#this is from before i changed my lining pen. sighs wistfully

[doodleduds]

skyrim oc doodle. hi everyone

[andsheloved]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝟐

pairing ~ loki x f!reader

word count ~ 6.3k

chapter summary ~ loki has a proposal.

chapter warnings ~ minor angst, mobius and reader are still besties for now, slight manipulative behavior (??), thoughts of self doubt, loki series spoilers, some use of loki dialogue, minor second hand embarrassment because of mobius (i get very embarrassed very easily so this may not be a real warning but just in case), mention of migraines, discussion of religion and depictions of the devil.

a/n ~ part 2!! exciting!! things are very much about to get spicier for these three, and i was very much debating posting this so soon after part 1, but i just think this part gives a bit more context to the rest of the series, so hopefully you all enjoy this!! so without further ado, here we go!!

"I'll come and get you if I need you, okay?"

You grumbled to yourself, rolling your eyes as you thought back to his abrupt change in attitude.

Mobius never left you behind. That was just how it was. Even if he really did you think you needed to take a break, he would still have you tag along while he did whatever needed to be done.

Had Ravonna said something? Or did Mobius just think that you couldn't handle it anymore?

You sighed, throwing your head in your hands as your elbows rested on the stacks of paperwork that cluttered your desk.

"Hey."

You swiveled in your chair, spinning to find Mobius standing behind you

"Wanna break?"

"Finished already?" You quipped, folding your arms across your chest.

He sighed, probably sensing your obvious frustration with him. "Look, I'm sorry, I just don't want-" He paused for a moment before groaning, clearly irritated with himself as he tried to find the words. "I know how he is, and not to toot my own horn, but probably better than anyone else here, and I just don't want him getting too close to you."

"Think he's a bad influence?" You deadpanned, spinning back around in your chair and continuing to check boxes off mindlessly.

"Well, yeah, actually."

You hummed in response, still keeping your back turned to him.

Your name sounded almost pained coming from him, the pout was palpable in his tone and you smirked. Good. A taste of his own medicine.

"I'm sorry."

No matter how much you tried, your resolve always seemed to crumble around him. At the end of everything, above all, he would still be your friend.

"It's okay." You finally caved, turning in your chair as you smiled.

"No, it's not."

You furrowed your brow at his sudden shift in attitude.

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he continued, "It's not okay. I shouldn't have left you without saying anything-"

"Mobius, really, it's oka-"

He sighed your name, "You're my best friend." He huffed, his features softening as he took a deep, steadying breath, "This- He's," He corrected himself, "Dangerous, and the last thing I'd want is for you to get hurt because I decided to string you along."

You tossed the pen you had been holding haphazardly onto your desk, reaching out for his hands as you looked up at him. "I promise, I wouldn't be following you around if I thought I'd be getting hurt."

"I know, but-"

"Mobius. I'm not leaving you on this one."

He closed his eyes, the creases between his eyebrows becoming more defined as he reluctantly surrendered, nodding his head. "You're too good to me."

His eyes drifted from your face as he spoke, trailing down your arms and onto your interlocked hands. He squeezed them, his gaze locked on them as he smiled wistfully. "Don't know what I'd do without you." He whispered.

You could tell just from how his eyes became just the slightest bit glassier, that his mind was somewhere else. "Well," You acknowledged, knowing that if you kept him waiting in silence for too long, his own thoughts would probably end up spiraling before you could even get a word in, "It's a good thing that'll never happen."

"Yeah..." He finally looked up at you, "Good thing."

You sighed as you tried to shake the strange weight that suddenly fell in the atmosphere around the two of you. "Are you offering a Josta with that break?"

"When am I not?" He smiled, his shoulders slumping as a faint smile replaced his frown.

You shot up from your chair, playfully shouldering past him in the direction of the cafeteria.

It was in times like these when you missed the days when the biggest thing that either of you worried about was who was going to get to the cafeteria first.

A feeling of warmth washed over you when you finally stepped through the threshold to the large seating area. You had to stifle the appreciative groan that threatened to leave you at the sight of how empty it was, with only a few agents sprinkled in various corners.

