion had been good. What a sweet lie you told yourself for weeks and weeks.

You regretted entering the shower the second you turned around to grab some shampoo. Tears prickled your eyes the moment they fell on a familiar bottle. It didn’t have any marks of use, not a single gram dripped down the bottle, dry product was nowhere to be seen around the cap.

You confirmed that the bottle was brand new when you tested its weight in your grasp. A sob escaped you. Why would he keep your favorite shampoo in his shower?

You couldn’t bring yourself to use it, so instead, you grabbed Five’s shampoo and squeezed some onto your palm.

After a tear-ridden shower, you quickly got dressed and stood behind the door for a prolonged moment.

A heavy silence greeted you as you stepped into the living room. You had expected the sound of fingers against a keyboard or page flipping, but instead, you found Five slouched over his stomach with a piece of red fabric on his lap.

Feeling your presence, he murmured, “Here.” Five offered you the sweatshirt which you took hesitantly.

“I don’t use that shampoo anymore,” you blurted before you could process the words your entire being was desperate for him to hear.

He hummed, avoiding your face at every cost as he stared past you. He really needed to decorate the living room, at least a little bit. “You found a better one?”

“No,” you mumbled. Sliding the sweatshirt on, you waited for him to say something. Five didn’t, he stayed in the same position until you sat down beside him.

As he twisted his body to face you and his eyes landed on your face, you were able to see he had been crying too.

“What did your date say?” he asked, ever the masochist one.

You shrugged. “I haven’t texted him.”

“You should at least call your mom. Tell her you’re safe.”

Nodding slowly, you then turned your face to the other side. He didn’t mean anything more than exactly what he said and yet your heart thumped in your chest at a rhythm you had forgotten it was able to beat.

“She misses you. The whole family does.”

“Tell them I miss them too. Please.”

You sniffed, bolting off the couch. Walking into his bedroom, you tried to ignore the strong smell of his cologne as you blindly palmed the bed in search of your phone.

“Are you okay?”

Tears didn’t allow you to see him properly, but you could tell he was leaning on the doorway.

“I don’t want to talk about anything,” you warned him, scared a fight would ensue if you spoke your mind. “My head hurts.”

You heard him move around the room, opening and closing a drawer. Then you felt him close, so close his breath fanned on the side of your face as he spoke, “It’s paracetamol, it’ll be gentler with your stomach.”

Blinking the tears away, you faced him — this time fully. Opening your palm, you waited for him to drop the pill onto it. Five looked down, softly placing the white circle on your palm.

Closing your fist around the pill, you threw your arms all over his neck. Taken by surprise, he felt his hands tremble as he placed them on your lower back.

Nothing extraordinary happened, and you loved it. He was just as warm as you remembered, and you were as comfortable in his arms this time as you had been before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, careful not to move you too harshly as he pulled you onto his chest, “so, so, so sorry. You can’t even imagine how stupid I feel.”

“Shhh, it’s fine.”

“We both know it isn’t.”

“Don’t wanna talk,” you reminded him.

So he hugged you tighter. And once again, it felt like nothing had changed — because nothing had, because the idea of moving on was nice on paper and nothing more.

“I’m pretty sure the pill melted in my hand...”

He snorted, begrudgingly parting from you. “I’ll get you some water and another one.”

You stared at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your hands and immediately splashed water onto your face. It was cold, but that was exactly what you were looking for in attempts to make your face less puffy after all that crying.

Five watched you in silence, ready to give you the pill and the glass.

Drying your hands, you thanked him and then proceeded to take the glass from his hand.

“Don’t go out with him,” Five pleaded, unable to keep it in for longer. “I don’t deserve it, but please give me a second chance.”

You glared at him as you snatched the pill from his open palm. Instead of giving him an answer, you swallowed the pill.

He took this as a sign that you needed more convincing. “I promise I’ll spend every second of my free time with you.”

You lowered the glass before you could take another sip of water, scoffing as you walked toward the window once again. “Oh, come on, Five, I never asked for that. I just wanted you to put some effort.”

“I’ll do that, then. Anything.”

“Can you really do that?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, placing the glass down onto the bedside table. You were always so eager to believe in him... you could only hope this time your heart didn’t end up in tiny pieces. “It’s obvious that I don’t need much convincing.”

“That’s fine by me.” Five shrugged, looking down at his hands.

You grabbed his hands, making him look at you. He intertwined your fingers with his, biting his bottom lip as you lifted your eyebrows.

He huffed a laugh upon realizing you were waiting for him to kiss you and for a millisecond considered teasing you, but you knew him so well that you had seen through his nervous demeanor.

Leaning in, he stared into your eyes in search for permission. You tilted your head, brushing your nose with his, fanning your breath on his lips. Five’s mouth met yours in the middle, slowly at the beginning.

You let go of his hands, snaking your arms around his neck to bring him closer. His hands found home on your waist, just as he picked up his pace.

As a moan slid past your lips, he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Five moved one of his hands to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

Breathless, you were forced to barely push him away. You stared at his red lips as you gasped for air, ragged breath mingling with his own.

And then his lips were on yours again. The hand on the back of your head fell to your spine as he walked you backward. Five laid you on the bed, careful not to hurt you yet never taking his lips off yours.

Pressing kisses on the side of your neck, he roughly grabbed your hips, making you moan as his hard-on was pressed against your crotch.

Your hips worked against his in sync, so naturally that you still had half a mind to wonder how the fuck you had lasted this long without him all over you.

Five’s groans grew deliciously deep as his hands trailed down to massage your thighs. His mouth sucked on your neck as he pulled you flush against him.

You inwardly thanked whichever God existed for the cold weather. Not only did Five look amazing in sweatpants, but the soft material allowed you to feel the outline of his hard cock even through your leggings as he humped you.

“Would really love to fuck you,” you panted, “but there’s no way I’m taking my clothes off right now. I’m freezing!“

He laughed against your skin. One of his hands left your thigh and he tugged on the covers, draping them over both of you, covering yourselves from head to toes.

Five continued to kiss your neck, still moving his hips against yours albeit more slowly.

“I missed you,” he spoke before you could mutter a teasing comment about how desperate he was for you.

You played with the small hairs on the back of his head, humming as you rocked up against him. “I missed you too. But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he said cheekily, letting his weight fall on top of you as he leaned into your touch.

You relaxed against the mattress as his warmth combined with the shielding covers seeped through you. Five slipped an arm under your head, fingers brushing your neck as his other hand came up to softly grip your face.

You hummed in acknowledgment, knowing he wanted to say something.

“We didn’t call your mom.”

You breathed out a small laugh. “I wasn’t supposed to see her today, don’t worry.”

He tensed over you, frowning as he processed what you had just said. Deciding to ignore the fact that you were probably planning to hook up with your date, Five slowly lowered his head so it would rest on your chest.

It didn’t matter what you had planned to do when you were there under him. He was still your man, he had felt as such ever since the day you met — and he wouldn’t fuck it up a second time.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (9/12)

Summary:  

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Notes: Sorry for taking my sweet time posting this. We had no wifi for a while, transpo issue and I was dead asleep as soon as I got home two nights in a row lmfao. 

Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Levi might have felt a little guilty about letting loose just that evening but his conservative mind was finding all the ways to justify it.

Maybe the justifications held some weight. After all, taking the midnight train out of the city wasn’t the strangest thing to do. Hange and Levi weren’t the only ones at the ticket gate then they weren’t the only ones waiting on the platform. On the train, Levi could count the number of empty seats more easily than the occupied ones.

He started to relax as soon as he settled on one of the seats. He convinced himself that in the end, he had been overreacting. There was nothing at all odd with rushing to her home then to his, packing two overnight bags and buying two last minute tickets to the northernmost station of their country.

To Pemberley. Levi didn’t have the time to load the book into his reader again. He instead downloaded the pdf file to his phone.

He had willed himself to make sense of the black on the bright white screen before deciding, it was too late at night to read. Instead he propped his elbows on the windowsill and leaned his chin on his hand. He snuck a glance at Hange who sat in front of him, leaning on the window in that same way.

A long day behind them, they were both exhausted. On the bright side, if Levi closed his eyes and let the train rock to whatever rhythm it was most comfortable with, he was sure that in a split second, they would have arrived at their destination.

Sleep could have lasted less than a second. Next thing Levi knew, he was fighting to open his eyes. The sun rose without warning, the only thing between them just an empty glass that did nothing to protect him from the first rays of morning.

Levi quickly adjusted his view, making sure he wasn’t directly staring at the sky like a while ago. He craned his head back, instead focusing on the rolling hills and the countryside.

It wasn’t the British countryside in the book. It didn’t seem at all like a Pemberley or a Rosings Park or Longbourn. Still, he delved into the passing green and foraged for whatever similarities his sleep muddled mind could come up with.

One thing Levi dared to note, despite his limited experience traveling, the view from an interregional highway, or an interregional train, the rolling hills that passed by, the clusters of trees that varied in density and the plains that dotted the view were all the same regardless of location. Despite the variety nature could offer, nature still had unifying characteristics. While at the same time, nature was distinct from everything non-nature.

And when it wasn’t unwillingly tamed, paved over, forced to coexist with concrete, buildings and humans, it was a sight to behold.

It was enough to take his breath away, enough to make him almost regretful that the train was moving too fast for him to stare for just a second longer at a changing landscape or canopies that blurred amongst one another.

Eventually, regret at not appreciating nature had him exhausted. He turned in front of him to see Hange’s eyes were fixed at whatever passing objects caught her eye outside the window. Her head bobbed, her eyes darted from left to right and her mouth was half open and she didn’t seem at all in a hurry to close them.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first time seeing this much nature,” Levi said, a humble start to light conversation.

Hange seemed comfortable going along with it. “It isn’t. We had the country club,” she said. There was a nonchalant look on her face as if she saw the ‘country club’ as more of a consolation.

Levi couldn’t help but agree. Golf courses were all green, the mini forests that lined the paths from the golf courses, to the beaches to the summer houses were all nature. Yet they were of a type of nature, trained not to bite any unsuspecting visitors.

When Levi leaned back on his chair, turning his head out of the window, he appreciated the raw green for a second longer. Then he concluded, there was novelty in seeing nature at its most candid form.

Hange spoke up. “You know, I haven’t been able to leave the city since we left the country club. And not traveling in months... This feels new.”

“But you’ve travelled before,” Levi responded.

“Of course I have,” Hange said. “Zeke would always take me out to the best gardens, the best parks, the best hiking trails… He knows I like nature.”

“So he took you to ‘Pemberley?’ Then to ‘Rosing Park then Longborn?” Most were likely fictional places but at that point, Hange may have had her own idea of what fictional was.

“No, not to my Pemberley,” Hange said, like it was the most unimportant thing in the world. “Never.”

“So this was supposed to be your first time going together?” Levi asked. He noted that they never did get to sit down and map the route to Hange’s dream destinations. Hell, he didn’t even know where they were.

He opened his phone, then the map of the northernmost region.

The capital of the northern region had city buses, a small subway system, nothing like what they had back home. Levi traced the blue and the green, pondering for himself which had the most rolling hills, the most ‘gardens.’ Obviously, over a very zoomed out map and a few hundred mile radius, it would be difficult to tell so he consulted Hange. “We could take an unlimited bus ticket… or a two day all you can ride train---”

“No. We rent a car,” Hange said.

“Wait, but if we don’t know the land--.” There were too many excuses he could have brought up. The excuse he was most hesitant to even fathom seemed most pressing then. Levi didn’t know how to drive.

Hange probably saw through it. “I’ll drive.” The cheeky grin on her face was enough of a hint, she was more than ready for adventure.

Levi closed the maps application and pocketed his phone. “So I’m assuming you’ll be doing the navigation.”

Hange only nodded, her smug smile getting wider by the second.

***

Hange surprisingly knew how to navigate the complexities of building an itinerary. What the hell she was doing, how the hell she was doing it and what the hell her plan was, Levi couldn’t be too sure.

Thirty minutes into arriving at the regional train station, they had rented a car and secured a pocket wifi. Thirty five minutes into it, Hange was pulling out of the station in a rented sedan.

The train station was situated in the middle of the city and in the car, Levi had to subdue the panic which came with going out of the city then seeing the scenery slowly shift from five story buildings to two story houses then finally to the peaceful green offered by the city outskirts. He wondered why they had even taken a train station to town if they were going back into countryside landscapes anyway.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Levi asked. Levi knew that Hange had been there once before. Just the idea that someone could actually easily navigate expressways and exits without a phone on the dock and a guide seemed almost unnerving.

“Ish,” Hange said, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“We have wifi, we could use a maps application to navigate?” Levi never drove, he wouldn’t know but, it couldn’t hurt to be just a little more careful.

“Maybe later. I’ve been here more than enough times,” Hange said. They rode in silence for a minute or so more before she turned to him. “We’re gonna be on the road for a while and driving on the freeway gets boring.”

Levi glanced up at her questioningly.

Hange caught his eye “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“How was your date with Petra?” The question came out of nowhere and Hange had said it too casually and too abruptly and that had Levi choking on his own saliva.

He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Your date with Petra? Didn’t you tell me you would be going on one?”

“I did,” Levi admitted. “Because you asked me to,” he added, a second later.

“I suggested it.” Hange clarified. “And how did it feel?”

“Good.” His response was automatic.

One hand on the steering wheel, Hange pulled her phone from her lap, unlocked it and turned on her modified emotions alarm. “Turn yours on.”

Levi only saw one reason why she’d do all that. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

“Well, you went through all the trouble of making the gift right? Let’s make use of it.”

Levi could have fought. He only needed five seconds to see reason in her order. Besides, if she turned hers on, it would turn out to be a fair trade. He turned on his phone scrolled through the home screens and opened the application.

“So how did it feel?” Hange asked. She set her phone on the stand and hovered one finger over the activate button.

“It felt good,” Levi willed himself to say it with the same conviction as a second ago, firm and straightforward but just a little shaky underneath.

Still too shaky to deceive his own application. A yellow spot just under the words ‘happy’ would have been nice. After all, ‘good’ was a word that generally implied that something was good, something made me happy. The alarm flashed with green and Levi had half the mind to fling his phone over the backseat of the car.

“Happy sad? Or sad happy?” Hange asked, there was a laugh in her voice.

Was she mocking me? It felt like a much better argument to quote her, mock her maybe. He glared at her. You told me love is a choice right? By some allusion, Levi attempted to put it all together. “I’m making the choice to say it was a good and productive date. We tried to pick out a good present for you.”

“And in the end, you decided to make an application,” Hange said. “Did Petra suggest anything?”

“Tea, a wallet, a pencil case…”

“I would have enjoyed those,” Hange said.

“It didn’t seem like that to me,” Levi admitted. He studied her features as he spoke.

Hange’s face was unchanging, her eyes still looking straight ahead. Levi was almost amazed she managed to keep some of her focus in conversation. Hange turned the car, swerving towards one exit.

Levi winced at the white that flashed in front of him for a split second. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“About what?”

“About the date?” He answered. Levi gave Hange a good once over, ending with her hand on the clutch. Her hand wasn’t shaking, but she held it like she was going to pull it out of its place any second now.

Hange paused. She had hovered her hand over the alarm but she never did activate it.

Levi subtly turned towards the phone then back at her. “Happy?” At that point, maybe a mischievous side of him had taken over. He wanted to provoke her.

Hange poked the active button on her phone, much harder than necessary, hard enough for Levi to wonder if it had reduced the phone’s lifespan by even just a year or so.

Her phone flashed once again with a purple dot.

Levi noticed her eyes widen for a second then a flash of pink flowered on her cheeks before she looked away. “Angry sad or sad angry?” He asked, deliberately mimicking Hange’s old tone of a while ago. It came out more of a growl than whatever naturally sing songy voice Hange managed everyday. Either way it had been a satisfying set of motions.

“Angry sad… Or maybe sad angry?” Hange murmured. Then she hummed for a second longer, the car slowed down with it and she turned back to him. “I feel...purple,” she said.

Purple isn’t a feeling. Levi glanced accusingly at her. Hange though wasn’t looking back at him. If she saw anything through her peripherals, she didn’t make it obvious.

With her own series of gestures, Hange had given one message. She didn’t want to be bothered.

Yet, she had asked him about Petra for a reason.

Levi couldn’t tell how much he saw was a trick of the light or a clear hint. Hange’s jaw had tightened, her eyes narrowed ahead. She didn’t talk much after the word ‘purple’ that softened to a whisper mid word.

For the first time, she wasn’t being completely transparent

Levi then felt less obligated to open up. “If you’re feeling purple, then I’m feeling green,” he said.

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

The car exited the main road to a road half its size. Although the car always rattled, it was particularly more obvious then and as Levi looked out the window and back at her, he realized that maybe it was because she was slowing down.

Slowing down, or maybe vacillating the best course of action.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just trying to remember the way around here,” Hange said. She looked behind her, then forward again.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m gonna use this birthday weekend of mine to take a trip down memory lane, reflect on stuff.”

“If that’s how you want to celebrate your birthday…” Levi checked his phone once more before pocketing it.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Hange said, her tone more serious. “Going on these types of treks, they really help. More than you probably think they do.”

Levi could at least try to understand it, if he just focused on how far apart the houses were, the notable manicured green of his surroundings and every single tree, flower, root and bush that just seemed to have a place. All acting prim and proper as if they were doing the gardens a favor.

There must be some appeal at least. “It’s quiet,” Levi noted as the car slowed to a stop to the side of the road.

“Most of the houses here aren’t occupied,” Hange answered. “Who actually wants to live in the middle of nowhere all year round.”

Levi turned around once, scanning his surroundings for a second longer. The houses were too far apart, he counted five just by doing a 360 but he knew if he squinted and took in the other shapes far past the downhill slope he could count more. “From the looks of the houses here, rich people,” Levi said.

“During the summer maybe or during the winter vacation. Every other time of the year most people will stay out in the city so they’re nearer to work,” Hange said. “Zeke owns this house.” She didn't have to point far, Hange only had to casually brush her thumb over to her side for Levi to follow her gaze.

Of course Zeke would own one. When Levi looked behind him again, then looked to the far left and the far right, he had to admit Zeke had one of the grandest ones, a wide two story mansion situated at the top of a hill.

“This is my Rosings Park,” Hange said. She walked towards the small pedestrian gate, pulled a key from her pocket and with a quick flick of movements--- as if she had done it so many times before--- she unlocked then pushed the metal gate open with a creak.

The view behind the black bars was only more beautiful. They climbed the hill and slowly but surely, Levi was getting a much better view of the house on top. He noted that the house gleamed with a type of beauty that could take one’s breath away. He had been a little self conscious though and he found himself willing his mouth shut, letting his breaths come out with a more rehearsed rhythm.

“Did you ever continue the book?” Hange asked, her eyes fixed ahead.

It was easy to tell which book she had been talking about. “Since you spoiled me? No,” he admitted.

“Then I don’t think you’ve read far enough into the book if you still think Elizabeth ended up with Mr. Wickham,” Hange said. “You probably won’t appreciate Rosings park then.”

“You still remember…” Levi could have sworn it had been months since he told her about the book.

“The book means a lot to me,” Hange said. Her words were a bit more careful that time, but she was starting to climb the hill, a little faster as if whatever scenes were running through her head then had injected in her, enough energy for adventure.

Levi brushed away a rush of guilt and he followed behind her. “Go spoil,” he said. I’m sorry about being angry. He didn’t say those last two words, awe, exhaustion or maybe a combination of both had him opting to stay quiet. Maybe he chose to reflect and as he followed behind, he started to wonder why he had been angry about her spoiling in the first place.

Hange seemed surprisingly eager to spoil him. The first words out of her mouth came out unimpeded. “Rosings Park is where Mr. Darcy first proposed to Elizabeth.”

First proposed. “So she rejected him?” Levi asked.

Hange turned back to him and nodded, a strange smile on her face. “And why do you think Elizabeth would reject Mr. Darcy?”

“He was an asshole right?”

“According to Elizabeth that is…” Hange looked at him expectantly but Levi for the life of him couldn’t tell what she wanted. She didn’t give him time to answer. She ran straight ahead towards the side of the house.

Levi was left with no choice but to follow. After all, the grounds were much larger than Levi had expected. From his view at the bottom of the hill, the house had seemed small, only composed of the front porch. As Hange went behind the house, disappearing in the corner, Levi started to suspect that the summer house was larger.

Consequently, Levi was occupying himself over the wealth of Zeke.

Again. The view didn’t do anything to help. The corner opened up to manicured gardens, clean cut hedges and flowers that could have been arranged by some invisible hand. Or maybe they were arranged artificially. It probably wasn’t beyond Zeke and his money to find ways to grow flowers so they were evenly spaced, further accentuating the fiery orange and bright red on the simple green.

Hange followed the stone path that lined the large house, slowly balancing on the pebbled line that cut between the cobbled stone path like it was a tightrope. She had the balance, maybe the eagerness to look straight ahead, and Levi couldn't really follow her gaze or be certain of where she was staring.

She didn’t look particularly entranced at anything as if she had seen it so many times before.

“This is one of Jaeger summer houses,” Hange said. She stopped by the fork of the path, one side circled the house, the other went straight into the garden. “He has others all over the country, others abroad. Too many to count and I don’t even think I’ve been to all of them.”

“Okay.” Levi had felt pressured to say something. As the awkward silence dragged on, Levi realized that might have not been the best thing to say.

What else was there to say though?

Wow the garden is so nice. It seemed like an appropriate thing to say but it didn’t feel like something he would have liked to admit to Hange.

Wow your husband is so rich. What else would that do but reiterate what Levi already knew?

Wow, I wish I was your husband. That last one felt like a mind fart. Something that had seemed natural to think but as Levi pondered it for a second longer, he realized just thinking that exact phrase seemed all the more inappropriate.

“Does it seem artificial?” Hange asked.

“Yes, it does.” That answer came out easier definitely, especially when it wasn’t a begrudging compliment. Especially when in the back of his mind, he could remind himself, those weren’t his words, those were Hange’s.

Hange continued to indulge him. “Gaudy?”

“Very tacky, incredibly tacky.” Maybe those words had seemed more for him than for anyone else. A hint of guilt settled at his chest but then he remembered, the Jaeger family had more than enough money. He could spare a few unkind words. He looked at Hange, trying his best, to keep his eyes away from the garden in front of him, before he started to doubt the reliability of his own words.

Despite the ‘gaudiness,’ Hange walked ahead, following the stony path and Levi followed behind. Beyond the shiny manicured hedges were benches, a gazebo and Hange sat one of the ones closest to the top, just before the steep incline fell. It was a good vantage point for a comprehensive view of the garden.

At the highest point, the green expanded in all directions. He could pick out how the sun kissed the lawn, the trees and how they shone with something seemingly unnatural. The more Levi stared, the more easily it became to pick out what gaudiness Hange had been talking about.

With his eyes looking out for the right glimmers, he soon figured for himself, they shone like plastic. It soon became apparent to Levi, there was something artificial and tacky about manicured lawns, well trimmed hedges and carefully positioned flowers. The guilt assuaged and Levi felt all the more confident to look back at Hange. “Why do you like it here then?”

“It’s still Rosings park to me,” Hange said matter-of-factly.

“And what’s so special about Mr. Darcy’s first proposal?”

“Read the book,” Hange said as if that were the easiest thing to do then.

The book was loaded into his phone. It was just a few clicks away, reading was an entirely different process and Levi found it tempting to overlook that order---or that friendly suggestion altogether.

“Just spoil me. You spoiled me already before,” Levi said.

“Mr. Darcy first proposed here.”

You said that already. “And? What’s so special about that?”

Hange didn't reply to him immediately. For a long few seconds, she stared at nothing in particular then turned to him, a defiant look on her face. “You know, you remind me of Mister Darcy.” A backhanded insult maybe, enough to have Levi looking away as blood rushed to his face.

Anger, it was definitely anger. “How do I remind you of Mister Darcy?” Levi challenged.

“Read---”

“Don’t.” Levi looked away.. “Tell me to read the book.”

“And there you are again.” Hange waved one hand at him, as if making a point.

A point Levi could only grip weakly. “You think I’m an asshole?” One realization dawned on him, maybe he had been pressing a little too much at her points.

“Not an asshole. A well intentioned man with a very abrasive manner of speaking.”

“Abrasive?” Levi asked. When he realized he put a little too much lip into the ‘br’ and too much throat into that last last syllable that Hange might have just been right, but only just. “What makes you think I’m abrasive?” He added, a second later, just making his manner of saying the word ‘abrasive,’ softer and tamer.

Hange looked pointedly at him. She stood up, right in front of the gazebo. And she stood there for a second longer, as if she expected him to follow.

It was awkward to sit alone on a bench, in a garden he wasn’t familiar with, especially when the partner of the owner was standing seemingly uncomfortable by the gazebo. He stood up and walked towards her.

“Was I at least tolerable?” Hange asked with a very distinct tone, a hint of a mock accent in her voice.

Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. For some reason, those words had stuck with him. “Why the hell are you citing the book?”

“Oh, so you noticed. I wanna play a bit,” Hange said.

“Play what?”

“Just play a bit with the man who reminds me so much of Mister Darcy,” Hange said. The insult still poked at Levi at his most irritable and he was tempted to walk away.

Hange put one hand out and the most natural movement was to look back. “What do you want?” Levi asked. Two parts of him were grappling for control, one with the intention to walk away and one tempted to take her hand. “Why are you putting your hand out?”

She’s married. She’s married. She’s married.

“May I have this dance?” Hange asked.

No, you cannot dance with a married person. People go to balls because they’re single. His conscience wasn’t screaming but it had grumbled it with utmost authority.

Holding hands was off limits. Holding hands with a married person in one of the summer houses of her billionaire husband was very much off limits. What the hell was Hange thinking? His head started to spin, there was a hitch of breath and Levi didn’t even think confusion could have sent a prickle in his eyes.

The hand quickly disappeared from in front of him. Levi looked up to see Hange had pulled that hand back and it fell to her side. Still, Hange was moving it, as if it was still very much fair game. “See, you’re a softie at heart,” she said.

“What are you trying to prove?” Levi asked.

“That you’re like Mr. Darcy?” Hange was getting more and more smug. “Mr. Darcy didn’t wanna dance either.”

“We’re not in a ball,” Levi said, blood rushing to his cheeks. Suddenly everything seemed like an insult. Darcy was an asshole yet a big softie. Two descriptions on two different ends of the spectrum. Levi started to reflect. Which description was more insulting?

Hange leaned back on the gazebo. ”Let me enjoy this, I met a guy who reminds me of mister Darcy. Then when we first met, I thought you hated me, if not hated me, I thought you just hated the world,” she said.

"How can you assume that from our first meeting?" Levi asked.

Hange sighed. "You sat too far away from me, you acted like my being there was an inconvenience and you weren't too happy to be answering all my questions."

"I was being professional."

"I have met sales people nicer than that."

Levi wasn’t a salesman. That much, he could admit. "And just because I was a little abrasive, you'll assume I hate you?"

"What can I say, that's my prejudice," Hange said. She didn't look like she would have bothered to hear much about his explanation.

"And what are you going to say now? My own abrasiveness is pride?" Levi challenged. Really, he was in no mood for a challenge then, a challenge he didn’t himself understand. He sighed and turned back to the bench. From the mischievous glint in Hange’s eyes, it was obvious there were way more things he still didn’t understand. “Give me time to finish the book,” he said.

