#there is an empty pizza box just barely out of frame

[girlcatsupreme]

Do you like my socks? :3

[luvknow]

after her | yang jeongin

summary: a lonely yang jeongin, fresh from a break-up, finds what it means to be happy again while living with his best friend in the big city. you fall victim to his signs of affections, struggling to define if he’s emptying what’s leftover from his relationship or if they’re truly meant for you. you’d live through the endless heartache if it meant he would smile again. characters: female reader x yang jeongin & stray kids ensemble. genre: romance, friends-to-lovers, hurt with comfort, happy ending. additional warnings: alcohol consumption, university party, some mature dialogue and situations, song lyrics. wc: 11.2k

Jeongin placed the last of his boxes in the living room of his new place you two shared. While you were away at work, he employed an off-duty Minho and Jisung with promises of pizza and beer as payment.

A low whistle escaped Jisung’s lips as his eyes scanned the condo. “Pretty decent for the price in the middle of the city.”

Jeongin wiped the sweat off his brows. “It helps that _____ is a functioning adult.”

“You’ll get there in a couple of months,” Minho patted his head. “Relax while you can before your job starts. The adult world is not kind.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

Jisung shrugged. “Find a hobby. Adopt a pet. Read a book. Don’t worry about anything! What more can a bachelor want?”

“Go to the club, hop on a dating app,” Minho suggested before Jisung hit him.

The first box Jeongin opened was one he wasn’t supposed to. On top, it wasn’t labeled, but on the side in big bold letters was, ‘TRASH. BURN. DONATE. WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT OPEN!!!!!’ On the top layer of stuff was a framed picture of him and his ex-girlfriend under the cherry blossom trees, her eyes curled like sparkling moon crescents and him looking at her like she was his whole world. Beneath were various memorabilia from blind box trinkets to old sweaters of his that still smelled like her perfume. As his heart cracked a bit more, he flopped on the couch face-first, groaning muffled by your decorative pillows.

Minho hit Jisung back. “I told you not to bring that one in!”

“He took it from me before I knew what box it was!”

The two were left unloading the Rent-a-Truck alone as their youngest friend tried to not let too many tears ruin the fabric of the couch. They’d give him a pass this time, but the next warranted multiple rounds of drinks. Jeongin’s energy bled from his body and was absorbed into the cushions, gluing his cheek down until a permanent imprint of the weaved fabric formed on his skin. His eyes stared blankly at the door after his personal mover-bros left and until you walked in, home from a long day of work. A total of six hours where he didn’t move, barely breathing, hoping evolution would kick in and he’d be able to live his life photosynthesizing.

You smiled sympathetically at the damage before you; a pile of boxes, untouched take-out, and an unmoving boy with redness around his eyes that stared off into nothingness.

“Hey, bud,” you began awkwardly. “How’re ya doin’?”

You received a lazy groan in response. He turned over to face the back of the couch, unwilling to elaborate further.

Jeongin called you last Sunday at 2:13 AM. Your first feeling was irritated, as he had better be in some deep shit to be waking you up at this hour on a work night. What you got was worse. Way worse. In a fit of tired, breathless, chest-squeezing sobs and snot-filled sniffles, Jeongin confessed that his girlfriend of just over a year had broken up with him. It was a shitty time to do so, as he was in the middle of signing for a lease after she begged him to move to the city to be closer to her. Luckily, the leasing agency was sympathetic and he went forward with canceling the signing.

The conversation that led him here in your home occurred after he was able to breathe through his tears, wondering what he was supposed to do with his new job contract, and it went like this:

“You’re already mentally prepared to move to the city. Why not do it anyway?”

“What’s the point?” he had asked with a voice so tired of crying. “There’s no reason for me to be there anymore.”

“I’m here,” you replied, offended. “You get to hang out with the most important person in your entire life -”

“By default.”

“I’m going to give you a pass on that because you’re hurting, but you called me, remember?” you had scoffed. “The city will be good for you. Better food, better drinks, things to do, people to meet. Things to distract you, y’know?”

“I can’t do this alone.” There was a long pause before the sniffling and sobs filled the silence on the other end. “If I live alone, I might never leave my apartment.”

Without hesitation, you had said, “Come live with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Come live here with me! We’ll turn my office into your bedroom, and voila; casa de _____ and Jeongin.”

“I can’t do that to you. You worked so hard for that place to be your haven.”

“You are my haven,” you had emphasized. “Let me be yours, too.”

A short chuckle on his end. “Cornball.”

Progress was far from linear and the hardest point was ascending from zero. Jeongin was in the negatives. Probably because he had opened a box full of outdated signs of love he and Sieun had given each other the past year and two months. Your face wrinkled in disgust at the sight of her glowing face in a heart-shaped frame. And Jeongin had called you the cornball… Maybe you were a certified hater, but you had to get rid of this box of trash now.

When you bent to pick it up, he gripped your wrist and stopped you.

“Don’t,” he muffled into the pillows.

“Keeping this isn’t good for you.”

“Neither will throwing it away.”

“How about we compromise,” you sighed. “Let’s store it in my closet until you’re ready to toss it. Out of sight, out of mind.”

His answer was letting go of you and allowing you to touch the most tender parts of his heart to store away in your dark, cold, lifeless but stylish closet for it to wither away. You didn’t want any parts of her near your room at all, but you kept muttering, ‘This is for Jeongin. This is for him because you love him, for some reason,’ as a reminder.

You’d repeat that reminder maybe ten times a day for the past week for stupid shit like him not washing his dishes, not putting the toilet seat down, drinking all your specialty alcoholic beverages you liked to save for after-work woes, but what pushed you over the edge was the empty stash of your favorite snack.

“Ok, I’m done!” you yelled. After a long day of Teams meetings and smiling at sleazy men twice your age, all you wanted was a little treat! A little snack! But when you opened your pantry, you were left with an empty box. He couldn’t even throw the damn box away!

You opened the door to his room where he sat in his gaming chair, yelling at his bros on Discord. He paid no mind to the noise, since his gaudy headphones blocked everything and likely bruised his eardrums. So when he couldn’t hear you calling his name, you went up to the microphone.

“Sorry, boys, Jeongin has some chores to do!” You heard a muffle of ‘boos’ from Chan and Felix on the other end before unplugging his set-up.

“What the hell, _____! That was a ranked game!” he whined.

“You!” you seethed, grabbing the remnants of your snack bags before chucking the empty box at his face. “You gluttonous squirrel-faced stupid, stupid boy!”

“Ooh, yikes. I know that tone.”

“You couldn’t bother texting me that we were out?!”

“They’re just snacks, we can buy more.”

“We, who!? Who’s paying the mortgage here? Who’s the one with an actual job at the moment?!”

“I start next month, ok?! And you agreed to a prorated rent because of that!”

“Being jobless doesn’t give you the right to live in my home like a slob! There are responsibilities for adulthood! There are chores and rules for living under my roof!”

Jeongin had this stupid face he’d put on to get whatever he wanted. It worked with Sieun, and sadly worked for you, too. He wheeled himself over on his new four hundred dollar chair (“For ergonomics!” he had argued) and pulled you in between his legs. His arms wrapped around the back of your thighs and his chin rested on your stomach. The stupid, adorable, troublemaker face was up-turned brows, pouting lips, and eyes that twinkled from the lighting above.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “It just… feels nice to be taken care of right now.”

Ugh. Maybe you were being too harsh. A week’s worth of annoyance was nothing compared to a week’s worth of trying to glue back pieces of his heart together when they kept falling apart. Or maybe that was the spell he put you under with his dreamy eyes talking. You couldn’t think straight with your constricting office wear on.

You kissed your teeth. Your hand grabbed a chunk of his curly brown mop of hair and pushed him off of you. “You stink. Shower and get ready; you’re buying me new snacks at the grocery store.”

“But I don’t need to go grocery shopping.”

“You have one pack of instant ramen left; yes, you do.”

–

One of your first memories with Jeongin was the day before you both started secondary school. The last day of summer was spent under the stars on a trampoline in his backyard with empty cans of cola scattered out on the grass. Your heads touched while bodies were oriented in the opposite direction, semi-Spiderman style.

You were the first to voice what you feared most. “Do you think things are going to change?”

He shook his head adamantly. “Never.”

“Nothing is ever non-zero.”

“Must you nerdify everything?”

“It’s not on purpose. I can’t help it.”

“Except you could.” Jeongin sighed, whether out of disappointment or enjoying the feeling of the cool night air, you had long forgotten. His black, too-short-for-a-bowl-cut pin-straight hair poked your ears whenever he turned and knocked his head against yours.

“Ow,” you whined. “What?”

He pointed to the sky. “See that?”

“Stars.”

“Do you recognize the constellation, smartass?” Astronomy wasn’t your strong suit. “Scorpio and Lupus.”

You shrugged. “Who do you think would win in a fight: ten scorpions or one wolf?”

“That’s not the point of my question,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But the correct answer is ten scorpions.”

“What’s the point, then? Of anything, really?”

He pointed to the sky again. “Things will change only when the stars do.”

“Apocalypse-style?”

“Exactly. When they do, it’ll be the end of the world.”

You giggled, tilting your head closer to his. “Cornball.”

“What is a cornball, anyways? Like, a chicken nugget made of corn?”

“Genetically-modified corn in the shape of a ball.”

At thirteen, you both thought these conversations made you comedic, thought-provoking geniuses. They were typical teenage nonsensical word-smithing that’d later evolve into witty adult assholery, but they were ones you’d cherish ‘til the end of time.

“Never change, _____ _____.”

“You, too, Yang Jeongin.”

Tonight, the night sky was as clear as the night before secondary school. It’s been a couple of weeks since Jeongin moved in and progress was there, but it was slow. Some days, he’d spend all day in bed under the covers and you’d have to force-feed him sustenance and flip him over to prevent bed sores. Some days he spent the entire day deep cleaning the tile grout with a toothbrush until his knees were purple. The worst nights were like tonight, where you’d come home to an empty bottle of some mystery brown liquor you didn’t remember purchasing and him passed out on the couch.

It was exhausting for this short amount of time. It was a rollercoaster of emotions and outbursts and constantly having to take his phone away from doing something stupid like calling or texting her. This wasn’t the Jeongin you were used to; you wanted the one who sang tunes and trot jingles, the one who burned mac ‘n cheese on accident, the one who’d wave to little kids when you were out together. The unmoving body was just a shell of him, and just as he struggled putting the pieces of himself back together, you struggled holding the ones he was able to find in place.

You lifted his head by his curls and plopped it back on your lap after taking a seat.

“Careful,” he groaned. “There’s precious real estate up here.”

You didn’t speak, distracting yourself by playing with his hair. His eyes were bloodshot and cheeks stained with drool and salty tears. Sniffles filled the silence.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, words a bit slurred. “I don’t like when you’re quiet.”

“Ask yourself that question,” you replied, mouth full of salt.

“You’re mad at me.”

“I care about you.”

“You’re mad because you care,” he nodded, understanding, or at least pretending to. “I care about you, too.”

Caring wasn’t enough. No amount of love and tenderness from you could replace the one Sieun gave him, and that was evident. How were you supposed to hold him together when she was his reason? You could only do so much, and your best was never enough.

He pointed to the ceiling. “Do you think Scorpio and Lupus are out tonight?”

“It’s cloudy.”

“Oh. Is it?” he sighed. “But they’re still there?”

“They’ll always be there.”

“Together?”

“Together. Forever, of course.”

“How do you know that?”

Was he asking with underlying intention or drunken oblivion? “I just do.”

Jeongin snorted. “Boooo.”

“Boo, you!”

“Ugh, stop moving!” His lips pursed as he rolled off of you. “Nope. I need to throw up.”

You followed him as he crawled into the bathroom, hunching over his toilet bowl. You held his hair back for a bit before realizing you could tie it back.

“It’s so long now,” you admired while tying back his front pieces.

“Sieun hated it,” the toilet echoed.

“I liked it. Very ‘bad boy’. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Yeah. She’s stupid, right?”

“So stupid.”

“Yeah! And so bossy!” He paused, gagging into the toilet. “Bossier than you! Can you believe that’s possible?!”

“I’m not bossy, I just know what I like when I like it and how I like it,” you patted his back a little too harshly this time, “nothing bossy about that.”

“And it’s a wonder why you’re single.”

A sharp pang pierced your chest. Your relationship status was a touchy subject. It’s not that you preferred to be single, but your job was mentally demanding and sometimes required long hours past sunset. It wouldn’t be fair to your partner when your life was devoted to your career and climbing the corporate ladder. Dates were few, and not too far in between, but none of the prospects were worth the trouble when half of them expected you to pay the whole bill when they found out your occupation.

You loved love. It was beautiful, it was kind, it meant always feeling whole. Of course you wanted to be in love. Of course you wanted to touch, to kiss, to always be intertwined with someone. Life was young, and there was time, but the shroud of loneliness grew longer and larger as the days passed. Suffice to say, your single status hit a nerve.

You patted his back hard enough for him to gag one last time. “Good luck not puking your guts out.”

“No, wait -” but you had already shut the door.

It was the kind of topic that elicited a long, hot, reflective shower until the water ran cold. Were you one of those working women who were doomed by capitalism to serve as a corporate slave until you could withdraw from your 401k at fifty nine and a half? To live a mediocre life and settle down with a five-rated coworker for the sake of reproduction and contributing to lowering the birthrate? To settle for the mundane and predictable? That wasn’t the _____ you knew. At the peak of your young life, when did owning your first place meant that it was the beginning of the end?

When you walked out of the steam cloud, Jeongin was buried beneath your duvet, staring at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the tired, but still awake city. When he first moved in, he mentioned how jealous he was of your nice bedsheets, and you wondered, in that moment, how many times had he napped in your bed without you knowing. Annoyed, but willing, you crawled in behind him, too tired to argue.

He wiggled back, making sure your bodies touched, though he wanted to keep looking out. “Being single isn’t bad… right?”

Was it bad? No. “I like my alone time.”

“But isn’t it lonely?”

It’s never ending. “Only a little.”

“Even when I’m here?”

Especially now, more than ever. “Just a little.”

“What’s your metric of ‘little’?”

Astronomical. “Like a pinch of salt.”

His breathing slowed, body ready to shut down for the night and hopefully awaken before noon. He wrapped your arms around him, begging for a hug, a bit of human connection, something to satiate the pain of wanting to feel whole with someone again. When you gave in, he melted into your touch. This feeling was familiar, but it wasn’t the same. You would never be her.

Just when you thought he fell asleep, you felt his chest jitter, suppressing a mouthful of sobs.

“I hate this,” he said, voice cracking, hands gripping your blankets while you played the big spoon.

You could only nod into the crevice between his wingspan. “I know.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Sometimes, there’s a reason; sometimes, there isn’t.”

“Then, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” you confirmed and squeezed him tighter. “People fall out of love all the time.”

“Isn’t that fucking terrifying?” he sobbed. “One day, you’re flying, high on life with someone you thought could make forever feel like a day. Next, they tell you they don’t love you anymore.”

“Love is complicated.”

“But it isn’t! When you know, you know. It just isn’t as complicated as many people make it seem. So, what? She knew she didn’t love me anymore? That’s it?”

Complicated isn’t only when someone who once lit up your life now felt like their own fire within fizzled in the darkness. It wasn’t waking up one morning and deciding that they stopped loving you. Complexity was built with intention and time, overthinking and self-reflection. It’s as complicated as math; despite the many ways you could achieve an answer, there was only one answer. Sieun wasn’t a bad person; in fact, you liked her for the time they dated. You figured despite all her might and the many times she tried, she couldn’t force herself to love him anymore. It’s not like she woke up one morning and thought, ‘I don’t love him anymore.’ It’s never just, ‘that’s it,’ as Jeongin claimed its simplicity.

Complicated is spending every moment of free time with someone who knew the deepest parts of you without letting the romantic feelings slip through the cracks. It was intending to confess and ruin a decade’s worth of bonds, all for it to stay hidden with your many secrets when he admitted to finally asking out the cute girl he met through a mutual friend of Jisung. It was saying, ‘I love you,’ to end a phone call while suppressing the ache in your chest as he’d say it to someone else the same evening.

To Jeongin, it was just that. Love. How could one make it so difficult? But to you, there were layers, and someone had to peel them back before you revealed the true nature of your heart. Because after this, after Jeongin was healed and you were left with no one to hold you together the way you had for him, you’d have grown an infinite number of layers to protect yourself. Your future partner would have a lot of work to do.

“Love is an organism. Organisms are complex. It comes in different forms and has different functions. When I say, ‘I love you,’ you think I mean, ‘I care for you,’ right?”

Jeongin didn’t answer. Verbally, at least. His leveled breathing and rhythmic chest rises told you he was fast asleep in a drunken stupor while you had contemplated your answer.

“Yes,” you sighed, snuggling closer, “you do.”

–

Most psychologists would agree that the stages of grief had an order to them. Jeongin, PhD in grief, would say otherwise. In the span of a single day, he’d go between as many as three of the stages. Lately, it was a cocktail of denial, depression, and anger. Today, there was only anger. The drawers would be shut a little too loudly, he’d chew his food a little too aggressively, and his volume and colorful language on Discord closely resembled a sailor.

“Where’s the damn support?!” he screamed into the mic.

“You said you’d be in Zone A!” you heard Jisung yell through his headset.

Jeongin didn’t bother with a response and hung up the call. After whipping his headset on his bed with the strength of a baseball pitcher, he ran a hand through his tangled mop and swore under his breath.

You leaned on his door frame. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up,” he whined.

“You know what would make you feel better?” You drew a rectangle with your pointer fingers, then wiggled the rest in a wave of flames. Then, boom! Big boom!

“No.”

“Jeongin -”

“You said I could wait until I was ready.”

“I think you need to be ready now.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore about that stupid box in your stupid closet with all the stupid fucking shit in it!”

If there was one act you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone, even with a bond thicker than blood, it was raising their voice. You had barely lifted your hand to point an accusing finger at him the same way his mom would, when he shut his eyes and realized his grave mistake. He knew he fucked up when your eyebrows were raised in that, ‘what did you just say to me?’ manner. He was also regretting how much time you spent with his mom.

“... Maybe we should take the box out,” he muttered.

“Yeah, no shit. Grab the hammers.”

Two adult-sized adult-aged children in hoodies carrying a mysteriously heavy box and a couple of hammers at a public park past sunset was not one would describe as inconspicuous. Jeongin was far from ready to address the box, you realized, when you were forced to carry it all the way and he refused to look at it. Even when you prepared the garbage bag and shuffled through the contents, he avoided any sight of strawberry blond hair and scents of neroli and jasmine. Semi-slicked with sweat, you took the box to the top of the jungle gym and dragged the big baby up to meet it.

“You left the trash bag down there,” he noted.

You nodded. “Grab that picture frame.” The first one was the red one shaped like a heart. You tilted your chin overboard. “Slam it.”

“Like, on the ground?”

“Yup.”

“That’s not very nice... Why can’t we just throw it?”

“Because I can’t be sure you won’t dig through the dumpster and drag filth across my floors.”

“Who do you think I am?!”

“Break it with all your might!”  you demanded, pretending to be angry and Hulk-smashing on the stable platform. “Rah! Into the trash bag, though, please.”

“She gave this to me on our two-month-iversary. She said it was a symbol of her heart,” he reflected, gentle fingers wiping the dust that collected.

“And what did she do to yours?”

“Break it.”

“She stomped on it.”

“Yeah…”

“Crushed it!”

“Yeah…!”

“Stabbed it with a blunt butter knife!”

“Yeah!”

“And did it hurt?!”

“Like a bitch!”

“Rue the day!!”

“Rue the roux!!”

Someone’s hungry. “Yeah, sure!”

With a guttural scream passionate enough to elicit goosebumps, Jeongin chucked the heart frame into the trash bag that splayed on the cement. The plexiglass shattered into big chunks and the frame split in two, shards of wood scattering about. It was a picturesque and artistic display of anger and heartbreak, but you’d never admit how you admired the symbolism to Jeongin’s face.

“That felt good,” he panted.

“Yeah? Do this one,” you said, handing him a mug.

“We painted mugs to give to each other at one of those stores in the mall. She said I didn’t have enough pink things in my life, so pink would be her color for me.”

“Fuck the color pink!”

“I mean, I still like the color -”

“Innie, I’m giving free therapy right now and I need you to work with me,” you hurried him alone by rolling your arms.

“Ok, ok! Jeez. But even you look good in pink -”

“Jeongin!”

“Pink sucks…!” he admitted hesitantly before chucking it into the pile. A satisfying shatter of ceramic echoed into the cloudless night.

“Ooh, heartbreak ASMR,” you sang.

Jeongin pulled a pink lop bunny Sonny Angel, those naked baby blind box toys that will put you in crushing debt one day, from the pile of infinite junk. He twirled it in his hands carelessly. “Don’t you like these, too?”

It was a rarer, sought-out-by-collectors type. You and many others had fingers twitching over the overpriced pay button on the resale apps everyday. “No…” your voice cracked.

“How am I supposed to break this?”

“Pop its head off.”

“What?”

You pointed shakily to its cute, pink ears as it smiled innocently. Your hands pretended to yank apart the head from its body. “Decapitate it.”

Jeongin jumped at the low-effort strength it took, which masked your pained groan. There goes a hundred dollars. Then, he plucked away its appendages. You couldn’t bear to look when he tossed the innocent body parts. May you wish no ill will on any collector to ever witness such a murder.

The rest of the box was junk to a stranger, treasure to Jeongin. Things like concert tickets, an empty wine bottle, dried flowers, cologne, sweaters, and jewelry joined the garbage. The last piece was the final boss; a shadow box summary of everything they’d done in the past year. A collection of restaurant receipts, themed matches, movie tickets, polaroid pictures, and loving post-it notes of cheesy poems and ‘I miss yous’ were stabbed into the felt and protected by a thick cover of glass.

“I can’t,” Jeongin sighed, sharp eyes scanning through the memories. He shook his head. “I just can’t.”

“You know the ‘break for emergencies only’ thingies for the fire extinguishers?” you asked and pointed to the pink box. “This is an emergency.”

“She put so much time into this. Almost everything we’ve ever done is preserved… Just for her to throw it all away two months later.”

When he offered this perspective, perhaps your speech on love not being complicated was more introspective than universally accepted. Two months to know you stopped loving someone was not a long enough time. It took much longer than that to no longer be on the same page, or in the same stage of life, or, for fuck’s sake, fall for an affair partner, right? No matter what the answer was, it made you upset.

You could only offer an affectionate rub on his arm. “Do you want to save this for next time?”

Jeongin took an eternity to answer, as if he read every line of every receipt and every ticket or memorized the way she dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s. Then, he pulled you to him in a side-hug.

“There won’t be a next time.”

The frame of the shadow box split by the seams and only cracked the glass. The felt board was kept intact, of course, save for a few loose polaroids. He wrapped his second arm around you in a full hug, resting his cheek atop your head as your bodies swayed with the wind, needing the comfort of his best friend to protect him in this very vulnerable moment.

“You ok?” you muffled into his chest. He smelled of vetiver.

“No,” he admitted confidently, “I hope I will be one day.”

“You will! You will.”

You two remained on the top of the jungle gym overlooking the twinkling skyline in each other’s arms. His fingers traced little shapes across your shoulder blades, some recognizable like stars and moons, others a choreography of squiggles. Your arms rested holding his lower back. In the quiet night, miraculously not in fear of being arrested, you could have fallen asleep right there.

Tonight, you witnessed no tears or any evidence of them. No pink cheeks, or stuffy nose, or bloodshot eyes. Progress was here for now, and though it was too early to celebrate, you’d both bask in the little victories.

“I’m so proud of you,” you encouraged.

“Really?” he hummed.

“Of course! Always.”

His throat bobbed, swallowing down emotions that threatened to escape. “It still hurts so much.”

“I know,” you agreed empathetically.

“But the destruction helped.”

“See?” you boasted. “Who’s always right?”

“_____’s always right,” he squeezed, “always right and always kind.”

“And always here for you.” No matter how painful it’d be.

The night ended with slow dancing under the stars. Hand-in-hand and the other his shoulder, you led the steps to the beat of his songs.

–

Jeongin found no comfort that was better than your bed. The second you left for work, just as the sun rose and tinted the condo in blood orange, he’d sneak in and crawl under your duvet. When the softness of linen and the weight of the feather down knocked him out hard and for the first time in a month, he was able to fall into a deep sleep and would make this his routine until work started. His body had never felt so refreshed, even before the break-up. It smelled like you; like cherries, cream, and tonka bean. A scent cocktail that was so warm and sexy it was like he was put under a spell.

When you were kids, your room wasn’t dirty, but it was cluttered after falling into the feminine urge to gather all things shiny and trinkety. Now, he noted, adulthood hadn’t knocked that part of your brain out while still developing your frontal lobe. You didn’t have as many rocks lying around anymore, but your decoration consisted of naked baby toys and other colorful vinyl blind boxes, music albums, movie posters, and pictures of your loved ones.

Jeongin had looked through every picture in your room about a thousand times already, but only had now noticed that he was in almost every single one. Some were just with you and your parents, but even many of those had him in it. He liked the ones in your younger years; going through the gross and oily phases of puberty, matching ice cream-stained camp t-shirts, teenage-year birthdays, and his favorite was the one from prom night. You wore the sparkliest, glitter-sheddinng, not-the-most-flattering silhouette of a gown that many other girls matched in different colors. But he was just as ridiculous; too small in his poorly-tailored suit, sleeves folded, loose matching tie, and a crooked boutonniere. You both refused to do the prom pose because, ew, touching. So, you dabbed instead. Double ick.

If there was a picture with Jisung, he was in it. Minho? With Jeongin. Your girlfriends? Jeongin photobombed it somehow. He may have ruined some of the compositions, but he was your Jeongin, how were you supposed to throw them away?

Jeongin’s parents once asked if he would consider marrying his best friend. Knowing them, they were serious. At the premature age of twenty, he had gagged at the idea of marriage. Not to you specifically, but tied down? Early into his prime years of bachelorhood? No, thanks.

Then, he met Sieun, and thought maybe marriage was meant for him after all. Forever with the one person you loved so dearly, what could be bad about that? But forever meant really forever, not just a few years, or a few decades, it meant ‘til death do you part and into the afterlife, if that was even real. Maybe that’s what scared her. The thought of Jeongin being her soulmate crushed her world; the thought of her not being his soulmate crushed his. So, now he was back to square one, and he’d rather rot in your bed than make any progress.

Snuggled deep in between your plushies and pillows, he held above him a picture of you on your birthday. You were sitting next to him in front of your cake and had buttercream smudged on your nose while he was bent backwards in an evil cackle. He replayed the memory in his mind. You weren’t mad, but you wanted revenge, and shortly after had also smeared some under his nose in a stylish mustache.

In bed, he couldn’t help but snicker. In between sessions of handheld video games, he’d shuffle through more pictures until time passed by too quickly and the day was spent.

“Jesus -” you gasped, clutching your chest as you entered your room. “Yeah, sure, come in.”

“Thanks,” he sang half-heartedly.

“Have you been doing this every day?” He responded by shrugging. “He’s in pain, he’s hurting, and you love him…”

“I don’t like this picture of me.” Jeongin held up a recent one at a dinner party Hyunjin hosted for his condo-warming. His face was unprepared for the picture and his eyes were closed and mouth open. “I’m not even looking at the camera.”

“Yeah, but I look good,” you boasted.

He tossed it to the side of the bed in a pile of likeness dubbed, ‘throw these ones away’. “I like this one in front of the art museum, though.”

“I do, too.”

You hopped next to him on top of the covers, shuffling through the different piles he made. It was clear which ones he liked, disliked, and didn’t care for. “You don’t like this picture of me and Changbin on our graduation day?”

“Am I in it?”

“No?”

“Then, no.”