He stretched his legs out, unlocked his phone and opened the ebook file.

He didn't remember the last words where he stopped but he did remember one particular passage that seemed a little bolder, the ink darker particularly on the bright white of his phone screen.

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

Then comprehension came quickly after that. Levi scanned through the next page, until reaching a point where he knew there was new information.

Back to that asshole Darcy. At that point, Levi was in less of a mood to reflect. Hange had called him Darcy, he still considered that one character to be a total asshole and he found himself torn between denying and accepting his sad fate.

Hange continued to move, a flicker at his peripherals. He felt it clearly, she sat beside him again. He heard the click as she unlocked her phone. Then the all too familiar sound as the love alarm activated. Love alarm or Emotion alarm?

Levi cursed himself for reusing that damn sound. He glanced quickly, just to search for some flash in the color. He couldn't really tell the contents of her phone from his angle. And when he had gathered up the courage to look, Hange had already pocketed it.

“Peaceful isn’t it?” Hange started.

“How do you feel today?” Levi asked. He kept his voice disconnected, not looking at all at Hange.

“Happy,” she said.

Levi had turned on his own application almost surreptitiously, making the conscious effort to silence it just a second ago.

The alarm flashed before him again. A very familiar yellow, with the words happy on top.

“Good for you then,” Levi finally responded.

He made another conscious effort, a quick sanity check, just to make sure the smile wasn’t apparent in his tone.

The house wasn't empty.

As Levi soon found out as they made their way back out to the gate, there were housekeepers, gardeners. And they seemed fond of Hange, fond enough to even remember her birthday. Some had even been friendly enough to ask who the man with her was.

Friendly. Or suspicious. For a while longer, Levi was self conscious.

But there was nothing to hide. He and Hange after all had just gotten friendly over the months.

“This is Levi, he’s a developer helping me work on my PhD,” Hange explained it like it was just the truth.. “And I thought I’d show him around the estate. If you don’t mind…” And it was the stone cold truth and as she spoke, Levi couldn’t help but be fascinated at how feelings of sadness, guilt and relief mixed so easily together inside him.

The housekeeper shook her head. “No, we don’t mind at all. Do you two need lodging? We could prepare---”

Hange put her hands up in front of her. “No, that would be too much. We’re only here for the night and I think I wanna go further up north.”

“Just like last time?” Worry flashed across the housekeeper’s face for just a second. “You know it gets dangerous nearer to the mountains…”

“We’ll only be there for a while, just long enough to see it again. And we’ll be careful about it.” Hange looked like she was saying too much. But she always talked so it shouldn’t have been such an odd thing to think. Maybe because Hange spoke with a little more tension, her words came out of her much faster, sometimes stilted and Levi found himself staring, then avoided her gaze as he realized he couldn’t even control what he was feeling.

The quick exchange eventually ended and he was following Hange out of the house. Her strides were much harder to keep up with.

“Sorry about that,” Hange said. “I get nervous when I visit the Jaeger estate alone.”

“You’re married to Zeke, you have every right to be there.”

“I married Zeke, not his money. I don’t wanna play the partner that just suddenly enjoys all the richest and powers of my husband. That’s why I didn’t even take his name. I’m not a gold digger. I’m not a Jaeger, we just so happened to get married.” She got into the car and closed the door with a louder slam than usual.” I’d feel much better staying over if Zeke was with me.”

“You didn’t have to take me here either if you were uncomfortable.”

“I wanted to show you my Rosing Park,” Hange said. She placed her hand on the clutch and started the car. “And next, we go to ‘Pemberley.’ It’s a few hours away from here so buckle up.”

The car pulled out from the driveway and soon they were out on the road again.

A few minutes of silence later, Levi started to get a little restless. “This book really means a lot to you huh?” He asked.

Hange nodded then she was quiet for a while longer and Levi thought it proper to just let her navigate her way through. The car continued to whirr and if Levi looked closely, he even noticed his body was shaking with it. If he read for a while longer, he could end up with his head spinning and his eyes crossing. He increased the font size and willed himself to read again.

“You know,” Hange’s voice was ringing in the silence and it pulled him out of his semi concentrated state.

Levi looked up at her, and just behind her, he saw they arrived back in the free way.

Hange continued. “One thing about Pride and Prejudice, the author doesn’t spend too much time talking about how the landscapes look like. The appearance of the houses and gardens are up for interpretation.”

Levi recalled, Hange was a very inquisitive person. Enough to hyperfixate on landscape? He was doubting. “Then why did you imagine Zeke’s manor as Rosings?” He asked.

Hange shrugged. “If you read the book, you’d see, it was the home of Lady Catherine, an incredibly tacky place and if you remember the gardens behind the house, they’re very green but they seem…. Artificial? Rehearsed?” She gave a pained look.

“Then why do you care enough to look at them if you hate the gardens that much?”

Hange shook her head. “I don’t hate them but the novel, it made me reflect on a lot of things and sometimes, when I allow myself to look at the landscapes, I’m able to think about what happened in the book, and about love and---”

“So Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth,” Levi interrupted. “Then what happened?”

“She turned him down,” Hange said.

“Why?”

“To put it simply, because she thought Darcy was an asshole.”

“It’s only natural that people wouldn’t want to marry an asshole right?” Levi asked. “Books should be teaching those types of things.”

Hange spared him a long glare. “Well, here’s the thing. Mr. Darcy isn’t an asshole. He’s misunderstood.”

“And what do romance novels do but romanticize every single ‘misunderstood’ man.”

Hange hummed and stared back again at the front. The car continued to move at a steady pace. A long pause followed. Then she spoke up again. “What if I told you Pride and Prejudice is not really a romance?”

“When it follows a couple and the development of a relationship, I think it counts.”

Hange patted the steering wheel. “Well sure, the novel tackles love and marriage but the approach is… cold, calculating. If you notice, they spend more time discussing money, properties, duty. It takes into account money, status, upbringing… so it seems more like a social commentary to me. ”

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

“Then how did this book shape your idea of love?” Levi asked.

Hange put her finger to her chin. She had a far off look. “I like the idea of approaching love as something to calculate and to think about. Like Elizabeth and Darcy, they explored it, they thought long and hard about it..”

“Oh?” Levi asked, one eyebrow raised. “Is this where your ‘love is a choice’ schtick comes from?”

Hange bit her lip. “Not just that definitely. There’s a lot to learn about being hasty, about having to think long and deep about love and marriage. They didn’t fall in love at first, they were prideful. They had their prejudices but they made it work… And I thought to myself, maybe these are what love and marriage are? Maybe they're calculating like a science, maybe we should consider everything from reputation, money, family and convenience when we deal with something like love and marriage and it’s okay to approach life that way.”

For some reason, that tirade only made Levi heavier and heavier the more he continued. "The main character… she turned down Mr. Collins proposal and that was because she didn't love him right? Emotions play a part too," Levi said.

"I'm not denying it," Hange said. "But ask yourself, how much of a part are emotions supposed to play?"

That question, Levi couldn't answer. Somehow, that should have been something someone a little more experienced like Hange should have answered for him. Instead, she kept quiet, her eyes looking straight ahead, but she blinked a little faster the next few times as if she was struggling with something he couldn't see.

It could have been uncharacteristic. It was an odd set of emotions to play with but Levi was suddenly more and more compelled to break the silence himself. With nothing much else to say, he let his emotions speak for him. "If I were a little cold before, I didn't mean that."

"No offense taken," Hange grinned at him knowingly. "You seem tense." She was studying him for that glimmer of a second before she started to fiddle with her phone with her free hand. "I have the audiobook for Pride and Prejudice. You wanna listen?"

***

"They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound.

"This is supposed to be my Pemberley," Hange said. She had been hyping it up since a while ago that it seemed almost anticlimactic then. With the tone Hange was giving, he was sure she had been a little disappointed too. "Believe me, it looks nicer on good days," she added.

It had been a good day until a while ago. He could have sworn the sky had been blue for at least half the trip. Grey clouds were a strange things, part of the clouds were grey from afar but never looked too menacing until they was looming directly above them. Only when it was nearer did it have the tendency to just blanket everything in a very dull and unbearable grey.

Any color would look grey with the right level of dimness. He wondered for a while longer why Hange was still continuing the trek. The longer they walked, the farther they got from the car.

Levi’s worry, his nervousness only increased threefold, fourfold then he lost count. After all, they had stopped on what could have been the middle of nowhere. He couldn't tell where they were. Any inkling of sense laid out in front of them was in the form of a dirt road, just stretched out from the freeway with no buildings for miles, no pit stops.

And if it actually started to rain? Levi imagined it for a second before shaking his head. He tried to focus on other things like the ease of walking, his manageable energy levels.

The meagre late lunch of a drive-through burger meal was more than enough for a quick hike. Levi found himself pondering whether energy should have even been expended for something so grey.

The color grey just didn't seem worth the hike to see. "Why are we here?" Levi asked.

"Let's just stay long enough to climb the hill." Hange seemed persistent. Her back was on him and he couldn't tell the face she was making then. “It might look better on the other side.”

They were near enough at least that Levi had to crane his neck to see the top and he consoled himself. Maybe it was worth the hike. Maybe Hange was more privy to weather patterns and she at least calculated the quick hike and the awe that it would be worth.

Then Levi reminded himself, it was her birthday. Whether it did leave him as in awe as she was was irrelevant. That was a consolation Hange afforded herself. He was merely a companion. There should be things to get out of the conversation at least. “Tell me about your Pemberley,” Levi said.

“You’re gonna continue reading right? Do you really want to know?” Hange asked, seeming suddenly careful with her words.

After spoiling me the rest of the way? Levi would have wanted to ask.

“You seemed invested,” Hange said. It was a sufficient answer to his silent question. “I’d rather you read it on your own. Especially the part about Pemberley and the scene in Rosing’s.”

“Why? After spoiling me this much?” His abrasiveness, the irritation had made his legs lighten under him and he moved a little faster catching up to Hange.

Hange seemed concentrated, looking ahead, not hesitating even as the incline presented itself right in front of them. It was getting steeper and Levi felt it as an ache in his legs as he climbed but Hange, admirably or begrudgingly, seemed unfazed

Levi was a few inches shorter and maybe he was at a disadvantage. He didn’t have the same investment either but he stepped forward, going at the steeper incline with wider strides while maintaining speed. He looked to Hange who was right next to him. She continued to look ahead, she craned her head back, her hastily tied hair fell behind her and she was whispering something.

If Hange hadn’t seemed hypnotized yet disturbed, if the fat cold droplets didn’t settle on his arms, getting stronger and more numerous by the second, maybe he would have let her climb and climb. He would have obediently followed behind.

It had been everything at once. Maybe confusion at everything had been that one final nail on the coffin. Irritation welled quickly, then anger. Hange hadn’t been speaking in any straightforward manner for a while already so he forced it out of her.

“Why the hell does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi raised his voice. Just in case that hadn’t been enough, hell, that had actually been enough, he pulled her from behind.

The rain accumulated on the dirt road quickly and when Hange turned to answer, she fell backward rapidly. Right on top of him.

It was a quick and terrifying sequence or movements, Levi found himself sandwiched, Hange in front of him, his behind buried in mud and dirt, blades of grass were brushing heavily past him. But he didn't stop.

They didn't stop. Gravity had them moving down, naturally quickly and violently down the steep incline and Levi could only be thankful that the grass had been kind, absent of anything that could have snagged at any part them.

A few long seconds later, by some miracle, they were unharmed, still very much alive.

It didn’t change the fact that at the bottom, they were both fucking dirty. And he was a little--- scratch that--- very rattled. And Hange was on top of him, her hair clung close to her, her glasses had fallen to her mouth and she seemed just a little disconcerted.

Hange pushed herself up. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” She put one hand on his cheek, one filthy hand.

Instinctively, Levi pushed it away. She was disgusting. They were both disgusting. He could taste a hint of dirt at his lips and he closed his nose and shut his mouth before he could taste anymore.

It was disgusting. And in that state, he was recalling how pleasant almost drowning seemed when he was covered in mud, the rain only continued to pour. He would rather have been drinking salt water then.

When he noticed that a minute passed under the rain, he started to observe then search for signs on how Hange might have been feeling. They had left their phones in the car. He was thankful they weren’t casualties but he was a little regretful that he couldn’t read her then.

Purple. He made a guess. That was the only reading she had given then. Sad angry? Or angry sad?

But when he looked for sadness, angriness, he saw it in those wide eyes in the red just under her eyes. Or he could have been projecting. It could have also been a placebo affect.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I got so fucking worked up over this. Let's go back." Hange's voice was stilted, alarmingly cold.

"You've done this before right?"

The rain wasn't stopping anytime soon. In fact, it came down hard and Levi could have felt like he was drowning again.

The storm had proven to be a worse adversary. The wind was almost as menacing as waves.

He struggled to his feet. Hange had held out her hand, wrapped one arm around his shoulder and standing up became a small feat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hange asked again, her voice a whisper that brushed at his neck. She was close enough to even overwhelm the pouring rain just outside their small bubble.

He hadn't answered her earlier. He didn't even know how she had been able to get the message to him in spite of the wind blowing at their face, the thunder and the patter of the rain on the dirt road.

When they were close enough, shoulders and arms touching, her lips almost brushing against his ear. He thought it close enough that she would probably hear if he whispered. Maybe it was worth just opening his mouth to speak. Two words or maybe four. Just long enough so she won’t have to speak again the whole trek back to the car.

“Let’s just go back.”

***

Adrenaline, exhaustion and the shaken state eventually gave way to irritation once again.

It was a slow process but Hange was silent. She had been driving much slower and with the peace, the slow rhythm of the whirring of the car, Levi had time and space to contemplate.

Levi was contemplating the expenses of cleaning a rented car. When the mud started to dry and harden, when they caked at his skin, they only aggravated the at first, silent irritation. It was silent but it was irritating altogether. He angrily wiped his hands on the dashboard of the car, and reached for his phone next to the clutch.

“Levi, I can pay for cleaning up the car," Hange said.

Levi kept quiet. For one, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of making her pay for all of it. A part of him though, the stingy part, would have rather she did.

“Levi, are you angry at me?” Hange asked a minute later.

And that phrase always had that magic of making most people angrier than they were already. Levi was no exception.

Still, he did try to be just a little nicer. “You’re driving aimlessly on the road. We’re a mess in the car. We’re both covered in mud, my legs and my arms hurt. Hange, think.”

“Think?”

“Who wouldn’t be at least a little angry?” His tone betrayed his words. Hange had been responding in questions since a while ago and it only served to further aggravate it.

“I told you, I’m sorry.” She did say 'sorry' a while ago but he wasn't in the mood to accept it then. So it slipped his mind.

“Well, finally you’re being more direct but you know, it would have been helpful if you’ve been more open since a while ago.”

“More open about what?”

Levi smacked his hand on the dashboard. “There you are again, you ask questions but you never fucking answer. And if you answer you’re fucking vague, or you fucking digress.”

“Any... question you wanna ask?” Hange asked hesitantly.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you? Why does this damn book mean so much to you? You’re a scientist, a researcher. Why are you getting so worked up over a fucking social commentary?”

Hange gave him a wounded look, and she stared for a long time. Levi only noticed then, that that had been the longest stare she had been giving him in a while. The fiasco of a while ago was enough of an evidence that Hange did get worked up over it and Levi held it like a memento, just in case Hange decided to play oblivious.

She didn’t. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got emotional.” But she still wasn’t answering questions.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi asked again. He kept this voice hard, stone cold and firm. He enunciated every syllable and every word like they were separate from one another.

Hange avoided his gaze. “Well, I really like the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy---”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s because I would have wanted the same for myself---”

“Would have?” And Levi caught it, two words that had hovered in the air for a second.

Hange clamped her mouth shut.

“Would have?” Levi repeated again in the silence. And the irritation, the discomfort and the fury from being caked from head to toe with semi dried mud had somehow been released with two words.

“I have the same for myself,” Hange clarified.

“Would?”

“It’s a slip of the tongue,” Hange said. She didn’t look back and it didn’t look like she would be prodding that topic anymore.

So Levi brought up another question. “What about Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship do you like?”

“It’s... “ Hange was hesitating. “It’s in the small details…” She seemed more concentrated on the road ahead of her.

“Go on.” Levi gripped on the seat cushion underneath him. Somehow, the car was starting to move in time to the patter of the rain.

“You might even think I’m crazy for looking at them…” Hange continued.

“But…” Levi turned to Hange, he looked closely as her lips parted as if she was about to say something.

Then her voice filled the cramped space inside the car for only a split second, before the squeak of tires, the spray of water and the burst of sensations that came with the dizzying experience of his body lurching forward in his seat.

For a second, Levi could have sworn he was dead.

***

They weren’t the only ones who decided to call it a day. It turned out there were numerous people who had been wandering around that side of the country and it looked like that particular motel had been the only one for miles around.

The first warning should have been the fact that it had taken Levi and Hange minutes to navigate a pretty small parking lot, just to find a place to fit the car. The second warning should have been the amount of lit up windows.

At that point, they were both exhausted and Levi had focused too clearly on the ‘open’ sign.

Open 24 hours.

So he didn’t waste any time. Hange didn’t either. It was cold, it was raining and Levi could forget that it was too early in September for him to have been shivering, for white fog to be accompanying his shuddering breath.

It was his first time up north, autumn came much earlier. That didn’t stop him from grumbling silently about why autumn rains had to be so cruel.

It was barely even autumn. Shitting on the weather proved to be an adequate consolation for their very uncomfortable state.

Hange seemed unsure and maybe she had heard his grumbles, maybe she had assumed it was about her. “I’ll check if they have any rooms,” Hange said, an apologetic smile on her face. She looked down towards his elbow. “And I’ll ask for a first aid kit, so we could do something about that.”

His body had been a conglomeration of discomforts since a while ago and the bleeding scrape on his elbow had been a terrible surprise. Not so terrible actually as he looked closer, he barely even felt it.

Before he could stop her, Hange had went ahead to the reception, covered in mud and all. Levi was grateful at least that they both had cleaned their shoes on the way in. The headache would be left to whoever would be cleaning their car.

The man at the counter was apologetic, a little too nice and he spoke to Hange like he was talking to some higher figure. It was a simple back and forth.

They were guests, he worked in hospitality. It was a natural exchange.

Maybe Levi had just been a little perceptive because everyone seemed to approach Hange with some unique form of respect. After a brief back and forth, Hange turned back to Levi, a flash of uncertainty on her face.

Just a flash. Before Levi could perceive more, it disappeared.

Levi still saw that as a cue to follow behind. “What?”

“So there is only one room left, towards the back...” Hange started.

“Apologies about this…” The receptionist bowed his head. “The roads get slippery… And it’s dangerous to go out so many people….” He was babbling at that point and all Levi wanted him to do was get to the point.

Hange let out a sigh then dropped her credit card on the table. “We’ll take it.”

“You managed to get a room, why is he apologizing?” Levi asked, turning to the comparably more coherent Hange Zoe.

“Well, there’s only one room left,” Hange responded.

“And?”

“There’s only one bed.” Hange had said that part with a straight face. She huffed and put one muddy finger up in front of him. “But you know, I really think we can make this work...” 

[sgtbradfords]

I just had an idea and I don’t think anyone wrote about it yet 🙈

SE2E12 when Lucy takes down that guy at the speed dating place

Any chance you would write something on that?

Lucy shutting down, nayla and Harper not being able to help her and having to call Tim to come and help

This turned out really cute and I am kinda happy with how it turned out... I hope you enjoy anon! :)

Lucy Chen thought they would be going to a bar or a club for her first girl’s night out with Nyla Harper and Angela Lopez. But no, what the two officers had planned was so much worse.

Speed dating.

As soon as she read the white words on the hideous pink sign, her fight or flight response kicked in. She wanted to run but knowing her two friends, they would never allow that. She tried talking her way out of it, didn’t work. So, she took the only option left, being to rope them into their own scheme.

‘Trust your judgement.’ They said. ‘Control the environment.’

‘Bullshit.’ Lucy thought as she took a seat, a sip of liquid courage coursing through her veins.

The night had started off decent, easily picking out the creeps to be vague to and actively ignoring the weirdos who sent a shiver down her spine. Though, she was not much better, as she came off a little too forward with the men that sat down in the seat across from her.

The buzzer sounded, announcing the end of the night as she and the last prospect, Isaiah stood. He told her he had a good evening, to which she off-handedly agreed. She heard him before she could see him as he reached out, pulling at the loose thread on her sweater.

She reacted instantly, his hands were moving towards her and all she could think about was the last time a set of unwanted hands approached her.

Lucy had him on the floor with his hands secured behind his back in eight seconds flat, Nyla and Angela running over when Lucy laid him out.

“Hey.” Nyla told her placing a hand on her shoulder, bringing her out of her daze. “You’re ok. It’s alright.”

She could hear the shrieks of people being startled around her, Angela’s voice foggy as she spoke to the man she just laid out. Her breathing increased rapidly, adrenaline coursing through her veins as her heart pounded in her chest.

Lucy never heard the question that Nyla was asking as she pulled out of the hold the other woman had on her arm. Her body moved on it’s own accord, her feet carrying her quickly, returning her to the car she had vacated not even an hour earlier, pulling on the handle of the car, sitting down in the passenger seat before she hit the automatic lock button, locking the doors.

“Hey, Chen?” said Nyla as she knocked on the window.

Lucy took a shaky breath to steady herself, focusing on grounding her mind.

“Lucy?” Angela asked as she pulled on the handle of the locked door, hitting the button of her car, unlocking it.

Lucy’s right hand hovered over the switch panel, pressing the button to lock the doors back.

Angela hit it again, only for the occupant of the vehicle to lock it back.

“Seriously. What do we do?” she asked looking over the top of the vehicle.

Nyla pulled out her phone, her thumb scrolling on the screen before pressing the glass, moving the phone to her ear. “Hey. You busy? Yes, I know you’re off duty. We’ve kinda got a situation. I mean kinda like you’ll find out when you get here. We’re in the pay by the hour parking lot on 42nd street. You can’t miss us.” She said before ending the call, placing the phone back into the back pocket of her jeans. “Well, this has been an experience.”

“He on his way?”

Nyla nodded, leaning back on the car. “Relax, she’s not going to budge.”

Angela glanced into the car, standing between the car and the one next to it, keeping an eye on the woman sitting in the passenger seat.

“You meet anyone interesting?”

Nyla snorted, telling Angela about the guy who got up and ran from the table holding a hand to his mouth, and the one she thoroughly grossed out, telling her the stories she had told them.

“What about you?” Angela had just asked when a familiar truck pulled in off the road.

Tim Bradford pulled his truck into the parking lot, stopping at the automated machine to pay for parking, grabbing his ticket before pulling up behind the car he knew all too well. He put the vehicle in park, pressing the button to roll down the passenger side window. “I’m not going to be your DD Harper.”

Nyla walked over to the truck, resting her arms on the sill of the window. “We may have done something stupid.”

“Define stupid.”

Angela walked over, joining Nyla as she looked at the driver guiltily. “I may have pushed Lucy too hard.”

Tim’s face dropped, concern quickly taking over before he could mask the emotion. “What did you do?” he asked as he unbuckled, opening the door of the truck.

Angela shared a look with Nyla, “We may have gone speed dating.”

Tim stared her as he rounded the truck. “You what?”

“She agreed, after some encouragement and bribing.”

“Speed dating.” Tim said as he ran a hand over his face. “What happened?”

“She had a loose string on her shirt and one of the imbeciles tried to pull it without telling her.” Nyla began telling him.

“Then she laid him out. It was impressive really.”

“Not the point Angela. Listen, we tried to calm her down, but she ran out of there and locked herself in the car.”

Sighing Tim moved towards the driver’s side of the car. “Unlock the car.”

Angela hit the button, Tim opening the door simultaneously, getting in behind the wheel before he pulled the door close.

Lucy stared ahead as the vehicle shook, her training officer sliding into the seat next to her, his chest against the steering wheel as his left-hand moved to his side, fumbling with the buttons on the side of the seat.

“How the hell does Ang drive like this?” he grumbled as the seat began sliding all the way back, his long legs slowly unfolding. “So, what happened boot?”

Lucy held a hand to her face, her elbow resting in-between the glass of the window and the door as she continued staring ahead, watching the things moving around the outside world of the vehicle.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

“Are you here as my boss or as my friend?” She asked, moving her hand down from her face as she began to wring her fingers.

Tim thought for a second, hesitating before answering. “Friend.” They were friends and they were coworkers but somehow, they were also more than that, their working chemistry setting the base of their friendship outside the four sides of the shop.

“I thought I was ready.” She sighed.

“For?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something more.”

Tim nodded. “It’s only been two months boot. Your recovery isn’t something that will fix itself overnight.”

Lucy somberly let out a lone laugh. “Like hell it will! I’m tired Tim. I’m tired of the pity, I’m tired of the looks, tired of it all. I just want to put it behind me, live a normal life.”

“I know.” He whispered. “But neither one of us has a time machine Chen.”

“Tim, it wasn’t-“

“Don’t. Don’t say it wasn’t my fault. I’m the one who- I almost lost you Lucy.” He told her, his voice cracking at the admission.

“We talked about this the other night. What happened was neither here nor there and both of us are going to have to move on from it sooner or later.”

Tim knew that his rookie was growing restless, the outcome of those twenty-four hours still eating away at her. “I think… what you need, is to find an outlet.”

“An outlet.” She stated, turning her head to face him.

“Something that takes the stress off, where your thoughts disappear and I don’t mean paintball, something a little more strenuous.”

Lucy snorted, rolling her eyes. “Isn’t that what sex is for?”

“That’s not a healthy outlet.”

“And what, Officer Bradford, is your healthy outlet?”

“I have a few, one of them being running.” He told her shrugging. “I try, every day, to run. In the morning, in the evening, doesn’t matter. If you hold onto the shit that we see on the job, you’re going to implode.”

She nodded. “So, what would you suggest?”

“Everyone’s different, you just have to find something that works for you.”

Lucy mulled over his words, silence enveloping the car before she took the opportunity to speak. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime Chen but you’re making me miss Thursday night football.”

Lucy shoved his shoulder. “I’m sorry for ruining your Thursday with my insecurities.”

Tim flashed her a smile. “We all have our days boot. I do have to say that I wouldn’t mind seeing the video of you putting this guy in his place though.”

“What, so you can critique me?”

“No, so I can see you laying this guy out on his ass.” He said with pride in his voice. “Then critique you.”

A knock sounded on the driver side window. “If you two are done with whatever this is,” Angela said, gesturing between the two “we would like to get out of here.”

“Find an outlet boot.” He said as he pulled the handle of the door, his tall frame exiting the car. “You three text me when you get home.”

“Awwwe look Ang, I think he’s worried.” Nyla teased as Tim walked back towards his waiting truck, the man raising his right hand up the air as he flashed his middle finger.

It took several days and shifts to find what he was talking about, but as she wrapped her hands in tape, a bag of sand hanging in front of her, she took the advice given to her to heart. Lucy couldn’t help the smile that overtook her as she replayed the conversation that followed the disaster that was the other night as she began hitting the swaying bag. ‘Find an outlet boot.’