“You like this one, though?”

It was a solo picture of you on the same day. He found it hidden in a box of other pictures that were either blurry or of you alone at special events or academic and career achievements. You wore your gown and held your cap that was decorated with plastic jewels that spelled, ‘So Done with this B.S.’, high above your head with the brightest smile on your face. Around your neck was a necklace that he got you for your graduation gift: a petite padlock on a simple chain from one of those boutique brands all the girls liked.

This was one of the most important days of your life. You were happy, sunny, and beautiful. Of course he liked this one.

“Meh,” he shrugged. “I guess you look all right in that one.”

You spent the night in bed recalling stories and social media posts of times past with oily take-out from the corner restaurant downstairs. The quiet weeknight was livened by your giggles and ugly snorts and Jeongin couldn’t remember the last time you two did something like this. It lasted until it was too late to care to kick him out of your bed and you both fell asleep covered in film and prints.

If forever meant forever with you, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

–

Clubbing was a past time that Jeongin probably shouldn’t partake in due to his borderline alcoholism, but when it was for Jisung and Felix’s wombo-combo birthday bash (their words, if you’d even call them such), no one was safe from the heavy pour of Hennessey or bottom-shelf tequila down one’s throat. The weather was still appropriately warm to show off skin, and both you and your roommate took advantage of that, claiming that it was still hot-girl summer and this would be the best time to show off how perfectly fine everything was.

Jeongin rested his chin on your bare shoulder as you stared into the mirror. He had shown his affection more in a physical form after the destruction of his romantic paraphernalia. You should probably set some boundaries… Next time, maybe.

“You might as well go topless,” he teased, poking at your skin-tight top.

His touch tickled and your body stupidly reacted to it more sensitively than any other man who once touched you. “I’m sure you’d like that.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, only nuzzled his curls deeper into the crook of your neck. He styled it in the half-ponytail way you both came to love and work all black, sparkles of silver and pearls adorning his neck. Just as you had barely-there clothing, as did him, exposing hard-earned results of his efforts in the gym. His daytime clothes of soft linens and cottons dyed in innocent shades of blues and oranges matched his aura more than this edgy alter-ego that came out in the presence of alcohol. Soft Jeongin would be in a deep sleep tonight.

“Pearls?” you scoffed. “You slut.”

“Too much?”

“No, but you’re certainly sending the, ‘I’m single and very much looking,’ signal.”

“Perfect!” he shrugged. “When was the last time you went to a pregame, anyways?”

“When did you turn twenty-one?”

“Ok, grandma.”

You threw your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry I am a working woman.”

Skin touched more skin when his arm hooked your neck and dragged you to the door. The closer the taxi approached the condo, Jeongin’s hands more frequently wiped on his pants.

“Do you think she’ll be there?” he asked, sensing your concern.

“I don’t know,” you lied.

A couple weekends before this, you had personally asked the two celebrants to not invite her to the pregame. If they felt so inclined to invite her to the club for the sake of keeping the peace, at least then Jeongin wouldn’t have to be in close proximity and you could drag him away. Jisung was the one who tried to protest, but after begging and bribing them five rounds of drinks on the night-of, he caved in, though claiming he was going to not invite her anyways. He just wanted to see how far you’d go for your ‘beloved “friend.”’

“I need a drink,” he groaned.

“Look at me.” When he wouldn’t, you had to force him by grabbing his bare shoulders. They were much bigger than you remembered. “Say it with me; I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine.”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine?”

“I need more gumption, babe. Give me some umph!”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine.”

“More!”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine!”

“Yeah!”

“Smart, sexy, fine!”

“Yeaaahh!”

“Let’s drink!”

After tipping the taxi for suffering through your pregame to the pregame, you and Jeongin did more breathing exercises outside their condo to the tune of the hip-hop music inside. All charged up, he opened the door and you stood in awe just how many friends two boys had post-university. The floors were already sticky with juice and liquor, and there was barely room to get to the crowd of people you actually knew. Luckily, Jeongin was tall, and he grabbed your hand to lead you in. This, for some reason, felt more intimate than slow dancing at the park, and that’s when you knew you were embarrassingly touch-starved.

Jisung squeezed himself in between and slung his arms across the shoulders of his close friends. “Long time no see, sugar mama!”

“Hello to you, too, mooch,” you smirked. “Happy birthday, I guess.”

He landed a big wet one on your cheek. “Thanks, babe!”

“Ugh, ew. Where’s the other child?”

“_____! Jeongie!” the deep voice of an Australian boy slurred. He handed you two plastic neon shot cups of brown liquid and no chaser. “Shot o’ Henny! House rules.”

“You disgusting, gross, icky boys…” you groaned.

“C’mere,” Jeongin urged. He twisted his arm around yours so they’d cross, causing your faces to inch closer. His dimples poked his cheeks. “Bottoms up!”

That was the motto of the pregame. One after the other after the other after losing games in humiliating succession made your vision double and made walking feel like you were on a ship. Chan had to catch you not once, but twice, from tripping or bumping into someone. It was as simple as one hand on your waist and pulling you into his chest, to which you so shamelessly placed your hand on when he hugged you close.

“We keep running into each other,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip.

“Must be fate,” you flirted back.

For the second time, Jeongin had to pry you away from the hottest man in the room. Annoyed, you followed anyway, because tonight you were supposed to distract your best friend from falling into a hole filled with existential crisis, not trying to sleep with someone he considered his brother. Still, you shot Chan a hand sign to your ear. ‘Call me!’ you pouted.

“Why would you cockblock me like that?” you whined.

Jeongin didn’t answer right away. He cleared his throat. “It’s time for the club, silly.”

You two shared a sedan with the birthday boys and Minho. One person above the normal limit, but the driver didn’t care and would rather hurry to do the drop-off.

Jisung patted his lap. “Got your seat, sugar mama.”

“No,” you and Jeongin said in simultaneous deadpan.

“Felix, move up,” Jeongin demanded. He man-spread as much as Jisung and Minho allowed, making a small seat in between his legs.

You’d be the first to admit that sometimes you and Jeongin were a little too close to be considered friends; even strangers had mistaken you for a couple once in a while. But you’ve never been close to him like this before. Your hesitation was long enough that Jisung had to yank you into the car. You did your very best to settle in, moving your ass as little as possible, struggling with how you could make this any less awkward and cover the least amount of surface area.

Jisung wrapped Jeongin’s arm tight around your waist and slapped his triceps. “All buckled in!”

As Jisung and Minho yapped each other’s ears off, you and Jeongin remained silent. If you turned to talk to him, your ass would graze his pants, and that was weird, right? Yeah, weird, and it seemed he had a similar thought. The exception was tapping his fingers on your waist to the beat of the radio. His breath tickled the skin on your neck, and your body betrayed you by heating up your face. Touch-starved was an understatement. No, horny was not the right answer; you’d refute it.

You couldn’t have crawled out of the sedan faster. The other boys rushed in to line up at the bar (“Don’t forget what you owe us!” Jisung whispered (yelled)). Behind you, Jeongin scanned the crowd. You followed suit and couldn’t find a beautiful short girl with strawberry blond hair. Ok, this was a good sign. Maybe she wouldn’t come! He let out a breath of relief; or was it disappointment? Regardless, he joined you on the dance floor and weaved between people, dancing against the oontz-oontz.

In this moment, while your veins were half-filled with alcohol and both of your closest friends closed in with over-filled cups, you watched Jeongin forget his woes and sing to the sad up-beat electronic music. A circle would open up in the middle at the peak of the song; Changbin would break dance; Minho and Jisung would body roll; Felix did the worm; and Jeongin would force you into a connected chain reaction of shoulder and arm waves. In these moments, he smiled. Grinned, even; dimples as deep as they could be and eyes twinkling under the neon lights from the DJ.

When the boys dispersed for another drink after a couple of hours of burning calories, you two were left alone again. In those hours, you couldn’t count how many times you made eye contact. After locking eyes again, feeling the highs of euphoria and the lows of heartbreak, he looked like he was going to say something. Then, he broke it, and his face dropped. You didn’t have to turn to see who it was, but like a moth to a flame, you were attracted to the pain.

She greeted Jisung and Felix at the bar on the opposite side of the club. It was too easy to spot her in the dark with her bright hair. She introduced the boys to someone next to her, touching his arm and leaning against him affectionately, making it as clear as the vodka shot in her hand that’s who she was with and he was hers.

How quickly the human heart beats for a lover, just for it to dance to the same rhythm for another.

Jeongin seemed apathetic. Not angry, not sad, and maybe unable to distinguish between if this was the ache of betrayal or the nostalgia of closing a chapter that begged to end.

Speaking of nostalgia, an old EDM song that premiered in your early years of middle school began, the familiar notes from a piano causing the whole club to scream.

You reached out to your soulmate. “You love this song.”

He smiled, eyes tired and filled with sadness, though without the reflection of a pool of stars. “I do love this song.”

You led him to the front where the DJ played Clarity. Lost in the crowd packed like sardines with strangers, you and Jeongin were free to sing out the shadows that slept in your hearts.

“Hot dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life,” you sang at a horribly off-tune. “C’mon, I know you know it!”

“If I fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time,” he sang in perfect key.

“Louder! Hold still right before we crash ‘cause we both know how this ends!”

“A clock ticks ‘til it breaks your glass and I drown in you again.”

You forced your heart to sing its song and it retaliated in waves of tragedy. As your lips stretched to retain the smile, you screamed with the crowd, “‘Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need!”

And he joined in, matching your volume, matching your energy. “Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don’t know why!”

In unison, you threw your heads back, crying into the air at the peak of the song. Like shadows, the crowd mimicked each other with hands curled into fists and hearts raised to the sky. “If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?”

“Let’s go!” you cheered.

The beat picked up and the crowd jumped to the chorus. The bass of the song reached your heart and pumped blood through your veins, tired from fighting with rationality. You would take these short five minutes to let go, let your heart confess to the boy in front of you in the form of a 2013 poetic masterpiece. Despite the meaning, the beat was too sick and you couldn’t help but grin from the fun. Jeongin wasn’t one to hide emotions for the sake of saving face, but it was like he forgot why he was screaming as he headbanged his way through the wordless chorus. You both burst into a fit of giggles, blinded by the lasers that cut through the smoke machine.

As the song progressed, the more your bodies pressed together. Side by side, mixing sweat with sweat, you both screamed at the DJ the second verse and would turn to each other again for the iconic bridge. His dimples carved into his perfect skin and this would be a core memory you’d lock away forever despite the molotov cocktail of despair that ignited in your gut.

The line you screamed to your best friend was the one that branded itself into your whole being. It was the one line he refused to sing.

“You are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need!”

He didn’t continue the pattern of bouncing off lines from each other. He stopped jumping, brows furrowed in a way that concerned you more than it concerned him.

“What?” you paused.

Jeongin closed the gap between your bodies. Surrounded by violent waves of people, you blocked them out within the bubble, unable to hear the song anymore. His hands cupped your cheeks. Your mind registered a second too late that he was wiping something with his thumbs. It felt wet and warm, freshly flowing on your numb face.

His hands left your face and found your arms. You watched as he wrapped them around his neck and his dropped to your waist. The strength of his grip was desperate and longing, filling an emptiness that physically you could replace, but lovingly couldn’t replicate. You begged your body to step away, to run out and find Chan or anyone else; to go home even, but tonight your heart controlled your mind and overwrote the command. This was what you wanted, what you needed, what you dreamed of since secondary school. To be in the arms of the one you loved fulfilled the one level on the hierarchy of needs, but was a threat to the one below it. Your body was struggling to respond to its fight-or-flight, understanding that you had long crossed the thin line between friend and lover long ago with a size thirteen shoe, but it had betrayed you and glued your heels to the sticky dance floor.

Why was Clarity the longest fucking song in the world?

The smell of his pink peppercorn and cedar hit your senses and brought you back to life. You felt his forehead against yours, nose touching nose, his breath tickling your lips, and saw his eyes float between them and your now dry eyes.

“Why?” was all you could muster against his lips.

He answered by swallowing your words. You never understood the comparison of the softness of rose petals until you felt his. You kissed him shyly, waiting for him to pull away in a shocking realization of regret and prepared for the aftermath. But when you wouldn’t respond how he wanted, he pressed harder, moving his lips hungrily and mouth open and welcoming to receive. Your tongues danced and tasted the bitterness of tonight’s drinks, old lovers, and repressed confusion. But it felt good; so, so good. To be the one he wanted for once, whether it was real or for convenience, was an opportunity you pathetically couldn’t pass.

And your heart, how it soared! With wings made of wax, you were high above the clouds, tangling yourself with him and exchanging euphoric hums. But your dreams were sculpted by Daedalus and delusion was the sun, and though you wished to remain here forever, your wings began to melt and reality wouldn’t be kind enough to soften the fall.

When you broke for air in the middle of the next song, you felt pressure rise in your nose and eyes as a million tears collected. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted; or rather, you weren’t what he wanted. He wanted the same memory, the same cry of song, the same touch, the same kiss, the same taste of breath; just not yours. He wanted hers. You knew in the deepest corner of your heart that he imagined holding her instead and that her breath was the one he’d breath in. In the ideal scenario, you’d be out by the perimeter watching your best friend win back the woman of his dreams and he’d hold her so tightly, afraid that she would drown in the crowd. You were meant to be his biggest fan, not his greatest love.

“Why?” you cried again.

He shook his head. “I just thought -”

“This isn’t right.” But you wished it was.

Outside, the busy streets in the middle of the night were deafened by the bass and proximity to the DJ. It was a miracle you heard the honk of a nearby taxi that’d take you home.

No, you wouldn’t confess to your best friend in a club downtown. No, you wouldn’t confess any other time regardless of circumstance. This was a secret the recipient of an unrequited love was supposed to bury with them to their grave because it was the deepest sin committed between two best friends. As long as you didn’t confess, the bond wasn’t severed and the damage could be repaired. That’s how it was supposed to work, anyways.

For the night, you’d lock yourself in your room. You’d close off any and all avenues in order to protect and repair the critical condition of your heart. So much of it had been chipped away and given in pieces to fill the gaps that Jeongin was missing, but now he was confusing kindness for love and familiarity with feeling whole. How would you get back the pieces of yourself you so willingly gave up? Would your heart know to create those pieces into something new, or would it reject anything that came in its place that wasn’t from him?

You arrived home and washed away the sins until your skin burned from all the scrubbings. The sky was cloudy tonight as you looked outward into the lively streets of young adults who could party until the sun snuck above the horizon. The stars wouldn’t show themselves tonight.

Would Scorpio and Lupus be there tomorrow?

–

When your door handle wouldn’t give, Jeongin gave up and retreated to his room some time after 3:00 AM. He laid in bed and hated the feeling of his bed sheets. They weren’t as soft and they didn’t envelope him in a blanket of clouds as yours did. Though the ceiling color was the same as yours, in a sense, it still wasn’t the same, as he was in his own room and not where he belonged.

You had burned into his soul. The way your lips felt, the way your tongue swirled, the way your hands pulled him in, was the answer of how much you yearned for him. He was no stranger to signs of affection. No friend would do all of this with their heart in platonic mode. You didn’t look at him the way Felix or Chan or the others did. You, with your softened eyes and gentle touch, had him in your heart, for the Gods only know how long.

Jisung was the one to kick him out of the club and kick what little sense was left in him. “Go after her, you idiot!”

His lips were tingly. The feeling of your hands through his hair, fingers gentle and tracing the map to your heart, was carved into his scalp. His tongue swiped across his lips, lonely and aching to have another taste.

You infected him. You forced poison down his throat that made him unable to sleep, torturing him with a recording of your body pressed on his. He blamed you for how it planted itself and festered into something more salacious; a similar scenario, with tangled limbs and messy hair, but in the privacy of your bedroom and much less clothing.

In the days that followed, you pretended that night never happened, but something changed. Your responses were shorter, your cheeks were pinker, you couldn’t hold eye contact without faltering to his lips, you wore baggier clothes, and couldn’t even spend more than fifteen minutes in the same room without having to leave to ‘get water’ or ‘go to the bathroom’.

Why, for the love of all the Gods, hadn’t you confessed yet? Isn’t that the rational next step?

“Why would she?” Minho snorted while kicking his feet up on your coffee table. Jeongin would wipe that down later.

“Why wouldn’t she?” he repeated.

“You understand you live here, too, right?”

“So…”

“So… isn’t that weird? What are you going to say? ‘Cool, I’m still not over Sieun though, sowwy. Can I still live here, though’?”

“But I am!”

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear. Seeing her with that guy… sure, it sucked ass, but I don’t know. No one ever likes to see their ex with someone else.”

“No one likes taking care of someone they love who loves someone else, either.”

Jeongin pulled the string on his hoodie and hid inside. “I just feel like a confession would get rid of all this tension -”

“Sexual tension.”

“Regular tension.”

“And change the trajectory of your friendship and lives forever, so much so that the stars would misalign and chaos would ensue. Just as the prophecy foretold,” Minho rolled his eyes. “You know what, Jeongin, you’re right - _____ should confess her undying love to her best friend of over a decade who just broke up with the first love of his life after they made out on the dance floor to fucking Clarity, of all the damn EDM songs in the world, and then all would be normal, right? Nothing good has ever come out of tongue dueling to an EDM song.”

“I don’t need your sass…”

“Yes, you do, because you’re acting like an idiot. I don’t care what Jisung says, he’s too much of a loverboy. Think rationally, here; she’s not going to confess to someone who she knows doesn’t feel the same way. It’s that simple.”

Love was an infectious disease and Jeongin didn’t have the proper antibodies to defend himself against your poison. His heart, his mind, and his body were firing alert signals to each other whenever he saw you. His body would block them when you came home in your work-out clothes; his mind couldn’t focus whenever you spoke to him; and his heart wrenched when your smile didn’t match your eyes.

“Earth to Jeongin!” you snapped, waving in front of his face.

“Hm?” he asked, pretending your chest wasn’t in his face. His mind did a double-take when it registered your outfit.

“I said I’m going out for the night. So, you know, don’t light my home on fire.”

“Out where?”

Your back stiffened. “On a date.”

–

When Minho hit you up during your lunch break on a Friday afternoon, you were half expecting him to ask when the meeting was with the developers. The other half was not expecting a proposition.

“I don’t date co-workers,” you deadpanned.

“Not me, genius,” he scoffed. “A friend.”

“I’m not interested in Jisung.”

“How we got promoted at the same time is beyond me. I have other friends!”

“Do they look like Chan?”

“Sadly, no. They don’t look like Jeongin, either.”

Since the clubbing-turned-friendship-destroying wombo-combo, Minho made it his mission to terrorize you about it every working hour, either in person or over Teams with kissing, tongues, and eggplant emojis. Each time, you couldn’t suppress the burning on your face and in your chest. Your showers had to be ice cold for you to not remember how his hands gripped your waist and to forget how warm his tongue was around yours. At work, you often found yourself dazed, looking out at young couples that passed the streets below, daydreaming about kissing Jeongin again every time a couple would kiss at the stop light before crossing the road, or kiss each other goodbye, or just because.

You were sick with the lovebug and there was no remedy available. What made Minho think a date would work?

“No,” you said.

“Come on, _____! Live a little!”

“No!”

“So you’re saving yourself for a man who only kissed you because he felt sorry for you.”

If anyone was going to tell you the hard truth, it would be him. That didn’t make it hurt any less. “You think I can’t get over him.”

“I know you can’t.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t ask for this.”

“You wanted it.”

“Of course I did, so what?!”

“You need to either move on and forget it happened, or fuck each other and see where it takes you. Which would you rather tell Jeongin?”

Minho was brash, but he was right, in a sense. If you couldn’t feel comfortable in your own home, you’d be drained of all life and cease to exist, living as a hollow body that went to work and came home to sleep. But was moving on or sleeping with your best friend truly the only two options?

Maybe you were an idiot. “Not a date. A drink.”

“Same thing. I’ll set it up tonight.”

“Tonight?!”

“Take it or leave it.”

There was some satisfaction in the way Jeongin’s face twisted when you admitted to a date. Yes, you put on your tightest clothes; yes, you put on your favorite perfume; and yes, you weren’t wearing a bra. All of which Jeongin realized, based on the path his eyes traveled.

“A date,” he muttered. “With whom?”

“I don’t know. Minho set it up for me.”

“Minho?” he sneered, then shook his head. “And you’re going?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t go.”

“Jeongin -”

He stood from his seat on the couch. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I can’t -” you stuttered, unable to form the words you wanted to say in order. “I’m going.”

He blocked your path to the door. “I think we should talk.”

“About what?”

“About that night.”

“Now?” you scoffed. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

“This is something I want to do. Please,” you begged, “let me go.”

“I think you don’t want to go.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“I think I do.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” The familiar sting on your nose returned. “You don’t know anything.”

“I think -” he paused, voice caught in his throat. “I know what I felt from you that night.”

“You know,” you chuckled bitterly. “You know what, exactly?”

“I felt you. I felt ten years of frustration, of anger, of-of desire, of everything that is both good and bad -”

“Jeongin -”

“How can you say that I didn’t feel how your heart beat against mine, how your lips pressed deeper -”

“Stop -”

“No!” he cried out. “I won’t stop! I can't! I-I need to know.”

“Are you asking for something? Are you looking for an answer that you already know?”

“Yes!”

“Why?!”

“Theories can be proven wrong.”

“But why does it matter?”

His voice cracked and he couldn’t manage to look you in your glossy eyes. “We need to lay everything on the table for this to work.”

“What’s not broken doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“But it is broken! Everything’s broken! It’s all a shattered mess of pieces that don’t fit together and we need to repair what’s broken when it’s all laid out in front of us.”

“Why?” you stuttered. “Why tonight? Tonight, of all nights, when I have something that’ll make me forget about that night for just a couple of hours?”

Jeongin couldn’t answer. It could have happened any night. But the game of life threw in a time-sensitive prompt that changed the whole plot. The fact that you wanted to forget, but couldn’t, might be the only confession he’d get.

“I can’t keep revolving my life around you,” you whispered. “I can’t keep loving you the way I do and maintain the friendship you need from me.”

There it was, the confession he was looking for, but not in the way he expected you to admit. He thought you’d do so while looking at the ground, hiding your smile the way you would act shyly, and maybe it’d be a little embarrassing. But as you stood before him, you were standing strong, refusing to break eye contact, with tears streaming down and dripping from your chin. It was in a way that begged for him to see you for how you really felt; like he was ripping your heart from your chest with his bare hands.

Your hands curl into fists in an effort to stop the tears. “If I lay the pieces of my heart on the table, I can’t take them back.”

He stepped closer. “Why not?”

You stepped back. “Because I won’t be able to put myself back together.”

“I’m here. I was made for you; to help keep you together.”

“Not in the way I want. In the way I need.”

“Yes, yes to both!” Jeongin grabbed tissues to dab the tears from your precious face, as if your skin was coated in porcelain. “I want to make this work.”

“This friendship.”

“No.”

“I am not her!” your voice cracked. “I am not her and I can’t fill in for the gap she left behind.”

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

You still couldn’t accept it. It just didn’t make sense. You were made to care for him from afar, not stand by his side. “You don’t mean that. You had ten years. Ten years! It only changed because, what, you're desperate for touch and you're going after the easiest catch? It's pathetic. You're pathetic!”

Your sharp tongue was your greatest weapon, but Jeongin was left unscathed. You were hurting and had a decade's worth of hardened shells that were crumbling in front of him. Yes, this was all too sudden, and it didn't make sense, but he was losing you and he'd rather break you down into a million pieces and deal with the puzzle later if it meant you'd stay.

“_____,” he whispered. He pressed his forehead against yours as if the closeness would allow you to read his mind and hear his heart scream. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

You sucked in a breath. Those words felt like a spell that lit your body in flames. Your mind said to run, but your body and heart had overruled. You tilted your head and your noses touched. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“Theories were tested repeatedly to be deemed true.”

“Tested a lot of times.”

“A billion times.”

“That takes a very long time.”

“I’ll take forever with you,” he breathed on your lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Your iron grip on his sweater would surely leave a mark later, but you were too afraid to let go, too afraid that this moment was a dream and he’d disappear if you faltered. “I was yours for ten years. I’ve been waiting to have you.”

One soft kiss. “I took too long.”

Another, more needy, kiss. “You can make it up to me later.”

And another, one that mimicked the hunger from that night. “Now.”

“Hm, I don’t know… I have a date, remember?”

“Yeah, with me in your bed.”

Your giggles echoed throughout the condo when Jeongin threw you over his shoulder and ran to your room.

And so your heart soared again. Above the ether was the unknown, in the mythical heavens and forbidden territory. But you'd get there together, while your arms tangled with his and noses rubbing affectionately as your breaths combined in between long and slow kisses under your (and his) blankets.

The fine line you once refused to cross bent and folded with your bodies.

–

EPILOGUE

“Yo,” Minho greeted the phone.

“Hey, I don’t think I can make it tonight -”

“She’s sick!” Jeongin interrupted.

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Well, thank God!” Minho sighed.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, that was a lie.”

“What the hell/What the actual hell is wrong with you?” you and Jeongin yelled in disbelief.

“Because Jeongin is a possessive simpleton and _____ is a cheap date. Did my master plan work, or not?”

“Well, yes, but -”

“My work here is done, bye!” Minho hung up.

[sloppysequinz]

Meet cute

Mel wasn’t expecting this delivery to bring her to an apartment complex. Two extra large pizzas, plus two six packs added on thanks to the newest DoorDash feature, would usually go to one of the run-down frat houses by the college. But here she was.

She typed the apartment number on the ticket into the pad by the gate. It rang for a moment before a woman’s voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Dasher, I have two pizzas and two—“

“Oh fuck yeah, come on in.” The voice cut Mel off and a loud buzz sounded as the gate unlocked. Mel chuckled a little. The girls at whatever bro-y girls night this was must be eager for their pizza.

Mel sprung up the stairs and turned the corner, mind focused on the best route to her next delivery. But her mind was brought to a thudding halt as she approached the apartment and saw Her.

Only the screen door was closed, the front door was wide open. Inside was a tableau straight out of Mel’s daydreams. A brightly lit and cozy living room. A coffee table littered with food wrappers, takeout boxes, weed paraphernalia, empty beer cans, and an enormous bong. A TV playing a silly comedy show. A plush couch facing the door on the far side of the room. And on the couch, a woman—a woman who filled half the couch, who was laughing throatily and stupidly at the tv, who was idly twisting a grinder in her hands. She was wearing a wife beater tank top, with enormous tits spilling over the top and a massive belly spilling out of the bottom. Mel could barely see a pair of little pink pajama shorts under the belly. She was blonde.

Mel wanted to drool, but she took a moment to compose herself and knocked on the door frame. “Door dash!” She called out cheerily. She was going to be normal about this.

The woman looked up. “Oh, right, hell yeah.” She set the grinder down and stood up, somewhat unsteadily. Mel thought she might already be drunk, but it also might just be how heavy she was.

She swayed over towards the door, jiggling, apparently not caring how much skin she had on display. The edges of her areolas became visible as her tits shook further out of her struggling tank top, and Mel could see he hard nipples just below the top’s neckline. She wanted to lick—no, she was normal.

Mel handed over the pizzas. “I just need to see your ID,” she reminded her new favorite delivery recipient. By rights, she probably shouldn’t give beer to a woman who had more than half a dozen empties scattered around her couch, but Mel wasn’t much for morals.

“Oh right, yeah, for the beer, duh.” The woman responded. She turned and went to set the pizzas on the coffee table before rummaging around for her ID. Her dimpled ass cheeks were barely covered by her little pink shorts. Mel wanted to stick her face—NO. BE NORMAL.

The woman came back to the door and handed Mel her ID. Mel examined it. She was definitely over 21–her birthday put her at two years older than Mel.