“Bring your elbow up.” A voice spoke from a few feet behind her causing her to jump.

“Giving boxing advice now are we Officer Bradford?”

Tim shrugged off the bag on his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground. “No but, I would rather you hit the bag properly than have a bummed wrist tomorrow and us get into a shootout.”

Lucy jabbed the bag. “Sounds like advice to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not?”

She stopped the swaying bag, grasping it with both hands. “Fine.”

Tim stepped closer, moving into her line of sight as he stood next to the bag. He began critiquing her, Lucy adjusting her stance and positioning countless times as he began placed a pair of boxing pads on his hands. “Enough with the bag. Hit me boot.”

“What?” she said in astonishment. “I’m not-“

“You will Chen, hit me.”

Lucy took a swing at him, missing him as he ducked. “Again.” He ordered.

She forcefully swung her right arm, her throw landing on the soft padding. “Good. Again.”

They kept it up, Tim counteracting her throws and punches, throwing in his own punches that she successfully blocked for the most part.

“See? Outlet.” He told her as he pulled a bottle of water from his bag, taking a sip.

Lucy began unwrapping her wrists, wading the tape into a ball. “Thanks, Tim.”

“You’ve got a mean right hook but your uppercut could use some work. We’ll meet back here in two days boot.” He told her, gathering his bag, moving towards the door.

“Don’t I spend enough time with you already?”

Tim turned around, smirking. “Two days boot.”

Lucy sighed, turning around mumbling under her breath. “He’s lucky I like him.”

“Heard that!” he yelled as the door closed.

[furbeetle]

MCDONALDS 1998 FURBY MASTERPOST

this post will be updated as new information is discovered!!! please dm me if you have any facts youd like to share :-)

TW FOR: fast gif, flashing, below ⬇️

so far ive documented 8 different types of mcfurbs, each with multiple color schemes within the types!!

TYPE ONE: angry

i only have one of this kind, and theyre one of my favorites!! this mcfurb has an angry expression, and when their tail button is pressed their eyelids flutter with a loud noise.

TYPE 2: wailing

again ive only acquired one like this, but theyre truly incredible. wailing furbs have loose eyechips that shake within their clear plastic domes (these tend to yellow with time), and they have a noisemaker in them that wails when you either turn them upside down or shake them. its similar to the noisemakers used in moo tubes.

TYPE 3: shifty eyes

i have multiple of these guys!! they have moveable eyes and ears, which are operated via a plastic ball sunk into their back that you can scroll with.

TYPE 4: feetby

this one drives me crazy tbh. the exposed, huge, humanlike feet. absolutely awful.

this furby makes a squeaking noise and opens its mouth when you press its tail, which is a button. these have a tendency to stick and not work, just like our next furb:

TYPE 5: shy

these furbs have the highest tendency to not work out of all of the mcfurbs. they are intended to hide their eyes with their ears when their tail is pressed, but i have yet to find one that consistently works.

TYPE 6: walking

this is the first of the two wheeled mcfurbs that exist. once upon a time, this guy probably looked great while walking, but their wheel has a tendency to stick and therefore the effect id ruined. they were originally intended to “step” with their feet as you roll them, as well as wiggling their ears.

TYPE 7: zoom

this one is the second of the wheeled furbies, and by far the most fun. their worried expression is a little concerning, but they can get up to incredible speeds. these guys have two wheels, that “charge” when you pull them back along a flat surface, and then shoot the furby forward when let go. the only difficulty with these furbs is that they wont work if the tiny nub of plastic on their underside is worn down, since this limits friction.

TYPE 8: suprised

this is probably the easiest to work out of all of the furbs. when sitting down on a flat surface (which presses the feet up), their eyes look up, ears raise, and mouth closes. these are the only ones that have the potential to be patterned.

and thats all so far!!

if you have any questions, please lmk :3

[emy-loves-you]

Perfection Isn’t Perfect

So, as some people know, I lost a bet to @imthebadguythatsfine and my punishment was to write 3K words of whatever they wished. My prompt was: cutesy anaroceit date! It was originally supposed to be something completely different, but plot came and slapped me in the face. So here we are!

Summary: Roman, Janus and Virgil were planning on having a fancy date, but it was canceled due to bad weather. Roman will not stand for it, and assures his loves that they don’t need fancy clothes and nice makeup to have a good date night. Anaroceit with nonbinary!Virgil, genderfluid!Roman, and background QPR Intrulogicality

Warnings: Implied Sex (Remus), language

Words: 3,333

Masterlist

Virgil sighed as they scrubbed the makeup off of their face. Another date night lost to bad weather. Just their luck. They looked up at the corner of their mirror, smiling sadly at the two pictures taped there. The first one showed Roman up on a stage, her pink pronoun bracelet proudly on display, giggling as she spun in circles. The other photo showed Janus at the zoo, holding an intense staring contest with a python (Virgil had actually recorded that entire experience, mainly because it took their boyfriend a full 2 minutes to remember that snakes didn’t blink).

Virgil loved their partners with all of their heart. They had all met in high school, each one from a different social group. Roman, the theatre nerd. Janus, the popular kid. Virgil, the resident bad boy and social outcast. None of them would’ve met if it hadn’t been for Roman’s twin brother, Remus. Remus had quickly attached himself to Janus and Virgil, and introduced them to Roman a few months later. The rest, as they say, was history.

Virgil shook their head, focusing back on their makeup. They’ve been dating Roman and Janus for a few years now, but it was nearly impossible to spend time with both of them. Roman was always auditioning for some play, hoping to rack up enough credit to reach Broadway. Janus was still in college, trying to fulfill his dreams of becoming a lawyer. And Virgil didn’t know what to do with their life. They were currently a manager at the local supermarket while commissioning artwork on the side. Virgil was the only one with a predictable schedule, and even then they were constantly busy. They could usually score a lunch date with either Roman or Janus, but the third was almost always busy. Today was supposed to be their first three-person date in over a month. Virgil sighed. They were looking forward to seeing their partners face-to-face. They would just have to settle for video chats and texts.

Virgil sighed as they continued to wipe off their makeup. Janus and Roman always looked like they were runway models, especially during dates. Virgil would spend hours on their makeup and hair so they didn’t look homeless in comparison. It was kind of daunting, actually. Their partners always looked perfect, with perfect makeup and unwrinkled clothes. Virgil would probably die of embarrassment if their partners saw the way they look at home, wearing only a baggy hoodie and some sweatpants, their hair tied up in a messy bun.

“VIRGEY! WHERE ARE YOU?”

Virgil screamed, jumping as they threw their makeup wipes at the bathroom door where the sound was originating. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal Remus standing there, soaking wet. Remus grinned. “Pack your pajamas and toothbrush, we’re having a sleepover!”

Virgil blinked slowly, staring at their best friend. “What?”

Remus started bouncing slightly as he grabbed Virgil’s hand. “C’mon! You need to get out of this stuffy apartment. I’ve got food and games and movies!” He smirked. “So grab your sexiest pjs and come on!”

Virgil blushed before sighing. “Alright, geez. Just let me get this makeup off first.” Remus sometimes crashed at their place for ‘sleepovers,’ but this would be the first time that Virgil stayed at his place. But Remus was right, Virgil did need to get out of their apartment and stop focusing on their ruined date.

Remus giggled. “Alrighty then! I’ll be downstairs.”

Ten minutes later, Virgil stood in their living room, backpack hung loosely around their shoulders. They were still bummed that they didn’t get to go on their date, but at least they could spend some time with Remus. “Let’s go.”

“Alrighty, then! Get ready to get wet!”

“Why am I getting- oh.” Virgil stared at their now open apartment door, rain pouring so quickly that they could barely see a few feet in front of their face. Virgil sighed. It’s not like anyone’s gonna see me like this. With that, Virgil marched out into the rain, shuddering as the initial chill soaked through them. Virgil quickly locked the door before sprinting towards Remus’ car, not stopping until they were safely in the backseat. Remus followed a few seconds later, and Virgil snorted as they saw the air freshener hanging on the mirror. It had the outline of a deer with the words Oh Deer in the middle. Virgil snorted. “Did Patton get you that?”

Remus’ grin softened as he looked up at the air freshener. “And what if he did? I’m allowed to get gifts from my squishes!”

Virgil laughed. “Yeah, but it’s an air freshener.”

Remus huffed. “I recognize that some people might not appreciate my natural scent, but that does not mean you should ridicule me, Emo!”

Virgil chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get out of here, trash rat.”

Remus laughed as he turned on the car. “Why are you in the backseat?”

Virgil raised their eyebrow. “Because last time I sat in the passenger seat, there was a squirrel in your glovebox.”

“First of all, I did not know about the squirrel. Second of all, that was one time!”

“Yeah, one time too many!” They both chuckled at that, before the car descended into a comfortable silence. A few minutes later, they arrived in front of a house. Virgil started to unbuckle before they realized something. “Remus, this isn’t your house.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus responded, staring at his phone.

“...Then why are we here?”

“You’ll see.”

Virgil huffed, leaning back in their seat. They scrolled through tumblr for a few minutes before the car door opened, someone climbing into the passenger seat with their umbrella and bag. “Sorry, I couldn’t find my face… masks…”

Virgil locked eyes with Janus, feeling their cheeks heat up. Janus was still wearing a fancy yellow button-up shirt and some black slacks, but his hair was ruffled and his makeup was gone. Virgil turned to look at Remus, who was silently giggling at the scene. “You said this was just the two of us.”

Remus chuckled. “I said no such thing! I just implied it!” He turned the car back on and drove away, humming a merry tune he’d heard from Patton while ignoring the tense silence around him.

Virgil could barely stop themself from openly staring at Janus. They’d never seen Janus so… casual. Janus was always dressed to perfection, his perfect makeup and hair only topped by Roman (Roman was the only person Virgil knew to carry both a makeup back and hairspray at all times). It was odd to see Janus without his perfect hair and makeup. A good odd, but still odd nonetheless.

Just as Virgil was contemplating breaking the silence, Remus pulled up to another house. This time it was Janus who pointed out the obvious. “Remus, this isn’t your house.”

Remus giggled. “I never said you were staying at my house. Now come on!”

Remus immediately ran inside, ignoring the rain around him. Janus opened his door and immediately opened his umbrella, then stood there silently. Virgil wondered what he was doing as they got out of the car, until Janus moved to cover both of them with the umbrella. “I assumed you didn’t bring your own.” His tone was slightly teasing, and Virgil was relieved that they might get through this night with minimal awkwardness. “Come now, no need to keep Remus waiting.”

Virgil surveyed the house they were in. Cardboard boxes lined the walls, each one labeled for a different part of the house. They heard laughing from further in the house and followed it, Janus trailing quietly behind them. They reached the kitchen and saw Remus giggling on a barstool, watching as someone whistled and danced as they put something into the oven. His blue pronoun bracelet was a sharp contrast to his bright red pajamas with gold crowns. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and when he turned around Virgil noted that he had no makeup on. But it was still impossible to not recognize him. “Roman?”

Roman chuckled sheepishly. “Surprise?” He gestured to the house. “I was gonna tell you on our date tonight, but that didn’t really happen, so…” Roman clapped his hands (Virgil fondly noted years ago that he only did that when he rambled and needed to get back on topic). “Yeah! This is my new house! I was gonna tell you all about it in person but there was rain so I decided to show you instead!” He made cute little jazz hands. “Tada!”

Virgil blinked in shock while Janus spoke up. “Roman, Darling, I understand why you wanted to show us your home, but why did you have Remus bring us? And why be so secretive about this?”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Well, after our date got cancelled, I was talking with Remus-”

“More like bemoaning”

“Talking about how I wish we could have a date without one of us being absent or the weather ruining everything, and Remus asked why we couldn’t just have the date here? And that’s when I realized something.” Roman started gesturing as he spoke. “All of our dates are so ridiculously formal! Other than texts and video calls, when was the last time we spent time together without fancy makeup or perfect hair? I can’t even remember!” He gestured around the mostly-empty kitchen. “So I’ve prepared a perfect date, set with no expectations whatsoever!”

Now it was Virgil’s turn to speak up. “Date?”

Roman smiled softly. “Now, no need to fret. I can hear the wheels turning in your head, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.” Virgil blushed at the nickname. “The point of this is to spend time together without any stress of trying to look and act perfect. If we can’t have a nice time like this,” he gestured to his pajamas “then how are we gonna have a happy life together?”

Before Virgil or Janus could even try to respond, Remus spoke up. “Well, if you no longer need your bestest twin ever to be your uber driver…”

Roman chuckled. “Go hang out with your squishes. I know you’ve been dying to see them all day.”

“Damn right I have!” Remus quickly made his way out of the kitchen, waving to Janus and Virgil. “Bye Janny! Bye V! Have fun and use a condom!”

“Tell Pat and Specks we said hi! And tell Specks that he still owes me a jar of Crofters!” Roman called out as Remus left, smiling at the laugh he got in return. He then turned back to Virgil and Janus. “So! I have a pizza in the oven and various junk foods throughout the kitchen. I’ve set up some MarioKart and Disney+ in the living room, and I have some moisturizers and nail polish if you’re up for it!”

Janus said something, but Virgil didn’t hear it, their thoughts running wild for a moment. They didn’t even realize that their partners were trying to get their attention until they felt a hand on their shoulder. They saw Janus’ hand, but it was Roman who was in Virgil’s direct field of vision. Roman gave them a curious look, and Virgil let out a shaky breath. “Sorry, I’m still adjusting to this. I just went from a random hangout with Remus, to a potentially awkward hangout with Remus and Janus, to knowing that I’m now on a date with both of my partners without any way to even try and look nice.”

Roman smiled softly. “That’s why I had Remus bring you two under the guise of a sleepover. I didn’t want you to panic and try to force yourself to be formal and make yourself uncomfortable.” His face then became serious. “However, I understand if this was too sudden. If you want, I can drive you home now. Or you can take up the guest bedroom and have the night to yourself. We would never judge you for something like that.”

Virgil shook their head. “No, I want to do this. It just… hit me all at once, I guess.” They felt their cheeks get warm with embarrassment.

Roman chuckled. “No need to feel embarrassed, Panic at the Everywhere.” He then held out his hand. “Now, onward to video games and Disney movies!”

Virgil giggled as they grabbed Roman’s hand, holding their other hand out for Janus to take. Roman let them to the living room, which was almost completely bare. “When did you move in here, Roman?”

“A few days ago. I wasn’t planning on decorating before showing it off, but we don’t need Disney posters to have a good date!” He pushed a controller into Virgil’s hands. “Here, pick your character. You too, Jack the Fibber.”

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

“Out of my way, Janus!”

“Sorry Darling, but first place is mine.”

Virgil smirked as they heard their partners bickering. “Eat shell, bitches.” Two red shells shot out, hitting their mark.

“Aggh, Virgil! Love of my life, why do you do this to me!”

Virgil giggled at Roman’s dramatics, but was suspicious when Janus remained silent. Just as they were a few seconds from winning, Virgil felt a hand gently grip their chin and tilt their head-

Virgil felt lips on theirs and groaned into the kiss, not realizing their mistake until they heard the sound of someone crossing the finish line. They quickly looked back at the screen and saw their character stuck on a wall in 5th place. They quickly finished their race before turning back to Janus, who was now smirking. “You little shit!”

Janus laughed. “You wouldn’t let me be in first, so I returned the favor.”

Virgil gestured over to Roman, who was dancing on the other end of the living room. “You let Roman win! That’s not fair!”

Janus kissed them again, a teasing smirk on their lips. “All’s fair in love and war, Love.”

Virgil grumbled as their cheeks grew warm from the kiss. “Shouldn’t the pizza be done by now?”

Roman gasped as he ran to the kitchen. “THE PIZZA!”

Virgil laughed as their boyfriend attempted to save the pizza. “Why didn’t you set a timer?”

“Well EXCUSE ME for being so utterly distracted by my beautiful partners!”

Virgil laughed, until they felt a hand cupping their cheek. They turned to face Janus, who gave them a fond smile. “He’s right, you know.” He slowly began to trace Virgil’s cheekbone with his thumb. “You are quite beautiful, with and without the winged eyeliner.”

Virgil snorted. “Says you. You and Roman are always beautiful.”

“And the two of you have beauty that rivals the divine!” Roman yelled, coming back with a plate of misshapen pizza slices. “A small portion was charred, so I had to cut it out before I could cut the slices, but it’s still good!” Roman quickly put the plate down before running back to the kitchen. “I’m gonna go get some drink, go ahead and start without me. Bon Appétit!”

Virgil cautiously grabbed a slice, and watched as Janus did the same. They quickly took a bite and watched as Janus took a bite so small that they wouldn’t have known it was there unless they saw Janus take the bite. They snorted, and explained when they saw Janus’ curious stare. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you eat without silverware, and you ate that the exact way I thought you would.”

Janus gave Virgil a small smile. “Well, I typically don’t eat finger-food, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Take what as a compliment?” Janus and Virgil turned to see Roman coming back with three cans of soda.

“Virgil had found my eating habits amusing.” Janus set snootily, but the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Eating habits?” Roman asked as he grabbed two slices of pizza.

“Yeah, he always takes the world’s smallest bites, no matter what he’s… eating.” Virgil was now staring at Roman, who had taken a bite of his newly made pizza-sandwhich, with a cheesy inside and a crust-coated outside.

Roman noticed that he was being stared at and became confused. “Yes?”

Virgil continued to stare at the pizzas. “...You know how some people have things that could make or break a relationship?” They gestured to the pizza. “Thi-this is it.”

Roman snorted. “My Knight in Shining Armor, are you seriously willing to abandon me over my pizza eating habits?”

Janus gave Virgil a bewildered look. “And haven’t you seen Remus eat pizza? He eats it the exact same way.”

Virgil huffed. “Well I’ve learned from personal experience to not look anywhere in Remus’ general direction while he’s eating.”

Roman laughed, leaning over Janus’ lap to cup Virgil’s cheek with his hand. “You still love me though, right?”

Virgil pretended to think about it for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t know… I think I need a little persuasion.”

Roman chuckled, and soon Virgil’s personal space was filled with nothing but Roman. His mouth on Virgil’s, one hand in their hair, the other rubbing small circles into their collarbone-

“Ahem.” Virgil and Roman parted to look at Janus, who appeared more flustered than annoyed. Virgil could sympathize, having sat between Roman and Janus during a make-out scene before.

Roman smirked. “Aw, are you jealous, Love?” He looked Virgil in the eye and they nodded before they both leaned over to press a kiss to the corners of Janus’ mouth. They continued to kiss their respective halves of Janus’ face until it was redder than a tomato. Virgil pulled back and matched Virgil’s smirk as they watched their blushing boyfriend attempt to form words.

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

“...There! Now we just have to let it set for 20 minutes.”

Virgil groaned as they resisted the urge to touch the face mask. “How can you do this every night? I’m already wanting to scratch my nose.”

Janus smirked. “Practice, and the desire to have a good self-care routine.” He glanced down to Virgil’s hands. “Your nails are drying nicely.”

Virgil glanced down at their nails, the various black and purple patterns complimenting each other nicely. “Yeah, they are. I think they’re dry too.”

“Well then, would you like a distraction from wanting to touch your face?” Virgil turned to look at Roman, who was plugging in a speaker. They watched as Roman connected his phone to the speaker, and a soft tune floated through the air. It took Virgil a moment to recognize the tune.

Virgil snorted. “Sleeping Beauty? Seriously, Princey?”

Roman gasped in mock offense. “Hey, it’s a lovely song!” He held out his hand. “Now, care to dance?”

Virgil sighed before grabbing Roman’s hand, allowing him to pull them up into a standing position. Roman immediately shifted to a leading position, and Virgil let themself be guided through the dance. Dancing with Roman felt like walking on clouds, every step of uncertainty matched by Roman’s confident movements.

After around a minute of dancing, Roman spun Virgil away. Virgil moved with the motion, expecting to be pulled back into Roman’s embrace. They let out a small squeak when instead they were gently tugged into Janus’ hold. Dancing with Janus felt like they were a snake and Janus the snakecharmer, Virgil instinctively yet shakily following every move in tandem with Janus.

Janus eventually spun Virgil towards the couch in a loose hold, and Virgil let themselves spin across the room and land on the couch. They watched as Roman quickly took Virgil’s spot, following Janus’ lead. It was exhilarating to watch Roman and Janus dance. Every movement was filled to the brim with passion. You could tell with every heartfelt look and gentle touch how much they truly loved each other. And every second of watching reminded Virgil of how much they loved their partners with all of their heart.

Roman and Janus both reached out towards Virgil, their other hands locked together. Virgil smiled at the loves of their life before placing their hands in theirs, letting themself be pulled back into the music.

[litwitlady]

Omg I just know you’re gonna write the hell out of these sleepy prompts haha 37 or 3 for Malex :) can’t decide!

#3 - ‘Don’t be nervous, you can come closer.’

On the radio, a twangy country superstar sings about lost romance and broken hearts. Dirt and debris soaking up most of the sound. It’s midday and the junkyard is quiet. Michael is bent over a brand-new Silverado, engine already wrecked. He swears as he cuts his finger on a jagged piece of metal jutting out where it doesn’t belong. Sucks the wound between his lips and wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s only 10am but the day has already gone on for far too long.

He tosses his wrench onto his workbench and reaches down into his beat up cooler. His fingers glance across the long neck of a cold beer before settling around a half-frozen bottle of water. Twisting the cap off, he gulps down the entire bottle, eyes never leaving the beer. The day stretches out even further ahead of him, sober and sun-drenched.

Back beneath the truck’s hood, Michael cranks away at the broken, jangled mess. After all these years, the work is monotonous. Dull enough to let him loose inside his own head. He tries to drown out his hectic thoughts by humming along with the current song floating faintly from the radio. The same twenty-five song playlist in rotation damn near every day. Except on the weekends which are dedicated to decades past – golden oldies Michael considers the soundtrack to his youth. Lonesome melodies haunting the empty, loveless houses he’d once passed through.

He hums through two more songs, getting lost in his work. So lost he doesn’t notice when he starts to sing under his breath. So lost he doesn’t notice when the lyrics no longer match those echoing out from the radio.

Would you meet me in the middle, could we both stop keeping score

Michael sighs and presses his knuckles into his eyes. Alex’s song sneaks past his defenses at least once a day. And he’s found no cure. Not screaming along at the top of his lungs. Not biting his tongue bloody. Not refusing to listen to music for days on end. Nothing has worked. It always finds him no matter where he hides.

Resting on the truck’s bumper, he pulls out his phone and thumbs through his contacts. Leaving grease smudges behind. He stops on Alex’s number and sits staring – wondering what might happen if he actually went through with the call. Behind him, a soft whining breaks through his thoughts. He ignores the tiny noise at first. The junkyard is filled with whines – bad engines, metal signs blowing in the wind, the rickety roof shifting above the makeshift workshop. But the sound continues, and Michael decides to go investigate. He could use a good distraction.

What he finds is a blue-gray pitbull puppy inside a rusty yellow VW Beetle – windows all busted out and flowers growing wild through the wheels. Little paws propped up against the door, tongue swatting up at his nose. Michael approaches slowly – the puppy trembling and clearly terrified at his presence, disappearing into the car’s footwell.

A dog is not what Michael needs. He sighs and turns his back. But the puppy starts to cry again – more desperate now, lonelier somehow. He spins on his heels and yanks the door open, puppy scrambling away.

‘Don’t be nervous, you can come closer. Not going to hurt you, little bit.’ He reaches down and wraps his fingers around the dog’s soft belly. Picking him up and cradling him against his chest. He’s warm and still shaking, but he nuzzles into Michael’s t-shirt anyway.

A dog is not what Michael needs. He finds an unused crate and lines it with newspaper, tossing in a couple of clean shop towels for good measure. Places the pup onto the improvised bed and watches him squirm around, sniffing at his new home. His temporary new home. Because a dog is not what Michael needs.

He tries to climb out, tumbling over backwards. Tries again with the same results. Michael finds himself smiling – almost laughing. And he forces himself to look away. Digging around in his toolbox for the screwdriver he needs to keep working.

But it’s no use. The puppy keeps mewing and Michael’s heart can’t stand the pitiful noises. He hoses off a dusty hubcap and fills it with clean water. Grabs his phone and dials Maria’s number.

‘Guerin.’

‘DeLuca.’

They haven’t talked much since the hospital breakup. Polite hellos and sad smiles whenever Michael enters the Pony. But she’s the first person he thinks of when he considers his current predicament. ‘Do you have any dog food – or something a puppy could eat?’

He hears her whisper something over her shoulder and then, ‘What – a puppy? When did you get a dog?’

Michael sighs. ‘I didn’t get a dog. But there’s a puppy out at the junkyard. He needs to eat and I’m working. All I’ve got is some stale breakfast bars.’

‘Call Isobel. Or a vet. I’m working.’ She hangs up. He supposes it was too early to start asking favors.

But she’s right – he should call a vet. Or, better yet, drop the dog off at a vet and get back to his very simple, not at all complicated mutt-free life.

He calls Isobel instead.

‘Michael, make it quick. I’m at the Women’s Action Committee luncheon and about to give a speech.’ Other people might sound flustered before public speaking. Isobel sounds like she’s at a day spa.

‘Would you mind swiping some leftovers a puppy could eat and heading over to the junkyard after?’ The puppy in question starts to yip. Finally hoisting himself over the side of the crate and splashing headfirst into his new water bowl.

‘Oh my god, Michael. You got a dog?’ He can barely hear her over the clatter of the luncheon.

‘There is a dog temporarily in my care. That’s all. Can you help me or not?’

‘Not until later tonight. I’m meeting with the mayor about the abandoned UFO museum. We’re hoping to start a women’s shelter. Call Max.’ Someone shouts her name. ‘Gotta go, Michael.’ She hangs up.

The puppy’s ears are soaked. Dripping in the sand as he busily noses about. Tail wagging so happily his entire body wiggles. That’s the first moment Michael knows he’s in trouble.

Against his better judgment, he phones Kyle. ‘Valenti, you’re a doctor. Help me.’

‘I’m not a vet! And I’ve got surgery in thirty minutes. How did you even get my number?’ He hangs up.

Michael refuses to call Max on principle.

That leaves him exactly one option. One terrible choice. He scrolls back up to Alex’s number. But he can’t make his finger press the call button. No matter how hard he tries.

He plops down in the dirt and pulls the puppy to him. He nips at Michael’s fingers playfully and chews a hole in his threadbare shirt. Michael likes dogs – he does. Has always wanted one, but never had the ability to properly take care of one. Having barely been able to care of himself most days. ‘Wonder where you came from, little guy?’ He scratches the puppy behind its ears. ‘Where all your brothers and sisters wound up? Probably safe and sound in warm homes.’ He swallows, hating the emotion that has crept into his voice. ‘Snuggled tight in the arms of some little girl or boy.’

The puppy licks his chin and Michael hugs the puppy closer. ‘But you got thrown away. Or maybe your ran away, huh?’

Scrambling out of his arms, the dog hops back to his water and continues splashing about. Michael returns his attention to Alex’s phone number. ‘He probably won’t answer anyway.’ The puppy ignores him. ‘He has a boyfriend now.’ He rolls in the dirt, little feet pawing at the air. Michael leans back against the Chevy and closes his eyes.

He hasn’t seen Alex in weeks. Has worked tirelessly to avoid seeing Alex for weeks. But he has seen Forrest. Fucking everywhere. The hardware store – the minimart – the gas station. Back at the library and even at the grocery store late one night. In the goddamn cereal aisle.

‘Guerin.’

‘Forrest.’ Michael’s heart beating so hard it breaks.

‘See you around. Enjoy the cereal.’ And Michael had smiled tightly. Watched Forrest leave and imagined him driving straight to Alex’s and crawling into bed beside him.

When he reopens his eyes, the puppy is gone. The junkyard far too silent. Sun so hot everything looks hazy. ‘Where’d you go?’ Michael calls, panic bubbling up in his chest.

That’s when he hears the frantic yapping. He climbs to his feet and jerks around the corner of the Silverado. Eyes scanning the yard as quickly as possible. But the puppy is fine. Better than fine, even. Locked safely in the arms of none other than Alex Manes. Barking and licking at whatever bit of skin is closest.

Alex grins down at squirming puppy and then back up at Michael. ‘Hey.’ The dog barks and bites at Alex’s ear. ‘Is he yours?

The sight is overwhelming. Too much for ordinary afternoons at the junkyard. Michael’s eyes soften. ‘He is.’

[jphbk1982]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Professional Wrestling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Indi Hartwell/Dexter Lumis | Samuel Shaw Characters: Indi Hartwell, Dexter Lumis | Samuel Shaw, Candice LeRae, Johnny Gargano, Austin Theory Summary:

Indi Hartwell finds something that makes her rethink how she is feeling with Dexter Lumis. What will it change? If she takes a chance how will it end up?

If you want to read and review at that link above you can. If not you can read Chapter 5 below. 

“A Lift”

Indi was feeling especially exhausted as she exited the performance center and made her way over to her car parked in the front lot. She fidgeted in her pocket until she found the key and unlocked the door. She sat down and pulled out her phone.

“Wow…” Indi spoke to herself seeing how late it actually was. She had lost track of time as she had been getting some time in the ring and was paying hardly any attention. She was still sore between that and the workout she had squeezed in as well.

Indi attempted to start her vehicle but nothing happened. She crinkled her nose in a moment of confusion before trying again. Still, nothing happened, not even so much as a crank.

“Great,” Indi breathed out in a large sigh. She glanced up to see the only other car in the lot driving away. She fumbled to get out of the car in an attempt to wave them down but they continued to keep driving down the road and out of the area.

Indi slumped her shoulders defeatedly and walked back to look at her car with her hands on her hips as if she could somehow convey her disappointment to the machine. She glanced around one more time for any sight of anyone in the surrounding area but all was still.

The quietness was actually somewhat unnerving so Indi walked back over to her car and sat down in the driver seat. She pulled out her phone and went into her contacts she scrolled down to Candice and nearly pressed the call button. She paused though when her eyes caught the time again at the top of her phone.

Indi shook her head knowing probably Candice would already be asleep along with Johnny. Austin would be up but he was not even in the state at the moment. She sighed with frustration and leaned her head forward onto her steering wheel.

“This is ridiculous,” Indi spoke to herself as she sat back up against the back of her seat. She weighed her phone in her hand for a moment before bringing it back up to look at her contacts. It was then a notification came through from Instagram.

Indi smiled as she saw that Dexter had posted. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she worked quickly to send a text to him.

“Hey, my car won’t start and I am stuck in the lot of the PC… sorry to bother but do you think you could come?”

Indi hit send and settled back in to examine her predicament again. She wasn’t a mechanic but she knew enough to know it was most likely a dead battery, judging by the fact that nothing in the car worked currently so she couldn’t even put on the radio while she waited.

She did have her phone though so she pulled up to check her Instagram and saw Dexter’s post on top. Just a picture of him before he was about to go to the ring captured by one of the WWE camera crew. She grinned as he was bathed in the blue light with smoke all around him. She found her finger lightly tracing his outline as she got a little caught up in her thoughts.

She quickly typed a response on the picture. Simply a heart emoji. She didn’t want to say too much because too much would probably get back to Candice or Johnny and she didn’t want to deal with that again, at least not until she had to.

(****)

Indi had been absentmindedly scrolling social media for some time now. She glanced up at the time to see it was well past midnight now. She lowered her phone and examined the parking lot to see she was still alone. She frowned and then got her phone to go back into the contacts, surely she could get someone to come.

Indi was scrolling when a light tap on her window caused her to jump and yelp. She placed a hand over her thumping heart as she turned to see Dexter lower himself to eye level with her on the other side of the window. Her fear subsided and she hurriedly opened the door for him.

He was wearing blue jeans and a black muscle shirt and missing his trademark gloves and Indi was having trouble not noticing… things. This look was slightly different than she was used to seeing him and he was not the only one not speaking as the silence hung in the air between them.

“Um…” Indi cleared her throat as she made eye contact with him. “It won’t do anything.”

Dexter wordlessly leaned into the vehicle and over her, becoming unbearably close for Indi. She could smell the slightest hint of aftershave on his neck and she resisted the urge to touch his arm as it came to rest hovering over her chest.

Indi watched as he tried to turn the key a few times and nothing happened. He held his hand on it for a moment before returning to his former position of kneeling in the open door next to her.

“Battery?” Indi managed to find her voice. He nodded. “I kind of figured.”

Dexter stood up and backed away slightly to allow for her to step out. She followed his cue and did so. She started to shut the door to the car but he reached up to gently stop her and pointed inside at her passenger seat. Indi’s eyes followed him to see her phone and gym bag still laying inside.

Dexter then gestured to his car parked on the other side of hers. Indi understood he was going to give her a ride so she reached in and gathered her things from the vehicle and stood in front of him. She suddenly felt sort of self-conscious as some of the stray hairs that had escaped from her loose ponytail blew into her face and she was made keenly aware that she was still a bit of a sweaty mess.

Indi turned slightly out of the light and lowered her head. Dexter stepped closer to her and stuck his hand out in an offer to take her bag. She glanced up at him without fully raising her head.

“Thanks,” Indi said as she released the bag into his hands and watched as he walked around her car and over to his. He popped the trunk and placed the bag gently inside. Much more gently than the contents required. He stood up and fastened the trunk and made his way over to the passenger door of his car and pulled it open.

Indi watched as he stepped back to the edge of the door and waited expectantly for her. So she walked over and slid into the passenger seat of his car before he gently shut the door behind her. Immediately Indi noticed how much his car smelled like him and she found it incredibly comforting and sexy at the same time.

Indi glanced around at the interior of the older model muscle car. It was in immaculate condition for an older vehicle. Indi smirked when she saw that it still had an original radio in it without even so much as a cd player, and was devoid of any of the modern amenities that cars seemed to come with.

Indi was still admiring the vehicle when Dexter opened the driver-side door and the dome light came on. She frowned remembering what her face looked like. She turned away from him as he sunk into the seat next to her. She was grateful when he shut the door and the light slowly dimmed before fading to black.

Indi did not consider herself to be very vain. However, it was not exactly ideal for Dexter to see her in such a state. She was sure what little makeup she had on had run and smeared and it wasn’t pleasant. He, however, she noticed as she glanced over at him again had every hair perfectly in place and looked amazing. Certainly, she had not got him out of bed.

Dexter started the car and it came to life in a low rumble. He turned to her for a moment and nodded past her to her car. She somehow knew exactly what he was asking.

“I will just have it looked at in the morning,” Indi dismissively waved at the car. “Just take me home.”

The weight of Indi’s words suddenly hit her as she realized that Dexter would be taking her home to her apartment. A place he had never been. A place she was sure he did not even know where it was. She took a deep breath and sat up in her seat a little.

“Hold on,” Indi pulled up a map on her phone and zoomed in to show him where she lived. “Do you know where that is?”

He glanced over at the phone and moved her hand up closer to him to get a better look. Indi smiled when his hand enveloped hers. After a moment he let go and leaned back with a nod. He then pulled the car out of the lot.

(****)

Indi was struggling. She was trying so hard to not look over him as he drove them along the nearly empty highway to her place. The soft glow of street lights filled the cabin of the car every few seconds and it was then Indi tried to sneak a peek. For his part, he seemed to not notice her or at least not let on as he was keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“I’m sorry to call on you so late,” Indi spoke, breaking the several-minute silence they had been in. She saw him curl his nose up slightly. He didn’t mind. “Night owl huh?”

He nodded.

“I kind of figured,” Indi replied with a smile and a shrug.

He turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

“I can be as well,” Indi responded, understanding him completely. The look on his face indicated his pleasure with her response. “It umm… is the next right.”

Dexter slowed the car down and hit the turn signal as he approached the turn.

“Ow,” Indi felt a cramp coming in her thigh muscle. A side effect of going as hard as she went tonight. Her noise got Dexter’s attention as a look of concern came over his face. “A cramp.”

Indi went about attempting to massage it out but was having no luck as it persisted. She felt Dexter’s hand on her wrist and turned to him. He nodded to her leg and opened his hand. She understood and moved her hand out of the way.

Indi could not believe it as within nearly seconds of his hand pressing down into her thigh the pain was starting to subside. He was keeping his eyes on the road as he gently kneaded her sore muscle. Soon the muscle had completely stopped seizing and he went to move his hand back across the center console.

Indi was already missing his touch so she reached out and placed her hand in his. The action surprised her nearly as much as it appeared to surprise him as his eyes widened slightly and he glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye.

“You have the magic touch,” Indi stated as she felt him enclose his hand over hers. She studied his face and saw the corner of his mouth raise. They rode this way for several minutes.

“It is right up here,” Indi pointed out the windshield. Dexter started slowing the car down and moved their hands over to the gear shift to downshift the car. Indi smiled as he did so and then turned the car into her parking lot. “It is the one on the end.”

Dexter drove the car down to the far end of the parking lot and pulled it into a parking spot. He put the car in park and turned to face Indi.

She was lost in his eyes, a light at the end of the lot was bathing him in its blueish glow and it seemed very fitting.

“Thank you…” Indi finally spoke. He nodded and closed his eyes momentarily. She reluctantly untangled her hand from his and opened her car door. She quickly stepped out as the light filled the interior of the vehicle.

Indi stood up and saw he too had exited the car and was making his way back to the trunk. He popped it and retrieved her bag before making his way over to her.

“Thanks,” Indi held her hand out for the bag. He nodded with his head up to her apartment. She smiled. “It’s okay… I got it.”

He gently placed the bag into her open hands and stepped back a bit. Indi shuffled her feet slightly, before letting out a small laugh, prompting him to cock his head slightly.

“Johnny and Candice would kill me if they knew…” Indi explained, before laughing again. Dexter studied her for a moment before his mouth curled into a smile.

Indi noticed and stopped laughing. She stepped closer to him and dropped the bag on the ground at her side. She raised a hand up to his cheek.

“You should smile more often,” Indi said locking eyes with him and searching for his response deep within. He ducked his head slightly and she found it to be incredibly endearing. He then shook his head yes.

Indi moved closer and he met her halfway to capture her in a kiss. His arms went around her and she found herself being effortlessly lifted off the ground into his arms as the kiss went further. He eventually sat her back down on the ground and she nearly audibly protested.

Indi placed her hand on his chest and felt his heart racing. She smiled as she felt her own doing the same. It seemed they were competing to see which would go faster. She locked her eyes back into his again.

“I should… probably…” Indi gestured behind her to her apartment. He nodded in understanding and stepped back slightly. She suddenly craved his closeness again but resisted the urge to move into his space.

Dexter retrieved her bag off the ground for her and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Indi stated before she started backing away from him. She eventually turned and took a few steps before stopping. She turned to him and realized her mess of a self was now bathed completely in the blue light from above but didn’t care anymore.

Her turning back to him had caught his eye and stopped him from making his way around the car. He studied her for a moment. This time it was simply the look on her face that spoke volumes. He walked up to her brushed a few stray hairs out of her face that was caught in the warm night breeze. He rested his hand on her cheek and her eyes danced back and forth expectantly.

Indi watched as his mouth seemingly started to curve into a smile but she was shocked when instead he mouthed the word “beautiful.” She felt overcome and wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her close and into a hug.

Indi knew she was falling for Dexter Lumis before. Now, she knew it was past that. She was too far gone to be falling anymore. No. She knew now, standing here in his arms it wasn’t a crush, it wasn’t an act of rebellion, it wasn’t a phase, it wasn’t any of those things. She had fallen in love.

[jeonqukie]

SOMEBODY ELSE / 02.

SYNOPSIS / After years of working up the courage to confess his feelings for you, Min Yoongi decides to give up and move on from the unrequited position he has put himself in. However, when you discover his veiled attraction towards you, you dwell on what could have been. You find yourself ready to reciprocate the same sentiment for him, only you’re too late when he reveals he has already found someone else. Consequently, you’re lured into a series of meaningless and warped encounters from the one person you swore to avoid.

FEATURING / Primarily featuring Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung.

GENRES / Angst, romance, mature, some fluff, unrequited love, & friends to lovers (?).

WARNINGS / This chapter contains alcohol consumption, graphic language, mentions of sexual activity, and other mature themes.

WORD COUNT / 15k words.

TABLE OF CONTENTS / To be redirected and get the latest on the story, click on the table of contents.

NOTES / After god knows how long, it’s finally here. I want to apologize now for how delayed this chapter was. For context, this was supposed to be completed by December 2019 but due to some poor organization and scheduling on my part, I’m so sorry that this is like, 2-3 months delayed. This will be a very short series (either 4-5 parts only), so I will be sure to start outlining part 3 as soon as possible. Again, this series was inspired by the famous sitcom, Friends with a lot less comedy and a little bit more angst. Feedback is very much appreciated as always. Thank you to those who have showed their love for part 1; I really appreciate it. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

© All rights reserved to jeonqukie. All or portions of my work may not be reproduced, distributed, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

“Yoongi better not put the blame on me for being late. I will cut someone who brings up the fact that I’m always late.” Cluttered in the back seat of the Uber driver’s car, you pulled out a crisp five dollar bill out of your purse and offered it to the patient man who sat at the driver’s seat. Notoriously known for his antiques of being fashionably late, Jimin first hops out of the back seat of the car and offers his hand to ease your exit out of the vehicle.

“I got ready an hour and a half earlier than usual and I was done just in time.” He offers his arm for you to cling onto and you savor the warmth of his clothed body. He wore a crispy white button shirt with the top buttons undone to expose the expensive jewelry that adorned his neck. The sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose his milky skin. Skin tight leather pants practically pasted on his long legs and you could already feel the stares of the long line outside of the club at the posse’s arrival. 

“It’s fine. Yoongi isn’t one to throw a fit over something like this.” You scoff clinging so closely to his warmth. In contrast to Jimin’s neutral colored attire, you opted to wear a two-pieced ensemble. The crop top ending at the middle of your torso and your skin tight pencil skirt ending right at the middle of your thigh. The sparkling material still shimmering in the moonlight. 

Just in case the weather wasn’t in your favor, you clutched on a large leather jacket on your arm along with a plain black clutch that contained your phone and a few paper bills necessary for any emergencies throughout the night.

“It’s literally been six months since those two let us know that they’ve been secretly seeing each other. I still don’t understand how you never realized Hobi has been fucking with Michelle for a year.” With a simple shake of your head, at the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin awaiting with his hands tucked inside the depths of his pockets.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” He seethed taking long strides towards where you stood waiting for the arrival of another vehicle.

“Since they’re renovating Michelle’s bathroom, they have deprived me of my own bathroom.” You grimaced at the thought of the couple taking their time in the shower, refusing to hop inside the same shower that the couple resided in for a decent hour. “I had to drive over to Jimin’s place to actually get ready. It turns out traffic is a bitch and - well, here we are.”

“You may have to sanitize your bathroom tomorrow or something.” Jimin murmurs underneath his breath.

Seokjin shivered at your story and he grimaced at the thought of his two closest friends fucking in the shower for nearly an hour. “Fuck, alright, it was good enough for me. Let’s see if it’s good enough for Yoongi.” He scrolls through his contacts, only to tap on Yoongi’s name placing the mobile device on his ear. “Yeah, we’re here - Hoseok and Michelle are running a little la - oh, okay, see you.” Tapping on the red button on his screen, Seokjin motions his head over to the very beginning of the line were two bouncers held clip boards with a large list of names attached.

“Yoongi should be at the front to confirm with the bouncers.” Seokjin muttered while he paved the way towards the very first person in line. You hear a series of curses coming from club-goers while they accuse the three of you for cutting in front of the line. However, at the right time, the large doors reveal the man of the hour himself.

You weren’t aware of how tightly you clutched onto Jimin’s arm as Yoongi reveals himself to the crowd.

It’s been nearly two weeks since you had last seen him. He had been promoting alongside a bunch of the artists he has worked with the entire month and, just recently, he had bleached his hear a nearly platinum blonde.

It was a new look on him - definitely something new.

The bright blonde hair stuck out like a sore thumb to you… in a good way. You didn’t expect to like it.

His mane had been slightly ruffled to one side. He probably did it himself knowing just how lazy he had been when it came to making himself look presentable. The outfit, though, was a stark contrast from what you had imagined. He wore a black turtle neck tucked underneath a pair of skinny black jeans with a leather belt that you had gifted him for Christmas. He complemented the rest of the outfit with a leather jacket and, suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the fact that Jimin is shaking you as gently as possible.

All eyes are on you as you remain glued to the concrete floor.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk at me or are you going to give me a hug?” Yoongi playfully scoffs at you, but you feel your weak arms let loose of the grip it had on Jimin’s arms and he encourages you to walk ahead of you.

As you both entered the nightclub, you are greeted by a conglomerate of people already raiding the dance floor and the bar that had resided adjacent to it. But your entire world stops spinning when you his arms - so foreign - wrap themselves around your frame before you respond back to his actions by slithering your arms around his neck.

“I missed you.” You admitted out loud to yourself and he chuckled into your hair before he pulls you away.

“I was only gone for a month. I told you that you could’ve came with Tiffany to visit.” The name still made your throat swell up and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, shaking your head.

“I figured I’d be third wheeling since I was the only one willing to come and see you.” Rolling your eyes at his statement, Yoongi’s eyes begins searching for something across the second level of the night club.

“Tiffany should be with my co-produer right now. I don’t know if you remember him - Namjoon?” You nod at once when you see Namjoon trying to have a private conversation with Tiffany as he leans in to talk into her ear. “She’s definitely milking this night more than I am.” You are reminded once again that this was Yoongi’s night. Just recently, three of the songs he had produced had been nominated for a multiple music awards and this was a celebratory night for the record label. On top of that, it was the company’s New Year’s Eve party and Yoongi was given the opportunity to invite as many people as he can.

“I’m proud of you.” You practically yell into his ear as he guides you over to the bar where Seokjin is already talking up the bartender and Jimin is ordering the necessary drinks for the newcomers. “I know I’ve said it a lot through text messages, but I just wanted to… say it out loud this time. I really am proud of you, Yoongi. You’re living the dream you always wanted.”

There was a small glint of melancholy in his eye, but you don’t quite catch it when you turn your attention to the drink that Jimin passes over to you. You decide to offer the drink over to Yoongi and bring it up in the air. “Congratulations, Yoongi. What a way to end the year, huh?” You laugh when you take small sips of the drink before passing the other drink over to him.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have done it without you.” His sentence is left hanging in the air. It’s ambiguity very clear to the both of you and the tension in the atmosphere is so dense that you are left trying to breathe so deeply. “I - I wouldn’t have done it without any of you.” He refers to Seokjin and Jimin as well before they pass him over a bottle of beer. 

Your relationship with Yoongi got more and more complicated from the very first encounter you both had six months ago. Just a mere six months had passed by before your relationship with him was put at a fine line.

It took a decent month for things to cool down. You both buried yourselves in work, both made the excuses of passing up on any group hang outs and - for some odd reason - you both synchronized in not seeing each other. Until the cycle broke during Tiffany’s birthday where she personally wanted everyone at the group to be there. One month of not seeing his face or hearing his voice, you thought you could survive with the mere thought that he existed in the same universe as you did. But that wasn’t enough. You were slow to warm up to the idea of even making things right between the both of you.

You weren’t so sure when things started feeling somewhat the same again.

But it was when the news dropped that Hoseok and Michelle got together. Hoseok, being Yoongi’s roommate, and Michelle, being your roommate, had been sneaking our behind your backs late at night participating in unspeakable encounters. You remembered it so vividly like it was yesterday. Hoseok mentioned that he had to go out of town for a business meeting and you planned on visiting your mom’s for the weekend. However, your own mother ended up cancelling after she had an emergency at work only for you to come back to see Yoongi waiting at your front door dumbfounded.

He had caught them red handed when Tiffany requested that he would drop off a pair of shoes she had borrowed from Michelle earlier that month.

It was a big mistake to return the shoes that evening.

But it was almost a blessing in disguise for everybody.

The cat was out of the bag; Hoseok and Michelle had been seeing each other and you and Yoongi were left to piece the puzzles together only to end the evening in a total state of chaos and reprieve.

From then on, things were slightly coming undone. The tension between the two of you had lifted in the air and you were back to unconsciously suppressing your feelings for him and, suddenly, the pain you experienced seeing him with Tiffany had been numbed out. Though you weren’t necessarily happy to see him with her, you were more than grateful that you weren’t really suffering at this point forward.

It wasn’t until they decided to move in with each other where the familiarity of torment rose from the depths of your stomach. You remembered them announcing it at a movie night Michelle had organized and, immediately, everyone’s curious eyes had alternated from yours and Yoongi’s. 

You avoided his stare for the longest time, not wanting to risk the chance of physically vomiting.

But you thanked Michelle for helping you push through that evening.

“If it makes you feel any better, it didn’t look like he was too happy moving in with her.” The words echoed in your head repeatedly, but you remembered just how much of a good person Yoongi is. He didn’t gloat on purpose on your face. Tiffany made the announcement to share such good news to entire posse.

It was something to be proud of for Yoongi; he was moving forward from a healthy relationship… and that’s all you could really ask for.

The party came to full swing at the arrival of Hoseok and Michelle. They were quick to greet and apologize for their late arrival to Yoongi, but he refused to listen to their excuse. More so, he was just happy that they were able to attend. At this point, you can feel the heels you wore starting to be more of a nuisance than a fashion statement from all of Jimin’s dancing. But the drunken demeanor kept you distracted from the pain at the soles of your foot.

Not even one drink into the night, Michelle demanded that you save her a dance for the both of you but Jimin had been too busy twirling you around in the middle of the dance floor resulting in you seeing stars as you guffawed into his chest.

At the corner of your eye, you can see that Jimin’s dance skills had earned him a decent size of admirers - nothing special about that but you knew that once he found that one girl he was willing to hook up with, you were going to be left all alone with no one to kiss that evening.

For the most part, you were more than okay with not sharing the tradition with anybody. Normally, a simple peck on the mouth from Michelle was enough for you to participate in the tradition, but she had Hoseok now. It was a ludicrous idea to even feel remotely excluded from a silly tradition as a new year’s kiss, but Seokjin already had his eye on the bartender. Inevitably, you knew Yoongi would have Tiffany to share the kiss with. You’ve grown so used to the idea of Yoongi and Tiffany being so intimate with each other, but the pain had been so numbed down that you were just accustomed to the feeling.

The only two people left to find people to kiss had been you and Jimin and he made a deal that he would be your friendly date for the evening, even going so far to offer a smooch at the strike of midnight.

So when you saw the one girl he had his eyes on, you furrowed your brows at him, chewing on your cheek. “You’re my date, Jiminie.” You slurred and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, YN. She’s really cute. I’ll give you a midnight kiss, but I just want to get her number, please?” He coaxes as he guides you through the dance floor and you turn your head to the girl who had been eyeing him the entire time.

“She is cute.” You sighed, slowly releasing from his hold. Suddenly, he spun you into someone else, crashing into their chest as you grunted at Jimin’s abrupt motion. “You better be back in 10 minutes! I’m going to be real upset if you don’t kiss me at the countdown!”

Clutching onto the arms of a stranger, you slowly pull away from their hold only to realize that this was no stranger.

It had been Yoongi who was caught off guard as he held you in his arms. The song blasted so loud in your ears; the song that he had produced and your cheeks flamed a scarlet tint at the proximity of your bodies.

“Jimin’s kissing you at midnight?” You scoff at his playful sneer and you chew on the inside of your cheek, rolling your eyes at his chuckle. “Oh, c’mon, YN. You seriously want to be one of the simpletons who participate in a new year’s kiss?” Yoongi’s choice of words ensues you to erupt in a series of laughter and you unconsciously feel your body gravitate closer and closer to his as the amplitude of the music increases in your ears.

The night club had been too loud that you had to lean into his ear to respond back to him. “Well, you must be one since you’ll have Tiffany to kiss tonight.” You retort back to him before pulling away. His hands had been placed gently onto the small of your waist. It wasn’t low, but respectfully high so it didn’t seem so awkward having to sway to the rhythm of the song he had produced. “Where is she, anyway? She’s supposed to be the one dancing with you right now!”

“Bathroom.” He simply answers into your ear as your bodies bump into each other in the middle of the dance floor. “She’ll be back soon.”

The friction of your bodies against each other made your throat hot and your cheeks hotter than ever. You nodded once simply before realizing just how long you had been this close with each other. It’s been months since he held you like this in his arms. Instinctively, you feel your arms slithering themselves around his neck, still able to dance nonchalantly.

“Tiffany won’t be upset that I’m dancing with you?” You practically yell into his ear before he shakes his head, just as intoxicated as you were. The heavy scent of beer clinging so closely to his skin and mouth and you swallowed hard when your eyes shoot towards his pillowy petals.

“She’s not the jealous type.” He simply replies and you catch his eyes lower onto your glossed lips. Tilting your head to get a good read of his visage, the DJ hired for the event began screaming to the crowd that there was merely 5 minutes left before the clock strikes midnight.

“I would have pinned her to be the jealous type.”

“You are though.” He counters and you are left to knit your brows together, denying his statement before he rolls his eyes as he unconsciously closes the space between the both of you.

“I am not the jealous type.”

“You literal threw a fit when Jimin wanted to dance with that one other girl.” He justified and you rolled your eyes once more, clearly not accepting defeat. Yoongi swallows hard as you habitually pout your bottom lip clearly not enjoying being accused of letting the green-eyed monster take over you.

“He promised he’d kiss me.” You declared, scrunching your nose in the process.

Losing all sense of logic, Yoongi chuckles darkly, digits digging onto your exposed skin at your waist. “You’re such a brat.”

“Oh, now, I’m a brat?” You whine playfully, exasperated of his accusations. This earned a large gummy smile stretching on his mouth and you were hyperaware of how long it had been since it had been since you two bonded like this. It felt so nostalgic to have him this close, have him be this playful with you. Within that moment, it was blissful - forgetting of who was around you, forgetting about the confession made months ago.

“I missed you, YN.” He sighs blissfully, laughing and leaning forward, bumping foreheads with each other.

“I - I missed you, too.” Both of you had the wides smiles on each others faces. Guffawed laughters shared between your dancing bodies and, at that very moment, you were happy. You are taken back to a time where you two can be effortlessly yourselves with each other. You did not have to analyze your actions and words around him; everything was done purely out of pure desire.