“Yvette, that’s a pretty name.” Mel remarked, trying to be cool about it. She handed the ID back, then the beer.

“Thanks.” Yvette answered, barely noticing. She was hyper-focused on the beers Mel handed over. Her eyes were shining as she took the dozen cans.

Much to Mel’s surprise, her deliveree set one of the six packs on a table next to the door, pulled a cab out of the other pack, opened it with one hand, and tipped it back to drink deeply. Mel’s jaw dropped as Yvette chugged, leaning back as she emptied the can into her mouth, gulping deeply and repeatedly. The beer was gone in 30 seconds.

Yvette straightened up and let out a satisfied “Ahhhhhhh, fugggg yes” before just dropping the can right there on the floor and pulling another off the pack. It was then that she noticed Mel’s awestruck stare.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” she chided, popping the next can open. Mel shook herself, ashamed.

“Oh fuck, I’m, I’m so sorry, I—“

“Chill, I was teasing.” Yvette responded with a grin, looking Mel up and down and she sipped her new drink. “I know an appreciative stare from an appalled one. You’re cute, what’s your name?”

Mel couldn’t believe this was happening. “M-Mel…”

“Ok, M-Mel,” Yvette replied, chuckling. “What time is your shift done?”

Oh fuck, it WAS happening. “Uh—uhm I’m off at 11–“

“You wanna come over when you’re done?” Yvette hefted her beer and regarded Mel idly, waiting to see if she had judged the other girl correctly. She had.

“Yes—yes.” Mel replied, tripping over her tongue. “Yes. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Yvette grinned widely. “Good girl.” Mel flushed. Yvette grabbed the other six pack and shook them both at Mel. “I’ll need help lighting the bong after I finish these.”

As Yvette turned to sway and stagger back to the couch, Mel rushed out of the complex, trying to configure how she could finish her deliveries as fast as possible. She tried desperately to ignore the wetness in her panties.

She failed.

[heartfullofleeches]

I love the idea of delivery driver reader!

What if C.C order some food from dd! readers family owned restaurant and dd! reader comes and deliver it

Or if C.C. order something spicy~ online and the reader comew and deliver it to them

Love you always - 🐀 anon

"Delivery!"

Your voice echos through the empty hall. A little louder than necessary, but that came with the benefit of no repercussions for shouting. The entire floor was reserved for zone apartment. The same you found yourself at many a night at the end of your shift. You lift your arm to knock, the wood swept from beneath your knuckles as you go in. Unbeknownst to you, the customer had been gunning to the door from the second you stepped off the elevator, detoured by minor obstacles such as last minute preparation and knocking over a lamp.

To be honest, you knew there was a high likelihood of this outcome - but its always best to be formal.

The door opens.

"Ah- Y/n.. What a pleasant surprise! Wasn't expecting you so soon."

The lilac haired male leans against the door frame, the shoulder of his attire pealing off his arm. The robe was of a similar shade to his locks, frilled around the collar and open mouthed sleeves. It stopped mid-thigh, length shortened as he props one leg against the other. The tank top he wore underneath was a deep red, strap following its companion down his skin. The incubus offers you a smile, twirling a strand of hair around his finger as his eyes wonder downwards. Your uniform was tacky as all hell, but fit nicely on your frame.

"Well this is.. embarrassing." He fibs. "Had I known you'd be here sooner, I would've changed earlier."

"It's all good, C.C. Better than the folks who show up to the door naked." His grin falls at the comment. Truthfully, you had no issues with his outfit. He's worn similar things after the third night you delivered his food. It's nice that he's comfortable around you - you suppose. By now, you're a bit more than acquaintances given you're on a first name base and you've exchanged numbers. It was obviously for work reasons, but you've received a stray message every now and again.

You retrieve the pizza box from your bag. "Anyway, got your usual. One cheese pizza, with an added bonus."

C.C fights down a squeal as you open the box. There on the top cover was a drawing of a rose as per his request. You think you've improved greatly since the first time he asked you to do so, especially if his reaction is any indicator. With all the hearts and other vaguely romantic pieces you've done, you wonder if he's got somebody special.

He claps his hands together. "It's beautiful, babe! But - it's missing something. You got a pen on you, right?"

"Yea?" You pull the writing tool from your pocket.

"Great! Can you please sign it?"

You chortle. "You serious?"

"Definitely! Want something to look back to when your art career pops off."

"Alright." You shut the box and sign your name on the cover. You pass it over to C.C, who looks at it fondly as he hesitantly sets it on the nearby table. He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a few bills, holding it out to you between his index and middle finger. It all was your tip, considering he paid online. He glances away as your fingers make brief contact with his, rubbing at his eyes with his spare hand.

"You good?"

"Yea... Just, something in my eye." He continues to jab his palm into his sockets until the glow of his eyes no longer reflects against his bracelets. This has happened before, but it somehow feels worse now. Getting worked up over a small touch like a pathetic little virgin was humiliating, but there was barely a better response when this is your first time understanding the concept of love in thousands of years. From first contact, that spark was there, but hadn't realized why till he saw you more frequently.

"Ok... well I hope you enjoy!."

C.C straights up as you shove the money into your pocket. It was time for the worst time of the night. You leaving. He brushes that anxiety away with yet another smile, planning to lay on the charm thick before your departure. If not tonight, one of these days he would get you inside his home - where you could never leave again.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Mhm?"

C.C leans his arm against the doorway, staring at you through lidded eyes as he covers his face with his robes. "My... date actually cancelled on me tonight. I'd hate for all this food to go to waste. Would you like to join me?"

He chews on his glossy lips as he waits. C.C hates how your face scrunches in uncertainty. If he simply used his influence, he could have you in his bed at this very moment, but he didn't want to for whatever reason. True love was his goal, if such a thing existed. He doubted it'd work well on you anyway considering the tainted purity of his love.

Your apologetic laughter breaks his heart.

"I'd love to, but we actually got one more call before the store closed and I have to go delivery it."

"Oh.." Tears stab at his eyes, but before they can full form - you continue to speak.

"Maybe I can swing by once I'm done. My second stop is not too far from here honestly."

C.C's mood flips like a switch. "You better! Or I'll take my business elsewhere."

"I doubt that. See you later, C.C."

You head off with a mutual wave. Once shut, C.C crumbles against the door. He hates it - this warmth in his chest. It spreads through every inch of his body and leaves him fuller than any meal could compare to. It's gone the second he hears the elevator door opens, and he's left craving for more as a cold, empty shell on the floor. He soon steadies himself, grabbing the pizza box from the table. He traces your letters on the cardboard, almost as good as he's gotten with a pen. A base comfort he has is mirroring your handwriting and writing letters to himself at night, but the ones that settle his fears most of all -

are the letters he writes to your family in the unfortunate case of you running away.

[catherineav]

it looks like the hopper byers may be using the radio tower as their house so writing prompt: the first time they arrive there, kids having little fights to choose rooms, joyce and hop trying to make it cozy and homely for them, etc

OOPS because I'm me, this turned out slightly angsty, but no fear, it has a light ending. :) i hope this is somewhat what you had in mind!

They don’t have much. 

They took only the necessities back with them from California—the car, their clothes, a few family photo albums. It all amounts to a couple of duffle bags for each of them, which they immediately drop on the floor upon stepping into the abandoned radio station. 

Hopper has even less. His old clothes don’t fit for the most part, so his belongings consist mostly of some hoodies and t-shirts, plus the tokens from the cardboard boxes—Dad, Vietnam, Sara—he’d methodically repacked into his bags. 

Without a word of approval or complaint, Jonathan heads straight for the back of the old building. The room must once have been the producer’s office, judging by the framed records visible through the half-open doorway. 

El glances back at her parents, unsure, so Joyce offers her a nod and a tight smile. It’s not much, but it must be enough, because El steps forward to explore, dragging Will along behind her. 

“She’s never gotten to choose a room before,” Joyce realizes softly. Jim doesn’t answer, just shuts and bolts the entrance behind them before guiding her forward with a hand at the small of her back. She feels compelled to explain. “Owens already had the house staged when we got to California. Her room was so girly.”

That draws a smile from Jim, at least. 

But despite the soft murmurs from her two youngest—sharp and quick, are they really bickering over who gets which bedroom?—the whole place is too large and spacious and quiet for Joyce. So she keeps talking.

“He kept announcing what he would do for us, the house, the school, the documents, as if any of it could make up for what—what we lost. I thought he’d never shut up. ‘I’m impressed with myself, it wasn’t easy to get Jane in school, you know.’ The number of times I heard that line���The only reason I didn’t destroy our phone was because I needed it for the encyclopedias.” She shakes her head, pausing with her fingers on the tabletop of what was once a reception desk. It will make a decent kitchen table, if they can dig up a couple more chairs of the correct height. “And then to come through with the bare minimum to get us back from Alaska, it took days—”

“Joyce, I was there. Don’t exactly need ya to recount that one.”

She spins around, mortified, but he’s smiling. 

She releases the extra breath she’s been storing to fuel her rambling, instead slumping forward with her forearms on the table. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m stressed.”

“Why are you stressed?” He mirrors her stance, facing her across the table.  

She laughs, she can’t help it. What a ridiculous question. But then…

She looks around, really looks around, for the first time.

Bob would have loved this place. The sad thought comes to her unbidden, but it's bittersweet. Her stomach doesn't roll with nausea like it might once have.

The station is gray and cold. Corporate, almost. But there are signs of life, too. An empty coffee mug, a calendar still turned to the previous month. Strangers lived and breathed here, but this family never has.

Her eyes meet Jim’s. “I’m homesick,” she whispers.

“Hmm.” He considers this, his gaze tracing a similar path. He smiles again. “We can make this home, I think.”

She stands straighter, a smile tugging at her own lips. “Yeah?”

He shrugs. “Sure. We’re all here, you and me and El and the boys, together, for starters. And it won’t be two days before we’re outnumbered by the rest of those teenagers four to one. We won’t be able to hear ourselves think until we bust out the pizza and eat it on the rug in front of the record player.”

It’s a pretty picture, if an outrageous one. “Okay,” she whispers. She believes him. 

With a kiss to her cheek, he steps past her, rummaging under the counter. He emerges with his arms full of dark fabric and dumps some into her arms. “And we’ll start with the blackout curtains.”

She holds back a groan, only because he calls in the kids to help and she’s pretty sure she can get away with minimal effort dumped into this project, if only because she’s short. But of course it isn't until the two of them are well into working on the first window together, the kids stomping in from the hallway, that Jim asks, “Why was it so difficult to enroll El in school? She should have had my money, the birth certificate…”

She can tell by his pinched frown that this has been bothering him. But she can also see that even as El and Will unroll one of the curtains in the corner, El is tuned in and listening. 

Joyce had only agreed to Owens's suggestion so El could enroll in a school with her brothers, attend parent-teacher conferences with her mother. Even still, she could never stand here and say the words Owens had to marry us with a straight face.

So she clears her throat and pushes herself onto her toes to secure the curtain. “It’s a long story. For another time.”

One day, she knows—perhaps gathered together eating pizza out of the box in front of the record player—she’ll tell it and smile. 

[brii-sunwoos-version]

FML (partially written)

Prev/masterlist/next

Synopsys : Despite their initial disdain for one another, Unforeseen circumstances force Y/n and Jake to navigate their differences under the same roof. Slowly but surely, their walls begin to crack, revealing hidden vulnerabilities and unspoken desires. As they learn to coexist, the line between annoyance and attraction starts to blur. Small acts of kindness, shared late-night conversations, and unexpected moments of connection lead to a budding friendship that neither of them anticipated.

Y/n's Pov:

As I stepped out of my building, the familiar sight of Giselle's car waiting at the curb made me smile. It felt like the start of something spontaneous, something that could turn a dull evening into a story we'd talk about for weeks. Without hesitation, I swung open the back door and slid in next to Sohee.

“Sup, fuckers,” I greeted with a grin, buckling up as I settled into the seat.

Sohee shot me a look, half-amused and half-exasperated. “You took too long to piss, and Chenle managed to piss Yuqi off…”

I glanced at Yuqi, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, arms crossed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. It was almost impressive how quickly Chenle could get under her skin.

“So, nothing new,” Giselle chimed in from the driver’s seat, her eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror. She seemed unfazed, like this was just another day in our chaotic little group.

I shrugged, leaning back into the seat, feeling the familiar hum of the engine as Giselle pulled away from the curb.

As we drove, the tension in the car started to ease. Yuqi, still sulking in the front, finally broke the silence with a sudden suggestion.

“we should go to karaoke,” she said, her tone a mix of defiance and excitement.

I exchanged a quick glance with Sohee, and we both nodded. It was the perfect idea—a place where we could let loose, and i could sing my anxiety away, and maybe even get Yuqi and Chenle to get along for more than 20 minutes

“Hell yeah, I’m down,” I said, grinning as I imagined us belting out our favorite songs.

Giselle was already making a turn, heading in the direction of our usual karaoke spot. “Guess it’s settled then,” she said, her voice carrying a note of relief. We hadn't planned anything for the night, but this felt right—like exactly what we needed.

Jake's pov;

"Okay, umm... I’m guessing this is my room because the door’s open, so we can move all the boxes in there," I said, scanning the hallway before stepping inside the dorm. The room was pretty much what I expected—bare walls, an empty bed frame, and a desk waiting to be cluttered with my stuff.

As we started hauling the boxes in, I tried to mentally map out where everything would go. The bed in the corner, maybe a few posters to brighten up the walls, and my desk right by the window so I could get some natural light.

Heeseung followed behind, carrying a box labeled “books” and something else under his arm. "Oh, Jake, it looks like your roommate left their number for you." He handed me a sticky note he’d found on the table.

I took it from him, reading the number scribbled in messy handwriting. "Cool, I’ll text them tomorrow. They’ll probably be back tonight anyway," I said, tucking the note into my pocket. Part of me was curious about who this person was, but I figured I’d find out soon enough.

Jungwon walked out of the room, glancing around the space. "Y’all wanna order pizza while Jake unpacks?"

"Yes!" we all said in unison, laughing as the tension from the move started to ease up.

The guys wasted no time pulling out their phones, debating which place had the best pizza near campus. Meanwhile, I focused on getting my stuff in order. I popped open the first box, pulling out my bedding and tossing it onto the bare mattress. It wasn’t much, but it would make the room feel a bit more like home.

"Where should we put the TV?" Sunghoon asked, peering into the box labeled “electronics.”

"Uh, maybe on the desk for now?" I suggested, pointing to the spot where I planned to set up my laptop and speakers.

He nodded, lifting the TV out carefully. "This dorm’s actually not bad. Could’ve been a lot smaller."

"Yeah, it’s got potential," I agreed, unfolding the sheets and starting to make the bed. "Hopefully my roommate’s cool."

"You’ll be fine," Heeseung said, giving me a reassuring grin as he dropped another box onto the floor. "And if they’re not, well, you’ve got us."

"True," I replied, feeling a bit more at ease. With everything unpacked and the smell of pizza already making my stomach growl, I knew that whatever this year threw at me, I’d have my friends by my side.

Y/n's pov:

We arrived at the karaoke spot a little past 6 PM, the neon lights from the sign reflecting in the puddles on the sidewalk. The place was almost empty, which meant we had our pick of rooms. Giselle handled the payment while the rest of us made a beeline for the largest room available.

As soon as we settled in, Sohee took charge of the tablet, scrolling through song options. “Alright, who’s up first?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I grinned, grabbing one of the microphones. “I’m feeling like some throwbacks tonight.”

Yuqi, still nursing a bit of irritation from earlier, leaned back into the couch and waved her hand dismissively. “Go for it. Maybe you’ll pick something that doesn’t make my ears bleed.”

Challenge accepted. I picked a classic pop anthem, one that everyone knew but would never admit to loving. As soon as the intro played, the room filled with groans and laughter.

“No way! This song?” Chenle, who had somehow managed to weasel his way back into Yuqi's good graces, laughed as he grabbed another mic. “We’re doing this!”

The next few minutes were a blur of exaggerated dance moves, terrible but enthusiastic singing, and me doing my best pop star impression, much to everyone’s delight. By the time the chorus hit, even Yuqi was half-standing, shaking off whatever bad mood she’d been in.

When the song ended, we all collapsed into the couches, breathless from laughing so hard. Sohee reached for the bottle of soju we’d snuck in, pouring shots for everyone. “To terrible singing and even worse dancing!” she declared, raising her glass.

“To us!” I added, clinking my glass against hers before downing the shot.

The alcohol quickly added fuel to our already rowdy energy. Giselle put on a rap track, challenging everyone to keep up with the lyrics, which predictably ended in a mess of slurred words and hysterical laughter. Chenle, emboldened by the drinks, tried to do some freestyle, but ended up spouting absolute nonsense, which only made us laugh harder.

At one point, Yuqi stood up on the couch, swaying slightly but determined. “Okay, okay, I’m picking the next one!” She chose a rock song with a scream-along chorus, and the room exploded into chaotic noise, all of us yelling the lyrics at the top of our lungs.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I found myself watching them—my friends, the people who somehow managed to make even the worst days feel okay. Giselle and Sohee were dueting on some sappy ballad, both too tipsy to care about hitting the right notes, and Chenle was trying to convince Yuqi to do a duet with him next, despite her exaggerated eye rolls.

As the night wore on, our voices grew hoarse and our energy started to wane. We wrapped things up with a slow, nostalgic song that had us all swaying together, arms linked and voices soft. The room was a mess of empty bottles and snack wrappers, but none of us cared.

“Alright, time to get this mess home,” I finally said, my voice thick with sleepiness as i grabbed the keys and tossed them to her “You’re the least drunk, so you get to drive.”

She caught the keys with a smirk. “You’re lucky I like you guys.”

We all piled back into the car, tired but happy, our voices hoarse but our hearts light. The night had been exactly what we needed—no plans, just us, and a little bit of chaos to make everything feel right.

Jake's pov

The smell of pizza hit us the moment the delivery guy handed over the boxes, and we all rushed back to the dorm room like a pack of hungry wolves. Sunoo was the first to dive in, grabbing a slice before the box even touched the desk.

“Hey, save some for the rest of us!” Jay protested, swatting at Sunoo’s hand, but it was too late—Sunoo was already munching away with a triumphant grin.

“Should’ve been quicker, Jay,” Sunoo teased through a mouthful of pepperoni.

We all gathered around, sitting wherever we could find space. Heeseung perched on the bed, Jay and Sunghoon claimed the desk chairs, and Niki somehow managed to find a spot on the floor between two boxes.

As we started devouring the pizza, the room buzzed with chatter. Niki, never one to stay quiet for long, started roasting Sunghoon about his inability to fold a slice properly. “Dude, are you eating pizza or making a mess? Look at that—half the toppings are on the floor!”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m just enjoying it my way, okay? Let me live.”

“You might be enjoying it, but the floor sure isn’t,” Jungwon chimed in, pointing at the stray pieces of pepperoni scattered around Sunghoon’s feet.

Jay, always ready with a comeback, leaned over and mock-whispered to Heeseung, “Remind me to never let Sunghoon eat in my car. I’ll find pizza in places I didn’t even know existed.”

“You guys are relentless,” Sunghoon groaned, but he was laughing too, finally giving in and folding his slice like the rest of us.

After a while, the conversation shifted to my mysterious roommate, who was still MIA. “So, what’s the deal with your roommate?” Niki asked, leaning back against the wall. “Think they’re cool?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted, pulling the sticky note out of my pocket. “They left this number, but I haven’t texted them yet. They could be some super chill person, or… I don’t know, a serial killer.”

“Let’s hope for the first one,” Heeseung said with a smirk, stealing another slice.

“I say we text them something weird,” Sunoo suggested, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Like, ‘Hey, I licked all the spoons in the kitchen. Can’t wait to meet you!’”

“Or, ‘Do you sleep with socks on or off? It’s important,’” Jay added, trying to keep a straight face.

I shook my head, laughing. “Yeah, no. I’m not about to start off this year with my roommate thinking I’m a psycho.”

“Too late, you’re hanging out with us,” Jungwon pointed out, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

We finished off the pizza in record time, and the energy in the room started to wind down. Heeseung stretched, yawning loudly. “Alright, I think it’s time to head out. Let Jake get some sleep before his roommate comes back and finds us all passed out on the floor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, standing up and tossing the empty pizza boxes into the trash. “Thanks for helping with the move, guys. And for making sure my room didn’t stay quiet for too long.”

“Anytime,” Sunghoon replied, giving me a fist bump on his way out.

One by one, they all filtered out of the room, each giving their own version of a “good luck” or “don’t let the bedbugs bite,” leaving me with the mess to clean up.

As the door clicked shut behind the last of them, I stood there for a moment, the room suddenly feeling a lot quieter without all their voices. The bed was made, the boxes were mostly unpacked, and for the first time, this place was starting to feel like it could actually be home.

I sighed, grabbing my phone and looking at the sticky note one more time before saving the number under “Mystery Roommate.” Tomorrow, I’d find out if I was rooming with a future friend or the next great horror movie villain. Either way, I knew I’d survive—with a little help from my friends.

Third-Person POV

Y/n stumbled out of Giselle’s car, still laughing from something Chenle had said just before they pulled up to her building. The night air was cool against her flushed cheeks, and she waved lazily at her friends as they called out their goodbyes.

“Text us when you wake up!” Sohee yelled from the passenger seat, her voice slightly slurred.

“Or when you remember how to use your phone!” Yuqi added, leaning out the window with a playful grin.

Y/n blew them a kiss and turned to make her way inside, holding onto the stair railing a little more tightly than usual. The alcohol buzzed pleasantly in her veins, making everything feel just a bit more surreal. As she reached her floor, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The last thing she wanted was to wake up her new roommate on her first night back.

“Alright, stealth mode,” she whispered to herself, slipping her shoes off and tiptoeing down the hallway. The door to her dorm was slightly ajar, a quiet reminder that she wasn’t alone in the space anymore. She nudged it open carefully and slipped inside, closing it behind her as quietly as possible.

The dorm was dark and silent. She could make out the outline of boxes and furniture in the living area, evidence that her roommate had moved in earlier in the day. Y/n moved slowly, her footfalls light as she navigated to her room. Once safely inside, she flopped onto her bed with a sigh, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. The room spun a little as she closed her eyes, but she smiled, thinking of the night’s antics. Within moments, she was fast asleep.

---

The next morning, Y/n woke up with a groan, the light filtering through her curtains far too bright for her pounding head. She squinted at her phone, trying to make sense of the notifications that had piled up overnight.

“Ugh, I need water,” she mumbled, sitting up slowly. The room tilted slightly as she got to her feet, and she winced as the hangover fully hit her. Shuffling out of her room, she completely forgot about her new roommate as she made a beeline for the kitchen.

But as she rounded the corner, she froze.

Standing by the kitchen counter, casually sipping a cup of coffee, was Jake. His hair was tousled from sleep, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. The sight caught Y/n completely off guard, and she felt her face heat up in an instant.

Jake looked up, his eyes meeting hers just as she registered what she was seeing. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, clearly not expecting to see her either.

“Morning,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

But Y/n didn’t reply. Instead, she turned on her heel and hurried back to her room, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. She leaned against it, heart racing, her mind replaying the scene over and over.

“Okay, what just happened?” she whispered to herself, feeling the blush spread across her cheeks. Without wasting another second, she grabbed her phone and opened her group chat, fingers flying across the screen.

Before she could send another text, there was a soft knock on her door, pulling her attention away from her phone. Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced at the door, biting her lip. She had a feeling she knew who it was.

“Hey, um, Can we talk for a sec?” Jake’s voice came through the door, sounding a bit hesitant.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the door, phone still in hand, wondering if she should respond… or if it was better to pretend she wasn’t there at all.

[pherelesytsia]

Breakfast at Spencer’s

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female Reader

Summary: After days and nights spent with renovating the new home, Spencer surprises his girlfriend with breakfast in bed.

Warning: Just Pure Fluff to make a day better.

Word Count: 1k  

a.n:. Requests are open.

Spencer Reid Masterlist

An unfamiliar scent filled the house. The walls were bare, the brownish boxes with various prints piled up in the different rooms, some of them open, offering glimpses of framed photographs and things of great importance even if they were not made of pure gold.

Coloured blobs adorned the floor of dark wood and light streamed through the windows. The almost finished sofa was under the window, opposite the television not connected to the thousands of cables next to the wardrobe in the brownish tones. An armchair in dark brownish tones stood in the far corner of the living room next to the bookshelf, filled with nothing. The smell of fresh paint could no longer mask the scent of pancakes.

The dark rings under his eyes were a reminder of the sleepless nights. The past two-weeks Spencer and his wife had spent with filling boxes of thick cardboard with their belongings, had sorted out what they could no longer use in the new place to call a home. The windows had not been cleaned, and the curtains didn't frame all the windows in the living room like a painting.

The coffee had dried in the dotted cups. Stacked plates and glasses, along with cups of various designs, were on the kitchen island. The bottle of red wine, the two boxes that once held a pizza, and the three bowls reminiscent of an Asian delicacy lay all across the white kitchen counter graced with dark marks. Spencer ignored the mess they had left behind, saw the plates that needed to be put in the not working dishwasher, not yet plugged in.

The light streaming through the window kissed his features. Spencer made no effort to clean up the mess, knowing he had more important things to do. A slight smirk spread across his lips, imagining how his girlfriend would react to him bringing her out of the land of dreams with the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes on a bed of strawberries doused with fresh maple syrup. A pair of dark blue boxer shorts covered his lower body. Traces of cold graced his naked torso, adorned by the shadows of the wide curtains. The stacks of perfect pancakes lay spread on two plates to his right side. Strawberries framed the pancakes along with berries whose names he could all recite by heart. Spencer placed the blob of whipped cream on the top pancakes, poured down the golden liquid from a higher height, and smiled contentedly as he critiqued his work, pleased with what he had created.

The young man was unable to recall the last time he had cooked for his wife, but was certain she was still his girlfriend back then and not his wife. Spencer regretted it, aware of how much she cherished it when he surprised her with little things, but his job made it nearly physically impossible for him to do more for Y/N.

The two plates, followed by the same number of cups graced with flowers filled with dark brew, stood on the long tray in mint green adorned with dozens of small flowers seeming to grow larger. The chirping of birds filtered into the house, smelling of fresh paint and wood, of an enchanted forest, after rain and booming thunder.

Slowly and fearfully, Spencer walked up the stairs, had to think for a moment, was no longer sure whether they had chosen the bedroom on the upper floor of the small family home or the ground floor. Laughing low Spencer shook his head, couldn't understand how he could forget. Slowly he walked up the stairs, happy they didn't creak under his weight and turned into the long corridor of many than five doors. Passing three of the many doors, knowing that one day behind one of them would be his office, his own little place where he could work. His pulse quickened, seeing the other doors leading into empty rooms which one day would be filled with life and peals of laughter, cries and toys. He was already looking forward to the voices, to the eyes resembling Y/N's or his, to the ungraceful steps and the commotion.

He continued his short journey across the house. The walls were bare but the pictures in the different sized frames leaning against the wall on the floor quickly let him know that only nails were missing to bring long forgotten memories back to life.

The tips of his toes collided with the light wooden door and peeked out. Silently Spencer stepped into the bedroom with a grin, looking at the boxes holding clothing and at the empty bookshelves. The boxes of hundreds of books were next to it.

Strands of her hair partially covered her face. Peacefully Y/N slept in the middle of the bed, her limbs splayed out, hugging the pillow smelling of her husband, who had a calming effect on her heart. Y/N was dressed in one of his T-shirts even though she had enough clothes in her possession to wear, but Spencer didn't mind, loved to see her walk in his clothing.

Spencer took a step into the bedroom and left the door open behind. Soft words dripping with love crossed his lips. Y/N began to roll over, squeezing her eyes shut, not wanting to leave the loving world of dreamland. The scent of strawberries mingling with freshly roasted coffee beans enveloped her like a blanket. Her eyebrows almost touched. Y/N turned, facing Spencer as her fingers clawed into the soft material. Looking through squinted eyes at the figure standing a few steps away from the bed. Suddenly Y/N was wide awake. Smiling she saw the pride in her husband’s eyes. With her hand, she pushed herself from the soft material and rose from the bed, propped herself up and sat down in the middle. Grinning sleepily, sure it must be a dream Y/N laughed, but then she saw clearly, recognising her husband who was approaching her with slow steps and a loving smile on his lips.

[whltlock]

CHAPTER ONE / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: Something hunts Jason from the shadows and its wearing the face of that God forsaken clown.

Running from trouble, you just want a moment to catch your breath and lay low.

But life’s a tricky thing, isn’t it? The stars above Gotham align just so, throwing you into the path swathed with moody red and wicked sharp tongues.

And too be fair, you’ve never been good at staying on the straight and narrow.

Tags: Non-binary Reader, Dick and Reader are Roma, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Body Horror, Post Arkham Knight, jason goes to therapy fr, do i project my disabilities onto everyone? yes i do, i make dc and marvel kiss a little, i just love writing about jason learning to give and accept love

Word Count: 8432

“So, do you want pizza as a thanks?” you offered. “Although we’re even now.”

Jason tapped his helmet.

You frowned. The look you gave almost made him laugh, too—it rivalled Alfred’s are you fucking stupid? face.

“I know,” you said, your brows still furrowed. It was shaken off as you reached up to the bedside table and pulled down a wad of tissues. Laying them out, you placed a few slices onto the ‘plate.’

“Take the box.” You held it out to him.

Unbeknownst to you, Jason’s expression pinched. “Don’t eat on the floor,” he muttered, crossing the small space to claim the leftover pizza. You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, I’ll just go get my finest china out of my backpack.”

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, scrutinising one another. A few seconds passed before you smirked and ducked your head, finding your own joke funny. He wouldn’t admit it if he did too.

A/N: I've been working on this baby since Dec 2020, so I'm glad to finally release it! I hope you're able to enjoy the journey as much as I have.

I'm just editing chapters now, so that means weekly updates for you all! I'm thinking Sundays so we all have something to get us through Mondays. But for this week, there's a bonus chapter to kick things off.

I want to mention that for the first part of this story, Reader is malnourished and it features in the text at times (not an ED). As the chapters go on and they are able to gain weight, it isn't discussed beyond self-image issues.

Catch you again soon!

Yet another echo of distant, growling voices slapped against the brick-laid walls. It spooked you and you clung to your bag a little tighter, as if it offered any safety. The rats that scuttled out of the corner of your eyes made your disgust well-up. You swallowed, seeing the dried blood splatters both on the ground and the empty high-rise buildings. That was a reoccurring, skin-crawling sight tonight.

So far, you’d wandered from worse to bearable to bad, or was it the other way around? You weren’t sure anymore. You'd hoped, at one point or another in your travels, that something would click. You needed a lightbulb moment to guide your way.

Continuing along the dark streets, you did your best to ignore the stench of trash and the cold that gnawed at your brittle bones. A measly woollen sweater hung over your shivering frame, shuffling to and fro with the wind.

Abruptly, your senses set alight, paranoia chasing goosebumps up your arms and neck. At once, you heard boots stomping against cement. It approached rapidly, one thump after another. You held onto your bag and whipped around.

A figure clothed in red flew past you as you both stumbled into an alleyway on impact. It was an ungraceful collision where your limbs hit wall painfully. A belting roar ricocheted into the narrow street within seconds. Whatever it was merely tossed you aside with its enormity and speed and went after the crumpled crusader.

For a moment, you remained folded against the brick, gulping down a lungsful of air. Unfortunately, adrenaline forced you to scramble upwards to watch the disaster happening before you.

The stranger barely had time to roll away before the giant was pummelling down. Its fists were misshapen; barely passable stumps that looked like they were made of mud and rot. Between them, boisterous heaves filtered into the suddenly-stuffy air. You realised that thing was probably about to win.

With a rattled breath, you raised your hand. Nothing happened. A sick feeling drowned the contents of stomach.

Again, you mustered your will and honed in on the dreadful beast. With a second shake of your wrist, the creature jerked sideways a touch. Almost like you’d bitch-slapped it.

The piece you carved from it sloughed off its body and melted into the ground, becoming just another dark stain. It still shocked you to see your ability in action. However, the dash of hope was snuffed out as the perturbed creature swivelled its head to you. Its nostrils flared.

“Shit.”

It lunged, bounding over the pavement in what you couldn’t describe as being on either two or four legs. You stumbled further backwards, palming for purchase along the disgustingly sticky brick. “Shit, shit, shit!”

You almost cried when it happened. With your arms raised defensively in front of you, the creature swept away with a jarring metal clang, hitting one of the buildings that lined the dead-end street. It let out a wail but didn't attempt to get up, though it writhed on the spot.

“Woah,” came the voice of yet another figure appearing by your side. Your eyes snapped to him, jittery from the ordeal. This one was clad in blue.

Tentatively, he passed you your bag that had fallen in the scuffle. When you didn’t immediately accept it, he tried again, voice placating. “That was cool.”

You snatched the bag but stayed mute. You eyed him, and then the red... man, you supposed. He was still splayed on the ground, helmet intact despite it all. Strangely, it almost seemed like he was speechless too, with the indents of his eyes peering up at you—calculating. They had matching bat symbols plastered across their chests, which prompted: “Are you brothers?”

“What? No!” the blue one sputtered. “Why would you say that?”

“Shut up,” Red grit.

“Right,” Nightwing said.

You realised the red man’s voice was... warbled. Like a robot trying to communicate. It set you on edge again.

After a pause, he spoke up, sounding frustrated. “I didn’t need your help.”

You weren’t quite sure if it was directed at you, although the words seemed to ignite something in Nightwing. He hurriedly moved to help Red Hood up from where the beastly thing had pounced on him originally. “Dude, why’d you run off? Look at this mess.”

“I was handling it.” Jason ignored the arm held out as he stood up. He shoved Dick’s hands away, then snapped, “Stop following me.”

You broke their argument with a soft whisper, watching the creature who was stirring. “What is that?”

They both turned to look at you.

“Who are you?” Red demanded.

You didn’t know what to say. They didn’t seem coordinated enough to do anything bad to you, but...

You slumped against the wall, curling in on yourself, unsure of this whole situation. You’d just revealed a dangerous thing about your person.

“My name’s Nightwing,” Dick offered gently. His careful eyes trailed over Jason, before saying, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

That little action had you reeling. “Is he?” you asked warily, following Nightwing’s diligent gaze to his brother. Red snorted, but it sounded odd through the helmet.

He was staring at you again. With what little determination you had left, you glared back. You didn’t trust the faceless man not to tackle you on a whim, especially when his fingers twitched on the guns holstered to his upper thighs. The air between them felt heavy with the unsaid.

“No,” Dick assured. He looked away from you. “Did you alert the GCPD?”

You noticed the tiny movements of Red’s posture and helmet, the tells that his attention had been redirected elsewhere. “Yes.”

Dick looked over from them to the odd being in question. “It’s contained?”

Jason didn’t reply. Instead, his fists clenched tighter.

“Okay,” Dick murmured, trying to walk back the doubt he’d cast on his brother. “Okay. That’s good. Good job.”

“Relax, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle,” you muttered to yourself. Nightwing stifled his laughter into his shoulder, but Red’s head snapped to you.

“What?” came the mechanical voice, and it felt like he tried to burn you with his deadly stare.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you retorted. You were probably testing his patience, but he’d done nothing but try to intimidate you.

Nightwing stepped in then, blocking you from his sight. “Come back to the Manor later, please?”

“Take them home,” Jason said, tone slicing like dropped steel that barely missed your toes.

Dick raised his hand to place on his shoulder, but it floated unsurely. “Please, Ja—”

The words were cut off as Jason grabbed the collar of Dick’s suit, forcefully pushing him backwards and closer to you. Dick swallowed the rest of his desperate plea. The regret was obvious in his clenched jaw. He knew he shouldn’t have said Jason’s name but it had escaped before he could think about it.

You wanted to inch away, but they’d basically blocked you into the alley. You leaned away from the kafuffle, scarcely avoiding the heat of Nightwing’s body.

“Don’t,” Jason ground out, knuckles still stretched taut near Dick’s neck. “Take. Them. Home.”

With that, he let go. As he stepped back, he risked a glance at you over Dick’s shoulder.

Man, did his attitude need retuning, you thought.

Dick deflated. Then, he nodded.

Jason didn’t waste any longer in the alleyway, needing to put distance between the three of them. He was suffocating under his brother’s despair. He spun around and briskly disappeared into the darkness of the decaying street. You lost sight of him within a few steps, but you heard the rungs of a nearby ladder drop. It blended into police sirens.

You finally peeled away from the dirty wall, uncertain of what to do next. Running and screaming sounded fun.

Nightwing sighed loudly. It was quiet for a few more moments, the both of you absorbing what had just happened. You—your first encounter with something inhuman—and him, well, whatever the hell that had been between Jason and himself.

He wanted to be mad. He undeniably was, but—it was crushing to see the state of his brother. Dick wanted to be angry and resolve it the way normal families did. His mind flitted over Bruce and he couldn’t help but think this is your fault. He felt the volatile thoughts capsizing, white heat spreading to his limbs.

Stop, he told himself. Dick choked it down to stew about later.

“Spurned lover?” you said, tone obnoxious. You deserved a slap upside the head for that comment.

The corner of Nightwing’s mouth lifted.

“No. He’s just not a...” Dick settled on, “People person.” He sighed again, then tried to resume his cheerful character. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah?”

You remained silent. Even if you allowed him lead you some place, where were you going to go? The nearest cardboard box in a sheltered side street?

Your blinking tipped him off. “You’re new to town?”

You bit your tongue and nodded.

“Okay. I can take you to a motel?” Nightwing proposed.

God, you’d already laid half your cards on the table. What was a little more? you thought bitterly. “I don’t have the money for that.”

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.” Nightwing started walking, urging you to join him with a wave of his hand. “I know you don’t trust me, but... consider it a ‘thank you’ for tonight.”

You snorted. At least someone was grateful for your shitty help. Though that meant the two men were definitely known to each other. Your mind wandered off on that tangent for a few minutes as you trailed after him, pace slow.

You were no longer cold after that excitement, but you kept your belongings tight against your body. You kicked a pebble as you walked. Occasionally, you’d hum an anxious note under your breath. You hoped you weren’t stupid enough to let yourself be lured to an early grave.

While it didn’t seem like you were going to get an explanation about that hellish monster, you were relieved that the stranger didn’t ask about your weirdness. You knew he had been looking you over, searching for an answer in the strained silence. You shied away when his eyes lingered on the scars that peeked out of your billowing sleeves.

Nightwing’s voice displaced the eerie hush then. “What brings you to Gotham?” he asked, turning his head again.

You mulled over your next words carefully. “Finding somewhere to live.”

Dick nodded. “Where are you from?”

“Europe.”

He accepted it easily. “Staying long?”

You frowned, uncomfortable with the twenty questions game. You turned it back on him after an awkward beat. “Are you friends?” you blurted out, “with the grump?”

A long pause, before, “We used to be.”

You didn’t push beyond that.

As you walked, Dick became aware of the presence following them from above. A red uniform that glided along the top of the buildings, attempting to stay out of sight.

He tried to stifle the hope that thrummed alive from beneath the murky depths.

With a quiet, “Thank you,” you closed the door as gently as you could as not to cause offence. However, you triple-checked the locks.

You took a few moments to breathe. Really breathe—deeply—and exhaled face down into the mattress. For the first time in perhaps weeks—you’d lost count—you felt a little bit safe. Enough to relax for a few hours. To sink into the barely-made covers of the bed, with four grimy walls to keep the weather and other atrocities at bay.

For a while you lay on your stomach, just trying to release the from pressure deep within your muscles. However, a grumbling stomach alerted you to the fact that you were still human.

With a sigh, you sat back up and spilt the contents of your sack onto the bed. The few dollars you had left tumbled out, along with an apple, a snack bar of sorts, an old phone, two t-shirts, and your water bottle. You settled for the bar.

Staring hopelessly at what little money you had, you knew you were going to have to steal sooner or later to survive. You didn’t even have regular scraps at this point.

You wished your phone would ring with a solution.

The morning brought a soft light speckling over the bed. You wanted to stay there a bit longer, in this simple luxury you hadn’t had in so long.

But no, you would have to keep looking for a sanctuary. Nightwing had given you a night’s reprieve and you were not going to test your luck with the bizarre vigilante when he had bestowed you with something nice. Besides, you didn’t have the money to pay him back or continue your retreat there.

Bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the bed and the bathroom, savouring the memories of warmth one last time. Closing the door behind yourself was hard.

You trailed up to the shoddy front desk, gripping the key. Filled with dismay, you placed the card on the counter with a sullen, “Thank you.”

“No refunds for the remaining nights,” the woman monotoned, peering over her novel.

“What?”

“That... gentleman said you were staying the week,” she sighed, discontent with your obliviousness.

You managed to stammer out, “I... It’s paid for?”

She just raised her eyebrow.

Pondering the situation, you weren’t sure what it meant if you accepted that key back. What did Nightwing want?

Your shadow hardly proved a nuisance as the clerk went back to her book, ignoring your internal debate. Another night, much less a week, was beyond tempting.

You rubbed at your eyes, feeling like this would be trouble down the line. However, you snatched back the key. This time, a little more confidently, you parted with an, “Alright. Thanks.”

Walking briskly down the cold Gotham streets, you snatched a piece of fruit from a passing grocer’s stall.

Jason Todd decided he was going to have a Peaceful Fucking Morning. Not the texts pouring in from Dick, or the aching in his spine, knees, shoulder, etcetera, would deter him from his mission.

He sunk into the cushioned loveseat that was rammed into the far reading corner of Gotham City Public Library. Considering the infernal realm that this city was, the library was cosy despite all the evil forces it had going against it.

He opened up My Year of Rest and Relaxation, careful to avoid imparting more damage to the spine of the already heavily-used book. He sipped at his coffee and continued on from where he last left off.

Jason wasn’t going to think about how he ran away from his brother and the smartass victim, or the weird thing that had attacked him. The tenacity in which it had pursued him in—wanting a chunk of his deranged hide.

Well, get in line, he blew air out his nose.

Jason’s head jerked up when he spotted the same ratty bag that he’d seen last night. And attached to it, the same stranger that had gotten in the way. Fear swiftly pounded in his ears and he cast his face downwards.

The only reason you’d notice him was for his tattered face, Jason reminded himself acrimoniously. He’d been wearing his helmet, he reasoned, in an attempt to quell the anxiety. Nonetheless, he tugged at his hood until his cheek was hidden, shielding the scar from prying eyes.

With a harsh swallow, he peeked at you again. He noted how you’d sat down at a nearby table, back to him. You flipped through newspapers rather rapidly. Jason’s eyes narrowed at that. Why hadn’t you hightailed it out of Gotham already?

Jason decided to keep an eye on you. His gaze flicked from the words on the page, to your form and back, several times over.

It caught his interest when you stopped on one page for too long. He put down the book and slowly got up. His butt-fucked joints led him behind the desk. Peering over your shoulder, every muscle in Jason’s body stiffened.

He was looking back at a photo of himself and the bloodshed he’d caused.

Stepping into the library, you made a beeline for the newspaper stand. Taking today’s copy of the Gazette, and a few old ones, you hastily scooped them into your arms. Your eyes swept over the large room, looking for somewhere to sit. You decided on a table near the reading nook. It was secluded, save for the body looking comfortable on an overstuffed lounge.

You paid him little mind. Your focus was on the newspapers and the secrets they held. Who was Nightwing? And the red one?

You thumbed through the pages, glancing over headlines and photos. You read through a couple of stories. Clearly, the crime rate was high in this city. The list of vigilantes and mob bosses seemed endless.

An image of Nightwing came up first. He’d saved a group of civilians from a shoot-out.

Next, you found the one that interested you most: ‘Red Hood Intervenes in Arms Deal, Weapons Go Missing.’ Your jaw tensed. That didn’t sound good.

A sudden tickle ran up your spine. The sensation of a presence behind you caused you to whip around. Paranoia wasn’t something to be so easily ignored—especially now in a place like this, you realised. Relief overwhelmed you when it was just the other library-goer. He rushed past you, book a-tow.

You refocused on the newspapers, your thoughts going haywire.

Were these people like you?

You leaned back in the chair. Chewing your lip absently, you recalled what you’d read and your experience of the night before. Arms crossed, you sank into yourself, and in turn, the distant hope that pulled at your gut.

Were there more?

Damp. That’s how you’d describe the cell if anyone ever asked. The walls, the floor, even the bed sheets always felt sodden under your fingertips. Maybe it was from all the crying you had done or from those that came before you. Ghosts inevitably carving their mark into this hellhole.

Your eyes drifted to the stone walls, fleetingly curious about whether anyone had ever bothered to leave their name or initials hidden. As a reminder that they existed—that they were here once.

That could be a project for another day when you weren’t so troubled, you decided.

The men behind the see-through screen seemed to take note of your roving eyes. You felt them. Upon realising that, you retreated back into yourself before they came forward to observe further. You weren’t a freebie.

You scooted behind the bed, trying to hide from the leering stares of your so-called saviours. Day and night, someone would be watching you, guaranteed. You tugged the blanket closer, trying to build a soft, protective wall. It too felt waterlogged.

You rubbed at your pruned skin, wondering if you could get trench foot this way.

You assumed it was night time. They turned the lights off at night, resorting to pointing torches into the cells, finding it funny to beam them straight into your eyes. Toying with you when they could, especially when you weren’t entertaining enough.

A pained wailing came from further down the hall, signalling that there were at least a few others trapped like you. You weren’t sure if that made you feel any better.

With your eyes screwed shut, you bounced your head against the wall in frustration. A migraine was starting to seep into your brain from the screaming that hadn’t stopped in the last hour. What had happened to them? Were you next?

You tried to count the threads on your raggedy excuse for clothes, searching for a feasible distraction.

When that didn’t work, you resorted to digging your nails into your palms. The pulsing in your head was beginning to make you nauseous. You considered clawing at the barely healed wounds on your arms. Maybe it’d drown out the noise. But, being sick or wounded meant scrutiny and physical contact. Two things best avoided in this place.

Suddenly, an electrical shock in your brain meant your head accidentally smacked against the stony wall.

“Shit!” you yelped, slapping a hand to the spot that throbbed. Because of it, you almost missed the eerie voice that spoke beneath the pulsing sensation.

“You are suffering too, yes?” it asked.

Your chin whipped around, searching the cell. You even peeked around the blanket. No one out of the ordinary was there.

“Yes?” you spoke into the air timidly.

Abruptly, the shrieking ceased. You heard a soft whimper from behind you through the thick wall. Almost immediately, the migraine eased back to a bearable level.

Quietly, you asked, “Did you do that?”

It was a few moments before you received the disembodied, “Yes.”

You gulped nervously. You hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to anyone in your time here. However long that was. The guards were religious about the captives being kept separate from each other. No chance of escape then.

“Are you next to me?” you cautiously whispered.

“I am,” they said. The voice was deep but quite feminine. The accent was the same as yours. You felt a bit more confident knowing that. “Are you alright?”

“Better, now,” you said. You leaned your head back against the wall, grateful for it to be finally quiet, except for the weird tingles that vibrated throughout your brain.

“Are you telepathic?” you murmured. It was weird to have a conversation like a normal person. Usually, you were begging for them to stop and leave you alone.

“Something like that,” she explained. You nodded to yourself, accepting the answer.

There was silence for a long time before the voice said more. “Don’t hurt yourself, not for them.”

You wanted to speak but the sickly spotlight shone upon you in that moment. Your blood turned cold. A gruff yell came from outside the cell: “Wakey, wakey, sunshine—!”

*

That familiar shock startled you awake. A buzzing traversed your nerves, from your fingers to your toes. It was a strange kind of comfort; slightly warming in its path.

You pulled your phone off the table, longing for a soothing message or notification. Nothing.

You sighed, realising it must have just been your brain overreacting. It wasn’t quite a nightmare, you thought. More like a memory playing out.

You missed your friend’s face. Wishing it had appeared in the dream, you tried to conjure it up for your own sake. When was the last time you saw them smile?

Too long ago.

You realised then that you’d fallen asleep with the old, tiny TV on. It reminded you of the more war-torn parts of your home city where they were common. There was another pang of yearning for something that no longer existed—that would never be the same.

The static fizzed; random, muffled voices breaking through every so often. Much like those ghost detector machines you’d seen on YouTube. You continued to lay there on the cosy bed, listening to that sound. It was snug in the sheets, so unlike the clammy ones you had to endure back there. You scratched at your arms, finding them itchy now.

It was endless, the worry your safety could be breached at any moment. Anxiety chewed at you, gnawing its way into your weak soul.

But your friend’s words echoed in your mind:‘Don’t hurt yourself because of them.’

It was enough to suppress any urge for the rest of the night.

*

You hadn’t ventured far that day, only leaving your room to visit the vending machine for a lemon soda. Cracking it open in the tiny courtyard, you soaked in some of the gloomy sun. Still, it rippled past you and warmed your freezing skin. You felt a little more alive.

The journey back was short. You glanced at passersby, wondering what had lured them to Gotham. Not a weird calling like you, surely?

You stopped, eyes falling. A neat pile of something laid at the foot of your door.

Warily, you leaned down and poked it. It seemed to be all cloth. You looked around as if you were going to find the culprit waiting behind the nearest corner. It was obviously meant for you, right?

With a sigh, you scooped it up. Since Nightwing was the one who dropped you off, you supposed it had to be a gift from him. Another one? you thought incredulously.

A couple pairs of socks, a t-shirt, and a box of assorted snacks. Hm.

“Call me poor to my face next time,” you muttered, stuffing the bundle into your arms. Contrarily, you were grateful on the inside. You unlocked the door and snuck back into the room.

You noticed a slip of paper wedged between the goodies. A handwritten phone number was on the top side. And when you flipped it over, it read, ‘For when he gets in trouble next.’

At least Nightwing was funny, you mused.

Squinting, you brought it closer to see, ‘Or if you need help!’ had been messily scribbled out.

*

The absolute divine cloud of cheese and herbs that wafted from the pizza box practically carried you back to the motel. You were absolutely starving, having eaten very little in the past few days. You’d anxiously splurged on a whole pizza and justified it by knowing you could save the rest in the mini-fridge. Which was a shocking luxury for the scrap-heap room you were headed to.

Chin propped, you did your best attempt at a leave-me-alone stride along the Gotham streets. The chilly air prickled at your skin but you tried to channel the burning heat from the box into the rest of your body. The cracked cement tripped you up every so often. Why the hell were you still here?

You huffed with relief when you passed the last building on the dingy street, spotting the glowing VACANT sign in the motel’s car lot. There were a few vehicles scattered at their owners’ pleasure. Walking by the front office, you noticed the clerk was asleep. It wasn’t the same old bat; this time it was a teenager.

Unsteadily, you shuffled the pizza box to balance on your left palm, while the other rummaged through your pants pocket for the room key.

A voice standing entirely too close, and entirely too breathy, made you freeze as it hit your neck.

“Hiya, darl.”

You kept your fingers clutched around the key, unsure of your next move. Slowly, you peered over your shoulder. An older man leered at you, cigarette hanging over his lips. It spat ash into the breeze. He smiled when he had your attention.

It felt disgusting. His patchy beard was sprinkled with sweat. Alarm bells in your head screamed. You didn’t want to let him into your room, but staying outside didn’t seem any wiser.

You weren’t losing this fucking pizza.

“You lookin’ for company to share that feast with tonight?”

Still keeping your eyes on him, you inched closer to the door. “No.”

He let out a guttural laugh. “Come on, darl. Don’t be like that.”

A glint from the waist of his jeans made your heart drop into your ass. That sure looked like a weapon. You swallowed thickly, voice stuck.

The purr of an engine ripped the breath from your lungs. Your eyes darted upwards, watching the nondescript van roll into the far side of the car park. Tears stung your eyes.

No, it couldn’t be them—no!—how did they find you?

You couldn’t believe what was happening. One more word out of his mouth and you were going to start hyperventilating. The heat of the pizza that seared your hand was no longer grounding enough. The man seemed to sense your distress and his grin widened.

“Feeling shy?” he crooned, reaching for you with crinkly palms. You immediately slapped him away. The man let out a tsk. For a moment, he turned to the van with his arms raised; the opening act for his audience.

You pressed the pizza to your chest and took the opportunity.

You launched your fist at him as hard as you could, hoping some of your ability would propel it. Without staying to watch his face snap six ways to Sunday, you bolted across the threshold, praising whatever higher power that had installed the electronic lock and key. You tossed the box onto the ground.

However, a foot wedged in the doorway stopped you from slamming it entirely shut.

“Oh darl, now you’re just being nasty,” he snarled, attempting to force you back. You threw your weight against the door frantically. You barely kept it in place as he pounded on it.

Homeless and starving: two points, and you: zero.

Suddenly, a deep thump sounded against the door, followed by a cacophony of swearing. You were shoved back with the brute force of it.

And then, the man flew through the gap, having received a boot to the chest. You let out a strangled noise, falling to the ground, almost squashing your pizza. Your eyes roved upwards, trailing after the figure that marched into the room.

Red Hood. Like he owned the damn place.

He picked up the man by the scruff and dragged him up. The man’s knees dangled dumbly as he clawed at the vigilante.

“Read the fuckin’ room next time, buddy,” Red warbled, stubbing out the cigarette on the goon’s face. At that, he cried and thrashed angrily, only for Red to drop him face first.

Your would-be attacker tried to roll over. He didn’t get far as swiftly, he received a pistol whipping with his own gun. There was a distinct crack on the second blow. He fell back with a pained moan but lapsed into silence.

Red hauled the unconscious man by his jean leg straight through the doorframe. He didn’t spare you a glance until he was done zip-tying the man to a post outside.

The screech of tires had both your heads jerking up. The van was escaping.

“Shit,” Red groaned. Finally, he inclined his head towards you in acknowledgement. “I’ll come back.” When that made you stiffen, he amended, “For him.”

“Oh,” you whispered, pretending to understand. Brain completely fried, you uttered the only thing you could manage: “Do you want some pizza?”

Red snorted. “Lock the door,” he said as he pulled it shut.

*

Seated on the floor by your pizza, you had your knees hugged to your chest. At some point in the past forty-five minutes, you’d stopped shaking, but you couldn’t get over how you were almost snatched. Back to them. Your fists clenched until your knuckles were white and pins and needles took over.

A knock against wood interrupted your self-pity session. Heart lurching, you shuffled backwards in a pathetic attempt of self-defence.

You remembered then that Red Hood said he would come back. You still did nothing but hide behind the loose sheets. You watched the door handle jiggle, feeling panic rising in your gut. Wasn’t this supposed to be your safe space for the week?

You wanted to vomit as the heavy, black combat boots of the vigilante entered the room. You looked past his feet and out the door, hoping to not find the man who’d tried to attack you. Thankfully, he was gone. Only a small smattering of blood was left behind on the pavement. A shallow breath escaped you.

You felt Red’s piercing eyes on you as he shut the door behind him.

“I told you to lock it,” he said, helmet whirring. He stopped a few paces into the room, but it felt like his presence loomed above you.

The invisible clock ticked in tandem with your pulse. Slowly, you met his waiting gaze. You didn’t know what to say. He was still kind of an untrustworthy asshole, right?

*

Jason watched you attempt to process the events of the last hour. Your energy was lacking, mismatched to the first time he’d met you. He stayed plastered to the farthest wall, trying to keep some space between you.