You thought your actions would have no repercussions.

You were taken back to a time where you were two best friends, probably unconsciously in love with each other.

But the realization sets in that this was not some fantasy story. The smiles on your visages disappear very slowly at the realization that you can’t go back to where you had been nearly six months ago. Still having your foreheads pressed against each other, noses bumping with eyes fully pinched shut at the feeling of his hot breath fanning your face.

“I - I have to go find Jimin.” You sigh, itching and craving just to feel the slightest touch of his lip on yours. The DJ announces that there is one measly minute left - one measly minute to go looking for the guy you were supposed to kiss, yet you spent what little seconds you had to be with the guy you could not have.

“YN…” He sighs, opening his eyes. You are met his half-lidded eyes yet you read the desire, desperation, and exhaustion in his irises. “You don’t know how bad I want to kiss you.” Your heart stopped beating at that very moment and when the thirty second countdown begun, your sober consciousness had been screaming at you to pull away from his grip. But, deep inside, you felt your heart swell to a tenfold at his confession.

You had to chant to yourself that he was drunk.

You probably didn’t hear him correctly.

But your mind was no longer playing tricks on you when you feel his mouth move ever so closely, just centimeters away from the skin of your lips and he was a million miles away from you when Jimin saves you and Yoongi a million years of regret. Just in time, Tiffany finally squeezes through the crowd, glad to have found her rightful boyfriend at the perfect moment.

“There you are! I swear I was looking everywhere for you!” Eyes wide, Yoongi controls his breathing as he is faced with the girl he is supposed to be spending the evening with. She smiles unknowingly at him and then at Jimin and yourself. The tension was so thick in the air that you do not have the words to countdown.

“Five, four, three, two — Happy New Year!” Jimin’s gentle hands caresses your cheek and you read the sympathy in his eyes when you see Tiffany tip her toes to place feather-like kisses on Yoongi’s — the lips you desperately sought to feel on yours.

With tears in your eyes, you held them there, but Jimin read you very well. His thumb caresses the corners of your mouth, soothing the familiar pain arising in your chest. “Happy New Year, YN.” He sighs before he leans down to place a very delicate, quick kiss onto your mouth. You savored the comfort of your friend and you pull away only to pull him into a well-deserved hug.

“Happy New Year, Jimin.” He doesn’t let you go when he feels your body go limp in his arms.

“You can just drop me off here.” The Uber driver who sat in front of you came to a slow stop at the curb and you searched through your purse to offer the quiet man a ten dollar bill, offering him a kind smile. “Have a happy new year, sir.”

He thanks you for your gratitude before you carefully exit the vehicle. Your barefoot hitting the cold concrete floor as you clutch onto your heels. You closed the door right behind you as you began the long journey from the entrance of your apartment complex parking lot onto the front door of your unit.

You’ve sobered up a bit, still a bit tipsy from the hard liquor, but you were slowly getting there. The vivid memories of the past hour made your heart swell and shatter all at once as the scene replayed in your head. You knew yourself well enough that if you encountered Yoongi one more time that evening, you would not have been able to stay sane.

Your legs took smaller and slower strides towards your unit and when you begin to fish the keys out of the depths of your clutch, you come to an immediate halt as you see a tall, dark figure hovering around your door. You really needed to have a conversation with the homeowner’s association to add brighter lights at night because suddenly your senses had been heightened at the stranger’s presence.

“E - Excuse me, sir, is there somebody you’re looking for?” Your voice so small yet so familiar to the stranger and he spins around, surprised to see such a familiar face look completely different right before your eyes. “T - Taehyung?”

“You nearly scared the living shit out of me sneaking up on me like that.” The timbre of his voice deep and warm and his hushed tones tickled the back of your neck. He looked so different from the last time you saw him.

His dark long locks slightly curled and messy from, what you can only assume, the holiday festivities. He sported a silk button up t-shirt tucked underneath a pair of dark washed skinny jeans. However, he was wise to wear a large coat around his broad shoulders. However, you raise your brows as he nursed a bottle of champagne on his arm and you tilt your head as you studied the change in appearance.

He was still the same yet he looked like a change man.

“Wh - what are you doing here?”

“Right.” He shook his head, whispering to himself as he offers you a soft grin. “I was in town for work. My flight was supposed to be tomorrow afternoon, but they airline company had to cancel due to some scheduling incident.”

You swallowed hard as you awaited for him to continue his story. Meanwhile, he stood right across from you - this time, he studied the way you presented yourself that evening. Your hair is much longer. He compared the length to the last time you had seen each other. Your skin was paler due to the winter season at its peak. There was less sun and he could only assume that you covered yourself from head to toe. You had lost some weight yet you looked relatively healthy. The bags underneath your eyes seem to sunk deeper onto your skin.

Who knew in a matter of six months so much has changed?

“That - that doesn’t explain why you’re in front of my door step.” You retort shyly, encouraging him to explain himself further.

“I don’t leave for New York in two days.” He swallowed before he held the wine bottle in his hand. “I - I figured I would stop by and say hi.”

His appearance wasn’t the only thing that changed.

The way he spoke to you so shyly as if this was your first time meeting each other. He points towards your door with a look of suggestion. “Can I come in? Who knew the west coast would be so fucking cold?” He practically shivers, surprised to see you able to keep yourself warm. Perhaps due to the alcohol still in your body and you decide to make a move on it as you begin to unlock the apartment only to reveal a semi-presentable living room.

“I apologize for the mess. We were all in a rush to go to this New Year’s Eve party, so we didn’t have a chance to clean ourselves up.” Tossing the keys over to the coffee table, you strip yourself off of your leather jacket to hang it at the coat rack. Thankfully, Hoseok and Michelle left the heating on because you were greeted with warmth and the smell of vanilla and marshmallows in the air when you decide to light a candle to create a homier ambience.

“I see you’re one of those types who decide to wait ’til January to take down their Christmas decorations.” He jeers at you and you chuckle at his comment before you point towards the sofa for him to get comfortable in.

“I am not. Michelle and I put so much effort into actually making this place look good, so why waste our efforts when winter season hasn’t ended?” You counter and he decides to slip the coat right off of his torso and you stare at the slight tug of his collar to expose his translucent skin. “Did you want me to get you a glass for your champagne?”

“You should get yourself one as well because we’re drinking this together.” His forwardness still remained the same and you rolled your eyes before you began searching through the cupboard for decent glasses only to find two pairs of coffee mugs that you and Michelle purchased at Target. When you open the drawer to capture the wine bottle opener, you toss it over to Taehyung who began unwrapping the wine to reveal the cork and he attempts to effortlessly remove the cork with ease.

You amble over to where he sat and you offer him your pink mug which he knits his brows in confusion and you shrug at his reaction only to watch him pour a quarter full of the alcohol into Michelle’s blue mug.

“I probably should have said this when I first saw you, but here’s to a happy new year.” He finishes pouring his own serving before he raises the pink mug for you to clink at and you toast right back to him before you take small sips of the cool champagne, savoring the warmth that coats your throat later. “You said you were at a party.”

You nod at his statement only to place the mug on the coffee table, making yourself comfortable with the space in between the both of you.

“I was.”

“And it’s 1:30 in the morning and you’re home so early?”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“I just wasn’t feeling it.”

He raises his eyebrows when he takes larger sips of his champagne only for him to lean back and look right at you with curious eyes. “This doesn’t have to do anything with Yoongi, by any chance?”

Trying not to offer him any reaction, you sat there with a neutral expression shaking your head. 

“Nope, not at all.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I am not lying.” Your pitches increases and he shakes his head, deciding to drop the subject.

“Okay, clearly, you don’t want to discuss Yoongi.” He starts softly before he takes a scoot closer to where you sat. “How is Michelle? I’m pretty sure she still doesn’t like me, but I think it’s polite to inquire about someone who is near and dear to you.”

You erupt in a fit of laughter only for him to offer you a boxy grin and your palm wraps around the expanse of the mug on your lap. “She’s doing well. It turns out she’s been sleeping with Hoseok — I don’t know if you remember him —“

“The choreographer, right?”

“Yup, that one.” You correct before you took small sips of the champagne into your lips, already feeling the familiar buzz earlier that evening. “They’ve been keeping their relationship a secret ever since the beginning of this — oh, well, last year now and we only found out halfway through the year.” You shrugged at the revelation only for him to nod along.

“What about the other two? The chef and that guy I took headshots of for a casting he was trying to do for that one photoshoot?”

“The chef is Seokjin. But he is now a proud owner of a restaurant. It took a lot of investors and a lot of fucking money from his savings account, but the place is doing really well. Jimin is the guy you took headshots of; he’s not an actual model, just something we thought we’d do for fun, but he’s really just an art curator.” You read Taehyung’s face and he is utterly taken aback by Jimin’s career choice.

“Who would’ve thought?” Suddenly, you are presented with an opportunity to view Taehyung from a different perspective.

You didn’t know who was sitting right across from you and you see his mouth move but don’t hear the words coming out of them.

“H - huh?” You stammer, coming to a realization that you appreciated his seemingly interest in your life.

“I was asking if you still worked for that internship you were in since junior year.”

“Uh, yeah, they’ve been training me to be an assistant to the division head of advertising. I wasn’t really expecting to be a candidate, but they figured since I did technically work with them the longest, I sort of know the ropes around the company.” Finishing the remaining contents of your mug, you see Taehyung offer you a proud grin, swiping his tongue right across his rosy petals.

“Just one step closer to being a division head.” He encouraged and you feel warmth flutter in your chest, appreciating just how much he was proud of your achievements.

However, he truly meant it.

He has witnessed all of the trials and tribulations you went through to earn a permanent spot in the company you were currently working at. There was stiff competition, but he was there to remind you that you were worthy to achieve the goals as long as you worked hard. The stress of the internship got the best of you and you could only offer him so much of your time. Whenever he’d tried to offer comfort, half of the time, Taehyung succeeded in alleviating any frustrations. 

But there was always one guy who beat you to it the other half of the time.

You were in denial when Taehyung was curious about the nature of your friendship with Yoongi. 

He tread cautiously when it came to him. But as time went on, he could no longer bite his tongue and keep his thoughts to himself.

He had been your boyfriend at that time and he felt that he had some right to give his opinion regarding your friendship with Yoongi. He didn’t demand much — his time was to implicitly convince you that you possessed the same feelings as Yoongi did to you.

When Taehyung felt like he had enough of your denial and Yoongi’s obvious efforts, he surrendered his position and decided to take a step back, clearly not wanting to be a part of a cat and mouse game.

But he was a victim of it.

He wasn’t the same man he was the beginning of the year, though.

He’s more solemn and more accepting. He was more conscious of other’s feelings and perspective of things — he had a better understanding of others and he’s definitely had a better understanding of you.

Downing the rest of the alcoholic beverage inside the pastel-colored mug, Taehyung settles it at the coffee table before he runs his long digits through his textured hair.

“So what’s the real reason why you’re home, YN?”

The silence was overwhelming, but you find comfort in his presence. It wasn’t intimidating despite the way his eyes examined your much smaller frame from head to toe as you took measly sips from your own mug.

Was there even a point in lying?

“Yoongi said he wanted to kiss me.”

“Did you want to kiss him?”

Surprised with your speedy response, you nodded once, realizing the grip around the circumference of the mug.

“But you didn’t, right? You’re not like that.”

You shook your head silently and, now, you’re met with the familiar swell around your throat like somebody had been choking you gently, forcing you to hold onto your last breath.

“I — I would never do that, but… if Jimin didn’t come and save the day, I — I think we would have gotten into a seriously sticky situation.” The memory of Yoongi’s body against yours, the heat of his breath and words fanning against your scarlet face, and the scent of his cologne and cherries off of his skin — Tiffany’s scent. “It can’t happen again.”

“What’d Jimin do?”

“He kissed me instead.”

Raising one brow at you, he pokes the tip of his tongue to swiped across his thick petals.

“Jimin kissed you?”

You nodded once.

“Is this another guy I was supposed to be worried about?” He jokes which earned a song-like chortle erupting from your throat. The sound of your laughter spreads a warmth deep inside this chest. He enjoyed the way your voice filled with so much hope and how your worries were stripped away from you when you giggled.

“He promised he’d kiss me at the countdown.” Your statement earned a chuckle from him and he shakes his head, ridiculing your request. “I didn’t want to be the only who didn’t have anyone to kiss.”

“I didn’t have anyone to kiss at the countdown.” Taehyung simply states and you forced yourself not to stare at his lips but you, obviously, fail at this because he catches you red-handed at the instinctive motion. Your irises immediately shoot to his mouth and you swallow hard.

“You didn’t kiss anybody.”

“Not yet at least.”

You despised the cocky sneer on his face, rolling your eyes as you grabbed a cushion and shoving it in his face.

“I was kidding, I was kidding!” A hearty laughter erupts from the depths of his stomach.

But you did miss his cocky personality. It was a playful side of him and his comments seemed very much nostalgic of when you had first met him. When the fits of laughter settled into a comforting silence, he clears his throat when you see his boxy smile disappear into a more calming position. “Okay, hypothetically speaking, if I said I wasn’t kidding,“ He admits before he swiped his tongue across his mouth to wet his lips. “Would you kiss me right now? Be my first kiss for the year?”

The way the tone of his voice change in a millisecond knocks you out of your seat. You’re aware that you’re holding your breath as you examine his features for the umpteenth time that evening.

Did you want to kiss him?

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

Is he single? Was he seeing someone in New York?

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“I haven’t had time to meet anybody, YN.” He scoots his frame closer to where you sat whilst he leans his upper body closer to your smaller face.

Does he expect anything to happen that evening?

“If I do kiss you, are you expecting we go further?”

“Depends on the kiss.” He was so quick to his replies as if he’s thought this moment so many times in his heads.

Has he imagined this moment?

He takes his sweet time leaning in to your face. All throughout this tantalizing moment, he hovers over your lips careful not to touch your skin on yours. The smell of vanilla lingers from your skin and your breath smells of champagne.

“You want to kiss me?”

“If I say yes, would that change your decision?"

You thought about it for a moment before the tip of his nose collides very softly against yours and you can’t help but chuckle at the action, scrunching your nose in the process.

“Hm, I’m not so sure.” Your playful tone gave Taehyung further encouragement to lean in closer, just two lips barely brushing against each other.

Eyes half-lidded with so much fondness for you. He stares lovingly into your eyes before they fall on the two petals threatening to pucker against his own. The comfort that emerged from his chest so familiar to him.

“You didn’t say please.” You teased.

He breathes a chuckle fanning your face in the process.

“YN,” He starts as he pulls away very slowly from your face, missing the warmth of his own breath on your face. “Would you do me the honor of being my first kiss for the year, please?”

A series of laughter fills the room and Taehyung could care less if you said yes or if you had said no because it was more than enough for him to see that he has made your night somewhat better and you appreciated the way he helped you completely forget Yoongi — at least for the past 15 minutes, he’s helped you completely forget Yoongi.

“Yes, Taehyung, I would be delighted to be your first kiss of the year.” The sounds of your laughter soon fade into silence. You sat still where you were positioned and Taehyung froze in a subtle manner as he examined you from your eyes down to your lips.

His digits tickled the skin on your cheek to the back of your neck and an eruption of goosebumps appear on your skin.  You emitted one breath that visibly fans his face before you flutter your eyes closed as you feel his pillowy petals on your own.

There was a hesitance from both your mouths. Your touch on his felt so fragile, afraid that the slightest addition of pressure onto your mouth would have you falling apart. The tickle and warmth of his fingers caressing the skin of your cheek allowed you to relax and lean in forward into the kiss. Taehyung took this as a sign that you were enjoying this so much more than usual. He pokes his tongue momentarily, tasting the bitter flavor of the champagne lingering in your mouth. A sigh erupts from your mouth and the conscious voice in your head tells you to pull away before things go further — before you do anything you regret.

“Taehyung,” You swallow every ounce of desire when you attempt to peel your body off of his. “We can’t do this again. We’re different now.” He nods his head in agreement, swiping his tongue across the expanse of his mouth. “We’re different, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for you has changed.” You were left speechless; mouth open with no words slipping between your lips. “We’ve changed for the better, YN.” Hesitant at first, Taehyung musters all the courage to reach for your fragile digits that laid upon your thigh. First, he fiddled with the pad of your fingers before he laces them around his hands.

“I’m not this college asshole boyfriend who controls over every aspect of your life.” He confesses looking into your eyes. “Just give me one more shot, YN. I can show you that I’m better.”

“But I — I don’t think I’ve changed for the better, Tae.” You feel your fingers unlacing away from his and you could feel your heart drop on the floor. “I don’t even know if I’m ready for another chance in any sort of relationship.” It came out as a scrutinizing joke, but it was the cruel truth you had to face.

The silence was a little too overwhelming for your liking.

You were thankful the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable to him as it were to you. Because the pad of his index finger lifts your chin up and his eyes meets your once again. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”

Choosing not to reply to his answer, you did not want your face to give away any sort of response for him, so you chewed on the inside of your cheek looking into his eyes.

“You — you don’t have to answer that. It’s not fair.”

His thumb caresses your cheek so softly and you savor the warmth of his palm on your skin. It was such a comforting gesture and he tucked the strand of hair behind your ear, hoping it was enough to soothe you.

“I can never have him.” You realize and his eyes meet your glassy irises. “We can never be together.” Unsure of whether this is your inebriated consciousness enabling you to think out loud, but you chew on the inside of your cheek as you focus on something else other than the salty tears building in your eyes.

Taehyung remains silent across from you and you can’t blame the guy. What was he supposed to say to you?

“I’m happy for him though.” You attempt to convince yourself when you feel his hot thumb at the corner of your lip.

“I’m glad you’re happy for him, but are you happy?” He reassures you, swallowing hard. “You’re amazing, YN. It pains me to see you like this. Even after all these months, it seems like you’re numb to the pain. If not me, there is someone out there very much willing to be with you.” Unsure of what to reply to him, you can’t help but offer him a meek grin. “I appreciate that, Tae.” He sighs as you finally got a hold of yourself, relieved to see that he has brightened up your mood even if it is for the slightest bit.

He pulls you into his arms to wrap his large arms around you and you can’t help but appreciate his warm embrace by slithering your arms around his as well. “Any guy would kill to have you.” He whispers as he pecks your forehead, digits combing through your silky hair.

You melt in the comfort of his arms and you feel your lids slowly flutter shut. The steady rise and low of his chest indicate that he is just as comfortable as he is with the embrace.

“I — I should probably get going now.” He announces very softly, hoping not to disturb your tranquility.

“I, uh, yeah. It’s getting late, huh?” You sigh and you slowly peel yourself once again from his embrace.

“It is.”

“How’d you get here? Did you want me to get an Uber for you or something?”

“No, I — I drove here.” You see him slowly lift himself up from the sofa and fish the car keys out of his pocket, carefully folding the blazer jacket he had on earlier.

“You’re not drunk.”

“Not the slightest bit.”

“I don’t believe you.” The crease on your brow exhibited concern over your former partner’s safety.

“I’ll be fine, YN.”

“I don’t want to risk you driving home when you’re tipsy. You could get pulled over or you could get into a little fender bender or you could —“

“Then what do you suggest I do?” Taehyung’s folds his arms, raising a brow at your rambling.

“Spend the night.”

The softness and warmth of your mattress had managed to keep you toasty throughout the frosty winter morning. You curl up onto your pillow and stretch only to open your eyes and discover your naked body entangled with the linen sheets underneath your frame. Swallowing hard, the notable fatigue from your encounter with Taehyung is evident in your inner thighs and the unpleasantries of a morning hangover soon rakes over your brain.

You slowly rise from where you lay only to find the other side of your bed to be completely tattered. Pillows clearly slept on and your clothes folded over by the foot of your bed. You blush at the thought of Taehyung gather all of your tattered clothing early in the morning only for him to sneakily depart from your household.

However, the smell of bacon soon emerge from the other side of the door and you are lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. A muffled conversation is being held right next door and you scramble to search for a clean pair of pajamas to keep you warm and decent for your appearance that morning.

Creaking open your bedroom door to enter your living room into the kitchen, you are perplexed to see a shirtless Taehyung wearing a pair of plaid pajamas with a white t-shirt on himself. But what truly catches you off-guard is Hobi offering Taehyung a mug while he pours himself a hearty cup of coffee while Michelle cracks open the egg in a pool of bacon grease.

“How many did you guys have to drink?” Hobi curiously interrogates Taehyung.

“All we had was the champagne and we may have finished the last bits of tequila.” Michelle makes a face that contorts into disgust and you agree because you recall the burn of the spirit down your throat.

“Speak of the devil,” Michelle’s eyes darts over your confused state. “Good morning, sunshine. I’m making your eggs how you like it; drenched in bacon fat.”

Unaware of the strange situation right in front of you, you amble towards the cupboard where you grab yourself a mug, redirecting it towards Hobi signaling to pour yourself a cup as well. Unsure of what to really say currently, you take careful sips of the hot caffeine into your mouth. Your eyes meet Taehyung who can’t seem to read your expression well. Your brows knit together at how Michelle and Hoseok had manage to treat having Taehyung over at your household as a normal occurrence.

You were expecting Michelle to be kicking the poor soul out of the apartment. But here he was standing sharing a cup of coffee and sharing stories with your roommate and her boyfriend — your two best friends.

“A — alright, what the fuck is going on? Morning afters with him always end up a disaster.” Michelle raises both her brows at you and Taehyung can’t help but chuckle to himself as he swallows his cup of joe.

“Oh, c’mon, YN. I’m not that evil now, am I? It’s the new year, I don’t want to be rude to our first guest of the year.” She reaches for a clean plate before she offers you two cooked eggs with a slice of bacon and toast on the side. “Please eat. You need carbs in your system because Taehyung tells me you guys didn’t drink enough water before you two went to bed which is why I have these for you.” Popping open the lid of a painkillers, she offers you the proper dosage. Taking the two small pills into your mouth before you swallow them dry, you knit your brows further still attempting to understand the complexity of the predicament you have found yourself in. You take a sit on the stool where Taehyung seems to be sitting.

“How do you like your eggs, Taehyung?”

“Scrambled, please.”

Michelle then cracks two eggs into the pan before she hastily scrambled the eggs into the pan, hoping it would be enough to satiate his appetite.

“Where did you get these? I’m pretty sure I returned all your clothes that I have lying around here.”

“They’re Hoseok’s.” Taehyung simply answers. “I hope you don’t mind, but I used your robe to get a glass of water earlier this morning and — uh, he offered to let me use some spare clothes he had lying around your apartment, so I figured it’d be better than using your robe.” He chuckles and Hoseok laughs along with him as well.

“Yeah, man, I don’t know when you have to fly back to New York, but just leave it here when you’re done.”

“Thanks.” He expresses simply before Michelle places two slices of cooked bacon and the rest of the scrambled eggs on the side along with a slice of toast.

“Eat up, you two. You guys didn’t really drink much, but you weren’t hydrated enough before you two went to bed.” Michelle sighs. “It’s the basics of hangover prevention! I expect you guys to learn from this.” She scolds once more and you begin diving into your breakfast, shoveling the heated breakfast placed right in front of you.

Unaware of the conversation Hobi started between him and Taehyung, off of the corner of your eyes, you see Michelle excuse herself to her room. However, she shoots you a look before she enters inside your room — a signal for you to excuse yourself as well. “Um, I’m going to go look for my phone really quickly.” You conjure up an excuse before you lift yourself off of the bar stool and scramble over to your bedroom where you had caught Michelle awaiting for your presence inside your bedroom.

“Okay, I know it looks bad.” Her eyes had scanned your room, but you were tight lip when you see that your room had been relatively neat and organized. Your outfit and Taehyung’s attire from the previous night had been folded at the foot of your bed while his side of the bed had been tidied up. However, you were very much aware of the ripped up condom packet at the nightstand which gave an indication of your rendezvous.

“But I’m sure it was because we were drunk.” You lied through your teeth.

“He told me he wasn’t drunk.”

You stood silent and you chewed on your cheek.

“He wasn’t drunk?” You questioned.

“Did you think he was drunk?”

“I — I wasn’t drunk.” You confessed with blushed cheeks, unaware that Taehyung had lied about being drunken the previous night.

“So you were both sober?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard when you sat on your bed. “I was… buzzed, perhaps. But I honestly thought he had been drunk and I convinced myself that I didn’t want him anymore, but I think I was just trying to find an excuse to be with him again.” Michelle nods in agreement, wide-eyed at your justification. “He wants you back, YN.”

“You don’t know that.” You counter.

“I caught him in our kitchen this morning, YN.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“He was naked.”

Your brows raised at once.

“I was, too.���

You sputtered at your thoughts and couldn’t help but escape a cackle, hoping it would lighten up the awkward with your roommate.

“I’m serious, YN! Do you know how embarrassing it is to walk out and see him butt naked in our kitchen looking for water?” You can’t help but continued chortling to yourself, clutching onto your robe. “I ran back in my room, telling Hobi to give him a pair of pajamas! The poor thing didn’t have anything to sleep!” Tears began swelling at the corners of your eyes and you grinned from ear to ear at her story.

Michelle nudged you playfully before she sat right next to you, settling into the comforts of your queen sized mattress. “When we were both decent, he said something along the lines of me hating him so much that I should probably leave the apartment.”

Your grin disappears at his statement, surprised to hear the statement leave her lips. “I was this close to calling an Uber back to his hotel.” Michelle sighs before she closes her eyes and you chew on your cheek, seeing that she is about to reveal something she wasn’t expecting. “But he said that he had a late Christmas present for you in the car.” You raise your brows, still confused about the statement. “And then he asked — very politely, may I add — if he could leave a painkiller and a glass of water by your nightstand, just to make sure you don’t suffer searching for the damn thing like you always do when you’re hang over.”

There is a giddiness at the depths of your chest that made the corner of your mouth twitch into a weak grin.

“He never did that before.” Michelle sighs as she stares at the ceiling. “You both just fuck and then he sneaks out in the morning. I catch up him so many times leaving your room and he doesn’t say a word — doesn’t really give a shit about you.” Inhaling deeply when she turns to look at you, you turn to look her in the eye as well. “He asked me if he was allowed to spend the night… just to make sure you were okay when you woke up.”

You immediately turn away from her profile, this time, you stare at the ceiling. “It’s different now because it seems like he seems to give a shit about you, YN.” She concludes and you begin to nibble at your supple bottom lip, concerned at her thoughts. “It could be some kind of facade. But, when you talk to him, he’s not… that bad.”

You agree with her statement and tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Are you guys planning on getting back together or what?”

You shrug at her statement, attempting to piece the puzzle together as well. “We haven’t really discussed it. All I remember is we had our second shot and everything sort of… unravelled itself. One thing led to another and we couldn’t help ourselves from then on.” You whisper ever so softly, afraid that he would overhear your vulnerable thoughts. “It was… different last night; too raw to reply, to be honest.” You sigh in bliss and you try to shake your head back to reality. 

“I… I really don’t want to discuss anything — I don’t want to establish something we’re both not ready to handle, you know?”

She nods and gives you a meek grin, proud that you were — at least — attempting to take your time with your decision and your feelings regarding the current predicament.