Shit, why did he say he’d come back? It was Dick’s thing to check on civilians. He was pretty sure whatever came out of his mouth next would make the trauma worse.

“What did you do with them?” came your quiet question.

Jason hadn’t meant to look down, but as soon as he did, your eyes landed on his gloves. The ones spotted with blood. It flaked off each time he clenched his knuckles.

“Took care of it,” he said. He crossed his arms, feeling the scars on his hands burn under your assessment.

Whatever answer you found in between the lines had your form relaxing slightly. Some of his discomfort diminished with yours, although he remained stock-still.

Jason watched you awkwardly pick at the invisible lint on your sleeves. In the back of his mind, the actions felt familiar. He took a moment to observe his surroundings. It was a normal motel room, aside from the person huddled in the same position as before he left. Guilt gnawed at the frayed edges of his mind about how bad a job he was doing to soothe you.

Not that anyone would expect better. He wrenched away from the thought.

You rested your chin on your knees before hesitantly asking, “Do you know who they were?”

That caught him off guard. It was both a hope and a horror to acknowledge that crime like this wasn’t as widespread elsewhere. “Sex traffickers,” he said charily.

“What?”

A wince overcame your face, like you were confused by his explanation. Interested, Jason’s head tipped and he leaned a little closer. The movement made your skittish eyes snap back to him. He paused but continued to regard you quizzically.

“Oh... right,” you said, attempting to keep him in place. You weren’t good at hiding whatever bothered you.

Carefully, he tried again, aiming for an even tone. “Did you... know him?”

“No!” you said, all too quickly. “I don’t think so...” you muttered to yourself, chin dipping as you got tangled in your own mind.

Jason was definitely put off by this answer. Disgust churned in his stomach, considering the worst. Were you a victim before this? It would make sense, he thought, looking over your sunken cheeks and frail body. Maybe that’s why you’d been getting into trouble? But how’d you get into it—in Gotham—in the first place?

Feeling his rising apprehension, you promptly changed the topic. “So, do you want pizza as a thanks?” you offered. “Although we’re even now.”

Jason tapped his helmet.

You frowned. The look you gave almost made him laugh, too—it rivalled Alfred’s are you fucking stupid? face.

“I know,” you said, your brows still furrowed. It was shaken off as you reached up to the bedside table and pulled down a wad of tissues. Laying them out, you placed a few slices onto the ‘plate.’

“Take the box.” You held it out to him.

Unbeknownst to you, Jason’s expression pinched. “Don’t eat on the floor,” he muttered, crossing the small space to claim the leftover pizza. You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, I’ll just go get my finest china out of my backpack.”

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, scrutinising one another. A few seconds passed before you smirked and ducked your head, finding your own joke funny. He wouldn’t admit it if he did too.

Jason retreated to the wall again. He was starting to feel the familiar ache in his body that said it was time to call it a night. “Are you staying long?” he wondered aloud.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you retorted. He met you with another stare until you said more. “I don’t know. It seems like a good place for an adrenaline rush.”

“S’not a good place,” Jason warned. “You won’t be safe here.”

Shrugging off his concern, you munched on a pizza slice. Inwardly, you contemplated his grave words.

He watched, finding you strange. Not even ten minutes ago you’d been afraid of him, but now you were eating in his presence, eyes barely moving his way. You wilfully ignored his advice, as well. And while he hadn’t forgotten your very first encounter, you didn’t scream willing superhero.

For the first time since he’d arrived, Jason noticed the time flickering on the inside of his helmet, along with a barrage of emergency notifications. Two AM, and he was still here, arguing with you. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m leaving now,” he said abruptly. But it sounded too much like a question to his own ears. He bit his tongue, wanting to correct himself—to sound more in control. Your eyebrow raised.

He breathed deeply, in and out, and then expanded, “I’m needed elsewhere.”

Your jaw moved to agree.

Awkwardly, his eyes dropped to the pizza box in his grip. He tilted it in his hands. “You sure about this?” He wasn’t usually in the habit of accepting gifts.

“Take it.”

Swallowing clunkily, he admitted that it did smell good, even after an hour. With a curt nod, he peeled off the wall. He headed for the door, taking a moment to inspect it for damage as an ode to being dutiful.

Jason only made it out a couple of steps before he realised you’d stumbled after him.

You called out a, “Hey.”

He stopped, inclining his helmet in your direction.

“Um...” you started. When you said no more, he turned around, worry etched into his features. He didn’t voice his concern but his gaze didn’t waver either. He watched you tuck your hands under your armpits uncomfortably.

He was starting to choke on the silence. Usually this was his game. He finally bit out, “What—?”

“Thanks,” you interrupted. I think.

Red looked down at the pizza box. “We’re even, right?” he said lightly.

You laughed. Actually, really, laughed at that.

The adrenaline wearing off, probably, he thought. But his head cocked, absorbing the genuine sound and the curve of your smile that matched it. It’d been a long time since he’d heard someone laugh innocently. It was usually tears and screams and begging.

Jason stifled the nostalgia that began to envelope him. He didn’t—didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t allowed to miss things that were long ruined. Especially when he’d contributed to its downfall.

“Yeah,” you said, returning to your shell. “Yeah.” Even in the ghastly dim lights he saw you scratch nervously, but a small smile remained. “See you never, I guess.”

He nodded in understanding.

*

This time, as soon as the door closed behind Red, you checked the locks. A third incident for the week might cause you to have an actual meltdown.

You kneeled onto the floor to pack up the rest of your food and stuff it into the minifridge. You wiped your greasy hands on the leftover tissues.

You flopped onto the bed like an exhausted snow angel. Frazzled thoughts bombarded you as you stared at the pimpled ceiling tiles. God, you had basically told the Red Hood you were staying in Gotham, right?

Were you? Had your heart made a decision before your brain? Why? It had been nothing but trouble so far.

And more importantly, why had you given away your food?!

It might be easier if one of the tiles plonked you in the head while you slept.

Something occurred to you then. He hadn’t looked even a little bit hurt. The blood hadn’t been his. Was he superhuman?

You pushed away the onslaught of potential rumination.

Throwing off your shoes and jumper, you were tempted to slip beneath the covers without brushing your teeth. You sighed. That wouldn’t be the responsible choice.

Looking over at that pile of donated goods, you eyed the number that sat atop. Deliberating a nonsensical idea, you swooped your phone off the floor. You typed out a message.

Then deleted it.

And re-typed it.

Backspace. Backspace. Backspace.

This was stupid.

You sighed and knuckled at your tired eyes. You settled on a message and hit send. Tossing the phone aside, you got up to fulfil some kind of a bedtime routine.

YOU: He saved me tonight

YOU: Poor bedside manners tbh))

You didn’t like how vulnerable that message was, but... it was the truth, wasn’t it?

The second part was just for your sanity.

*

NW: What happened?

NW: R U OK?

NW: Is he?

That was just a few of the many texts you’d woken to. Your phone had buzzed next to your pillow for who-knows-how-long as you ignored it in favour of keeping your eyes screwed shut.

A tired yawn escaped as you curled onto your side. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you mulled over replying. Nightwing’s impatience had nearly killed your phone battery, so you fished for the cord and plugged it in.

YOU: Yes

YOU: Sex trafficker at the motel. Idk anything else

Just as speedily, you received a response.

NW: Glad ur OK. Sorry about that

YOU: Not yr fault)

God, were you really chatting up a vigilante right now?

It was too early for this.

You put the phone aside even though you itched to talk more. You hadn’t had a good conversation in so long. Your mind lingered on the friends you hadn’t seen in ages.

You snapped back to reality. Second on the agenda was a shower.

*

You emerged fresh from the steam to find you had another text from the masked stranger.

NW: I looked that ) up! I thought it was a mistake

NW: R U Russian?

NW: ))

You snorted at his attempt to figure you out.

YOU: No

He sent you a string of emojis that didn’t make sense but nonetheless put a smile on your face. Was your first friend in Gotham really someone you couldn’t even hang out with? Figures.

Right. Well. Time to figure out something to do with your day.

*

The tumbling of the driers beckoned you towards the peacefulness of sleep. You considered it, slumping into the chair that poked the shit out of you. You sighed, shaking it off. Sleeping was a good way to get what little clothes you had stolen.

You stretched as you stood up. Your bag dragged along the floor as you wandered up to the notice board. Peering at the assortment of things pinned to it, you read over a lost cat and a panty snatcher… You snickered at that. Gross.

Furniture sales, rooms for rent. That one made you stop and think. You needed a room.

With what money? You frowned. You had to figure something out before your luck ran dry—or rather, Nightwing’s generosity.

A headline caught your eye. A crumpled newspaper clipping read ‘Copplepot Hung Out to Dry, Loses Millions Thanks to the Red Hood.’ Underneath was a description of a drug trade turned bloodbath. Interesting. His penchant for violence was becoming obvious and it unsettled you.

You continued scanning. ‘HELP NEEDED’ drew you in next.‘Page required for GC Public Library. Apply within.’

You had no idea what a library page was, other than in the literal sense. You tittered to yourself about the stupid thought. But a library was quiet—safe, right? You could keep your head down and hopefully out of the way of vigilantes with an affinity for catastrophe.

You hoped the ad wasn’t old before you tore it free and stuffed the paper into your bag. Looking over the clothes you wore, you decided that a change into something without holes was necessary before venturing off.

So, you sat back down, knees pulled up, anxiously pawing at your pants. There was still another fifteen minutes on the timer before the load dried. With your wistful gaze staring out the foggy window, you tracked the people that shuffled by.

*

Surprisingly, the library had a line-up. You eavesdropped, praying it wasn’t about the job. Karma was on your side as it seemed people were just disgruntled over their overdue book loans.

A few more queries passed before it was your turn. You tried to plaster a friendly smile across your face and stepped forward.

“Hello,” you said as the librarian helper looked up. They raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the not-Gotham accent. It wasn’t even in the realm of American.

“What can I do for you?” they asked after a brief pause.

You introduced yourself, then pulled out the flyer. “I’m interested in this position, if it’s available?”

They looked down at it and hummed. “Oh, yes. It’s still open.” They looked back up at you. “Have you ever worked in a library before?”

You had completely forgotten the part where you might need a résumé. You grew nervous but held your arms at your side without fidgeting. “Not recently, but I used to work in the library during university,” you answered. A slight lie. You’d never actually gone to any classes before… everything. But you had helped at least once in a previous lifetime.

The desk person tapped their nails thoughtfully, looking you over. You felt them inspect your face, probably wondering if you were even old enough to trust. “And you know how to sort?”

“Yes,” you said, absolutely full of shit. But that’s what Google was for anyway.

They nodded, seemingly content with that. “Alright. It’s only part time and eight dollars an hour,” they warned. “But paid weekly.”

You smiled again gratefully. It was definitely lower than you expected but you needed it. “That works for me,” you reassured.

“Good,” they nodded again. “My name is Dorothy. Please come in tomorrow at ten.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “thank you very much! See you then.”

With parted goodbyes, you decided to grab a celebratory snack.

*

“Now if that isn’t the saddest sack of shit meal I’ve ever seen!” came a voice suddenly bellowing into your ear. You squeaked, almost falling off the wobbly stool. You turned your head to see a giant redhead man at your side, baseball cap worn backwards.

“What the hell is this, Francine?” he continued to shout at the waitstaff.

First of all, you were confused, and a little offended. It’s not like you’d gotten a signing bonus to spend.

Francine—you assumed—rolled her eyes at him. “Customer’s always right, Roy.”

He scoffed. “Get them a proper thickshake.” He winked at you then. “My treat.”

You were taken aback. What kind of dream sequence was this? Were you still sedated? You pinched yourself.

“Ain’t no dream, baby! Just the Roy Harper experience,” he winked again, making your mouth press into a line. However, his face crumpled into shock as he received a backhand from behind. “Hey!” he cried, turning around to face the woman who hit him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roy?” she started. The woman had a tall, menacing stature about her, accompanied by an all-black outfit. “Again, seriously?”

He pouted. “I’m being the change Gotham needs.”

“I ought to commit you to Arkham one of these days,” she muttered. “Stop harassing strangers.” She gave him another look before heading back to their table. It was a few metres away from where you sat.

You watched, amused, until your attention was brought forward again. A large glass filled to the brim with whipped cream, sprinkles, and a pretty red cherry was slipped in front of you. Roy handed a cash note over the counter and smiled at you, a little less crazed.

“Shit, I shoulda asked if you’re lactose intolerant,” he mused.

“It’s fine,” you said, still caught off guard. “Um, thanks?”

He beamed. “Not a problem!” When you didn’t say anything else, he said, “Come sit with us if you’re ever feeling lonely.” He shrugged a shoulder in the direction of the table where the woman sat.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling exactly, but any annoyance dissipated when you realised he wasn’t hitting on you. He just had natural anarchic energy. Worse had been said about you, you surmised.

“Cool,” you replied, unsure. “Maybe later?”

“Like I said, any time.” He knocked the table with his knuckles assuredly and then spun around to meet his companion once more.

You re-focused on eating your toast and soup. It was pretty damn delicious, in spite of Roy’s insults. You listened to the fuzzy jukebox music and quiet chatter. The strobing, yellow overhead lights pulled your wandering eyes this way and that. How Gotham had shown you the absolute best and worst of itself in a week was beyond you.

When the toast was done, you stared at the shake. Maybe you could take it over. The offer was real, surely. You peeked over at their table. Roy immediately waved, looking ready to haul ass back over to you at the first pique of interest.

God, that was a little embarrassing. You pulled your sleeves tightly over your hands and stood up. You committed to an air of confidence as you marched on over with your glass.

“Hi,” you said when you reached them.

“Hello, again,” Roy greeted hastily. “C'mon, sit,” he pleaded, scooting over.

You eyed his friend, not wanting to invite yourself in poor taste. She nodded.

“You’re welcome to sit.” She added, “Excuse that golden retriever of a man.”

Roy seemed to take that as high esteem and beamed. You sat down.

“I’m Donna,” his friend introduced herself.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, looking between them. You let them know your name and finally took a sip of your drink. That seemed to make Roy even happier. “Is everyone always this generous in Gotham?” you reflected aloud.

Donna looked between you two, brows furrowed. “No, definitely not. I would usually warn against trusting friendly strangers.”

Roy glared at her, then turned to you, eyes inquisitive. “What do you mean ‘always’?”

“I’ve had good luck with the people since I got here,” you said with a one-shouldered shrug.

“That's unusual,” Roy murmured, scratching his jaw. “Guess my movement’s catching on!”

Donna scoffed, hiding the smile that fought to show. The small spat made you smile too. “So, what brings you here?” she asked. You knew they meant to Gotham, but you redirected it.

“Celebrating.”

“Oh, yeah?” Roy piped up. “What are we celebrating?”

“I got a job,” you answered, somewhat modestly. It wasn’t anything special.

“Hell yeah! Money!” Roy boomed, holding his glass up for a cheers. With a roll of your eyes, you copied him, enjoying the enthusiasm that didn’t feel loaded. Donna joined in a little less excitedly, but congratulated you nonetheless.

[beomglocks]

better ; c.yj

summary : you deserve better

pairing : ex-boyfriend/mafia leader!yeonjun x reader

warnings & other : angst, mention of trauma, stalking and kidnapping, yeonjun breaks into your house, refer to picture for visual, i saw this edit on ig and now my mind has fuel, listen to better by WOOGIE.

w/c : ???

---

the sunlight peeks through your shades and onto your face, causing you to stir in your sleep. you squeeze your eyes tightly shut hoping your brain can trick itself into sleeping for just a couple more hours longer.

it works for a couple of seconds. closing your eyes tight may have tricked your brain into thinking it was still dark enough to indulge in more sleep.

you sigh peacefully, hoping to get back to your previous dream but you're cut off by the sound of a door being slammed shut.

you open your eyes but remain in bed. it had to be around 7am at least which means no one should be in your house. well, no one should be in your house period. if it was a robber, they sure do work early.

you get out of bed, not caring about your lack of proper clothes because if you were gonna die, what's the point? you take careful steps toward your kitchen to make sure you don't alert whoever may be in there.

the sound of things being moved around and frustrated groans grows louder the closer you get to the room. you grab your nearby safety bat from a corner in your hallway and bring it above your head to swing.

when you come into the line of sight of the intruder in your house you halt yourself from swinging and bring the bat down to your side, the person not realizing yet that you're there.

anger bubbles inside of you at the sight of the sleeve of tattoos and dark head of hair that you recognize all too well.

"what the fuck are you doing in my house yeonjun?"

the boy in question seemingly pays no mind to your question and simply continues rummaging through your fridge and cupboards. "where the hell do you keep your peanut butter?"

you cross your arms at him. "i asked you a question."

"so did i," he retorts. you roll your eyes at him. "you're in my house ass hole, in case you forgot."

he subtly rolls his eyes away from your line of sight and stands up from the fridge. now that he's seen you, his eyes linger on your body for longer than you're ok with. he leans back on your counter with a smile, a visible change in his demeanor, "good morning."

"answer my question," you frown. he sighs, "we got busted and i needed a place to crash."

"yeonjun!" you exasperate. "what? i slept on the couch out of respect for you," he raises his eyebrow, taking a bite out of his slice of dry bread.

"what the fuck do you want me to do, thank you? i told you not to involve me in your mafia gang whatever shit anymore and you go and do this," you gesture to the mess on your countertop.

"yeonjun you're the only other person here! what's with all this shit on my table?!" he continues eating nonchalantly as you scold him and try to clean up as best as you can.

"can you calm down," he sighs. he takes another bite of bread before placing the plate on top of a random box of pizza. "no one saw me come here, you'll be fine."

you continue cleaning, without saying a word to him. you feel like if you open your mouth you'll explode. you clench your teeth as you watch him look through your fridge again out of the corner of your eye.

it's been months since you last saw him and this is the first thing he does. from the counter, you have a pretty good view of his back as he looks through the fridge.

even though you hate him, your mind wanders back in time when that same back would be littered with your marks and scratches. the neck tattoo that would be colored with hickeys he would proudly wear is now bare and untouched.

your eyes go up to his head which thankfully is still turned away from you. the pink mullet he used to rock is now a dark undercut with hints of red. it looks good on him, you have to admit. his ears have more piercings than you remember and you hold back a smile thinking about the time when you would play with his ears and he would tell you to stop.

"you're awfully quiet, what're you thinking about?" he asks, still facing the fridge. you have to remember your relationship with the mafia leader ended months ago, whatever feelings that were present right now were most likely your heart missing human interaction.

"thinking about how i want you out of my house," you mumble, picking up a half empty cup of ramen. he sighs, standing up and fixing his messy hair.

"i said i was sorry," he leans back on the fridge, watching you clean. you bite your tongue, picking up the empty pizza box and tossing it in the trash. "sorry doesn't make up for trauma yeonjun, that's what you don't understand," you say quietly.

"if i knew that would happen to you i wouldn't have left you alone, you know i would've had soobin or taehyun be around you 24/7!" he reasons.

"well you didn't," you breathe out. you give him a tight lipped smile and for the first time in months he's reminded of the pain he saw in you eyes when they brought you back.

"you decided drugs and money were more important than your fucking girlfriend that you love "oh-so-much" getting stalked and kidnapped."

“that’s not tr-“ “that’s what it felt like!” you place an empty soda bottle on the table. he blinks at your outburst. in all the time you’ve spent together, you were never one to lash out even when he annoyed you to no end.

he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek in frustration. "y/n," he sighs angrily.

"even after i killed them all? it wasn't enough for you! you still left me," he steps closer to you and you unconsciously step back. you recognized this tone on yeonjun but he never used it on you. it's gravely and deep and on the rare occasion that you did hear it, the outcome was never good.

"yeonjun..."

"no, look- i know what happened to you was fucked up but i tried my best! it still wasn't enough- you still left and didn't even tell me.." he chuckles at this. "do you know how long it took to find this fucking place?"

you look down, suddenly feeling small. any bravery you had has now dissipated. it's like your mind and body were so used to yeonjun that you just knew when to submit.

"you were my only sense of normalcy in that place," he mumbles. "sure i've got the boys but they're not you.."

his head is hung low, making his hair cover his eyes. your first instinct would've been to run into his arms and pepper him in kisses. endless strings of 'i love you' to reassure both of you that what happened wasn't either of your faults.

you bite your lip, "is that why all this food is like this..."

he doesn't move from his spot. "im sorry, i miss you." you almost feel your heart break. you hate seeing yeonjun so messed up about something that he just eats to forget because it's his only other form of happiness, well apart from you.

you walk up to him, bringing your arms around his slim frame. at first, he doesn't hug you back since he wasn't expecting that but soon enough he engulfs you as if he's been touch starved for ages.

"im sorry, please come back to me? i'll do better, i promise you won't get hurt anymore hm?" he sounds hopeful and it makes you close your eyes.

"you need to leave," you say quietly. you feel him hug you tighter as he places his chin on your head. "please let me stay with you," he pleads.

you force yourself to step away from him which takes a lot more effort than you thought. you look up at his face and he looks so broken. it’s rare to see a mafia leader look this vulnerable but yeonjun opens himself up to you like this at times and you feel lucky, in a weird way.

he watches you expectantly, waiting for your answer. “yeonjun i just- i don’t feel safe around you anymore.”

you swear you see his heart shatter right in front of your face.

you want to hit yourself but it’s true. where you once felt peace you only feel fear. maybe once upon a time yeonjun was like your savior but now he brings pain, especially with the type of work he does.

he looks down, biting his lip. you can tell he's trying to act like what you said didn't just tear a hole straight through his heart. "you know i'll still watch over you and keep you safe," he promises.

you smile lightly at him, glad that he hasn't completely given up. "i know." he wastes no time stealing a kiss on your forehead, quickly moving away before you can complain or push him away.

"you still fucked up my kitchen though," you say when he starts walking away to your door. he only shrugs as you watch him walk out your door and out onto the streets.

you can only sigh, hoping he'll be safe until he can get his base back.

[miyagihawk]

“best friend” | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

a/n: his hair is blue in the gif but red in the story :) also this is a bit long but i love it this is one of my favs

warnings: mentions of violence and cheating, swearing

summary: your boyfriend cheated on you and your best friend hawk is there for you

word count: 4207

You should’ve known. It couldn’t have been more obvious.

The way that he doesn’t let you see what’s on his phone. How he never takes you out anymore. The emotional distance you feel when he kisses you. It’s like he’s not even in the same room when you’re together.

Even with all the signs and evidence, your heart still broke like glass when you saw them together. Your boyfriend Danny and the girl that he always assured you was only his “best friend”, locking lips on his bed.

You had come to Danny’s house because he cancelled plans with you, claiming that he was sick. So you decided to surprise him with cookies that you baked, but he ended up having quite a surprise for you too.

The window of his room gave you a perfect view of the scene, and it was almost like you were meant to see it. Like he wanted you to see it. You stood in front of his house for what seemed like forever, trying to figure it out if it was real.

You tried d to rack your brain for excuses as to why he would do it. But there weren’t any. He was simply cheating on you.

Your heart physically hurt as your brain settled on that fact and you threw the plate of cookies on his lawn in defeat. Not caring if the noise made him look out the window, you began the walk back to your house with blurry vision from your tears.

But on the way there, you passed the house of your best friend Hawk. Seeking comfort from your heartbreak, you made your way to his window that you’ve always used as an entrance when you two hang out.

His light was on and you could hear his music, so you knocked on the glass with the rhythm you both made up to let him know that’s it’s you.

You waited as the music stopped and Hawk pulled back the curtains to reveal you. His red hair was down and framing his face in the way you like it. You’re the only person he allows to see him like that, and that fact always warms your heart.

Hawk looked happy to see you, but his smile dropped when he saw your tear stained cheeks and he quickly opened up the window. Helping you get in, he asked, “Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?”

You stood awkwardly in front of him, playing with your fingers. You weren’t sure if you even wanted to tell Hawk. He’s always hated Danny, and Hawk isn’t the most peaceful of creatures.

You didn’t say anything and just buried your face into his chest. You started to cry again, feeling safe in his arms as he held you tightly.

He led you to the bed to sit you down and let you cry it out in his warm embrace. He was worried about you, he’s never seen you like this; but he wouldn’t force you to talk. So for 15 minutes, Hawk ran his fingers through your hair comfortingly as you calmed down from your sobs.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke for the first time, smoothing down your hair. His shirt was filled with your tear stains, but he really couldn’t care less. He just wanted you to be okay.

“Don’t be sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” he said softly. He had a feeling about why you were crying, and he felt anger starting to bubble in his stomach.

You contemplated for a moment, not knowing if you should tell him. You knew Hawk. He would seek revenge on your behalf and it would end in blood.

But he would also find out anyways. If not from seeing Danny at school with the other girl, then he would probably put the pieces together if you told him that you broke up.

The only difference in the outcomes would be that right now you’re in control of how he finds out and you could possibly convince him to leave the situation alone.

“I-It’s Danny,” you breathed, feeling queasy about your decision.

You saw something flash in Hawk’s eyes and his fist tightened at the mention of your (ex) boyfriend’s name. “What did that fucker do,” he said, with a frightening, calm anger.

“Just... Don’t get mad, okay?” you stuttered. You could almost feel the change in the air just from the two words you spoke. Hawk unclenched his jaw and nodded, trying to be calm for you.

“I went to his house, and that was before I came here. And... I saw him with...,” your voice quavered as tears started blurring your vision again. It hurt to say it out loud and you couldn’t even finish your sentence.

Hawk abruptly stood up from beside you, and through your tear filled eyes, you could see the rage on his face. “I’m killing him,” was all he said, as he moved around the room to get his keys and jacket.

You stood up when he got to the door, and you pulled on his arm to make him stop. “Hawk, please. Stop,” you cried, but he was determined to make Danny hurt the way you were hurt. He wanted to hurt him more.

“That asshole was lucky to even have you look at him, Y/N. He’s fucking dead,” Hawk spit, taking his arm from you and making his way to the front door.

“Hawk! Just- stop. Stop! He isn’t worth it. Can you just stay here with me?” you whimpered, and at that moment his face fell. “Just stay, please. I need you.”

You saw the conflict on his face; the pity for you and his hatred for the boy who broke you. But with you in front of him, with puffy eyes and a cute red nose, he knows there’s no way he can leave.

The rest of the night, Hawk took care of you. He ordered in pizza from your favorite place and watched your favorite Disney movie with you, even though he always called it lame. His jokes made you laugh uncontrollably as if you hadn’t just gotten cheated on hours earlier. As always, your best friend was there to save the day.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he said quietly as he played with your hair. It was already 1 am and you were both laying on his bed. You were exhausted from the day’s events; the thought of school the next day, especially seeing Danny, made you want to throw up.

“You were right,” you whispered, closing your eyes. Hawk had always been wary of Danny, and he often let you know it.

“Well, you see the best in everyone,” you felt the vibration of his voice from his chest, where you rested your head.

“What do you mean?” you looked up at him, struggling to read his face in the dark. His face was turned towards the ceiling in deep thought.

Hawk cleared his throat. “You see the good in people... and that’s my favorite thing about you. But sometimes you’re just so blind to the bad,” he explained.

You stayed quiet, thinking about his words and not really knowing how to interpret them. He continued, “I guess I’m trying to say that you’re different from normal people; you see through rose colored glasses. You dated that scumbag because you’re so loving that you saw the good in him, even if there’s fucking barely any.”

You laughed at the remark, then let him go on. “Even with me. I do shit that make people hate me. I throw punches that I regret and start fights that make me a horrible person in other people’s eyes. But you don’t really think of me like that, no matter how much I mess up. You’re the only person in my life who doesn’t see me as my fuck ups,” Hawk poured his heart out. “But I promise, I would never take advantage of you like him. Just keep living in your little world, alright? Don’t let him ruin that.”

You were left speechless. He had never said something so heartfelt to you and you wanted to cry at how sweet it was. You’ve never really thought about his view of you, but you guess it’s true. Sometimes your blind optimism gets you hurt, but you’re thankful that it helped you find your best friend. Yes, he’s not an angel, but if you listened to what everyone was saying about him, then you two would be strangers.

“I love you Hawk,” was all you said, and you kissed his cheek before cuddling into his side. He returned a kiss into your hair before the both of you drifted off into peaceful sleep.

-

The brightness of the sun woke you up from your dreams, and it took you a minute to adjust your eyes. Memories of yesterday flooded back, but you didn’t really feel sad.

The new day gave you a new perspective. You were grateful that you caught Danny, because if you didn’t, you might’ve never known. It still hurt that he betrayed you; you did love him. But wallowing in sadness would give him too much credit. He was a shit boyfriend and you vowed to cry no more tears over him.

The bed was empty, with no trace of your red haired best friend. In his place was a piece of paper with what you recognized as Hawk’s terrible handwriting.

‘Good morning you terrible snorer. Just kidding you didn’t snore. That loud. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up for school, you looked really tired and I think you should just have the day for yourself. I have karate later so you don’t have to wait for me, but you can stay if you want. There’s more ice cream in the freezer. Love you. -H’

You smiled as you read it, feeling thankful for how caring Hawk was. You were dreading going to school and facing Danny, but you would’ve forced yourself to go anyways. Hawk probably knew that, so he gave you no choice.

The first part of the day you did some therapeutic cleaning, picking up the pizza boxes and trash from last night.

Then you explored around his room, even though you’ve been in it a thousand times. You went through the comics he used to read and you tried playing his video games, but you didn’t know how to turn it on.

You were already bored by the second hour of being alone, so you decided to head to your own house to freshen up.

‘I went home, I’ll see you tomorrow? Thank you for everything, I don’t know what I would do without you. Also I’ll buy you more ice cream lol I finished it’ you typed a text to Hawk as you walked home, smiling to yourself. 

After a relaxing day alone of face masks and dancing to Lizzo, you were prepared to go to school the next day. You really appreciated that Hawk made you stay home; you needed this time to reflect on everything. You don’t need some boy who doesn’t give you the time of day, when you have Hawk.

-

As you got ready to go to school, you felt like a bad bitch, and you looked like one. No one would ever guess that you’ve just been through a breakup. The heartbreak didn’t last long; you just felt like you’ve dropped some unneeded weight.

You got to school, but Hawk wasn’t waiting at the front for you as usual. It was weird, because he never said anything about missing class. You figured he was just running late. 

But when he never showed up to your shared first period class, it made you worry.

‘Hey, did you not go to school today? Everything good?’ you sent him a quick text as you walked through the halls to your next class.

You were feeling anxious, a contrast from your earlier confidence. You didn’t think you’d be alone today and now you really didn’t want to see Danny without Hawk by your side.

But as if you summoned him and the universe hated you, your cheating ex boyfriend was coming from the other end of the hall. Your eyes met at the exact same moment and you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t.

A black eye adorned his face, matched with a bruised jaw and a wounded lip.

His eyes frantically searched around you as if he was looking for someone. He looked scared.

Suddenly, your brain put all of the puzzle pieces together and you came to a realization. Hawk did this, and he wasn’t at school because he probably got suspended.

Danny tried to move past you, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the hallway. He didn’t meet your eyes as you stood in front of him.

“Danny... what happened?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

You didn’t know how to feel. You know you should be angry that Hawk didn’t listen to you, but you felt no pity towards the boy in front of you.

Danny scoffed. “You know what happened. Your little boyfriend started the fight, saying shit about how I don’t deserve you and I’m a cheating asshole.”

You rolled your eyes. “One, he’s not my boyfriend. Two, he’s right, you don’t deserve me. And three, you are a cheating asshole. You said Emily was just your friend, but I should’ve known. I saw you,” you snapped, but he shook his head and laughed.

“You don’t see it, do you? That you’re just as guilty as me?” Danny sneers.

“What?” you blink in confusion.

“Oh come on Y/N. You were always his. It was him first, and then me. But he was just your “best friend”, right? Don’t act all innocent, when anyone can see that you have feelings for him.”

Your mouth falls open slightly at his words, and he continues, “Look I’m sorry that it went down like this, but you should be with him. We’re just not meant for each other and it’s obvious that you love him more than you’ve ever loved me. And he loves you too. Otherwise I wouldn’t be looking like this. We’re fine, alright? Goodbye Y/N.”

Danny gives you a tight lipped smile before leaving, but you’re left staring into space, speechless. You didn’t expect anything he just told you and you don’t even know if you believe it.

Is he right? Do you love Hawk, like that? You’ve felt like the victim the whole time, but you never would’ve thought that Danny felt like one too.

You began to feel guilty, looking back on the relationship at times when you would leave dates with Danny to pick up Hawk when he’s in trouble. When you would choose to sleepover at Hawk’s house instead of Danny’s because he had a breakdown. And when sometimes you’re a little bit too affectionate with your best friend, but you’ve always excused it as platonic even though his forehead kisses gave you butterflies.

Maybe you really weren’t all that innocent.

Maybe you did love Hawk more than Danny, and maybe you’re only just now realizing it.

-

The pattern of the knocking at your window made your stomach turn.

You’re not sure if you’re ready to face Hawk after your revelation, because after thinking on it for the rest of the day, all signs pointed to him. Every single thing Danny said was right.

You love Hawk.

The only thing you aren’t sure of is how Danny said he loves you too. You’ve always thought that Hawk sees you as a little sister and strictly as a best friend, which is why he’s so protective. The possibility that confessing your feelings could ruin your relationship created a conflict within you.

You opened your window and there he was. He had a gash right above his brow, presumably from Danny, but he didn’t look half as bad as the boy he beat up.

You saw Hawk in a different light as he stood like Romeo before you. It was as if the realization of your feelings for him made his eyes look more beautiful and his lips look softer, and you no longer had to faithfully push those thoughts away.

“Hey,” was all he said, as he stumbled in through the sill into your room. His hair was down again, because he knew you liked it like that and he hoped it would help you not be too mad at him.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly, walking back to sit on your bed where he followed. He sat close to you so that your shoulders were touching, and even though he’s been closer, it made you feel lightheaded.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry, I know you said to leave it alone, but he hurt you, and I needed to-”

“I’m not mad,” you interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Oh,” his shoulders relaxed, but his fingers were still nervously tapping on his knees.

There’s a weird silence between you two, and it was out of the ordinary that you didn’t have something to talk about.

“Are you alright?” you finally looked at him for the first time since you both sat down.

You don’t know what compelled you to do it, but you lifted up your hand to lightly trace your fingers along his brow where the cut was. His ocean eyes were on you as you did it, but you felt nervous to meet them.

“I’m fine. Did you see him?” Hawk said in a light tone, smiling as you touched his skin.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Yes. Nice work,” you mused.

You pulled your hand away from his face, but he grabbed it before you could put it down. He moved your hand back to his skin, releasing millions of butterflies in your stomach. “I like it,” he said, and you only nodded.

“So how long are you out for?” you questioned, referring to his suspension.

“Three days,” he mumbled, eyes closing in relaxation as you started touching his hair. You sighed in response. “It was worth it though.”

He still had his eyes shut when you put down your hand and wrapped your arms around him. He blinked in surprise, then held you closer. “Thank you. You’re the only one who would take a punch for me,” you said, pouring gratitude into the embrace.

“I don’t think that’s true, but you’re welcome,” he rested his head in the crook of your shoulder and you felt his hair tickle your ear. “It was for me too, you know? I hated his guts.”

You responded with a hum of understanding, still grasping onto him like he could leave any moment.

He pulled back from you enough to see your face, and he looked concerned while he tried to read you. “What’s wrong?”

You really underestimated how much he knows you, because he sensed your anxiety even though you tried to mask it.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you offered a smile, but he wasn’t convinced.

“Did you talk to him?” he asked, rubbing soft circles on your hand. He knew you were thinking about something and he wanted you to open up, but he was always delicate with it.

You just nodded, feeling your palms getting sweaty. Talking about your conversation with Danny would bring up what he said about you and Hawk, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to spill your heart yet. You internally cursed at yourself for not hiding your emotions well enough.

“Did he say shit to you? I swear if-”

“No. We just... talked,” you cut him off. You prayed that he would leave the topic, but he didn’t.

“What about?” he pressed, making you feel hot from nerves.

“Uh... I just asked him about what happened,” you answered, but there was no way he couldn’t hear the shake in your voice.

“Then what’s bothering you? You can talk to me Y/N,” he said softly, a worried look in his eyes. You felt bad keeping secrets from him, because that’s something you never did.

“Promise me we’ll always be best friends,” your voice shook, making his face twist up in confusion.

“What? Of course. Hey, nothing could change that alright?” he looked at you with his soft eyes.

You swallowed, feeling a bit better by his reassurance.

“He- He just said some things that made me think about... us. And I was blind to it, but- he’s right. Well he’s right about me, I don’t really know how you feel, but now I’m just so confused- and for some reason him cheating on me felt justified in a way? I-” you rambled anxiously, until Hawk stopped your frenzy of word vomit.

“Woah, woah, slow down Y/N... just... what? What is he right about? And how could that be justified? There’s no excuse for what he did Y/N,” his voice raised at the mere thought of Danny gaslighting you into thinking that somehow you deserved to be cheated on.

“No- I- I know it was shitty but... Hawk,” you took a deep breath to prepare yourself for your confession. “I think I cheated too. But not like him. I- I cheated emotionally,” you spit the words out, not only admitting it to him, but also to yourself.

The red haired boy’s face was blank in confusion as he processed what you had just said. “Y/N what the fuck are you talking about?”

You struggled to reach his eyes while you carefully tried to think through your answer. You felt like if you looked at him you would simply melt, but maybe in this case it would be a good thing.

He put his hand gently under your chin to tilt your face towards his, forcing you to meet his blue, puzzled eyes. You wanted to burst into tears under his gaze, because you had no idea what to do.

Hiding your feelings could ruin your friendship. Confessing has the same chance. So which are you supposed to choose?

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I love you. I love you so fucking much Y/N and that’s forever. Nothing you say or do could change that,” Hawk said, rubbing your hand comfortingly. He thought you were hesitating in telling him because you were afraid of his judgment.

Those three words. They felt different this time. They made you more dizzy. More fluttery. The way he said it was the same as all the other times, but the way it made you feel was just so different.

It gave you such a high that you decided to take a leap of faith before you could fully think it through. A leap that you know deep down was always going to happen, even if it looked like there were two choices. You could regret it, but you just jumped.

“I love you. I mean, I’m in love with you, Eli. I’ve always been in love with you.”

You felt like you needed to run away right as you said it, as if the words were a bomb that you didn’t want to see the aftermath of. You didn’t want to see the outcome because you were afraid it would just leave you devastated.

Eli.

His mouth slightly fell open at the use of his old name, next to your piercing confession.

For some reason it slipped out of your mouth, but it felt right. You’ve probably said it five times ever since “Hawk” was born, but it was only used in serious conversations. Like when you comforted him after his dad died. Or when you were so worried about him when he ran away from home for a week.

“I’m so sorry, Eli,” you said, after hearing the news.

“I missed you so much, Eli, never fucking do that again,” you cried into his shoulder when he showed up at your door.

It was like a code between the two of you that you were being nothing but genuine.

Hawk sat in shock in front of you, and you swore you could actually see the escalation of thoughts running through his head.

“Maybe it took an asshole like Danny to make me realize it, but he was right. I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you... and I knew that, but it’s just how it’s always been. I thought we would go through life together but be with other people, even though I would always put you first. I thought that it was just an us thing, you know? Best friends. But I just- I realized that I don’t even need anyone else. I only need you,” you scanned his eyes for a moment before continuing. “I know I won’t love anyone else like I love you. And- and god, I’m just pouring my heart out and I don’t even know how you feel... I’m sorry if this is too much.”

He stared at you, stunned, and you heard your heart pounding in your chest violently as you waited for him to say something.

But instead of speaking, you felt the softness of his lips on yours before you could think another thought.

a/n: wow i think that was the longest thing i have ever written and i wasn’t sure if i was going to end it like that :0 anyways hope u enjoyed love u all!

[libraryofloveletters]

Golden Boxes

Luke Alvez x Reader 

Warnings: None I think 

Category: Fluff 

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: this is dedicated to the Luke to my Matt @luke-alvez 🥰 not sure if it's still your birthday where you are but this is my gift to you :) <3

----

The house was filled with boxes and bubble wrap. The plan was to be unpacked for your birthday but it seems things didn't go as planned. Luke had returned form case later than expected and there was the huge storm that seemed to last for days. A week later and all the boxes had arrived and were being unpacked. 

Luke’s footsteps echoed through the house as he jogged down the stairs, “baby, have you seen the hammer anywhere ? I need it but I can’t find it” he leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, your back was turned to him as you unpacked the dishes. 

“Check the living room” you mumble, turning your attention to the cupboard. Luke shouted from the other room that he found it and ran back up the stairs. The door slammed upstairs, making you shake your head. 

“Yeah! Break it before we unpack!” you yell, you can hear Luke’s boisterous laugh from upstairs, he shouted back a sorry. 

Your morning was spent in the kitchen because if you couldn’t unpack everything, at least you could have clean dishes to eat from and you know what they say, the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. It was around lunch that Roxy brushed up against your leg, “hey girl, where’s dad?” your fingers run through her fur as you put some pots in the bottom cupboard. On cue, Luke comes down, “hey, I'm gonna run to the store. We’re out of screws” 

“What do you need screws for ?”

“Uh, the bed, I might have cross threaded the other ones” he gave you a tight lipped smile, you chuckled. “Okay, pick up some of the tacks to hang the frames too” Luke comes over and kisses the top of your head before leaving the house. 

-- 

A few hours later, he returned to the house with more bags than screws could be in. “Uh, did you buy out the store? And what took so long?” Luke was already halfway up the stairs when you got to the bottom of the staircase. “No. No,” he laughs and totally ignores your question, returning with the tacks to hang the frames in hand. “Do you need help hanging the frames?” he asks and you shake your head. 

“I’ll be upstairs then” and once again, Luke headed up the stairs and back into the room. Half of you wanted to go up and see what he was doing but the other half was much too lazy to walk up the stairs just to check on the man you saw less than 10 seconds ago. You made your way to the living room, Roxy trailing behind you as you sat on the floor and started opening the boxes. The amount of pictures, framed or in albums that you two had was unnecessary. For two people and a dog, it didn’t make sense that at least 4 large boxes had photo albums and pictures frames. Nonetheless, you begin hanging up the frames, rearranging and changing positions until you were pleased with the order. The fireplace was bare, the mantle covered in dust, you couldn't have it. Wiping the dust away, you tumbled through the boxes for pictures that deserved to be front and centre 

The first one on the mantle was from your 4th date and the first picture the two of you had together. Luke had invited you to a party that the BAU was having at Rossi’s place and Penelope had taken a picture of the two of you cuddled up next to each other outside. The second one was from your wedding, a picture of your first dance. It felt like only yesterday that you met Luke. It was hard to believe that you were married and had bought a house together. The third one was on you, Luke and Roxy. It was just some random picture that you had taken one morning. The two of you were in bed and you had your phone in your hand when Roxy jumped up onto the bed and amid the confusion, you accidentally took the picture. Neither of you are looking at the camera but you're both laughing. 

The sound of something falling pulled your attention away from the photos. “Luke?! You okay ?!” you shout from downstairs, he doesn’t answer so you head up, making your way to the bedroom. 

“Love, are you alright?” as soon as your hand reaches for the knob, Luke sticks his head out. “yeah, I'm okay” he smiles, “do you need some help ? I've had enough of downstairs” chuckling, you go to push the door open. 

“Oh it’s fine, there’s something propped against the door. I’ll finish up there and come down and help you” Luke shuts the door before you could protest. 

“Oh uh okay” mumbling, you head back down the stairs. The banging and thudding did not stop for the next 3 hours. Surely, it couldn't take that long to put together a bed. When it finally stops, he comes down as you had moved on from the living room to the pantry. “Y/n? where are you?!” he called, his footsteps sounding closer with each step. You had headphones in because of all of the noise he was making upstairs and when Luke’s hand rested on your waist, his touch startled you. Your hand coming up and gripping to your chest, Luke held back a laugh. The stupid smile on his face was enough to earn him a small whack to the side. 

“Don’t do that!” you shout,

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I thought you heard me calling” 

“Well did I answer ?” you ask him, he shook his head as he watched you from the doorway. 

“Anyways, I'm running out to pick up a pizza. Unless you want something else?” 

“I’m fine, pizza is good” you smile, Luke leans in and gives you a kiss before walking towards the door. He stops halfway and looks back at you. “The room is still in a mess so don’t go up” he tells you, you nod and mumble okay. 

You didn't think anything of it. 

It’s not like you were in a rush for the bedroom to be done but it would be nice. The more you thought about it, the more you realized something seemed off. Luke had been upstairs all day and the bed still wasn’t put together? 

Walking up the stairs, the sound of your steps echoed through the almost empty house. You stopped in front of the door, half of you wanted to go in and see what was happening and the other half was shouting no in big red flashing lights. There had to be a reason as to why Luke asked you not to go in, he wouldn’t say that for no reason. Which only made you wonder even more. Stepping towards the door, your hand was just about to touch the knob when Luke shouts for you, once again, starling you. 

“What were you doing upstairs ?” he was at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you as you made your way down. 

“Looking for the box with the kitchen towels” 

“Did you find it ?” 

“Must be in the kitchen, I think I saw it earlier” you give him a small smile, feeling kind of bad for lying to him. The half eaten box of pizza was discarded on the floor beside you and Luke, his arm around your shoulder as your head rests on his. 

“I have something for you. Let me go get it” untangling himself from you, Luke gets up. Your brows furrow, watching your husband jog up the stairs. “Babe?! Can you come up here?” you follow the sound of his voice up the stairs and into the room. You stop in your tracks when you step into the room. Not only had put the room together but he had also fixed your vanity. The movers didn't wrap it properly and it got damaged, it was the first time you had bought yourself when you moved out on your own so you had wanted to keep it. 

“You fixed it” you smiled at him, your hand running around the top of it. “Is that what you were doing all day ?” 

“Mhm hm, you looked so sad when it arrived. I couldn't leave it like that” Luke pulls you into his side, his arm around your shoulder once again. He kisses the top of your head, “I take it that you’re happy ?” he asks, turning towards you. “Of course” flashing him a smile which turns into a loud squeal when Luke picks you up, he drops you on the bed and then lays beside you. 

“You know I love you right ?” rolling onto your side, your hand cupping his cheek. Luke kisses the palm of your hand, “I know. you know I love you right ?” he smiles which makes you smile too. “That’s not the real gift though” Luke sits up, he pulls out a little box from the bedside table. 

“This is for you” he hands it to you. Unwrapping the ribbon, you pull the lid off the box. A gold charm bracelet sat in the box, there were a few charms evenly spaced from each other. The first charm was a little paw print which was for Roxy of course. The second being the palm tree because the two of you went to the tropics for your honeymoon. The third was a tiny hockey stick, seeing that you loved hockey. There were a few more that reminded you of your trips and your time together. 

“Oh Luke,” you breathed, he gently picked up the bracelet and placed it on your wrist, attaching the hook and turning it the right way. “Do you like it?” he asks, his hand still holding yours. “It’s gorgeous Luke, thank you” you smile. His phone buzzes, he picks it up. 

“Do you have to go ?” you ask him, hoping that it wasn't Emily telling him that they had a case. Luke shook his head and showed you his phone instead. the clock had just changed to 12, the beginning of a new day, your birthday.

Luke’s hands cupped your face as he leaned in, his lips inched away from yours, “happy birthday mi amor” he pressed his lips to yours. You know he could feel your smile through the kiss, “thank you” you mumbled, as your arms wrapped around him and pulled him back into bed with you. 

---- 

Taglist: @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @fanofalltheficsx @luke-alvez @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads @ssa-volturi @katexrichardson @sluttytears @thelukealvez @scandinavian-punk @pagetsimp @morcias @shotarosleftpinky @mrs-dr-reid @hqtchner @averyhotchner @willlemonheadsupremacy​ @mggsprettygirl​ @simxican​ @venusrosepetal​

[the-passenger-if]

although i know it would never happen can we get a short angsty scenario of what would happen if Newman caught the ROs cheating or vice versa

combining it with

i don’t think it’s been asked so how would the Ros react to catching newman cheating because i’m a mean person

(using the apartment as a setting because it would be easier to sneak in a lover there than in Mom’s house; just pretend Newman moved out at some point in the future)

“You trash!” to emphasize her words Fiama grabs the first thing her hands land on—a picture frame with a photo of Bruno and her—and flings it at the dirty cheater.

The projectile impacts between their shoulder blades and the hiss of pain it elicits from them should make her feel better, but it doesn’t. “Fiama, please.”

“You disgusting cheater!” she screams blindly looking for more ammunition; Newman is wincing at her, covering their face with raised hands. “This is what you do while I’m working? Bring side pieces to your place?” She finds… something… and feels it cracking under her fingers, but she throws it against the bastard’s stomach so hard they double over gasping for air.

The side piece is gone; they escaped through the door the second Fiama’s glare locked with their terrified eyes. Not ready to share the pain with Newman, it seems.

The person she thought she would share the rest of her life with lies doubled over on the floor and Fiama isn’t half done getting the anger out, but she has to think about Bruno. She pushes the heels of her hands against her eyes and tries to picture her son’s face. It works… if only a little.

“We’re done,” she grits out already moving to the door. “You’ll keep away from me and Bruno if you know what’s good for you. I’m not kidding.”

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s out of the apartment complex.

---

Jonny should’ve phoned them. Why didn’t he phone them before showing up at their place? What possessed him to try to surprise Newman? Instead, Newman surprised him. He opened the door to find them lying on the couch of their living room with somebody Jonny doesn’t know straddling them and with half their tongue down Newman’s throat.

There’s a ringing in his ears, similar to the one that used to flood his head after a rock show, only this one seems to wash over him as if he had been gutted out and filled up with nothing but deafening noise.

Newman is in front of him saying something, but he can’t hear them. With a hand that feels cold and unresponsive like the hand of a corpse, he sets the tape he was planning to watch together on the closest furniture. Then he turns around and exits the apartment.

He barely notices Newman tugging at his jacket but he doesn’t stop; he has to get out of here, get in the car, drive away, put some distance between what he witnessed and himself.

Newman is pulling at his jacket now, so he shrugs it off and strides away faster. The ringing is so loud, the pressure in his ears unbearable.

He yanks open the door of the car, doesn’t pay attention to Newman and their words on the other side of the window, and pulls out of the driveway.

He doesn’t know how much time passes until he kills the engine and stays where he is, just staring at the desolate road ahead. Something finally cracks inside him and his already erratic breathing turns into desperate sobs. Jonny throws his arms over the wheel and breaks down.

---

They have to be kidding them. There’s no way… Roach squints through the window and through the thin curtain of the apartment and yes, there it is: Newman and Alf getting it on on the couch. Unbelievable.

They open the pizza box they brought with them and fish out a slice. They chew on it while watching the lovebirds make out and grope each other.

“Son of a bitch,” Roach mutters around their food. “What?” they continue in a whiny tone, eyes following the action in the living room, “I don’t like them. What are you talking about? You lying little slut.”

By the time Newman and the most handsome musty puppet this side of the country finish their business, Roach has eaten a whole six slices. They go to the door and open it with a kick. The look of shock on their faces makes the grin on Roach’s face grow larger. “Pizza’s here!”

“Roach,” Newman exclaims, eyes big and guilty.

“Pet!” Roach flings the almost empty box on their lap, before sprawling over the single recliner. They point at the pizza. “It’s sort of cold and soggy and the mouthfeel isn’t great, but, hey,” they wink at both of them, “what’s one more disappointment to your mouths, am I right?”

---

Horizon hears it before they see it. Through the apartment’s door, noises of kisses and whispers. They don’t even need to hear Newman moan to know what’s going on inside. They take a deep breath and knock on the door.

A beat and then, “One moment.”

Horizon waits for their partner to receive them, and if there was the smallest doubt in their mind about Newman’s infidelity—there wasn’t—it vanishes the moment they find them waiting on the other side. Their partner’s face has guilty written all over it.

“May I come in?”

“Uh…”

Horizon doesn’t wait for an answer and steps into the apartment. Newman’s admirer is standing, frozen in place halfway to the bathroom door. Their shoelaces are undone. Horizon turns to Newman, raises an eyebrow waiting for the introductions.

“Oh, uh, Horizon, uh, this is, um, a friend—“

Whatever face Horizon is doing right now is enough to make their words die in their mouth. Newman looks away.

The Domini stares at the ‘friend’. “I am Horizon, their partner. Pleased to meet you,” they simply say, tone as neutral as their face. “We have to discuss personal matters. I hope you don’t mind.” They gesture to the door.

“Not at all,” the ‘friend’ says before making a quick retreat.

Newman closes the door behind them without making a sound, and Horizon sits on the couch. It is warm. They fix Newman with a look. “Since when.”

They scratch their cheek. “Since when…?” Horizon doesn’t break eye contact, but Newman does. They massage their temple. “This was the first time.”

“Look at me in the eye.” Newman does so. “Since when.”

“This was the first time, I swear.”

Horizon stares at them in silence. “I believe you,” they say, and Newman exhales. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me you wanted to sleep with other people. You know I don’t mind.”

“This is you when you don’t mind?”

Horizon can feel themself frown. “This is me worried that there’s something else you aren’t telling me. Did you use protection? Should I test myself for anything? I don’t want any surprises.”

“What?” And now they are frowning too. “I can’t believe this…”

Horizon pushes up from the couch and comes to stand in front of Newman. “Open the door. I need some time alone.”

Something like fear flashes in their partner’s eyes. “Will you call me when you get to your place?”

“Yes,” Horizon says, and then they are gone.

[archer12xx]

Two Less Lonely People

"Taking Him up on His Offer (II)"

-Tobias x reader

-2,583 words (longest I've ever written, so far)

-Not proofread

-Slight angst

-Inspired by the song Two Less Lonely People in the World by Air Supply

--

Why am I here again? You asked yourself as the peephole on Tobias’s apartment door stare blankly at you. Or are you the one staring blankly at it, you can’t tell. Just as how you can’t figure out why the hell you rushed there. You remember enjoying a box of pizza for dinner while chilling, watching TV on your couch. Then the news… You saw a news about Tobias and Hailey dating. Your mind went blank and you almost dropped the slice of pizza on your hand. As the news report flashed on the screen of your TV, you felt a rush of emotions and a slight needle-like pricking pain in your chest. Suddenly you threw the pizza back to the box and stormed out of your house.

And there you are at his front door, in your ugly ass sweats, probably greasy face from dinner, and clueless of what to do. Do you knock, do you ring the bell, or do you leave? Is he even there? Part of you want to see him but another doesn’t want him to see you like that. You groaned. I’m a mess.

Eventually, you came to a decision and turned your back to the door. Tobias is probably not even home yet. He’s probably in some fancy hotel in Vegas, or still gambling with whatever gorgeous girl who would stand beside him at the craps table and flirt with him. You imagine him flirting back and it sent ripples of prickling pain in your heart. I don’t know, you thought. “Y/N? What are you doing here at this hour?”

You froze upon hearing his voice. “Tobias?” Why are you here? No, I know this is literally your apartment but why are you here NOW? Just as I was about to escape. Now, I can’t run.