Pushing yourself up from where you laid on your bed, you offer your hand for Michelle to get up from your mattress as well. “C’mon, who knows what Hobi is telling about me? I’d like to defend myself, you know.” You were hasty to your door when you hear a booming laughter come from the kitchen.

Ready to turn the knob of your bedroom door, you hear Michelle call out your name.

“YN,” she begins and you turn to her, wondering what else she has to say. “Believe it or not, but you’re glowing. That’s how I know it’s different.”

The muffled trickling of keys from outside immediately dropped the current conversation to hushed whispers. Because not only could you hear the muffled sounds of keys rattling outside your door, but you could also hear the sounds of Jin’s whining from your front door.

“I already told you guys before we left I left my key at my fucking place before we left to get the donuts. I don’t understand why I’m getting all the blame.” He hisses at somebody and you stand up from where you sat right next to Taehyung, folding your arms as you await for him to open the door.

“Because I texted you before I left to bring your keys, hyung. You’ve been boasting how you only have access to YN and Michelle’s apartment considering I’ve been revoked of my fucking keys because I threw that Friendsigivng at their place when they went back to visit their parents and left their place completely trashed.” He rattled the keys unlocking the first knob and attempting to jiggle the key into the other lock. “And Yoongi-hyung says he lost his, so you were the only one with keys!”

“Stop arguing, you imbeciles.” Yoongi grumbles before the door swings open slowly only to see Taehyung completely stop mid conversation at the presence of Jin, Jimin, Tiffany who held balloons that spelled out ‘Congratulations!’ and, finally, Yoongi who held the two stereotypical pink boxes that most likely contained donuts.

“Oh, shit, we didn’t think you guys would be up this fucking early.” Jimin scans the room to see Hobi already working on the dishes, Michelle is sat on the other end of the section sofa while Taehyung sat comfortably on the other end. However, you were busy tidying up the kitchen along with Hobi.

“And we have a new face!” Tiffany’s dulcet tones follows a cumbersome tension in the entire room. At this point, everyone is fully aware of your previous feelings for Yoongi and his feelings for yours.

To have Tiffany acknowledge Taehyung’s presence somehow is much better than any of the three acknowledging him because she reaches over to extend her arm while introducing herself. 

“I’m Tiffany — Yoongi’s girlfriend. Sorry for barging in just like that. I just get really excited meeting new people, s’all.”

Taehyung stands from where he sat and extends his arms shaking her hand as a response and nodding along to acknowledge Jin, Jimin, and Yoongi. “I’ve heard about you from YN. It’s nice to meet you.” He darts his eyes towards you raising his brows only for you to blush scarlet, avoiding any eye contact with your three other best friends.

“It’s been — what? Nearly a year since we’ve seen you, Taehyung.” Jin clearly forces a smile trying to keep the atmosphere as friendly as possible. Jimin already quite familiar with Taehyung’s personality and reads the expression of Michelle’s faces that she has seemed to be completely unfazed by his presence. However, her eyes pay close attention to Yoongi’s tense jaw as he examined the man at the center of the room.

“In case you didn’t know, Tiffany, I — I’ve dated YN for a while.” He clears the air, hoping to break the sudden tension in the room and you shake your head at his sheer audacity. However, it did bring some sort of relief to the situation. He always seemed like the type not to hide anything. He was transparent for the right reasons. There was nothing really to hide at this point. 

“Which is why everyone is so surprised to see me here… again.”

“Oh, I see.” Tiffany concludes, nibbling on her bottom lip and silence fills the air. But you come to the realization that you were questioning why the four new guests were somehow invited to your household.

“Hold on, what are we celebrating? What’s with the balloons and donuts?” You raise the question only for everyone to go wide-eyed before Taehyung tilts his head nonchalantly.

“Didn’t Michelle tell you in your bedroom earlier?” Taehyung scratches his head but the perplexes expression painted on your face answered it for him.

“Oh my god, YN, please don’t tell me you haven’t taken a long at Michelle’s goddamn hand.” Jin practically scolds and your eyes shoot over to where Michelle had scurried off to Hobi and you catch sight of the bright, shining diamond gracing her ring finger and you feel the high pitched screech erupt from your hand at the top of your lungs, running over to Michelle.

“I swear to god, Hobi! I didn’t think you had the fucking guts to do it!” You yelp at the newly engaged couple right in front of you. You leaped into the arms of Michelle and Hobi, bursting with so much joy that you couldn’t contain the grin that stretched from ear to ear right across your face.

“Alright, how much do we owe you, Taehyung?” Michelle nudges at Hobi and Taehyung shoves his hands in the depths of the sweatpants he wore.

“Ten bucks each, so twenty.”

“Wh —“

“We made a bet to see how long you’d figure out. Hobi thought you’d notice straight away, I thought you’d notice once breakfast was done and you would help clean up around the house, and Taehyung said you wouldn’t notice until someone gave it away.” You rolled your eyes at the three of them, immediately nudging Taehyung’s side only to have him wrap an arm around your neck, resting his arm on your shoulder while he nestles his head on top of yours.

“You guys suck, you know that?” You grumble only for Jimin to search through all your cupboards, searching for something around the kitchen. “Jimin-ssi, what are you looking for?”

“Wine.” He sighs only to be defeated to see the empty bottles by the end of the counter. “You guys must have been completely blacked out if you finished that all to yourself.”

“It wasn’t just me. Taehyung had some to drink too.”

“Plus, it’s not like we drank it all at once.” He clarifies only for Jin to realize that Yoongi had raised a single brow at the statement, already shoving a donut inside his mouth to keep himself busy, unable to distract himself from the old flame right in front of his eyes.

“We need a toast, you guys! We’re at that age where we have friends who are engaged.” Jimin emphasized only to look through the refrigerator only to find a gallon of milk along with orange juice and he sets the gallon of milk, grabbing 8 glasses from the cabinets to pour them in each. 

“Alright, everyone, grab a donut.”

Jin flips open both boxes only to reveal the heavenliest of donuts before everyone’s eyes only for you to grab a chocolate donut and grabbing a glass of milk to hold up. “Tiffany, honey, I know your resolution was to make healthier choices, but we can always go for a run right after this. It’s a special occasion.”

Everyone couldn’t help but laugh at Tiffany’s reluctance to reach for a donut, but she grabs the smallest out of the bunch before she grabs a glass of milk to herself. At the corner of your eye, you had caught a glimpse of Yoongi’s arms circling around her waist, nuzzling his nose into her hair before he places a single kiss on her head.

There is a hot swell on your throat as you look away only to feel a heated pressure at the small of your back to see Taehyung reach for the same donut as you and you offer him a glass of milk for him.

“To Michelle and Hobi-hyung,” Jimin starts only for everyone to clink their glasses, sharing a toast. “Who knew that YN and Yoongi would be the ones traumatized to witness you two butt-naked on this very spot?” His hands pats on the kitchen countertop and makes an atrocious reaction at the realization of their sweating bodies on the marbled counter top. “I must admit, I cannot believe I’m saying this, but we cannot wait to witness even more naked shenanigans from you two.”

An eruption of laughter fills the atmosphere and there is a sense of tranquility and solidarity with all of the dynamics of each and every individual in the room. When each person takes one large gulp of the milk, you all take a bite of the soft donuts only for Michelle and Hobi to share a delicate and sweet kiss.

There is a tug to your side where Taehyung pulls you closer only to watch him devour the rest of his donut and he drinks the rest of his milk. A milk mustache forms on his lips and you wipe it off with your thumb, chortling at his playful personality.

Suddenly, the ache in your chest numbs down to a bare strangle.

And, for once, your eyes aren’t locked on him.

“Hey, uh, congratulations again for getting engaged and all.” Taehyung awkwardly interrupts the conversation between Michelle and Hoseok only for Michelle to raise her brows at him. “Thanks for — you know, earlier this morning.” He scratched the back of his head as you observe him from afar.

“You mean, not kicking you out?”

Taehyung nods and you fold your arms, watching the dynamic between your roommate and your former partner unravel before your eyes. There was a glint of hope in the way her eyes traveled from head to toe and the desire for his eyes not to meet hers.

“You’re starting to grow on me, Taehyung-ie.” The man before you purses his lips and nods once at her final conclusion. You are confused, but — ultimately — curiouser about what the two have conversed about before you had awaken from your deep slumber. “Pretty sure YN will have you as her plus one for our wedding.” From the corner of her eye, Michelle glances at you before she winks over at him and he responds with a forced chuckle. “However, if you two have a repeat of your previous encounters, then I’ll be sending you an invitation, nevertheless.”

He looks up at her scratches the corner of his brow with a sly grin across his visage. “Well, let’s hope I won’t be getting one.” He implied causing a few stares from some listeners in your humble abode. A blush creeping on your cheeks at the realization that he had intentions of making sure that you two would not end up in this endless cycle of make-up and break-up. “Say goodbye to everybody, Taehyung, because I’m walking you to your car.” As you capture his wrist around your fingers, he merely waves a goodbye to everyone, sending his pleasantries to all the people he had met and to Tiffany who he had the pleasure of being introduced to. With the muffled goodbyes on the other side of the apartment, you close the front door right behind you before you begin stomping over to where the guest parking had been at your apartment complex.

“What — what did you mean by all of that?” You jumped straight onto the topic, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

“Do you have plans tonight?” You shake your head no and with a crest of your brow, he tucks a strand of a stray hair behind your ear.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” He requests and you swallow at his statement. “I told you. I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon. I would like to spend the last day here with an old friend.”

“Flame. Old flame.” You correct him.

“Ah, right.” He merely chuckles but you push past him, pacing back and forth at the parking lot, trying to get a better understanding of the predicament you both were in.

“Why is Michelle being so nice to you? And what did you talk about with her —“

“Why don’t you go and ask her for yourself?”

“She — she won’t tell me.” You sighed, rolling your eyes in the process.

“Then have dinner with me tonight. Have you been to that new sushi restaurant downtown?”

“I — uh, no, I haven’t had the time to try it out.” You grumble chewing on the inside of your cheek, awaiting for his response.

“Then I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight, dear. If you really don’t want to go, just shoot me a text.” He unlocks his car and he begins his journey over to where he had parked. “If you’re in anyway interested, wear something comfortable.”

You stood there glued to the asphalt of the parking lot floors as he hops inside his vehicle, turning the engine on. You shake your head in disbelief at the audacity for him to leave you even more confused than ever; expecting to get answers, instead, you were given more questions and inquiries running at a hundred miles an hour racking in your brain. You amble back to your apartment unit lethargically, trying to add two and two together before you see a figure standing outside of the front door of your apartment unit only to recognize it was Yoongi.

“Please don’t tell me they locked us out.”

“No, uh, we’re fine.” Yoongi merely grumbles and you fold your arms, hugging yourself for warmth as you feel the freezing breeze brush past your thin pajamas. “I was just curious about —“

“About?”

“Why he’s suddenly crawling back to you?”

Taken aback by his choice of words, you choose not to meet his eyes and they soon land on his shoes and your fuzzy slippers. The proximity of his stance from yours relatively distant from each other.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Yoongi.”

“Oh, c’mon, YN, you were doing so well. I haven’t seen Taehyung in months — you were doing well without him.” Knitting your brows at his estimation, there is a lock on your jaw when you realize that Yoongi had no idea of your encounter with Taehyung.

He was aware that you two had seen each other, but he wasn’t made aware of the gory details that occurred. As a matter of fact, it was only Michelle who really discovered of your encounter with Taehyung.

“I was doing well because I was desperate for a distraction, Yoongi.” You breathed out without hesitation, mustering up every ounce of courage in your system to look him straight in the eye. 

“It may seem like I’m doing well — I earned a permanent position at my job, got promoted, and now I’m a possible candidate for another promotion. But that’s because I forced myself into this lifestyle, Yoongi. I forced myself to suppress any emotion I felt.”

He stood still frozen as he gazed right into your eyes. The clench in his jaw indicated that there was an obvious tension between the both of you.

“With or without Taehying, I wasn’t doing well, Yoongi.” You admitted and gnawed on the inside of your cheeks. “I was just findings ways to… not self-destruct.”

“You will if you go back to him.”

“He’s different now.” You defend and see the tinge of annoyance in Yoongi’s pretty face.

“Don’t be silly, YN. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Well, that’s just something we gotta get used to, I guess.” You grumble in annoyance as your teeth clatter against each other because of the cold.

“Stop being so stubborn. He doesn’t deserve another chance.”

You’re starting to grow annoyed at his words and you walk towards your front door, grabbing the knob. “Yoongi, I understand you’re my best friend, but don’t you think I’m doing this in an attempt to get over you?”

Glued to the cement, he is as a still as a statue at your response.

“I see you’re happy, Yoongs, so I’m going to try to be happy too.” 

After hours of scouring through your wardrobe to find something “comfortable” for your date with Taehyung, you settled upon a black bodysuit that is tucked underneath a faux leather skirt. You complemented the outfit with a pair of stockings and knee high boots along with a blazer in case the location of the date was far more fancier than the usual.

But the blazer was absolutely unnecessary.

When Taehyung had picked you up from your quaint unit, he wore a black turtle neck along with a pair of black skinny jeans complemented with a long trench coat to protect him from the chilly weather.

He informs you that a colleague of his is still holding a viewing session of his photography collection in a near by art gallery which piqued your interest. Relieved to hear that you were more than interested with the idea of the exhibition, you two listened intently to his colleague present the final viewing session before you two ventured together.

Of course, Taehyung guided you through the exhibited admiring the angle and the perspective his colleague had decided on. You would listen intently, enjoying the decent moscato served. There is a familiar warmth in depths of your abdomen, not from the wine, but from the way his beautiful digits tangled along with manicured ones.

After the viewing session, he had reserved a spot by the new sushi restaurant you heard your co-workers discuss every month or so. You decided to order the quintessential edamame where you two would pick at the pods and pop each bean into your mouth while you two decided upon what to try. You were both interested in the different rolls they had to offer, popping each roll into your mouth in a split second.

“Holy fuck, you need to try this one.” He would say. You witness the way he effortlessly picks up the roll and hovers it by your lips and you open your mouth allowing him to pop the small morsel upon your tongue.

When you would close your mouth and start chewing, he would nod happily only to begin diving into a different roll.

The dinner ends when the both of you are sufficiently tapped out. However, to your surprise, there is a gelato boutique next door to the sushi bar and you persuade Taehyung that you would pay for his gelato since he had paid for dinner.

He takes up the offer.

You both request for a piccolo sized gelato. He ordered an agostino which was an Argentinian dulce de leech. Meanwhile, you were taken aback by the charcoal vanilla which you ultimately grew to love.

When you get the order you had both requested, Taehyung mysteriously jerks his heads outside only for you to follow behind him as he looks both ways to cross the street.

“Where are we going?” You grumble, struggling to catch up with him.

“We’re going for a walk.”

“Why are you going so fast?”

“Maybe you’re too slow.”

“Well, slow down for me, will you?” He chuckles at your whines and you began scooping the gelato into your mouth, allowing it to melt inside your mouth.

“Taste good?” He hums before he shovels a large scoop of his gelato inside his. You nod at once. Your eyes settling on this cup and he moves it closer to you, nudging for you to try the agostino. You take a small scoop and place it on your tongue to taste the overtly sweet creaminess.

“Here, try mine.” You switch cups and while you mindlessly shovel more of his gelato into your mouth. Taehyung pauses, grins at the way your eyes glisten, despite the lack of light underneath the night sky.

He takes small shovels of your flavor into his mouth as you two amble around the block. He could really get used to this.

The conversation that you two participated in had been interrupted by the high pitched tone in the depths of her purse. She hands you back the small cup before she fishes the phone, unlocking it.

He enjoys the way the bright light shines upon your smiling face.

However, his brows knit into one when he watches your beautiful smile drop into a frown. The inflection of confusion is evident in the way the crinkle in your eyes disappear and the furrow of your brows are put together.

“What is it?” He inquires and you lock your phone, not hastily, but you shake your head, offering him a grin to ease his worries. “Did something happen?”

“No, no. It’s nothing to worry about, to be honest.”

But you were lying — to yourself and to him.

“Who was it that texted you?”

You didn’t want to have to lie some more to him, so you decide to take smaller scoops of your gelato. Suddenly, you had lost your appetite. “It was Michelle.”

“What’d she say, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You paused momentarily, debating on whether you should answer him truthfully or not. There was nothing to hide at this point. Taehyung knew about your predicament with Yoongi. 

However, would it be wise to disclose him on Yoongi’s stance between your renunion with the man right in front of you?

“She told me Yoongi had called Hoseok.. wondering where I was.”

“What’d he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He wanted to consult with me, first.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“I’m on a date with you. It’d be rude of me to just text them, suddenly.”

The corner of his lips twitch to a weak grin. However, he understands your uncertainty of the predicament.

“You’re not sure what to do. You’re afraid if you tell Yoongi the truth, he’d be disappointed because we’re, hypothetically, together. But if you hide this from him, you’d feel like an awful friend for hiding such a big thing from him.” Taehyung voices out the dilemma and you shake your head, swallowing the heaviness of the situation.

“Taehyung, we are on a date.” You conclude and stop on your tracks, chewing on the inside of your cheeks. “As your date, my attention will solely be on you.” He appreciates the way you are approaching things. However, he stops you in front of you, eyes leveling with yours.

“And, as your date, I want you to have a good time and, clearly, you seeing that text dampened your mood.” You remained straight faced with him, losing all appetite for the Italian dessert laying on the palm of your hand. “I care about how you feel, YN. You can talk to me.”

He lifts his hands to caress your cheeks. The thumb nudging at the corner of your mouth to encourage a grin to appear on your visage. “Taehyung, the past two hours I’ve been with you, I — I have never felt this good about myself in a  while.” You confess and he stops caressing your cheeks, pained to see that you sincerely have not been satisfied for the past six months you had not seen each other.

“A part of me is happy to hear that. But the other absolutely despises the fact that you’ve been suffering for this long.” There was a heat suffocating you on your throat and you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to hold back the water works.

“It’s true though and I want to savor every moment I have left with you. I don’t know when I’m going to see you again, so I’m going to be in the moment with you.” You conclude, not wanting to discuss your current dilemma with him — not because you didn’t want to discuss it with him, but because you were spending every moment with him on a ticking clock.

Unable to control himself any longer, Taehyung leans down to firmly press his mouth onto yours. Petals enveloping your own and the heat of his tongue swipes across your lower lip to express just how truly touched he was by your words. His hand cupping your profile and swiping away your flying hair against the cool wind.

Eyes half-lidded with warmth and pleasure, you return the action with as much fervor as he had originally began with. His tongue tasted of the milky treat and you were growing addicted to the taste of the gelato. Careful not to spill any of the melted gelato onto him, you are already slithering your arms around his figure, pulling away to gasp for air.

“As much as I’d like to do so much more than kiss you,” Taehyung was the first to speak between the both of you. He tucks a strand of your hair behind ear and caresses the softness of your cheeks. “It’s starting to get a little late and I have an early flight tomorrow.” He sighs sadly, staring right into your eyes.

A small pout has formed upon your face and you decide that perhaps it’s best you both stop now.

“Time flies by when you’re having too much fun.” At your simple statement, Taehyung leans down and pecks your mouth delicately. His thumb nudging at the corner of your mouth.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He announces and you can’t help but agree with him. Delicate digits lace themselves around his skinny, beautiful ones as you both walk back to where he had originally parked.The entire ride back to your humble abode you spent the entire time singing many throwback love ballads at the top of your lungs. Two empty gelato cup nestled in between your thighs while you harmonized with Taehyung’s beautiful baritone voice.

He steers left and enters your apartment complex where you both try to calm your giddiness by lowering the volume of the radio. He pulls right in front of your building and you turn to him when he puts it on park and he bites his lip when he looks at you.

“I had an amazing time, YN.” Taehyung declares and you nod, blushing. “Who knew we would start off the new year together, huh?” He can’t hold himself from cupping your face and kissing your cheek, returning back his initiation by deepening the kiss.

“I had a good time too.” You sigh into his mouth and are reminded of your previous encounters the night before. “A — Are you sure you don’t want to come inside?”

“As much as I’d love to extend my evening, but I really need to get some packing done and get an early night in considering I’ll be traveling all day.” You were satisfied with his answer. Though, initially, you were upset he wouldn’t ease your desires, you were glad that you both were taking it gradually slow.

At least this time, you were taking it slow.

“I know it may be too soon, but do you know when I get to see you again?” He pulls away momentarily to think back. “I’m not quite sure. I do travel every other week because it’s part of the job. Most of the time, it’s here in Los Angeles, but it’s not a hundred percent guarantee.”

“I understand.” You replied and his grin softens when he lays his eyes on your mouth once again, placing the gentlest of kisses on your soft petals. “I guess I’ll see you whenever I can then.” His fingers tickle the back of your neck when you both share a sweet kiss.

However, you are interrupted by the bright light shingling right to your right. The sounds of the glass tapping right next to you startles you and Taehyung is visibly confused to see Tiffany and Yoongi standing right next to his rental car.

Your eyes meet Yoongi’s and you are visibly stiff from where you sat, shocked to see the couple outside.

Taehyung rolls down the window for you and Tiffany waves a hello to the both of you.

“Oh my god, you guys! You got back together!”

You both immediately shook your heads, wanting to clear the other. There is a wave of relief in Yoongi’s face, but shame in Tiffany’s at her assumption.

“No, we’re… we’re trying to work things out, but not officially together.” Taehyung clarifies.

“Oh, noted.” Tiffany nods and bites her lower lip. “I’m so glad you both get a second chance at something though. You guys should have came earlier though! We had a Disney movie night with Michelle and Hobi. It would have been a cool triple date.” At the mention of your future plans with Taehyung, Yoongi has returned to his state of disbelief once again. Unsure of how to react, he remains difficult to read.

“I bet it would’ve have been fun.” You sighed and turn to Taehyung, kissing him on the cheek, hoping for the cumbersome atmosphere to die down. “Call me when you’ve arrived to your hotel safely.”

When you hop out of the car, Taehyung says his goodbyes to both Tiffany and Taehyung and he exits the apartment complex, relieved to have clarified it for everyone that you and Taehyung were just working things out.

“I’ll see you guys later. I’m… really fucking tired, but we should definitely have another movie night next weekend or something.” You grin at Tiffany and fish your apartment keys out of your purse, hugging Tiffany goodbye before you head back to door.

There was a part of you that screamed to avoid any physical contact with Yoongi, but you did not want to alert the already tense moment by not offering him one in front of Tiffany. However, he had already decided upon himself to dismiss the conversation but unlocking his car where had parked.

“God, he’s been grumpy all night.” Tiffany complains and your curiosity is piqued. What could have possibly irked him so much to the point that he is still vexed up until now? You bite back any inquiries regarding his mood; afraid that perhaps it had something to do with your little reunion with Taehyung.

“Nothing like wine and chocolate can’t fix. I’m sure that’ll brighten up his mood.” You advise and Tiffany agrees before she waves another goodbye. Turning away from the departing couple, you attempt to fish out the keys out of your purse and enter your unit.

The living room is pristine. You would have assumed that it’d be trashed for the evening, but the cushions had been positioned beautifully on the sectional. Not a single crumb laid on the carpeted floors of your apartment and the scent of vanilla lingers in the air. The lights are turned off at the hallway and inside Michelle’s room, assuming that the couple have turned in for the night.

When you strip your coat off of your frame, you hear the lightest of knocks behind you, sneaking a peek inside the peep hole to see Yoongi awaiting for a response. Unlocking all the locks and opening the door for him, he invites himself inside and you are ultimately confused at his presence.

“Did you forget anything?” You inquired, unsure of his purpose for coming back inside your abode.

“How was your date with Taehyung?” You held your breath at the mention of his name and, suddenly, you can feel the density of the atmosphere around you. It was unbelievably quiet and all you can hear is the ticking noises of your noisy kitchen clock.

“I had a good time. If you were curious, we went to that sushi place downtown and there was a gelato shop next door.” His jaw tightens as you reply and he scratches the back of his neck, swallowing at his following inquiry.

“Was it really good enough that you had to reconsider getting back together with him?”

“Yoongi, it was just… a date. Taehyung and I don’t even know what’s going on, so we’re going to take it slow —“

“What the fuck does that mean? Hoseok says you guys fucked last night and, now, you’re taking it slow?” His annoyance was infectious and the knitting of your brows was a sign to Yoongi that you were puzzled with his current stance in your relationship.

“Why does it matter to you, Yoongs? Quite frankly, my dating life is none of your concern. You have your own to cherish and rejoice in. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to puzzle the pieces together.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt again.” He seethes and you scoff at his reason.

“I’ve gotten used to it, alright? I appreciate the concern, but this is my decision to make — not yours or Michelle’s or Hoseok’s — mine.” You take a step closer and you can’t help but savor the scent of his new cologne that Tiffany had recently bought as his Christmas gift. He stays silent as he reads your face, looking you directly in the eye before you swallow hard.

“Can you answer me honestly?”

You nod once and you can feel your heart beating faster, jaw clenching at the anticipation of his question.

“Why are you so hesitant to go back with him? You had sex with him, agreed to go on a date with him — why take things slow? What’s with the reluctance to establish a relationship when you think he’s changed?” The question hit you hard and there was one simple answer to it, but you bit your tongue because it’d complicate everything so much more; Because if you answered honestly at that very moment, everything at that moment would be real.

You were still in love with him.

And the way your eyes remained disconnected from his. Your breath hot as you sighed, releasing all the exasperation in this sticky situation was enough for Yoongi to understand your hesitation.

Nothing had to be said.

Frustrated with the excruciating silence filling the air, Yoongi takes a sharp inhale before instinctively cups your face into his palms and crashes his mouth onto yours. It was unexpected yet almost necessary for a moment like this. Months of pent up anguish, frustration, and desire to feel his mouth on yours, it was finally happening.

His mouth tasted sweet like ice cream. You hated the way you can taste a slight taste of strawberry on his mouth because you knew he had kissed Tiffany and it was her lipgloss that you were tasting. Suddenly, you are overwhelmed with Tiffany.

He wouldn’t kiss Tiffany like this. Unless, you didn’t think he had kiss Tiffany like this. He was kissing you like it was his last dying breath and you despised that he was good at it. You can feel the pace of his breathing when your bodies collide against each other, seeking for more contact than a lust driven kiss.

And you can’t help but inhale the scent of his goddamn cologne. It was intoxicating and you could smell the fabric softener of his clothes rubbing against yours. The callouses on his digits were rough on your cheeks, but there was a tenderness in the way he caressed them. A roughness in the way his other set of digits would tug at the root of your hair but a sense of comfort int he way the pads of his finger massage your scalp.

You were putty in his hands and you savored his mouth.

But it was too overwhelming; the taste of chocolate ice cream now tasted of strawberry lip gloss and the smell of his sandalwood cologne now a coconut infused perfume that littered his shirt.

The palms of your hands landing on his chest as you gently tugged his much bigger frame off of yours. The hold he had on you now gone and you whimpered at the loss of his touch.

“T — Tiffany’s waiting for you.” There is a look of pain and regret painted on your visages and you wiped his taste off of your mouth, hating the fact that you loved the way he tasted. You wanted every fiber of him off of you, avoiding addiction.