You turned around and find Tobias looking at you from head to toe, with an amused smirk on his face. It wasn’t to make fun of you for looking like that but because he finds this look on you, adorable. You covered your face with your arm and looked away in embarrassment. You couldn't watch him see you like that. Ugh! You wished for the ground to open up and swallow you whole but you know well that it’s never going to happen. What am I even thinking not changing before leaving? You sighed. Thinking had exhausted you somehow. Then you heard him chuckle. It echoed in the quiet hallway. You lifted your head to look at him and you saw him walking towards you. Your heart raced. But he walked past you and went for the door. You exhaled, without knowing that you were actually holding your breath. “Let’s talk inside, yeah? It’s kinda chilly out here. I don’t want you catching a cold,” he said as he inputs the passcode on the door. I’m trapped. You turned back, attempting to run for the last time, but he saw you and his hand immediately caught your wrist. “Nah-uh. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s go,” he said and dragged you inside his apartment. Why I thought that’d work is beyond me. You sighed and let yourself get dragged inside.

As Tobias turned the lights on, a complete silence welcomed you both. The jingling of keys thrown on top of the cabinet somehow eased the deafening silence. "Welcome to my humble abode!" He announced and you immediately thought that he's always wanted to say that. "Ha! I've always wanted to say that." He said and you laughed for being right. He flashed a grin in response. “You make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” he said brushing his fingers on your elbow. You flinched, not expecting it. He stifled a chuckle before walking away and disappearing in one of the rooms, his room.

You looked around, distracting yourself from your impending doom. The first thing that caught your eye is the wall. It’s blue and empty. No paintings, no pictures on picture frames, not even those pictures that come with the frame when you buy one. The place is spacious, not because it’s big but because there’s barely any furniture or appliance around. Sure there are the basics; two long sofas placed adjacent to one another, one maroon in color and the other white. A coffee table in the middle, with a few magazines sitting below the glass top. A flat screen TV hanged on the wall opposite the white sofa, home theatre set placed on a table cabinet with two big speakers standing on opposite sides of it. And that was it.

You walked over the tall narrow window. You drew the curtain open and hold it to the side. You saw a bit of the busy streets of Manhattan underneath and muffled car engine noise and horns beeping were heard. You exhaled as you let go of the cloth and let curtain fall back to its original place. You decided to go and sat on the couch. Your eyes fixed on the empty blue walls. Lost in thought, an image of Tobias is formed in your head. He's sitting on the cold tiled floor, one foot stretched under the coffee table, the other he uses to rest his arm on top of his knee The room is covered in darkness except for the light coming from the TV that he doesn’t even watch. You came to understand how he always try to liven up the mood, be the life of the party. It makes sense how he loves Vegas and all of its bright lights, colourful surroundings, and the fun that seem to never stop. All of that is missing in this apartment.

The room suddenly felt even colder and empty. It must’ve been lonely coming home to a complete silence that doesn’t even bring a sense of peace. Alone and lonely. Is that why he’s barely in here? You thought. Being greeted by the lonesome and empty apartment… Your heart sank. Tobias’s life is a fancier reflection of yours. Is that why you feel a strong connection with him? You’re unsure.

You were brought back to reality by Tobias's arrival. “Hey, you want anything to drink? Or eat? We could order some stuff, if you want.” You turned your head and saw him a few steps away from you, already in his home clothes; black tank top and comfy knee-length shorts. “Heh. Why are you staring at me? Do I look weird?” he said bowing his head to inspect himself. You didn’t know you were staring. “Huh? No! No, you don’t look weird.” You look good, you always do. You snapped out of it. “And I’m fine. I’m not really hungry.” You don’t think you can ingest anything, anyway, by how butterflies infested your stomach. Seeing how nervous and awkward you are right now, he sat on the red couch, putting a comfortable distance between the two of you. This put a smile on your face which puts a smile on his face.

“So, how did you know my address?” he asked.

Right. You’re not supposed to know that information but you managed to do so courtesy of your “non-hacker” hacker friend. “Uh, it’s a long story… which I prefer to discuss with you another time,” you said and he nodded. “Okay, so what brought you here at 3am? I assume it’s urgent? Did something happen?” He shifted in his seat and waited for you to respond. Urgent, huh? I guess you could say that. And something happened, alright. Hailey happened. You thought but didn’t say any of it. Your hands remained on your lap as you gather your thoughts. You wished you saw him the moment you got there, while the adrenalin still pumping in your blood. Now the adrenaline-induced courage, which was all that you had, had already dissipated. Can you do it? Can you tell him what you came there for? Or will you chicken out until it’s too late? Just like how you hesitated earlier until he came and you no longer have a choice but to stay? You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Tobias moves a little bit closer. “Y/N, why are you so nervous? Is something seriously wrong? Did someone die?” he asked worriedly. “No! No one died. Nothing like that. I’m just… honestly I don’t know what to say or I know but I don’t know how to say it,” you confessed. He let out a sigh of relief and relaxed a bit. He glanced at your now shaking hands and he wanted to hold them but he’s not sure whether that’d help. So he stopped himself, for now at least.

You cleared your throat and decided to address the rumor first.

“Um, is it true? Are you, uh, are you dating Hailey?”

He jerked his head back a little and opened his mouth as if to say something but didn’t. After a beat, he finally spoke. “So... you saw the news,” he exhaled which sounded like a slight groan. “I don’t know where they got that idea. As you know, Hailey was in BLB last week. That’s probably it. But don’t worry! It’s not true. I swear!” he blew a raspberry before continuing. Don’t… worry? Your thoughts drifted into this but you managed to shrug it off. “I don’t even like her. She’s totally not my type because y…” he looked at you and as if he caught himself saying something shouldn’t be said, he stopped speaking abruptly. “I mean, if I’m dating someone, you’ll be the first to know,” he said cutting his rambling short. He looked at you expectantly and you realized you were quiet, so you cleared your throat again. You disregard his last statement because you know that if you think about it, it’ll only cause you more anxiety. Looking into his eyes, you suddenly remembered something. Something he had said in the chat. But before you could say something he spoke. “Is… that the only reason why you rushed here to see me?” his voice was quiet, as if there’s something he didn’t want you to hear behind those words. You shook your head. “No, that’s not all of it,” you said. Your heart never relaxed for it continued to race, pounding like crazy against your chest the whole time. Then, you thought, 50-50… Every risk is always at 50-50 chance, 50% success, 50% failure. You can only know which 50 you’ll get once you take it. So, taking a deep breath, you ready yourself to find out. “The reason I ran here as fast as I could after seeing that news was to ask you if it was true. And since it isn’t…” you took a short pause. “Since it’s not true, I’m glad.” You looked at Tobias who, upon hearing this couldn’t help but smile a little. “You once said that if I ever want anything, all I need to do is ask. Is that still the case?” you asked, surprised of how you didn’t stutter. You’re not sure how this will go. You’re scared but you’re done. You’re done feeling more scared of losing him to someone every time there’s a rumor of him and another girl dating without putting up a fight. You’re tired of tiptoeing around your feelings and… his. Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk, right? “Um… of course! I meant that when I said it. Is there something that you wanted? I’ll get it for you. But not now though it’s getting la—“ you interrupted his nervous rambling. “Date me. I want… I want you to date me.” You said, eyes closed, taking one last deep breath and trying to draw more courage from it before you continued. You opened your eyes, one after the other, and saw Tobias frozen in his seat, his mouth slightly ajar, speechless. “Look, I know I don’t have much to offer you. I’m not as hot and gorgeous as the girls who hit on you at the casino, not as cool as the actresses you work with on BLB. I’m just… me,” you shrugged as you said the last sentence. He scooted closer and you’re now both sitting on each edge of the sofas.

He took your hands to his and looked straight into your eyes. Tobias’s head raced, his heart beating faster than it does when he's anticipating a win at a poker game. He swallowed hard before speaking. “Y/N, you don’t have to be any of those. Being you…” he lets out a soft, amazed laugh. “Being you is more than enough for me.” Your heart skipped a beat, feeling your nose sting and you as your eyes start to well up. He smiled gently and kissed the back of your hand, his eyes not leaving yours. “You can put me in a room full of hot and gorgeous girls, wearing sexy or fancy clothes, but my eyes will always look for the one who wears sweats and has a messy hair,” he chuckled as you pout. He reached out to tuck lose strands of hair behind your ear. He looked at you like he's never seen anything so precious in his life before, it warmed your heart. Then he let out a sigh of contentment. You tried to hold back the tears forming in your eyes. Your heart is filled with inexplicable happiness, it felt like it's going to burst any minute. You swallowed hard and try to relax then Tobias spoke. “God, I never thought this day would happen. How lucky can I get?” he said shaking his head lightly in awe and disbelief. You laughed softly and moved a bit closer, hesitant on whether to wrap your arms around him or not. But he made that decision for you by wrapping them around him, himself, and you both chuckled. The room suddenly felt warm. You rest your head on his chest. You couldn't hear anything besides your loud beating heart and his. You lifted your head to look at him again. He cupped your cheek with his hand, and his other arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in close. His thumb gently wipes the happy tear that had escaped on the side of your eyes. You gulped, feeling warmth spread all over your cheeks and he grinned. “I’ll do it. I’ll date you but promise me one thing.” Your brows shot up, curious of what it was. He looked at you with a serious face and you slowly feel anxious. “Promise me that you’ll never do this in front of another man. Showing up in front of their door in the middle of the night, looking like this…” he said in knitted brows and frowned lips. You laughed and the growing nervousness inside you dissipated as if it was never there. “What? I’m serious! Don’t you dare, huh? What if they fall in love with you? I won't allow it.” he said stifling his laugh but failed. He hugged you tightly and you hugged him back.

Soon, you both fell in a comfortable silence that lasted a moment, settling for just looking at each other’s faces and occasionally smiling at each other without leaving each other's arms for one second. Until Tobias couldn’t take it anymore and without really thinking, planted a soft kiss on your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise and when he realized what he did, he did the same. Your lips turned up into a smile. You find this utterly adorable! So to get revenge on him for taking you by surprise, you leaned in and gave him a quick peck. You flashed a huge grin which faded away when you saw the serious look on his face. His eyes roamed around your face, looking at your eyes, nose, back to your eyes, then your lips where it lingered. Your eyes fell on his lips, too, and the next thing you know, his head’s drawing near. Until his lips crashed into yours. Tobias kissed you as if it’s all he’s ever wanted to do and all he ever thought of doing. It was soft and gentle but with a soul-sucking passion in it (if you can imagine that). The sensation sends shiver down your spine. Your mind became blurry as you let yourself get lost in the moment. It’s as though time had stopped and there’s no one else but you and Tobias and nothing else mattered. You still don’t know what lies ahead, but one thing is for sure… just like in the song, tonight, there’s two less lonely people in the world and it’s gonna be fine.

-end.

***

Imagine, when they kissed the song plays in the background just like in any cliche romcom film. Lol anyway, I hope you liked it. 😎🧡

[thisisarcanereverie]

What it Means to be Worthy (Thor x Reader)

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

THERE IS SMUT IN HERE 18+ YOU THIRSTY SONS OF BITCHES.

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up pals) Do NOT read unless you are 18+. 

Also I have never written smut before so I hope it’s ok. I honestly couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t been listening to Deity by Valeree (highly recommend listening while reading the smut. It will probably make it better.) 

“Thor,” you called the God of Thunder, “Thor it’s (Y/n).”

You heard a small grunt coming from the living room as you entered through the front door. You immediately went to cover your nose from the stench that invaded your senses upon entering. 

It seemed as though the whole house smelled of rotten food, sweat, and something akin to a pigs feces. It was a smell that you never quite got used to, even after 2 years of smelling it every day. 

You quietly made your way through the house until you saw a sight you were quite used to seeing now. 

Thor on the ground, shirtless, covered in sweat and grime. His beard was filthy from vomit and dandruff and his hair greasy and matted to his head. 

There had been a time where he cared so much about his hair that he got triggered if you had tried to trim it. 

After 2 years of seeing this scene before you, it failed to surprise you. 

Now it just angered you. 

You knew you couldn’t understand the pain he was in, he lost his entire family, half his people, and Asgard. 

Sure, the people of Midgard were generous and gave your people sanctuary, a place for your people to call home once again. 

But that didn’t stop you from missing Asgard’s golden palace and it’s mountains of lush green forests. How you missed running with Thor and Loki through those forests after dark to get to the highest peak you could to watch the glittering of the gold during sunrise. 

You had been playmates with the Princes since infancy. You had trained and fought alongside them in battle, joined them in celebrations after each conquest, mourned the loss of Frigga with them. 

You went with Thor all those years ago to retrieve Loki and joined the Avengers with him. 

But now the Avengers were gone, long since disbanded before the battle of Wakanda. 

You weren’t angry at him, your anger was towards the cruel fate that had befallen your precious friends. You had cared for Loki, almost as much as Thor if not equal to. 

If you were honest, you weren’t in better shape. Your grief had taken hold of you as well. Your kind smile had turned cynical. Anyone who tried to get close to you often was met with your icy glare and scoff. 

Thor was the only one who brought out the caring person you once were. 

With a deep sigh you expertly walked around the empty booze bottles and to the grieving man before you. Thor may have gotten soft around the middle but he weighed about the same as you slumped his arms around your shoulders. Thor groaned and went pale, his eyes barely opening. 

“C’mon blondie,” you softly spoke, “let’s get you washed up.”

You half dragged the god to the bathroom, he threw up halfway there but you paid no mind. You would clean that after getting him in the shower. 

You didn’t bother stripping him before setting him in the tub. Without warning or mercy you pointed the shower hose directly at his face and turned the water to icy cold. 

Thor yelled at the icy feeling, borderline pleading, for you to turn off the water. However, over the course of 2 years the patience you had for him had worn thin and so you continued to spray until the stench subsided a little. 

Thor was fully awake and sober now, seeing your figure as clear as day tower over him in the tub with a look on your face akin to a mother scolding a misbehaving child. 

Thor felt so small and powerless under your gaze and he loathed it. 

“You could have stopped a while ago.”

“This needs to stop Thor.” 

Your hands motioned to him, Thor once admired those hands and the strength that they had. Now he just found them annoying. 

He found you annoying. 

You came by everyday and pulled him out of his stupor, clean up after him a little, and try to clean him up. You treated him like a child who couldn’t take care of himself and he loathed it so. 

“I am King of Asgard you do not get to tell me what to do.”

“What King would wallow himself in such a way.”

He bolted upright and stood in the tub, successfully towering over your frame, you had gone too far. You didn’t get to say such things to him. 

What Thor didn’t count on was the world getting fuzzy and a little dark when he stood up, so although he towered over you he was as stable as a wind chime. 

You held onto his frame to prevent him from falling flat onto his face. You felt Thor stiffen under your touch. 

You knew Thor was now sensitive and insecure in areas he never was before. 

It seemed like yesterday that he was admiring himself in one of Asgard’s golden mirrors, his long hair had looked like spun gold in Asgard’s sunlight and his figure was that befitting of a god. 

But none of that had ever mattered to you, even when Thor became full of himself to the point of him being ill tempered and arrogant, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever give up on him. 

Not that you tried to give up on him anyways.

Loki had asked you one day why you didn’t. Why didn’t you give up on the golden prince when he clearly would never feel the same way. 

“I love him too much to be without him. Even if that means watching him parade himself around as a peacock and watch women fly to him like bees to honey.” 

Then Thor was banished and the only reason why you didn’t follow was due to Loki’s intervening. 

Then Thor met Jane Foster. 

The memory of the beautiful scientist brought back bittersweet memories. You had never seen Thor so deep in love, and that made you both sad and happy. 

Happy that he finally found someone who could keep him humble and who he loved just as much as you loved him. 

Sad that when you often caught Thor daydreaming, that it wasn’t you he was daydreaming about. 

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and sat the giant on the edge of the tub while you went to gather fresh clothes for him. 

You gathered a simple sweatshirt and pants for him to pull on once he was finished with his shower. 

As you set the clothes beside the sink you couldn’t help but feel the gnawing feeling in the deepest parts of your heart and the nagging thoughts in your head. 

You knew that Thor was hellbent on this self destructive path and you knew that there was nothing you could possibly do to prevent it. 

It was either you let Thor drown himself in his despair or you let him drown you with it as well. 

You had accepted long ago that Thor would never see you as anything more than what you had always been. 

His playmate since infancy. 

The girl who got a starry look every time he entered a room. 

You had saved up money from the jobs you had worked over the past 2 years, you finally saved up enough to get away from New Asgard. Leave its people to the hands of their self pitying King and Val. 

It wasn’t like they needed you or the other way around. 

No one would notice your absence. 

You began to pick up around Thor’s home, recycling empty liquor bottles and trashing pizza boxes and rotted food. Vacuuming the carpets and dusting here and there. 

This will be the last time you do as such. 

You needed to leave, staying here and wallowing in Thor’s despair and depression as much as your own wasn’t good for you. And you knew deep down you had been enabling him, every time you cleaned his house and washed and fed him you knew that he only got worse and that you were supporting him when you did this. 

You needed to leave for Thor’s sake as much as your own. 

You wondered how long it would take him to notice. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Thor, you doubt he would even care at this point. 

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, having moved into the house closest to his in case of emergency. 

Most of your things were packed and already in your apartment in New York waiting for you. Well things of value, the rest you had sold online, it was amazing what the internet could do. By far one of the greatest inventions on Midgard in your opinion. 

All that was left to do was, pack a few pieces of clothing and toiletries. 

And write a goodbye letter to Thor explaining where you went and why. 

You had avoided writing it, not wanting to say goodbye. Not wanting Thor to not care. 

It wasn’t like you were completely leaving Thor, Valkyrie (Val as you called her) assured you that she would make sure he didn’t starve or drink himself to an early grave. 

You trusted her to make good on her promise. 

You leaving wasn’t even your idea in the first place, Val had tried to get you to leave a year earlier, but you were too stubborn to leave then. 

You grabbed the piece of stationary and began to write. 

‘Thor, 

By the time you're sober enough to read this I’ll already be gone. I don’t predict that I’ll be back. 

Val will be making sure you don’t starve or drink yourself into an early grave in my place. 

I just can’t do this anymore Thor. 

I had loved you since we were but children running around the palace gardens, I still do. However I accepted the fact that you could never see me as anything more than your old playmate and dear friend so long ago. 

I had tried to be by your side in a supporting role no matter how much it had hurt me. 

When you became an arrogant ass I tried my hardest to explain away your tantrums. 

When you came back from banishment I listened to you swoon over Lady Jane Foster with a smile on my face even though it tore me apart. 

I had stayed with you, took care of you. It took me so long to realize that I had just been enabling you this entire time. 

I had been supporting your self destructive behavior and I refuse to play that part any longer. I need to leave, not just for me but for you. 

You need to sort through your emotions, you need to learn how to handle yourself by yourself. You need me not holding your hand when you do that. 

I need to discover for myself what it means to be worthy-’

A loud pounding at your door disrupted your train of thought as you wrote. Normally no one would bother you, not unless it had to deal with Thor. 

The floorboards creaked as you made your way to your door. The pounding had not ceased until you flew the door open to reveal Thor. 

His hair was still damp from his shower and the sweats you had picked out were already stained from the beer he held in one hand. His sky blue eye was hidden behind dark shades. 

“(Y/n),” Thor said, “I need a thing.”

“Thor right now isn’t a good time.” 

“Don’t worry Lady (Y/n) it won’t take even a second I’ll be in and out.” Thor assured, flashing you a smile that could make your legs go weak. Despite how much hurt you were in you were still no match for Thor’s charms. 

“What thing do you need?”

“Just a thing I’ll know the name of it when I see it.” 

You stepped aside as you let Thor in, hoping that he won’t notice the lack of furniture or the note left on the table. You decided to let him be while you went and finished packing whatever was in the bathroom. After that you went back to the living area where you had left the note only to see Thor sitting on the couch, his fingers clenching the paper tightly. He had taken his shades off, the deep dark circles stood out against his skin a tribute to how tired he truly was. 

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sorrow that filled his eyes. red rimmed the blue eye as fresh tears began to fall. 

“You weren’t supposed to read that yet.” 

“And when was I supposed to read it then?! When you were god knows where you will be!” His voice bellowed as tears continued to fall down his cheek. 

“Thor please don’t yell.” 

“No (Y/n)!” he cut you off, “you,” his finger pointed at you, his gaze as intense as lightning, “you don’t get to leave like this. You don’t get to leave me too.”

“Thor I don’t have a choice,” you argue, “I need to let you go. I need to find who I am without you and you need-”

“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I NEED!” 

You could hear thunder roaring in the distance outside, lightning danced around his fingers faintly. Thor had never scared you, but right now you were close to it. 

“Thor,” you say calmly hoping somehow your calm tone will calm the God of Thunder, “I’m sorry for choosing the cowards way, I wanted to avoid this.”

“Did you truly think you would be able to avoid me for long.” The lightning had yet to cease but his eyes seemed to stop glowing ever so slightly. 

“I didn’t think you would have noticed for at least a few days.” 

“Why would you think I wouldn’t notice immediately?” He asked like it was the most incredulous question. He took a step closer to you while you took a step back. Thunder still roared outside and lightning still curled around his fingers. Thor furrowed his eyes in confusion until he finally seemed to hear the thunder storm outside and realize he had scared you. 

Thor had scared you. 

Immediately the pain in his chest worsened with the guilt that he had scared you. That he had so little control over his powers when he was so emotional. Slowly he closed his eyes and he took a deep breath in and out. He then felt his powers subside and the thunder had stopped. 

You could see his shoulders hunch forward with shame and you instictivly placed a hand over his shoulder to comfort him. Thor was quick to envelop your hand with his. Holding onto your hand for dear life. 

Your eyes then met, closer than you had ever been before. 

“What thing were you looking for?” you asked softly, “you said you came over for a thing.”

“I lied,” Thor admitted softly, “I just didn’t want to be alone.” 

The next thing you knew was the faint taste of beer and blueberries on your lips and strong, calloused hands making their way to your shoulders. 

Thor was just as good a kisser as you imagined. Lips moving expertly over your own, moving against yours so desperately. Like a man dying of thirst. 

You knew you should push him off of you, but for one second you wanted to enjoy his lips on yours. Kissing you like you had always wanted to kiss him. 

You moved your lips against his, relishing every moment. Because you knew you wouldn’t be able to kiss him again. 

Only when Thor's hands traveled to your waist did you break away. Albeit, you couldn’t push him further than just enough to give you some breathing space. 

“Thor,’ you said, “you’re drunk you don’t want this.” 

‘When will you stop telling me what I want and don’t want.” His lips moved from your lips to the corner of your mouth and slowly made their way to your neck. 

“Thor I do not want this if your reasoning is impaired.”

“I appreciate the thought dear one, but I only had half a beer tonight.” 

Asgardians could handle their booze well, especially Thor. For Thor to be the least bit intoxicated he would have had to drink 3 large bottles of Asgardian booze. However, when it came to Midgard it took 4 large barrows of Midgardian beer for it to have the same effect on him. Thor mostly drank it for the taste.

“Unless you would rather I stop.” Thor said, before his hands had removed themselves from your waist you stopped them. 

With every ounce of passion in you, you grabbed a handful of his long hair and pressed your lips to his. 

It was a mess of passionate and needy kisses and moans. Thor’s battle-worn hands had roamed over your body in a desperate need to feel you. 

He was quick to rid you of your shirt, hands feeling every inch of naked skin as he could. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth. 

You moaned as his hands found your breasts, his large hands covering them over your bra. Your hands made quick work with your bra, removing the suffocating fabric before lifting Thor’s shirt. 

you felt him stiffen as you rid him of his shirt. 

He wasn’t as muscular as he had been 2 years ago, however it took more than 2 years to completely diminish what his body had been. Although his stomach had softened as well as his arms. You didn’t care in the slightest, loving Thor in every shape he came in. 

Your hands lovingly brushed over his torso as you began to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, over his chest, it wasn’t until you were at the waistband on his sweatpants did he bring you back up and kissed you with fiery passion. 

Thor laid you in front of the fireplace that you forgot you lit a while ago. Honestly a little surprised that the fire was still going. 

You didn’t have much time to think about that as you felt Thor’s lips travel  from your neck and over your breasts. Your nails scratched the floor beneath you as you felt him at the waistband of your jeans. 

You felt Thor pause and you looked at him. 

“Are you sure dear one?” 

Your heart melted at the new nickname, as you nodded to him. However that wasn’t enough for the blonde adonis as he traveled up your body and littered your neck in open mouth kisses. 

“I need to hear you say you want this dear one.” 

“Please Thor,” you pleaded as he ground his hips into yours slowly, your hips meeting his as his pace slows even more successfully driving you insane. 

“I need you Thor.”

“What do you need dear one?”

“I need you to finish what we started.” 

With that Thor slammed his lips on yours as he rid you of your pants, underwear included. He leaned back and his eyes drank in your figure illuminated by the fire light. You were breathtaking, any one would buckle at the sight of you. 

Pride swelled in Thor’s heart as this view was reserved for him only. 

Just as you were about to say something you felt Thor’s beard tickle the inside of your thigh and without warning Thor dived in. 

Your hands immediately flew to his hair and grabbed fists full of it, anything to tether you to reality. 

As Thor worked his magic on your bundle of nerves your moans filled the empty house. Thor moaned as your grip on his hair tightened which sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. Thor lifted your legs over his shoulders and gripped your thighs firmly as his tongue worked faster. 

Just as you were about to reach your blissful release you felt him pull away. Your arousal practically dripped from his lips onto his beard. 

He rid himself of the last piece of clothing before capturing your lips once again. Unlike the kisses from before, this was gentle and sweet. You could taste yourself on his lips as he tenderly kissed you. 

You slowly ran your hands over his chest, committing him to memory. 

Thor pulled away from your lips as he entered you. 

Your mouth let out a silent scream of pleasure as Thor let out a shaky breath of pleasure. Thor waited for a few seconds, relishing in the feeling of you around him before finally moving his hips against yours. 

Thor was soft and slow in his thrusts, making sure to worship every part of you. His lips were everywhere, from your face to your breasts. 

You met in time with his thrusts. The only sound in the room being your shaky breaths, moans of pleasure, and skin on skin. And it sounded like a chorus to you. 

Thor’s thrusts became erratic and unyielding, the knot in your stomach was on the verge of bursting when Thor whispered in your ear. 

“Let go dear one, I’ll catch you.”

With that the knot had become undone, leaving your body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. 

Thor had not been too far behind you before he too reached his climax. 

Thor laid down beside you, still coming down from his high. You laid your head on his chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

This was everything you had ever wanted, to lay beside Thor with his arm beside you. Well almost everything. 

As Thor began to play with the ends of your head as you replayed the past two years in your head. 

“I think you may have been right.” Thor broke the silence, you lifted your head off his chest to see his gaze distant as he stared at the ceiling. 

“When have I ever been anything otherwise.”

Thor’s chest rumbled in laughter as unshed tears began to fill his eyes. He refused to cry, not now. 

“I agree that you need to leave dear one.” Thor’s voice cracked, “I have become a pitiful king to my people, but I have been an even worse friend to you.” his eyes left their place on the ceiling and rested on your face. “You have been faithfully by my side ever since either of us could remember. You had defended me when I didn’t deserve it and loved me when no one did. Not even myself.” His calloused hand caressed your cheek, thumb brushing the tears that had escaped your eyes away. “you don’t deserve to drown in my despair with me. You deserve a life of adventure and you deserve the time to figure out who you are.” You pressed your forehead to his as tears leaked out. “I need to let you go.”

---

Thor had spent the night committing every touch and every scent to memory. He had no idea when his feelings for you grew to such lengths but he knew now that he had figured it out much too late. 

He wasn’t the man you deserved by your side. 

Thor waved you off at the airport and watched as the metal contraption took you away from his side for the first time since his banishment all those years ago. 

He hoped that if you returned he would be a man worthy of you again. 

Thor only wished he knew where to start.

[fictionalabyss]

To the guy in 6c.

Pairing : Lawyer!Sam x Writer!Reader (ish/eventual), Dean

Word count : 4,734

Written for : @samwinchesterbingo

Square : Nudist!Sam’

Beta’d by : @iflostreturntosteverogers​

Warnings : Nudity (obviously), friendly rivalry with a stranger, sexual tension with someone you've never actually met, things in the shape of genitalia, joke gifts, Dean is a typical big brother who has a good laugh.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

Sam Winchester Bingo Masterlist.

First meal in your new apartment.  It wasn’t much, just some cheap pizza from the place a few blocks down. As you settled on the living room window sill, you took a bite and glanced around your apartment. It was pretty bare bones. Appliances were in and hooked up, but everything else was lacking still. Couch, table and chairs coming the day after tomorrow. And you reminded yourself that you’d need a bed frame eventually, but for now the mattress and box spring on the floor was fine enough.

It was a new start, a fresh start. Just what you needed. Smiling, you looked out the window. You could hear noise from the street below being only 6 floors up. And the view wasn’t that bad. The building across from you was the same height, so you had a decent view of the sky above it. You could probably get a telescope if you wanted for either the window here, or the balcony outside. And then there was the naked guy-

Wait, what?

Directly across from you, you saw a man walk across his living room, ass naked. Tearing your eyes away, you put your attention back on your pizza. He was probably fresh from the shower or something. No one just walks around naked like that, right? You chanced a glance back over and saw nothing, just his empty living room. Yeah, probably just a coincidence.

You took a bite out of your pizza and turned back towards your living room and looked around again.

“Furniture delivery.”

You were sipping on coffee near the window, out of the way, as big strong men moved furniture up your apartment building and into your place. It was early morning and to be honest, you were still pretty tired and were considering a nap once everyone was out. Movement caught your eye, and you glanced out your window.

It was him again, the naked guy in the apartment across from yours. His back was to you right now, and damn it looked strong. You froze, cup half way to your mouth, ignoring the people moving around you as you took the guy in for a moment. He wasn’t simply walking past like last time, he was just standing there, naked, in front of his window. His ass was.. Jesus, that ass. Why didn’t he close his curtains? Did he not have any? Who doesn’t have curtains?

You didn’t. Well, not yet anyways. You were going to have to fix that.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

You turned, and jumped, having not noticed the man come up next to you. He looked from you, to across the street where you had been looking, and you felt unbelievably embarrassed. “I-I was..” how do you even try and explain this? “I wasn’t-”

“I just need you to sign this.” he thrust a clipboard at you, trying to hide the weird look he was giving you. “Last one’s coming up now.”

“Oh, right. Thank you.” you ducked your head, took the clipboard and signed.

“Mhm.” he hummed, tossing a weird look across the street, then back at you before taking the clipboard from you. He flipped up a few pages, ripped off a green slip, and handed it to you. “You have a nice day.” and with that, he walked away shaking his head.

“Yeah… you too..” you mumbled more to yourself than anything. With a sigh, you glanced back across the street to find the window empty. Lifting your mug, you drank, and turned away, thinking about curtains.

Sam stepped out of the elevator with a sigh. It had been a long day at the office and he couldn’t wait to get inside. He was loosening his tie as he made his way up the hall towards his apartment door. He was confused to find a brown box outside his door. He wasn’t expecting any deliveries. Maybe Dean had sent something?

Sam crouched down to pick up the box and frowned at the label on it as he straightened back up. “To the guy in 6C?” he read. Then he looked around. The hall was deserted, and he had no idea how long it had been sitting there. “Huh.”

Pulling out his keys, Sam unlocked his door and headed inside, dropping the box onto his couch and heading for his kitchen for a drink.

Eventually, he was focused on that box again, curious which neighbour had sent it. Maybe 6D had sent him noise canceling headphones. They did have a three week old baby that cried at night, and the poor mother kept apologizing every time she saw him, worried it was interrupting his sleep.

Or maybe it was the guy down in 4B. Sam kept finding himself with containers of baked goods, all because Dean had hopped out of the elevator one visit and followed his nose towards the smell of baked apple pie and made himself a new friend.  That was possible. Maybe he’d knocked while Sam was at work and didn’t want someone to grab it before he got home so the guy put it in a box.

Curious, he put his drink down and picked up the box. It was simple enough to pull the tape off and get the box open.

He frowned into the box as he pulled out a small package. “Curtains?” He flipped it over, looking at the back, the colour, the pattern. Then he looked at his couch. “It matches? How the fuck…” he was confused. “Who the hell sent me curtains that match my damn couch…” Then something seemed to hit him. He looked towards his large living room window.

At first, he didn’t see anything unusual. Nothing different from any other day. He moved closer to it, scanning the windows of the building across from him. It couldn’t be some random off the street, he was too high up.

Directly across from him, he saw a shift in the window. Someone adjusting a curtain. Had someone moved in? He could have sworn the place was empty and had been for about a month. The longer he watched the curtain, the more he realized he was sure it was the same colour as the curtain in his hand. Then it pulled back, and he saw her.

She looked content, looking up at her curtains. Then she looked out her window, eyes scanning around until they stopped on him. The look on her face told him everything. She got embarrassed, he could see that even from across the street. He smirked at the way she jerked the curtain shut again. In fact, he laughed.

Explained how she knew what colour to get, she could likely see his couch from there. And her window mirrored his in size, so he didn’t doubt it would fit perfectly.

He glanced at the curtain still packaged neatly in his hand and considered it. He could put it up, in fact, he knew he should. He’d honestly just forgotten to get one for the living room after he moved in. Or, he could tease the girl a little bit. Judging by how she looked at him, she didn’t totally hate the view.

Yeah. Maybe he’d mess with her a bit. Besides, he needed to thank her.

You were on your way up to your apartment, hands full of bags. A bit of food, some new utensils, dish and hand towels, mostly just stuff for your kitchen and bathroom spaces. You’d been in the apartment just over a week now, and it felt liberating having more space for yourself to live and work. It was still a work in progress, but it was coming along nicely.

A soft ding sounded before the doors opened and you stepped out, digging a finger into your pocket to hook your keys and pull them out. As you stepped up to your door, your foot hit something and you glanced down. A package. You did order a few things for your ‘office space’ a couple of days ago, so you thought nothing of it. Once the door was open, you pushed the package in with your foot until you could close the door, then you stepped over it to head deeper inside to put everything down.

Once everything was down, you headed back for the box. Now that you could give it your attention, it looked a little big. You found yourself trying to remember what you ordered, then realized it could just be a bigger box than was needed. “I did order some frames..” you mused to yourself. “Could just be a ton of protection inside..”

You picked up the box and made your way towards your desk space in front of your large open living room window. It was heavy, heavier than any frames would be. What the hell was it? Putting it down to open it, you froze. That wasn’t a shipping sticker on the top, it was a note.

“To the girl in 6A?” oh no. You looked up, looked out across the street. He knew. He knew it was you and he sent something back. Oh god.

Swallowing, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through the tape that held the box closed. He wasn’t sending the curtains back, not in this big of a box. He also hadn’t put them up either. Was he mad? Was there something disgusting or dangerous inside this box?

Lifting the flaps, you froze, eyebrows furrowing together as you reached in and pulled out a pair of binoculars and then looked down at the box that boasted a child looking through a telescope. “What the hell..?” You put the binoculars down on your desk, and slowly pulled out the telescope box. A slip of paper fell, and you put the telescope back to pick it up. Unfolding it, you read the neatly written words that made you feel embarrassment like never before.

‘I wanted to thank you for the curtains. They match my living room decor perfectly. Maybe one day I’ll put them up, just for you. I thought maybe you might like these items, since you enjoy the view from your window so much.

Have fun.

The guy in 6C.’

You re-read the note again, and a third time before finally tearing your eyes away from it. You looked at the two items sitting out of place on your desk, then looked across at his window once more and froze again seeing him standing there, a smile on his face and a drink in his hand. Naked as a jaybird. The cup came up in acknowledgment, and his smile grew wider.

A week went past before you finally decided if he was going to poke at that fact that you kept seeing him naked, you were going to poke back. If he wanted to be a smart ass about it, two could play at that game. The deciding factor was the asshole standing in his living room window Sunday morning waving at you when you walked through your house half asleep. You had barely woken up and headed to your kitchen to make coffee, hair a mess, thin straps of your nightgown askew, right nipple almost exposed when a movement caught your eye outside your window and there he was, naked, smiling, waving. “Asshole.” you had muttered, turning around and heading back for your bedroom officially on a mission. Fifteen minutes later, you were grabbing your keys and storming out of the house.

The items spent another week and a half sitting on your desk by the window before you finally got the nerve to actually give it to him. It wasn’t taped up yet, since you kept going back and forth on if you would actually do it or not, note not yet written either. You were supposed to be working, but whatever this was with the naked guy in 6C across the street had you distracted. You couldn’t focus, couldn’t write, you just kept looking at that box or out the window.

It was Thursday, early morning when you saw him. It wasn’t the first time you spotted him in clothes, you’d seen him getting home from work once or twice, but he somehow looked so god damn put together first thing in the morning. While you were a mess and barely functioning, he was in an expensive suit, hair neatly brushed and looking like perfection walking. You hated him. Looking at the box still on your desk, you decided today was the day.

This could go so fucking bad, but if he could dish it out, he’d better be able to take it.

This time when Sam came home to a box by his door, he smiled. He didn’t question it in the least. He’d hoped the girl across the street would answer with something. He had started to worry he scared the poor girl away. He picked up the package, unlocked the door and headed inside. ‘To the guy in 6C’.

He didn’t bother wasting time this time. He couldn’t wait to see what she thought about his last package. He flicked his lights on, dropped his briefcase on the couch and used his keys to cut through the tape before dropping them onto the couch as well. Once he saw what was inside, his lips pulled up into a smile.

There were several pairs of tweezers on top of a white prank box with big bold writing on it, and after he swept those aside, he read the box.

“For the men tired of baggy condoms.” He read with a smile. “Tiny condoms for tiny penises. Won’t slip off even the smallest of penises. Micropecker.com.”  Curious if there was anything inside, he lifted it out and gave it a shake. Hearing something, he opened it and found several packs of novelty tiny condoms. His smile only got wider.

Putting the joke box down, he found the note in the brown box with the tweezers and opened it.

'If I need a telescope to enjoy the view, then you must need these. Sorry it took a while to respond, condoms that small aren’t easy to find. This weekend is on me. Enjoy. The girl in 6A.'

Sam’s head went back as he laughed. He had to admit, he hadn’t expected that. Especially not this soon, not with the way she ran off every time he saw her. She was funny. She could take a joke and dish one out right back. That was good. It meant she could handle him, and if it got serious, she could handle Dean and his pranks and antics.

He looked across the way and saw her standing there, watching him, beer in hand which she lifted up to him much like he had done when he sent the telescope and binoculars.

Yeah. He liked this girl.

Two weeks of nothing. You saw him move around his apartment naked, like always. You’d sometimes see him leave or come back, but he never responded, never sent anything. You found yourself disappointed. You could have sworn he had been laughing when he got the package, but maybe you had pushed it too far. Maybe he was already done with this. Maybe he was already bored with you.

So you tried to focus on your writing. You were having a hard time with your book, barely able to focus, nothing felt right. The words weren’t coming and the ones that did were all wrong. You deleted another paragraph and sighed in frustration. Maybe moving here hadn’t been the best idea. Minimizing your writing, you opened up a browser and decided to get to work on an article that was due soon. Articles and blog posts, that was how you made your money. The book sales were doing alright, but you were no JK Rowling, that’s for sure.

Writing wasn’t really what you wanted to be doing on a Saturday afternoon, but if you could get this done today, you could try focusing on your book until at least Wednesday, when your next assignment would be in.

Your fingers were flying across the keyboard when there was a knock on your door. “Just a second!” you called out, finishing up getting the words out before you lost your train of thought. Once you were done you watched the draft autosave, then you minimized your Google Docs window and got up from your desk.

You opened the door and no one was there. The halls were empty, and mostly quiet. Music seemed to be coming from somewhere down the hall, and you could hear the teenager across the hall from you had company while his mom was out. Maybe they were fucking with you.

You were about to go back in when you finally noticed the large brown box at your feet that said ‘To the girl in 6A.’ and a big red ‘FRAGILE’ written across the top. You smiled, picking it up and wondered what was inside.

Once you were back in your apartment, you took the box to your desk in front of the window. You looked down at the street first, wondering if you’d see him dashing back across to his side, but you didn’t, so you focused back on the box, excited to see what he’d gifted you with this time. You cut through the tape with scissors like last time, pulled back the flaps and started digging through the bubble wrap and paper that filled the box to protect whatever was inside.

You found the note first this time. There was a layer each of paper and bubble wrap between his hand written note and whatever he was sending you. He wanted this read first, so you obliged by unfolding it. The gift could wait a bit longer.

‘Thank you so much for the gift. I made sure to put them to great use and had a marvelous weekend. How did you know I needed more? No matter. I noticed you spend a lot of time at the desk in front of your window. It must be a lovely spot to work at. I thought as a thank you, I would gift you something to help decorate your new home. I hope you like it. The guy in 6C.’

“To decorate my home?” you put the note down and peeled away the last layers hiding the item from you. “A lamp? Why does it look like it has an ass?” you were confused as you pulled it out and turned it around. That’s when you noticed it. “No.. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me..” You looked from the lamp, to across the street, and there he was. He was watching you from his window, smiling as he pulled off the plaid button up shirt he was wearing and revealed his bare chest underneath. His hand then came up in a wave and you looked down at the lamp in your hand.

The lamp in the shape of a man with his hands on his hips, and the switch was a tiny penis.

“Asshole.” you mumbled to yourself with a shake of your head and a smirk. You immediately put the lamp down on the corner of your desk and opened up google as you sat.  “This means war.”

It was about three weeks of quiet after he delivered the package across the street, when Sam stepped out of the elevator and found his brother waiting by his door. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

“What? Can’t a guy visit his baby brother once in a while?”

“Not a baby, Dean.” Sam answered, pulling out his keys. “Just wondering why’d you drive out here on a Friday night. You staying?”

“Thinking about it.” Dean answered as Sam put his key into the lock. “By the way, you’ve got a package.”

“I do?” As he opened the door he glanced back to Dean who was holding a small brown box.

“Yeah. just says ‘To the guy in 6C’. What’s that all about?”

“Smaller than I expected.” Sam was grinning as they stepped into the apartment and it made Dean more confused.

“What’s going on, Sammy?”

“You want a beer?” Sam asked, ignoring his brother's question and headed to his bedroom to drop his stuff and get out of his suit jacket.

“Of course I want a beer.” Dean answered, shutting the door behind him and walking into the living room.  “I also want to know what the fuck is in this box. I’m opening it.”  Sam didn’t object as he left his room and headed for the kitchen, so Dean ripped off the tape and opened the box.

Sam was opening the beers when he heard his brother bark out a laugh. “Sammy!?”

“Coming.” Sam joined his brother, but when Dean made no move to free his hands to take the beer, Sam put them on the coffee table. Dean was laughing hysterically, probably hadn’t even noticed Sam had joined him yet. “You actually opened my package?”

“Oh Jesus fuck, this is… this is fucking hilarious. What did you send this girl?”

“Why, what did I get back?” He took the note from his brother and read it.

“It’s fucking hilarious.” Dean was laughing.

‘I wanted to thank you for your expert opinion in interior decorating. The lamp you sent me now sits prominently on my work desk, so everyone who enters my apartment may marvel in its splendor. And now that I’ve been graced with a visual representation of it’s true size, I can understand why I’ve never seen a woman at your apartment. It must be hard to pleasure a woman with something so small. Fear not, I have decided to help you. This gift will help you practice so you may grasp the very basics of working a clit. You’re welcome. The girl in 6A.’

When he looked up from the note, Dean was holding up a light switch cover that looked hand crafted into the shape of a vulva. Dean was clutching at his sides as he laughed. “It’s a pussy!” Dean practically screeched through his laughter. “A fucking pussy switch, I’m fucking dying.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh too as he took it from his brother. There was pubic hair painted on the top, the labia stuck out. When his light was on, the switch would be like the clit, and when it was off it would be pointed down towards what would be the vagina opening. He had to admit, it was well crafted. He wondered if you made it or bought it off something like Esty.

“Seriously, Sammy.” Dean was wiping the tears from his eyes. “Who the fuck is 6C and what did you do to the poor girl to get this back? What kind of lamp did you send her?”

Sam looked out the window and smiled when he saw you watching him. “I got her a lamp where the switch is a tiny erect dick.” Dean started laughing all over again.

“Oh man. What’s this girl's name? She new in the building?”

“She doesn’t live in my building, and I don’t know her name.”

Dean’s laughter died and now he was confused until he noticed where he brother was looking. He looked out the window as well, and quickly noticed the girl across the street watching them before ducking away and out of sight in a hurry. “That her?” Sam nodded but didn’t say a word. “So you’re just sending random packages to the girl you don’t know across the street?”

“Yep. All started when she sent me curtains.”

“Curtains?” It took Dean a moment. “You’re still walking around ass naked all the time?”

“It’s my house, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “How did it go from curtains to this?” he flicked the light switch cover in his brother’s hands.

“I thanked her for the curtains with binoculars and a telescope.” Sam smiled. “And she hit me back hard.”

You didn’t expect him to have company. He never had company. You had been worried when the other person opened the package and not him. The guy seemed to enjoy it, he was laughing pretty hard, but maybe 6C would be embarrassed now and be angry about it.

It wasn’t your fault. How the hell were you supposed to know he’d suddenly have company?

“I went too far, didn’t I?” you groaned, burying your face deeper into your pillow. You’d been hidden away in your room for the past 15 minutes.

Suddenly there was a knock at your door. With a sigh you got out of bed and made your way to the door with a sullen frown. Whoever was at the door, you didn’t really want to deal with them. You were praying you’d open the door and find an amazon box sitting there.

No such luck.

You opened the door to find a pretty good looking guy standing there smiling at you. “Uh.. hi?”

“So you’re 6A, huh?”

Recognition hit. It was the guy. Not the naked guy, but the one who had opened the package and laughed. “Who are you?”

“Dean.” He held out his hand, but when you didn’t shake it, he just pulled it back. “Sammy’s older brother.”

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, well, Samuel, though he prefers Sam.” Dean informed walking past you and into your home uninvited.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know-”

“Sam.” He pointed out your living room window and you looked across and saw naked guy, though not currently naked, standing there with a scowl on his face. “Oh, I think someone is pissed I came to see his girlfriend.” Dean laughed. “Wave to Sammy, sweetheart.” Dean waved and you gave an awkward wave at his insistence. “So what’s your name, 6A?”

“Uh.. Y/N. And I’m not-”

“Not yet.” Dean turned from the window and put his hands in his pocket. “But I think it’s coming. Haven’t seen Sammy smiling like that in a long time.” Your eyes shifted from him to the window again, and the man across the street glaring. “He really did send you a lamp with a dick switch.” Dean laughed again, and when you looked at him, his back was to you and he was flicking your lamp on and off. “You got to admit, he put a lot of effort into teasing someone he doesn’t even know.” Dean turned to you again and leaned his ass on your desk. “You both did from what I saw.”

“Yeah.. I guess we kind of did..”

“Given that you’ve already seen him naked and you’re still doing this back and forth, there’s at least some kind of attraction.”

“He does have a nice ass..” you mumbled under your breath, not expecting him to hear.

Dean’s smile grew wider. “So how about you join him for dinner tonight?” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Dinner? With the naked guy? “I think I’ll be sticking around town for a few days, but I don’t mind making myself scarce for a bit.” he shrugged like it was no big deal. “And I can promise Sammy will stay clothed unless you want the naked chef experience.”

“He’s a chef?” He didn’t look a chef with the way he dressed in the mornings.

Dean laughed. “No, he’s a lawyer, actually. But I did teach him how to cook as a kid. He ain't half bad.”

“A lawyer..” that made sense. He looked like one in those suits.

“So what do you say? Dinner? Sammy cooking for you?”

“I-I guess.. Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.” He smiled, turned and opened the window, motioning across for his brother to do the same. “Get cooking Sammy!” he yelled across. “You got a date tonight!”

Sam’s eyes shot to you, and you gave him another awkward wave from behind his brother. You were nervous. From what you can tell he was hot and he obviously had a sense of humor, given the packages. Now you were finding out he was a lawyer and could cook, too? He was a total catch. And you? You were-

“Relax.” You were pulled from your thoughts to see Dean smiling at you. “You’ve already got his attention. Just be yourself, it’s worked for you this far, right?”

Your eyes shot back to Sam who was now walking away from his window. “Yeah.. I guess it has..”

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[myelocin]

ten days, ten years | miya a.

Synopsis: This is the kind of real that’s yours and his. 

Genre: Fluff, Domestic | WC: 1500+

Characters: Miya Atsumu

A/N: this is a commisioned piece by @hvnlydmn <33

real estate - adam melchor

commissions

“So this is it,” said, with a voice signaling finality rather than a question.

Atsumu looks over the empty space of a house that was just in the market a few weeks ago, boxes stacked in the corners by the walls, and smiles. You peer at him from across the room, car keys in your hand while the set for the house are in his.

“This is it,” he says again, and when he peers at you, eyes making his message known before words could even attempt to do it justice, you soften.

There’s a lot of definitions that come with describing what’s real, but yours comes along looking like this.  

Real refers to Miya Atsumu and a history that’s you, and him. It’s the moments away from the limelight—his limelight—where he snorts at a couple jokes a little louder than how his manager would have appreciated. The tiny scribbles on the corner of the receipt; starting out as just a line before he’d eventually spiral and connect circles to dots, and little swirls until he’s covered half of the paper’s surface. It’s watching him on the screen, hair slicked up, and parted in just the right way, his control like it’s practically second nature, and his eyes as smooth as the words a person other than you would never be able to tell is practiced.

Because that’s who he is outside of here. (Outside of this.)

Practice interviews, the face on a billboard, and the child next door’s role model.

Real, on the other hand, is the present. Real is the face you wake up next to every morning, drool on the corner of his lips, where you still catch yourself thinking that you could never love anyone more than you do him. The black roots of his hair that grow out much faster than yours, and the way he leans in close to let you clip back his bangs that get in the way of his eyes natural.

It’s him blinking at you; hazel eyes like two pools of chocolate in any kind of lighting, the freckles on his cheeks a sight only you get to see because of how faint they are from a far. The scar on his cheek that you know the story of, healed and barely there; though you still make it a habit to leave kiss on its surface just because.

Real, is defined as the arguments that come and go; sometimes big, sometimes small, but always resolved long before the sun would set. Backs that are never turned from each other when the time came to sleep, because he knows sleep would never find you well unless his forehead was pressed against yours.

Real, like the keys on his hand and the wood floors of what you both would eventually call your forever home. The proof of the years that’s passed etched into the photographs within the first few pages of an album, while the spaces after it are left blank for the purpose of storing the memories of the years that are sure to come.

For now it’s just Atsumu’s fluffy slippers next to yours, and one framed photo of the two of you hung lopsided by the door because he insisted on hanging it up as soon as he entered, but it fits. Little by little the house that was just on the market a few weeks ago is beginning to feel like home.

“So this is it,” you say this time, because it truly is.

You cross the room and settle with standing beside him, his shoulder beside yours, in his eyes a hello. Atsumu smiles at you, then at the lopsided frame before he drops the keys on the makeshift bowl he found in the back of his car. He smirked at his discovery, and to be fair you did too—even though you knew it was something he swiped from his brother’s restaurant just a few days ago.

But it fits right in, you think.

A little black bowl with the familiar logo inked on the side, placed on top of one of the boxes that were sealed shut from the place it left with the intention to be opened within the walls of a new home. A forever home.

Something in his heart bursts at the realizations that something as little as opening boxes and hanging picture frames is what turns a house into a home.

“Do you see it?” he asks you in a sudden, his voice tender.

You hum out the voice of your curiosity, quirking an eyebrow in his direction as you turn to face him.

“See, it?” you question, when Atsumu decides to keep his silence.

He turns to you, flashing you a quick grin before he pads to the center of the room, hands on his waist as he continues to stare at the framed photograph that still is hanging crooked on the wall. But it fits, the voice in your head says, and in a way you suppose that it really does.

Imperfections within a love that feels perfect. Atsumu’s black roots coming in again, and the tag of his shirt poking out from his back. Your keychain with the little pizza man missing half an arm, but you keep it anyway because it was Atsumu’s first gift to you all those years ago. His pants fitting him just right, but the zipper of his fly halfway opened.

You snicker when he groans at you pointing it out, but he thinks that the sound of your laughter makes this house feel even more like home.

“I really see it, Ains,” he tells you again after a moment shared in laughter. The happiness that trails from it lingers, like it’s always done, and the word forever feels even more real.

He holds his hand out for you to take when you walk towards him, feet bare under the cool wooden floors, and he’s smiling. Atsumu’s more than in love, and he’s smiling because your hand snug against his feels like that puzzle piece that finally pieces the whole picture together.

You look at him, bathing in the comfort of the silence plus his few words; just the sounds of his breathing and the life that continues to move outside sounding like music instead of noise.

Atsumu pulls you towards him, spins you in the way that has you laughing at the silliness of it all, before he pulls you back again, your back to his chest, his chin on your shoulder. The crooked frame stares back at you, the two faces captured within it smiling, so you do the same.

“I see us here,” he begins.

“Ten days, and the boxes will be half emptied out. The couch will probably come in and maybe some more furniture, but we’ll have somewhere to sit,” he continues, and so the smile on your face remains.

“Ten months and the plant that Samu gave us will probably be dead,” he laughs, which prompts you into doing the same, your hands quick to give his arm that’s locked around your waist a little squeeze.

“That’s on you if you don’t water it,” you snort, craning your neck to face him and reaching up to pinch his cheek.

He rolls his eyes, gives you a laugh that sounds like all the sounds of love—of real love, before spins you again, first repositioning your hands so they rest on his shoulder while his settle on the dip of your waist.

“Then ten years later, I see little versions of me running around here,” Atsumu laughs, his eyes crinkling.

“Why versions of you?” you rebut with a laugh, reaching up to run your fingers through the strands of bleach blonde and black on the back of his head. “Why not me?”

Atsumu pokes out his tongue, puffing his chest out as he says, “Obviously me, because my better genes are superior.”

In exaggerated dramatics, you sigh, thumb reaching out to rub at the skin on his nape. He leans in, as if it’s a reflex, and you smile at the way everything just slides into place with each other.

“The Miya genes really are good right?” you sigh. “Should have gotten with Samu though,” you continue, looking away with an exaggerated huff. “He always was the cuter twin.”

Atsumu makes a show of pinching your sides, though only soft enough just to kick start a laughing fit. “Oi.”

You poke his cheek, leaning up then forward to press a kiss on the tips of his nose. “I see us too,” you say.”

“But it’s more like I see you every day. I see you leaving a sock there, and throwing your underwear three feet away from the laundry basket, and your bajillion cups of pudding in the fridge.”

Atsumu smiles, because he knows that love can be this too.

“I see us tonight,” he says. “Probably sitting on the floor because the furniture’s not here yet, and you’ll be picking out the vegetables in the pizza and putting it on my plate instead.”

“It wouldn’t happen if you just got the damn meat lover’s special,” you comment with a laugh.

“But it still works right?” He asks, pinching yours sides again. “We always have a way of working out right?”

You think about the road the both of you walked to on your own before you got here. The movie nights under the blankets, where if anything it was just you accompanying him so he could watch replays before a game. Atsumu’s laughter that booms before it echoes as if it’s screamed, then placed in contrast next to how he loves in silence, and gentleness.

“We always work, Tsumu,” you reassure. “That’s why we’re here now.”

“—because we’ll still be here ten years later,” he finishes for you, and you smile.

You suppose you can’t disagree with that; more than anyone—you see your world ten years later with him too.