“Right.” He cleared his throat as he backed away from your frozen body and he clutches the knob of the door. “YN, please —“

“My… lips are sealed.” You breathe, knowing very well that you two had committed into something that has ultimately ruin someone’s trust and happiness.

“Thanks.” He opens the door and turns around. However, before he leaves, he turns to you and you can see a sense of sadness in his visage. “N — Nothing has changed, hasn’t it?”

The tears began building up in your eyes because you knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

Even six months later, you two were hopelessly in love with each other.

“Not one single bit.”

↪ Please stay tuned for the next part!

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Duality - Chapter Five (The Spider Caught in the Fly's Web)

Kaos rapped his quill against the page of his textbook, rhythmic patterns distracting him from the lesson at hand. Rat tat tat. History, something on the dragon realm. Tat tat tat. Having taught himself about that very topic late last summer, paying attention was the least of his worries. Tat tat tat. That seemed to be a habit for Kaos, even back in the day; while the others were trying to master writing simple words like ‘house’ and their names, Kaos was busy reading up on the history of Skylands (and marking up the books with his barely legible handwriting). Despite excelling past his fellow students faster than the teachers had ever seen a child of his age learn, his failure to actually apply his skills landed him in the ‘gifted’ student classes; later resulting in him being held back an entire year. It probably didn’t help that he had been homeschooled the first few years of his life, either; having found it nearly impossible to get along with the other inferior students he found himself surrounded by. Rat tat tap. Kaos sighed, mindlessly tracing one of the illustrations of the fabled purple dragon, not noticing the lull in conversation.

“Ah-hem”.

Kaos looked up from his textbook, pausing his hand mid trace. The quill hovered just above the page. The sound of the teacher’s blunt tone wrenched him from his thoughts like a pair of icy cold hands wrapped around his neck.

“...What.” Kaos asked.

A few of the other students stifled a giggle. Kaos swung his legs back and forth in lieu of stopping the other motion, the tips of his shoes barely brushing the tiled floor. The teacher loomed over him, leaning against the edge of the desk. With a drawn out sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, then motioned with long fingers and a turn of his head towards the chalkboard.

“Kaos. If you’ll give us the pleasure of actually joining us,” He began, his voice low and gravelly.

“All right, all right,” Kaos waved him off, looking back down at the page, “Could you repeat the question… please.”

The teacher muttered something under his breath as he scuttled back to the chalkboard. From the torso up, he was a tall, burly man in a wrinkled collared shirt. His features were strong set; with a set of six black eyes and pincers protruding from the corners of his mouth. He had his slick black hair combed over in an attempt to hide the fact that he was already balding. From the hips down, though, was another story. Where his legs should have been was instead the thorax of a spider. Eight long, spindly legs carried him across the floor. Mr. Webster was, by far, the scariest teacher Kaos had ever had. Which was saying something, when he had had to spend an entire semester in ‘Ms. Alyvia’s’ 9th grade botany class. Even after he had cultivated a batch of snapping ivy (after countless failed attempts) which proceeded to take over the entire greenhouse. And possibly ate one of his classmates. But that was never proven.

And he had had it coming anyway, that beakheaded birdbrain.

“What a surprise. You’re actually on the right page for once,” Mr. Webster drawled as he scratched something down on the chalkboard, “Kaos. Just because you’re a year older than the rest of the class doesn’t mean you can slack off.”

“What’s. The question. Webster,” Kaos repeated, clenching his fists.

Mr. Webster didn’t bother turning around, simply circling a scrawl of text before returning to what he had been doing. Kaos hunched his shoulders with a growl before he leaned forward, squinting. The words seemed to swim together, twirling in an invisible dance. Kaos felt something prickle on the back of his neck, eyes trained on him once again. When he realized he had just been sitting there in silence, mouth hanging open, he righted himself with a shake of his head. When he looked back to the board, the words were in their place, albeit looking like someone had smudged the chalk they were written in. Which dragons do we know originally hailed from the dragon realms. Kaos took no time to think about his answer, like a tape recorder had been switched on within his mind, the information tumbling out of his mouth.

“Is that a trick question?” He scoffed.

Mr. Webster finally looked back, his gaze capable of burning a hole through Kaos’ skull alone. Kaos just continued on with a smirk.

“We have no known recollection of any dragons coming through to our realm. The only reason we even know about the dragon realms is because left by the Benevolent Ancients. Not to mention they were from, like, millions of years ago. For all we know, the dragon realms could have been absolutely annihilated in that time,” he recited, growing more passionate with every word. “Apparently a few Spell Punks have been attempting to create a link between our world and the dragon realms, for their own evil purposes no doubt; but every attempt would end in complete and utter failure-”

“That’s enough, Kaos.”

Mr. Webster cleared his throat. An unimpressed look on his face. Kaos' smirk fell as he looked to the floor, apathy overtaking him. The other students’ stares lingered on him for a moment longer before they returned to their work and idle chit-chat that seemed to fill the air between every word the teacher uttered.

“Despite his… verbose explanation, Kaos is technically correct. There has been no known contact with the dragon realms, other than what’s detailed in the scrolls of old,” Mr. Webster pointed to something he had written down on the board, turning his back to the class. “Continuing from where we left off, yes the High Spell Punks have been trying to open a link, but so have the elusive saviours of Skylands. Who some of you may know as the-”

Kaos didn’t hear any more of Mr. Webster’s speech. Instead, his attention was grabbed by something lodged into his pocket, which was buzzing against the side of his leg. Silently, Kaos pushed his chair back, stuffing his hand into his pocket. Immediately, his fingers came into contact with something rectangular and metal. Something that was quickly heating up. With his heart skipping a beat, Kaos jumped out of his seat and bolted to the door. He skidded out into the hallway and towards the washrooms, not bothering to wait around to gauge how much trouble he was going to be in. That didn’t matter now. Kaos barely felt his feet touch the ground as he wheeled into the boy’s washroom, nearly crashing into one of the stall doors. He pulled it open, slipped inside, then locked it behind him. Kaos quickly yanked the device from his pocket, fumbling to get a hold of it, a few empty vials of ink and loose sticky notes coming along for the ride. He held it up to the whirring fluorescent lights, flipping it open. The device looked to have been made with scrap metal, like the rest of Kaos’ creations, with a speaker set into one end and a keypad on the other. Kaos plopped down on the floor, not daring to sit on the ‘ivory throne’ behind him as he hit the button marked receive.

“Testing testing, riptideTinkerer to dumbassRacoon. Come in dumbassRacoon.” Dyskord’s voice crackled through the speaker, ebbing in and out every few words.

“We agreed my codename isn’t ‘dumbRacoon’. It’s doomsdayEngineer you uncultured swine,” Kaos hissed into the device.

On the other end, Dyskord’s laughter came through, heavily clouded in static. “Yeah yeah, whatever ya twerp. You’ll always be my little dumbassRacoon.”

“FOR THE LAST TIME DYSKORD I’M NOT-” Kaos cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “You dunderhead, I no longer resemble a trash panda, so quit calling me one. Where are you.”

"Just heading to the entrance now, baby brother. And yes, I have the administration device. Per your explicit specifications, of course."

"Good. Wait in the rendezvous position and make sure you aren't seen. I'll be there once I've gotten everything in order."

"Any chance you know exactly when that'll-"

Kaos flicked the device closed with a click, hearing scuttling footsteps enter the washroom. He held his breath as the sound grew closer, then stopped, followed by the creak of the stall door next to his. The sound of ringing crackled through the intercom, nearly making Kaos jump out of his skin, fumbling with his communicator in a panic before slipping it back into his pocket. Second period had begun. Kaos scrambled to his feet as quietly as he could muster, flushed the toilet behind him (for good measure) then threw the stall door open and dashed out of the washroom. Next was chemistry, one of the only classes he could tolerate, and coincidentally the one class he needed for his plan to come to fruition. Readjusting his scarf, Kaos let a smile play across his face as he joined the other students making their way through the halls. Just a little longer, and soon he'd be rid of this place for good. Just one more class.

Kaos never arrived early to class. Today, he assumed, would be no exception. He would often get lost in the halls, unable to see where he was going through the forest of legs and low hanging backpacks. Just getting carried along by the flow until he managed to arrive where he needed to be. Or everyone else got to their classes and he was left to make a mad dash across the school before the bell rang. Today gave Kaos the added challenge of stopping off at his locker, effectively cutting his time in half. Even with all of that stacked against him, though, Kaos arrived at his science class to find the door closed. Kaos shrugged his backpack to the ground, careful not to let his textbooks spill out onto the floor before he jostled the doorknob. It didn’t budge. Kaos stood up on his tip toes, just barely able to peer in through the small window. The room was empty, all of the lights off. His chem teacher was absent. Again. Kaos groaned, sliding down to sit beside his bag, knees pressed against his chest. He watched other students from his class meandering about; the fawn that sat at the head of the class was reading a book on ‘the flora of the cloudbreak islands’, the ent that sat behind him was picking their twigs (and eating the leaves that fell off like the disgusting deciduous demon they were). Countless Mmabu were scattered around the hall - Kaos was pretty sure they were part of his chem class, but, then again, they all seemed to blend together. Kaos’ gaze trailed down to his backpack, seeing the glint of his metal lunchbox from between the textbooks jammed into his backpack. Like glowing eyes peering out from a cave, beckoning to him. Tick tick tick tick. Kaos looked back to the door, shaking his head. He needed to get in there somehow. It didn’t matter if he got in trouble or not, a little setback would be better than a complete halt of the plan.

Kaos pulled his bag into his lap, rummaging around until he pulled out a small ink bottle, pouring the contents into his hand. Bobby pins spilled out, along with a few spare buttons. Kaos picked out a few bent ones, quickly sweeping the rest back into his bag; he’d reorganize them later. Kaos pushed his bag back into the corner, trying the doorknob one last time before starting to fiddle with the lock. He stuck the bobby pins in, shifting them around as he listened intently. The sounds of the other students faded into the background, idle chatter morphing into the soft clicking of the pins. He squinted, biting his tongue. He could almost see the mechanisms in his mind, like an extension of himself. He just needed one more moment to-

“You know, a key may help with that.”

Kaos yelped, dropping the pins as he whirled around. Standing over him was a tall frost elf, her gaze almost as cold as the air that hung around her. She gestured for Kaos to step out of the way before pulling a bedazzled keyring from her pocket. With freshly manicured nails, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, walking into the nearly spotless lab. Kaos stood against the wall as the other students funneled in, grabbing his bag once again before following after them. He watched the other students settle down, grabbing goggles and lab coats, setting up today’s experiment as the teacher wrote it on the board. Kaos sat down at his table, alone as per usual, already feeling the ent breathing down his neck, despite being two tables down. Kaos felt his head buzzing at the sound of chatter, clinking glass and chalk squeaking against the board as he quickly stowed his lunchbox in the drawer of his desk; the insufferable racket swirling together to make the corners of his vision ripple like water. Tick tick tick tick. Ah, how Kaos would miss it all… not. He wouldn’t shed a single tear when he was free of this place, nor would he think the others would either. He was doing them a favor, if Kaos was being honest. They would all be thanking him, even if he was mostly doing it for himself. No matter, his plan was so close to coming to fruition he could almost taste it. Like a big slice of blueberry pie.

“Alright class, get your pencils out. It’s time to start today's lab.”

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

[writingsbychlo]

angel with an accent | thomas

word count; 6428

summary; newt has a friend from england flying out to see him, and thomas is swooning.

notes; soooo, y’all wanted a little fic using british slang, and here it is. it’s totally meant to be a comedy fic, please don’t take it seriously, for the record, ‘pleasure beach’ means ‘blackpool pleasure beach’ and is an amusement park,.

warnings; nope, a few sexual references but that is it.

Being awake at this time in the morning, was not Thomas’ idea of a fun start to the day. Especially not, when every time he almost managed to drift off, he was jerked awake by the overwhelming boom of jets taking off above his head. Twisting uncomfortably in his car seat, he turned to face his friend, eventually giving up on catching up on sleep altogether, and letting his seat move back up to its normal position from the reclined state he’d put it in.

Minho was glancing at his phone, scrolling through instagram, occasionally letting his finger tap down to like a post as he came across them. A whine fell from Thomas’ lips from boredom, his friend glancing up at him with an eyebrow raised. “It’s only been forty minutes.”

“Forty minutes I could’ve still been in bed.” 

“Shut ya’ complaining up. You wanted to come for breakfast, and meet Newt’s friend.” Minho jabbed, the words teasing and Thomas pouted, huffing through his nose but his stomach rumbled at the thoughts of the pancakes he’d soon be stuffing down. 

“That was before I knew their flight landed at seven in th- oh, shit!” Thomas sat up straighter in his seat, leaning forward to look out of the window and the boy beside him looked up, attempting to look past him, but Thomas was practically filling the space.

“What are you mumbling about now?”

“Newt’s friend if fucking hot!” 

A chuckle, more like a cackle, fell from the Asian boy’s mouth as his friend turned to him, an eyebrow raised in question of his laughter. “Didn’t know you swung that way, Thoma- OW!” He rubbed at his arm, Thomas flashing him a sarcastic and toothy grin to follow the punch he’d delivered, but Minho’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of you out of the window. “His friend is a fucking chick?! You’d think he’d a’ mentioned that!”

The pair watched in wonder as you made your way over. Your arm was looped through Newt’s, his other hand pulling your suitcase along behind you as you gripped your carry-on tightly. A light sundress brushed at the middle of your thighs, waving lightly in the breeze, shifting with each step you took. A denim jacket was sitting on your shoulders, shiny hair flowing around your shoulders in loose waves. 

You were laughing at something Newt had said, your smile bringing more warmth and light than the early morning sun itself, and though he couldn’t hear it, Thomas already knew the sounds of your laughter was going to be sweeter than honey. The two couldn’t even school their stares as you made it to the car, luckily for them, you were too distracted making your way to the back of the car to place your case int he trunk, but Newt had noticed. He shot them both a glare and a scowl, waiting for Minho to press the button on his driving wheel to open the boot, and the aforementioned boy fumbled to find the button, both Thomas and Minho looking at each other in shock.

Just like that, the morning seemed much more bearable. 

The doors quickly opened once the slam of the trunk had sounded, and finally, the muffled voices and gentle laugh reached his ears as you settled into the car, Newt following on the other side and you dipped your head as you clicked your seatbelt into place. Turning in their seats, both the boys from the front seats were looking at you with wide grins when you looked up and your eyes widened, Thomas’ heart jumping as you gave them a soft smile.

“Let me guess, Minho-” You held your hand out to him, and the boy seemed positively elated that you already knew his name, and hearing your accent up close, Thomas was already swooning. “-and you must be Thomas.” Your hand slipped into his gently, shaking it carefully and he was practically breathless as your attention was now on him, his fingers barely curling around yours. “Newt has been telling me all about you guys.”

“Good things, I hope?” He was honestly surprised by his own ability to form words, and Newt rolled his eyes as Thomas continued to stare at you, Minho turning in his seat and starting the car. 

“Oh, absolutely not. All the fun things.” You shot him a wink and a blush rose to his cheeks. Thomas turned in his chair and sank back into his seat as the car raced, and even over the music of the radio playing his ears were tuning in on the little conversations you were having with Newt, and he ignored the scenery flying past him outside of the window, choosing instead to catch cheeky glimpses of you in the mirror. 

He had barely registered the journey that brought them to the diner they were now at, and he was jerked from his day-dreaming as the car came into a sudden braking thanks to Minho’s awful parking skills. You were shooting from the car fist, happily stretching your arms above your head as you popped and clicked joints, stretching out muscles that had already been cramped from a plane, and re-cramped in the car.

“I’m assuming there’s no chance of a full-English fry up here.” You turned to Newt, a coy grin on your face as he rounded the car, and Newt shook his head.

“Unfortunately not, but I promise I’ll make you one during your trip. I will make you all your favourites from home at some point.” He promised, and your arm linked through your blond friends and Thomas’ brows furrowed. 

“What’s on a ‘full-English fry up’?” He questioned, and you turned to him with a gasp, holding a hand over your heart in mock-offence, a smile pulling at his lips at your antics, and he held the door open for you gently as you stepped inside. 

“Only the best breakfast ever!” You grinned, and his eyebrows raised at your explanation, urging you to explain. “Well, you know, your basics. Eggs, toast, sausage, bacon..” 

“Sounds like an American breakfast to me.” Thomas questioned, and you settled into the booth opposite him, Newt sitting beside you and Thomas reached out a hand idly, pushing Minho up the worn leather of the seat as his attention remained glued on you.

“Yeah, but on an English breakfast, you also get fried mushrooms, grilled half-tomatoes, hashbrowns, bakes beans and black pudding.” You confessed, and he laughed at the sounds of it, taking the menu from the waitress with a smile as she handed them out around the table. Before he had a chance to ask further questions, the server before you was taking orders for drinks, and your attention was gone for a second. Newt ordered first, Minho following, before all eyes were on you. “Can I get a tea?”

“Iced tea with breakfast?” A heat rose to your cheeks, and Newt laughed beside you, looking at the back of the menu before turning to the waitress and ordering you coffee instead, and Thomas thought your blush might be the cutest thing he had ever seen, and you ducked your head to hide it from them all as he gave his own drinks order, hesitantly tearing his gaze from you as not to be rude. 

“Don’t worry love, I bought you teabags in preparation. You can have a proper brew when we get home.” You beamed at Newt, the blush coating your skin finally receding. 

“So, what’s black pudding?” Thomas finally voiced, and you took off into an explanation of anything and everything he could get you to talk about, asking you questions that he knew would earn him long answers, just so he could hear you talk more, the way you happily gestured with your hands and practically bounced in your seat as he asked you about your home. 

When the waitress had come back with your drinks, you hadn’t even looked at the menu to order food, and Thomas took a leap, ordering breakfast for you, a dish he was sure you’d like. And he was right, you had been ecstatic when the food had arrived, and you had enjoyed every bote of it, your plate cleared as you sat with your hands on your stomach, head resting on Newt’s shoulder with a happy smile on your face. 

“That was amazing, but now I need to pee. I am going to the loo.” You hopped up form the booth and Thomas watched as you went, soft cooing falling from his lips as you trailed away, the accents and the words you used were digging a path straight to his heart. He spun back to the table when a harsh slap landed on the back of his head, and Newt settled down into his seat again, a scowl on his face as Thomas whimpered and rubbed at the back of his head, Minho cracking up in laughter beside him. 

“Will you stop drooling all over my mate?” He muttered, and Thomas shrugged, a bashful smile appearing on his lips. 

“I can’t help it!” He took a sip of his coffee, Newt’s eyes sealed on him in a glare. “She’s super pretty and her accent is just.. so cute.” 

“Aye, you twat! I’m pretty! My accent is cute, too!” He muttered, and both of the American boys cracked up at the protest. He shared a look with the dark-haired boy beside him, both of them shaking their heads at the look they shared as Thomas snorted in laughter.

“She makes it work.” Thomas confided, holding his hands up in surrender as Newt only scowled even further, and soon, you were making your way back over to the table, none the wiser of what the three males had been discussing.

“So, what did you want to do today, on your first day in the States?” Minho questioned his arms folding on the table as he leaned forward and you tapped at your chin, humming as you thought it over. 

“You got any roller coasters around here?”

“You remember the last time we went to a theme park together, love?” Newt nudged at your side, and Thomas unscrewed the bottle of water held lifting it to his lips as you grinned, nodding happily in agreement. 

“Pleasure Beach!”

Thomas choked on his water as the words left your mouth, his eyes wide as he looked at you, and it didn’t help when you placed a hand between his shoulder blades rubbing carefully as you looked over at him in concern. Newt, however, had a cheeky grin on his face that was hidden for you view just for Thomas to see. 

“Yeah, Pleasure Beach. You really went hard that day, you were exhausted!” Newt chimed, and Thomas’ face was red as he spluttered, assuring you he was okay through deep breaths as he finally cleared his airways. 

“God, yeah!” Your touch finally left him, and Thomas rubbed at his chest, lungs sore from all the impromptu coughing. “My hips were so sore! I was covered in bruises from being thrown about so rough, but it was so much fun!”

Thomas felt like he was about to hyperventilate, and he was sure it must be showing on his face as you looked at him with concern and Newt was looking like he was going to pass out from choking down his laughter for much longer, and finally, Newt took pity on him. “Theme parks are just so fun! I miss that one!” He shot his blond friend a glare for his antics, and Thomas shuffled awkwardly, the heat covering his body was making him uncomfortable and he was happy to see Minho making his way back over with your access bands to the park, effectively distracted Thomas. 

Pushing his sunglasses down over his nose, Thomas decided that if nobody could see his eyes, then he was free to look at you as much as he liked until he had to take them off for rides. You were already bounding happily forward, Minho leading you all as he held out a park map before him. 

Somehow, he had already managed to Google the rides, and had found a pen from somewhere to circle the rides he wanted or go on. Thomas on one side of you, Newt on the other, and he was certainly unprepared when he felt your hand slip around his arm, fingers resting on the crook of his elbow as you hold yourself between the two boys. You were following their friend, who was bouncing along happily as he guided you toward the first ride, and you turned to Thomas with a grin, his eyes scanning over your face as his brows rose from behind his glasses in question. “So, how does a nice guy like you know a scouser like Newt then, Tommy?”

“A what?” Thomas grinned, his heart skipping in joy at the sound of his nickname falling from your lips but the term you used to refer to his friend was too funny to ignore, and your fingers tightened on his arm as you spoke, his bare skin stretching under your fingers as he flexed slightly. 

“I’m not a scouser, you slapper.” He grumbled, and a loud laugh fell from your lips as you turned to him, removing your hand from his arm and flicking at his ear, to which Newt returned the gesture with a grin. 

“I’m so confused. You’re not even speaking English.” He mumbled under his breath, and though you didn’t bother holding onto Newt again, you turned to Thomas with a sly smile, your arm curling around his a little more as you moved into his side. 

“Actually, we are speaking English. Real English.” You teased, and his head tipped to the side as you came to a halt at the entrance to a queue Minho was standing before, and Thomas dipped his head slightly, lips brushing your ear as Newt was distracted when walking forward toward the crowd of waiting people. 

“I think it’s pretty cute, actually.” 

You raised a brow at him as he pulled back, a smirk on his features as he guided the two of you into the queue, and your hands slipped down from his bicep, both of them now resting on his forearm, the two of you speed-walking to catch up with your friends. The second you arrived, Newt turned to you, subtly pointing out a man standing out in the line of people ahead of you. He had a bad orange spray-tan, his hair slicked back as a pair of oversized and obnoxious sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. 

He looked like he was wearing the wardrobe of a spring-breaker that would roofie a girl’s drink, and you scoffed at his attire, your eyes glistening when you glanced up at Thomas. “My man over there looks like a right roadman. The sort who’s bird calls everyone ‘babes’ and has a lot of grow-out on her falsies, and they probably argue over whether they’re gonna’ watch the footy or corrie every night.” 

Newt burst out in laughter at your words, and both Thomas and Minho’s eyebrows furrowed at your words, jaw hung as the two of you cracked up, watching as you doubled over, clutching at your bellies. “I bet you a tenner his name is either John, Colin or Scott.”

“I’d take that deal!” You joked, the group shuffling forward, and though he hadn’t understood a single word you had said, Thomas was beaming just hearing the sounds coming from your mouth. 

As you progressed, you had sat next to him on most of the rides you encountered, and as you had been walking around, you had ended up pressed closer and closer to Thomas, the park getting bigger and crowds getting tighter. You were pressed up against him in the queues, your front up to his and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, questions flying from each of your mouths as you got to know one another. 

You screamed with joy each time the coasters went over a loop, your fingers looping through Thomas’ and squeezing tightly anytime you when over a steep drop, your eyes closed as your giggles were lost on the rush of air but he still heard them, and he wasn’t sure if his stomach was clenching from riding all the coasters or whether it was simply from your flushed cheeks, slightly messy hair and wide grin. 

Minho was surprisingly the first to cave, the athlete deciding that it was definitely time to eat, and nobody had disagreed. You had found a place to eat, different places to buy food lining the large outdoor seating area, like an outdoor food-court, and you quickly settled on where you wanted to buy your food from. 

Minho had gone first, ordering such a large amount of food your eyes had widened and Thomas laughed at your shock, because it was shocking, and yet or was even more shocking that the boy would eat it all and still be hungry in time for an evening meal. Newt followed him up, the two decided they were going to go and find a table and you were up next. You smiled at the person behind the counter, leaning up to speak your order.

“Can I get a hotdog - just ketchup, chips and a lemonade?” The person’s brows furrowed at your request, and Thomas opened his mouth to correct you, but the person had already left to assemble your order and his jaw clamped shut, perhaps it wouldn’t turn out so bad. 

He was wrong.

You were given your hotdog, but you had been a little thrown when you were handed the bag of chips and the plastic bottle of lemonade, and Thomas saw the disappointment flicker over your face, cursing at yourself under your breath and he frowned, watching as you just handed over your money and took the food, telling Thomas you’d meet him at the table. He was next up, and his eyes scanned over the menu, settling on making this right. 

“One hotdog, two fries and two sodas, thanks.” The person hurried away, and he watched as you settled down beside Newt, huffing as the boy laughed at your bitter drink and a bag of ‘crisps’, clearly not the meal you had been intending to get. He struggled to balance the food in your arms, and he collapsed down into the last uncomfortable metal seat left, pushing a cardboard-cup of soda and a portion of fries across to you, your eyes flicking from the food to him. 

“For me?”

“I saw you order the wrong stuff, and then you were all disappointed. You’re too cute to frown.” He teased, and Newt scoffed, rolling his eyes as Minho gagged.

“Hey! When I ordered the wrong things for months when I first arrived you never bought me food!” Newt mumbled, and you laughed, awwing at him and pinching his cheek. 

“Guess you’re just not as cute as me, g. Better luck next time.” You joked, and he slapped at your hand, smirking at you as he reached over and took a handful of your fries, at least half, your eyes widening as he dropped them onto the plate beside his cheeseburger. “Oi, you gypsy bastard! Those were mine!” 

You scowled, shaking your head and Minho shoved a mouthful of his first hotdog into his mouth as he watched the exchange. “You two should come with subtitles.”

Thomas wasn’t paying attention to Minho, instead, he tipped some of his portion of fries into yours, evening the amounts up and you caught him at the last moment, turning to him as Newt began to try and translate some of the slang to Minho. “You’re so cute.”

Thomas’ cheeks flushed at your words, and he adjusted the sunglasses on his nose to try and hide it, but you reached out carefully to pull them from his face, your eyes sparkling in the sunlight as you looked at him. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his cheek, your touch lingering there and he only reddened further at the touch. With a wink, you pushed his sunglasses onto your own face, a small smirk tugging at his features. 

You finally lifted your hotdog, biting into it carefully and licking the ketchup from the edge of your mouth, his eyes glued to the way your tongue moved to flick over the sauce, and you moaned happily as you ate the food. “Oh my God, this is peng.”

“Told you that you’d like the food here. Even if it is street vendors.” Newt chuckled, and you nodded happily. 

“So much better than the crap served from carts on the Manc streets. Reminds me of the home-cooked food you get at the street markets at Christmas.” You muttered, gleefully tucking into your food. Surprisingly, Minho had finished before any of you, and was raring to get back out there, he had been waiting to go on the water slide rides, and you finally agreed. You spent the afternoon drenched, water dripping from the tips of your hair as you went on every water-themed ride there was, sending the afternoons wandering the park in the sun to dry out, until eventually you had been removed when the gates were closing. 

You had all collapsed back into Minho’s car, heading over to the hotel in which you would be staying. As you pulled up, you had noticed an arcade across the road, and you’d turned to the boys excitedly, your eyes glistening as you silently pleaded with them and Thomas had to resist the urge to turn to you, deciding to make you wait for a moment as he watched you practically bounce in your seat.

Pulling into the hotel car park, Minho turned off the car and finally, he let himself turn to look at you, your lip clamped between your teeth and Newt finally turned off his phone, tucking it into his pocket as he looked up at you, brows raised.

“What’s got you looking like an eight year old on Halloween night?” He questioned, a pout forming on your lips at his insult but you never dulled your excitement. 

“There’s an arcade across the road.” Newt hummed in false disinterest, his arm stretching out across the back of the seat behind you, and he hummed casually, a small smirk on his face as you whined. “I really want to go. Can we please?”

“Not me you have to convince, love.” Newt gestured to Thomas and Minho in the front seat, and he caught your eyes, watching as you smiled at them softly. 

“Minho I bet they have lots of cheap food and bumper-cars so you can drag Newt onto them and give him whiplash.” You tried, the boy agreeing immediately, while the grumbling blond beside you pinched your arm lightly. Your gaze finally met his, your eyelashes fluttering as you leaned forward, smiling at him sweetly and he was already breaking. “Tommy, will you pretty please come to the arcade with me?” 

He huffed out at your statement, you must know exactly what you were doing to him because he struggled to hold his gaze with yours and not let his eyes flick down to your lips, a blush crawling along his cheekbones and he nodded gently. Licking over dry lips, he let them tilt up in a lop-sided smile. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You had been thrilled when he agreed, a toothy smile revealed as you cheered happily, hands immediately going to find the clip for your seatbelt as you freed yourself from the car, your feet hitting the tarmac lightly. You were practically skipping, but you didn’t rush the boys, instead choosing to wait patiently as they freed themselves from the vehicle, discussing the plans for the evening and how long they would stay. 

Rounding toward them, Thomas watched as you sidled up behind their little cluster, his fingers twitching in surprise when the tips of yours skimmed across his palm, your fingers lacing through his as your other arm wrapped around his bicep, and he turned to look down at you carefully as he wove his fingers with yours. 

“It’s cold.” You whispered the explanation and he smirked, tugging you around to his front to stand closer to his chest. 

“I got you, sweetheart, we’ll be inside soon, anyway.” He grinned, dipping his head to brush his lips against your forehead before Newt cleared his throat, and he snapped back up to his full height, his body stiffening as he blushes and looked at his less than amused friend, and a chuckle left your lips as your hand tightened around his own.

“Can we please go to the arcade now?” You questioned, and Newt reached out a hand to ruffle at your hair as he laughed teasingly, nodding his head as you set off on the journey to cross the road. 

Thomas was right, it was warm when you stepped into the loud arcade, the warmth washing over his skin and he shivered happily as he was embraced in the atmosphere. Lights flashed brightly from all the different games while the tunes and jingles to attract you to each machine melded in the air, sounds of winning and losing complimenting them, and the music playing from the speakers was barely audible.

Clasping a hand down on the fabric of Newt’s shoulder, Minho marched him towards the foot stand he’d just spotted. “Loser is buying the food!” He announced, the blond complaining as he asked Minho how he could possibly still be hungry as their bodies slipped away into the crowds. 

Your face pushed into his bicep, and Thomas looked down at you gently as you muffled your laughs. “The real question is, how does someone lose at bumper cars?” You asked, and Thomas let his own chuckles mix with yours as he thought it over, eventually shrugging at you as he looked around the place. “So, what first?”

“You wanted to come here, it’s your choice, sweetheart.” He beamed, and you shook your head at him, nibbling on your bottom lip as you spied an empty game, and your grip on his arm tightened as you drew his attention to it, his brows furrowing. “The basketball one?” You nodded, dragging him over to a change machine as you fished through your bag for your purse, and he closed his hand over yours gently. “I got us.”

Pushing a note into the machine, he grabbed one of the paper tubs and placed it under the dispenser as coins began to jingle and fall free from the metal box. Your lips pressed to his cheek, a bashful grin taking over his features as he looked at you. The minute the coins had stopped falling, he snatched the little cardboard pot, holding it out to you as you took in your hands happily. 

Guiding him over to the game, you pushed the coins into the slots, the game lighting up with flashing colours as instructions appeared on the screen, and the first ball came rolling down the ramp toward you. The basket soon started sliding back and forth, and you aimed carefully, the speed picking up as more balls rolled down the ramp toward you, gathering up as you still tried to aim, shooting the first ball and it bounced off of the rim, bouncing back toward you and landing on the metal slab. 

Before you could pick up another one, however, the sound of a horn blaring echoed through the room, and all the balls slid away as red flashed along the sides, flashing and taunting you for your loss and you pouted at the machine as it red a score of zero. A total of no tickets coming from the machine for your pitiful attempt made you turn toward him with a pout and he tried to suppress his laugh at your sad attempt.

“Here, why don’t you try again.” He pushed another coin into the machine as he moved to stand behind you, sliding his hands down your arms as he pressed his front flush up to your back. His hands closed over yours, guiding you to pick up the first ball that was rolling toward you and he pulled your arms back, leaning your bodies before shooting it perfectly, your hands clasped in his as it sank straight through the hoop, and you cheered happily.

The movements of the hoop sliding back and forth began to speed up and you reached for another basketball, his hands once again guiding yours as the ball flew forward, once again going through the hoop and you cheered in his grasp as you settled further into him. You didn’t achieve every shot, but you got almost all of them, and he was thrilled watching you excitedly wait for the tickets to dispense themselves from the machine for your taking. “You’re fantastic.”

He smiled, your hand finding home with his again and he looked down at your intertwined hands, before dragging his gaze back up to yours, the lights in the room flashing on your skin and lighting you up beautifully. “Nah, that was all you. You just had a bad first try.”

You gave him a gentle smile as you shook your head at him, before insisting that he choose the next game. 

After that, you had continued to take turns, the collection of tickets gathering up in your arms as you moved from console to console, trying everything. You had even managed to drag him onto one of the dance machines, his feet getting tangled at he tried to move. It wasn’t his fault he was distracted as he watched you jump out, singing the lyrics and losing yourself in the moment as you beat him with no struggle. 

By the time Newt and Minho had found you, the two of you were leaning against a claw game giggling as his hand over yours tried to snatch a teddy bear from a machine, his other arm sealed tightly around your waist, fingers splayed across your stomach and his chin balanced on your shoulder. 

“What are you two up to, then?” The British voice rang out, and you both turned to him, briefly, noises of complaints leaving you when the toy you had grasped slipped from the claws just before falling to the door where you could retrieve it. 

“Damn, Newt! I almost had one of these shite little bastards, you ruined it!” You muttered, and the blond laughed as he looked at the both of you. 

“How much money have you spent on the claw machine?” He shrugged, neither of you wanting to divulge how much your pride had really cost you as you’d insisted you would get it. With a shake of his head, he told you that it was time to go, and to Thomas’ surprise, you haven't argued. 

“Can we go exchange our tickets first?” You questioned him, and Newt glanced down at the handful of red tokens in reams that you held up to show him. With a nod, you were quickly bounding away, and Newt’s eyes narrowed at Thomas once you had left. 

“You seemed cosy.” He questioned, and Thomas’ mouth dry as he searched for words to use in response to his friend, but all that left his lips was a grunt, everything seeming to slip away from him in that moment. “Just don’t be a twat about it, alright? She deserves a nice guy.”

“I am a nice guy..” Thomas muttered, his frown turned into a scowl as the Brit finally smiled at him, shoving his shoulder lightly. 

“Well, are you going to go and help her pick out her prizes or not? If someone doesn’t monitor her then she’ll buy a lot of candy and be up all night.” With a roll of the eyes, Thomas suppressed his smile until he had turned away from the two boys, Newt’s approval ringing in his head as he made his way to find you. By the time he reached you, you were already accepting the paper bag with your rewards in, and he raised his eyebrows as you balanced it in your arm.

“Look what I got us!” You fished out two keychains, both with a globe sitting on the bottom and his eyebrows raised. “We can have matching keychains, so even when I’m on the other side of the globe, you can still think of me. Newt’s crazy friend.” You chuckled, holding one out to him and he took it in his fingers, twirling it softly in his palm.

“Crazy cute friend.” He muttered, dipping his nose to bump the tip against yours in thanks for your gift and you smiled, nuzzling your own back against him. 

“I got Newt this crappy union jack keychain, so he remembers his roots. Very important. And I got Minho this hotdog keychain. I don’t think that needs much of an explanation.” You showed him each of the items before dropping them back into the bag, and his arm looped around your shoulder as he guided you back to the other two so you could give them the trinkets you had won for them, both of whom were more than happy with their gifts.

The walk across the road was quick but cold, and Minho was jingling his car keys in his fingers, trying to put the hotdog, which he had promptly name ‘Harry’ onto the objects, before Newt had told him to hurry up so they could get your bags from the car and not have to wait in the cold anymore. 

You were left standing on the concrete outside of the hotel with Thomas, and he ran his hands up and down your arms in a bid to keep you slightly warmer as the other boy’s disappeared from view. He wasn’t sure how, but in the mere half a day you had been here, you had already managed to find your way straight to his heart, and he didn’t even care. He hated the sinking feeling in his stomach about the fact that in a month you would be leaving him again, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to make the absolute most of the month he would get to spend with you. 

He was too busy admiring you to notice that your attention had turned from your friends to him, until your voice calling out to him had snapped him from his dazing, and heat crawled up his cheeks as he grinned. 

His hands slowed their movements, slipping under the denim of your jacket to sit on the thin material of your dress, the heat from your skin radiating out into his palms, and your own arms looped around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him until your fronts were pressed together. He was nervous, his heart racing, until suddenly you pushed up onto your tiptoes, your lips meeting his softly and he let out a sighed-moan against your lips as the action he had been wanting to do with you for the past six hours at least, finally became a reality.

Your movements were slow and cautious at first, lips pressing subtle pecks to his own as you both grew bolder, his hands sliding around to sit on your back under your jacket, pulling you tighter to his body as your head tilted to the side. Your fingers found their way to scratching and playing with the shorter hairs on the back of his neck as the tips of his own dug into your skin, a needy whine falling from him. 

Tracing your tongue along the seam of his lips he had happily parted them for you, the muscles sliding and dragging together as you swallowed the gentle moan the other released the air around you both seeming to crackle and tingle with energy, and it was like the cold no longer mattered, or even existed. You hummed happily against him, letting him explore between your cheeks with his tongue as you did the same to him, and his lips slid wetly over yours as he pulled back, panting and flushed from the exchange. 

Your lips were red and swollen, parted slightly as you sucked in ragged breaths like he did, and he smiled, his eyes sliding shut as he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Why is all the emphasis on french-kissing when British girls kiss like that?” He was breathless as he spoke, and you giggled at his words, shaking your head fondly and pecking his lips, a groan falling from him at the small exchange.

“I think this is going to be a great vacation.” He smirked at your words, one of his hands sliding down until the tips of his fingers were brushing against your ass, nodding slightly and he dragged his lips against yours again, just enough to tease.

“Yeah, it is. I promise.” With that, his lips sealed over yours again, his tongue pushing past your lips to play with your own again and something between a squeak and a moan in surprise left you, and Thomas decided he loved that sound. Relaxing into him again, he held you tightly, willing himself to build up the courage to full slip his hand down onto your ass, but a familiar voice shouting at him snapped you both apart in a startled jump, your lips smacking at the parted.

“She’s been here fourteen bloody hours, get your hand off her ass and your tongue outta’ her mouth!” Thomas held his hands up, beaming cheekily at his friend before shrugging. 

“Dude, she is hot. I can be held accountable.” He joked, the look dropping from his face as Newt made to dash towards him, and he placed a quick peck to your lips before bolting away from the blond who was now chasing him.

“Come back here, you wanker!” You turned to Minho, who was standing with your bags, and still struggling to get the hotdog charm into his kets, and you held your hand out for him to give it to you, and you slipped it on in moments, his jaw gaping as you did.

“You’re more useful than Newt, can we keep you instead?” He joked, and you laughed lightly, watching the two boys chase one another around the car park. 

“You know, I might just stick around for a while.”

[evqnbuckley]

Chapter 2: A Price

7.2k words..........Okay this is taking on a life of it’s own but I promise, I promise there is a resolution. There is a happy ending. I’m just a sucker for pain and angst.... the rest is on ao3 @princesscas​

Two weeks go by in a daze. Sam has searched almost every book on the left side of the library. Eileen keeps the brothers hydrated and fed. Sam tells her not to worry about that, but she does. She bakes cookies occasionally, and brings home pie to cheer Dean up. He nods and half-heartedly grins in appreciation. Miracle cuddles Dean at night and licks his hand until he falls asleep. His presence is warm and comforting. Sam and Eileen both see Dean withdraw more and more everyday. They worry.

Dean is scanning through the online archives, with Miracle on the floor next to him fast asleep. He clicks on the topic NECROMANCY RITUALS. He knows it is a long shot but everything else is coming up dry. He scrolls down swiftly reading the pages, when something piques his interest. Upon first glance, most believe necromancy to be the darkest magick. Through further research it has been discovered that it’s only the first layer of what one can accomplish when tapping into that amount of power, darkness. Many rituals have culminated over time and within different cultures. However, one thing remains the same with Necromancy. A life for a life. Dean slowly sits up, removing his feet from the table. He swallows, and glances around the room. Eileen and Sam are giggling quietly. She shoves his arm in response to Sam’s remark. Dean pulls the laptop closer to him, and continues to read. Necromancy takes upon a life of its own. If one does not correctly perform the ritual, consequences may ensue. Those desperate to bring back a loved one should heed warning. Never perform the ritual on the second full moon during the harvest. Magick is unpredictable, but especially during the harvest the complications of Necromancy increase tremendously. Also, if you are to perform the ritual alone, it is to be exact. One mishap could lead to immediate death.  The ingredients vary slightly from ritual to ritual. It is appropriate to be diligent and perform with the correct offerings. Dean clicks the arrow for the next page, and it shows an error message. His brow creases  in confusion. He clicks the refresh button and the message appears again. He clicks four more times. The message remains on the page. Dean grows frustrated. He slams the laptop shut and stands.

“I’m going out.”

Sam and Eileen turn toward the noise, confused and shocked. “What? Why?” Sam questions.

Dean sighs, pulling on his jacket. “We’re getting nowhere. I feel claustrophobic and cooped up in this damn place. I haven’t left in two weeks. I need to stretch my legs. Get some air. I promise I’ll be back before curfew, Mom,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

“Dean-” Sam starts.

“I won’t do anything stupid, Sam.” He walks up the staircase and the bunker door slams.

Dean drives and drives and drives. He has no destination, but right now the road is welcoming. He runs his hand across the Impala’s steering wheel, slick, smooth and familiar. He almost forgets the feeling of driving his Baby. The trees and asphalt blur in his vision. The only thing Dean focuses on are the yellow lines on the road, but even those begin to blur as well. Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and azure eyes stare back at him. Fuck. 

He slows the car and pulls over. It's quiet. The Impala's headlights shine ahead, revealing an empty road. A bit of fog hangs loose above the ground. Dean sighs. He needs to get out of his head. There are too many thoughts and he feels like he wants to scream. Dean picks up his cell phone and pulls up Castiel's contact. His finger idles over the call button. Click. The line rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. There's a pause before the recorded voicemail answers. 

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." Dean closes his eyes at the sound of Castiel’s voice. He only speaks for two seconds but Dean hears every syllable. His brow creases and he clenches his jaw to bury the pain. Dean hangs up. He calls again. 

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." A tear falls down Dean's cheek. He needs to hear Castiel's real voice. He needs to see him again. Touch him. But he's gone. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, Dean notices a few tear stains on his shirt. 

Once again, he calls Castiel. Even though it's pointless. Even though he looks like a widower who can't let go. He calls Cas. The voicemail picks up again and Dean listens but he decides to not hang up. Not yet. The dial beeps, waiting for a voicemail to be recorded and Dean is still. He breathes in, motioning to speak, but stops. He hangs up. Anger rises in his chest. Why can't I leave a damn voicemail? He's angry at Castiel for leaving him. He's angry at Jack for leaving him. But most of all, he's angry at himself. At how he's failed to bring Castiel back. At how his best friend died and he didn't even say goodbye. At how he's known for a while his feelings about Castiel but never has the guts to admit it. 

Each thought churns his stomach more and more. The anger boils higher within him until he slams his palm against the steering wheel repeatedly. He cries out and covers his face with both hands, dropping the phone in his lap. Dean breathes in and picks the phone back up, hits redial and listens to the voicemail. I'm going to leave a fucking message. 

The dial beeps. Dean hesitates again but says quietly, "Hey it's me. Just wanted to hear your voice. The way you left- it's got me pretty messed up, man. I have to admit I never thought an angel was capable of emotions. You once told me I'm different. Well so are you. So I suppose my assumptions just make me an ass, huh?" He chuckles. "I'm sorry, Cas. I need you to know that. I need you to know th-that," he trails off. "Me too, Cas. I just need you to hear me, man." Dean pauses and rubs his brow with his index finger. "This is so stupid." He hangs up, and with a clench of his jaw, he pulls back onto the road.

On his aimless drive, Dean passes through a four way dirt road intersection. His memory of the deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam pops up. He considers trying to do the same for Castiel, but who knows if deals like that have much power in the Empty. 

Dean weighs the option before slamming on the brakes and makes a dangerous U-turn. He parks to the side and buries a small metal box with his picture along with other trinkets inside. Dean barely slides a layer of gravel over the box when he feels a presence.

“What have we here?” The demon peers around to face Dean. “A Winchester. Well, I feel honored.” The demon is possessing some young twenty year old kid, most likely a college student. He was probably Sam’s age when I pulled him from law school, Dean thinks. The demon straightens his dark suit jacket as Dean eyes him carefully. “So, are we just going to have a staring contest or do you have an offer to make?”

“I want to talk to Rowena," he demands. 

The demon stops, tilting his head. “She doesn’t take house calls.”

“We go way back. It’s important. Take me to her.” He states plainly.

“Uh, no.”

Dean stares down the demon. His green eyes flashing a dark olive with anger. His jaw clenches and he tightens his fists. Dean lunges forward, gripping at the demon’s collar and slams him against the Impala. He leans in, almost nose to nose as the demon smirks.

“Careful now, Dean I like it rough," the demon taunts. 

“Shut the fuck up. Why won’t Rowena answer my calls? Why won’t she see me?” His questions increase in volume with intensity. “Huh?”

The demon remains unprovoked. Dean pulls out the demon knife, threatening him. Eyeing the blade, the demon answers. “Alright, alright. I don’t know this for certain. I have just heard rumors, okay. Demons talking. But apparently Rowena was visited by the new God.”

Dean releases the demon, slowly in bewilderment. “What?” He says more to himself.

“Yea. They had this long ass meeting. Some demons are saying they came to an ‘understanding.’” The demon emphasizes with air quotes. He smooths out his jacket again and eyes Dean.

Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between the demon’s, searching for a hint of deceit. “The fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I only know what I heard.” The demon walks away from Dean and turns back, facing him. “Listen, if you don’t want to make a deal I am just wasting my time. There are other losers out there desperate and willing to sell me their soul. It's kinda my job, so…" Dean is silent, staring at a large rock in the gravel. It’s much larger than the others, out of place really. 

The demon dramatically turns, as if he needs to walk away when he can just teleport. “Wait,” whispers Dean.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“I said wait,” he raises his voice, normal volume. Dean sighs before continuing. He knows he told Sam he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he has to know. “There is one thing I need to know. If I am to make any kind of deal right now, I need to know something first.”

“Yes?” The demon drags on the ‘s’ like a snake.

“Do you have access to the Empty? Can you make deals that involve it?”

The demon saunters toward Dean with a smirk. “Hm, maybe.” Dean’s face lightens up.

“Take me. Take me instead. Please man, I have tried everything. If you can trade me and Castiel-”

“Oh yes, Castiel. Castiel, the angel who defied Heaven and lost everything. The angel so love-sick with humanity he couldn't be a good soldier anymore. The angel so broken he wasn’t truly an angel anymore,” interrupts the demon. He smirks at Dean, digging into his emotions and adds, “Thanks to you.” Dean squints his eyes. He’s right. 

“Take me,” Dean steps forward.

The demon chuckles at the sight before him. A Winchester so distraught he’s almost on his knees begging for a kiss. “Truthfully, I can give you what you want. Death. Another eternity in Hell. I’ll even give you 6 months instead of 10 since you look so damn miserable. But it won’t save your precious angel. He’s stuck there.”

Dean’s expression falters. He gasps as the new sliver of hope rips his heart out, shattering it. The demon, chuckling, closes in on Dean, whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and moist against Dean's neck. He shivers in disgust. “You must have known I was lying. But why don’t you say we kiss and make up?”

With that, Dean slams the demon knife into his stomach and twists the handle. The demon yelps in surprise and then falls to the ground. The night air ruffles the neck of Dean’s jacket. Even with the long sleeves, he still grows goose bumps on his arms. An owl sounds from across the street, in a tall bare oak tree. Dean feels like he’s in a warped moment of time. The midnight sky, the sound of the owl, silence from the road, and a dead body before him. He continues to stare down at the body for quite some time. His head becomes numb, but in the sense he doesn’t feel real. He hates this feeling. It’s how he felt when Chuck told Sam and Dean they have no free will. He writes their stories. None of it is real. But now Chuck is gone, so this is real. 

Dean gets rid of the dead body, gathers the small metal box, and drives again. He drives for an hour until he comes across a small bar that resembles The Roadhouse. Dean softly smiles. The Impala driver door groans as Dean closes it. Music to my ears. Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and the caller reads, “Sam.” He doesn’t want to deal with his brother’s concern or speech about self-destruction, so he declines the call. A notification for a voicemail pops up. Of course. Dean swings the door to the bar open and takes a seat in the middle. The stool is a bit worn down and the plastic is ripped, but the atmosphere is familiar and he appreciates the song "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival filling the room. 

“What can I get for ya?” A petite, dark headed woman with bright, blue eyes asks from behind the bar. She actually resembles Pamela Barnes in some aspects. That makes Dean smile earnestly. 

“Double shot of whiskey, your strongest.”

“Coming right up,” she taps the counter and winks at Dean. He knows she is just flirting for a nice tip, but the gesture seems nice. After a few moments, the bartender comes around with a short glass full of dark, honey like colored liquid and slides it in front of Dean.

“Our strongest whiskey.”

“Thanks,” he lifts his glass up in appreciation and then takes a drink. The liquid burns as it flows down. He sucks a breath between his teeth and releases it slowly. “Damn.”

A few girls, confidently and bravely, approach Dean periodically throughout the night. Each one, he easily lets down. His younger self would be kicking him right now. In fact, twenty-seven year old Dean would jump at any chance to have sex with all of these women. Now, though, everything is different. The last girl, she has a few too many, becomes a bit too touchy with Dean. He has to continuously remove her hands, but when he glances away in embarrassment, she moves in to kiss him. He doesn’t reciprocate, and the woman pulls back, spilling with apologies. Dean assures her it’s fine and “we’ve all been there.” She nods in acceptance and shuffles away. No more women approach him after that.

Dean downs the remainder of his whiskey and orders another glass. “Damn, you’re pretty popular tonight with the ladies. Though, I can’t say I don’t blame them,” the bartender says.

Dean huffs in embarrassment. “Uh yea, right.”

She slides his second glass of whiskey across the counter and eyes him. He has dark circles under his eyes, a pretty thick five o’clock shadow, and he's staring at his left hand. “So, why are you here by yourself? Where’s your lucky lady?” She inquires.

Dean looks up, confused. “Huh?” She smiles at him, knowingly.

“You’ve been rejecting all these women all night. You’ve gotta be tied down to someone. There ain’t no other explanation.”

“Oh, uh, no lucky lady.”

“Lucky lad?” She implies.

Dean’s eyes widen and his expression falters. “No, no. No, it’s just me.” He sighs. The sound of Castiel’s voice saying, “I love you” replays in Dean’s head. “Why?”

“I just like to get to know my patrons while they visit me. In case they become regulars,” she says as she pours a light beer from the tap for another man at the bar.

“Hm,” he replies. I did have someone in my life, but I was the lucky one. The song overhead changes from “Renegade” by Styx to “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Around the edges of the room, couples slow dance to the song. 

“I love this song,” the dark-haired bartender says as she pours four shots of vodka.

Dean smirks. There was a time when he would never admit to liking this song, but not anymore. “I love this song too,” he agrees. 

Dean’s phone vibrates against his leg. The music drowns out his ring tone. The caller ID reads “Sam” again. He declines the call. A part of him feels bad, dodging Sam like this but he wants to be alone right now. This whiskey is warm and numbing but his mind is clear. The fuzziness has not consumed him yet. He needs something stronger. He can continue drinking whiskey, but he needs at least a full bottle. 

“Hey, sweetheart do you have anything stronger?”

The bartender leans across the counter, and points to her name tag. “My name is Riley, not sweetheart. And that is our strongest whiskey. We can try a different liquor? I have vodka.” She offers, holding up the bottle.

Dean shakes his head. “No, no. Doesn’t work.” He mutters to himself. Dean runs his fingers up and down the glass, mindlessly.

Riley eyes him. “You’re not a cop, are you?" She asks, carefully. Dean looks at her questioning the sudden inquiry and shakes his head. 

"Why?"

"No offense or anything, you are cute, but you look like shit. I see a lot of people, everyday, and I’m pretty good at reading people - comes with the job. I can tell you’re hurting. I won’t begin to guess who hurt you or what, but,” she trails off. “To be honest, it looks like you've been to Hell and back. I am just asking because you look like you could use a pick me up." She leans forward, speaking softly, "I can get you something stronger than whiskey. Not me personally, but I know a guy.”

“What do you mean you know a guy? Like drugs?”

She shushes him. “Yes, like drugs. Jesus, you don’t have to announce it. Cops come in here all the time.” Dean swallows the last of his whiskey.

“Hm. I don’t do drugs. Weed doesn’t count.” He pulls out his wallet and lays down a fifty dollar bill. Replacing the leather, he turns to Riley and salutes. “Thanks for the whiskey.”

“Hold on." She reaches for a napkin and pulls out a pen. On it, she writes an address and holds it out to Dean. “This is the last location I know of where the dealer hides out. It’s kind of shady looking. Strange people visit and some disappear. I know someone who kind of got wrapped up in all this and she,” Riley trails off. “Anyway, I just prefer not to involve the police anymore. They don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

This whole situation seems off. He watches her, puzzled. Dean takes the napkin and reads the address. He recognizes the street but he’s never been around that area personally. “What did you mean by the police don’t believe in this stuff? Cops bust drug deals all the time.”

“It’s hard to explain. Just see for yourself, if you’re interested,” she trails off.