Of course Loki had chosen to sit himself at a table situated almost directly in the center of the room, he looked so oddly relaxed for someone in his situation, a soft smile on his lips, his body lazily slumped in the chair as he waved to you both.

The grating sound of Mobius scooting a chair from another table to yours made you wince.

"Sorry!" He whispered, turning his head to either side as if to apologize to the other agents.

"Thanks." You mumbled, chuckling at his antics as you settled beside each other. "How are things going?" You asked, shifting to get more comfortable in the awkward, plastic seat.

"Loki's proving to be a little more useful than I thought."

"Proving?" Loki interrupted jokingly, "So now I have to prove myself to you now?"

"Thought you liked being a showoff?"

"Only when I'm trying to impress." Loki purred, and you noticed how Mobius suddenly adjusted himself, sitting up straighter in his chair.

You watched how his mouth opened slightly, the soft wrinkles on his forehead creasing even more as he stared back at Loki, a specific brand of defensive animosity in his glare that you weren't sure if you had ever seen before.

You found yourself laughing at nothing, doing your best to break the almost painful silence that had lodged itself into your conversation.

Today had been stressful for everyone, you tried to brush off his behavior, that's all it was.

"You better hide your magazines Mobius" You mumbled, trying not to visibly cringe as your attempt to break the ice.

You took a deep breath as you watched him deflate, turning to face you as he smiled softly.

"Why do you have those, by the way?" Loki asked, the remnants of a smirk still ghosting his features. "The Jetski magazines."

Mobius laughed before replying simply, "Because they're awesome."

Loki huffed, and a flood of relief rushed into your lungs as he smiled, "I suppose they are."

"You know, somethings, actually, most things in history are kinda dumb and everything gets ruined eventually. But, in the early 1990's, for a brief, shining moment, there was a beautiful union of form, and function" He raised his hands, gesturing to both sides of him before pointing to himself, "Which we call, the Jetski."

It was nice to see him like this, with the weight of the world lifting off of him for a moment, giving him room to breathe and just exist.

"Either of you ever been on one?"

You both shook your heads, Mobius humming affectionately at the dismally hopeful idea of one day being able to.

"I think an Analyst popping up on a Jetski in the Bahamas would create kind of a big branch." You added.

"But it'd be fun though." Loki answered quickly, "So, why just read about them?"

"I don't know..." Mobius sighed, "Helps remind me of what we're fighting for."

"And what is that, exactly?" Loki cocked his brows at the both of you, his self-assured grin returning.

"This." Mobius glanced around, his eyes lingering on you as he continued, "The timeline. The Timekeepers. Us. That's just what we do."

You smiled, your head tilting slightly as you watched how Loki's eyes flickered between the two of you.

"How long have you two known each other?"

"Too long," Mobius groaned affectionately, "Ever since she showed up I haven't been able to shake her."

You gasped playfully, "I think I remember you coming up to my desk."

"Well I'm pretty sure your head was gonna explode if I didn't!"

"Contrary to popular belief, Mobius, I can handle myself without you."

"I know you can..." He grumbled, "Don't know if I could though."

"You probably would have disintegrated that little girl in the market if she had run into you." Loki added, his nose scrunching as he leaned in, squinting as if he were studying the both of you.

"You really think so?"

You raised your arms in mock surrender, "I didn't say it."

"All I'm saying is that I'm thankful she bumped into you instead." Loki clarified, gesturing to you.

Mobius chuckled, turning to you "Hey, what did she say to you anyway?"

"Ah, yes, please indulge Mobius here in the thrilling details of that conversation." Loki droned.

"Hey!" You exclaimed playfully, "I thought it was cute!"

"Well, if you consider shattering the dreams of a child is adorable, I suppose so."

You laughed, and for the first time in a long time, it felt genuine. Not some calculated, professional chuckle in front of Ravonna, nor was it some water-cooler small talk giggle for whatever coworker you hadn't spoken to more than twice. It was laughter, real and genuine and free.

"That has to be, the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." Loki suddenly declared.

"What?" You stammered as you gathered your breath.

"Your laugh," He chuckled, "It's absurd!"

You feigned an exaggerated gasp before replying, "I think my laugh is perfectly fine, thank you very much. Do people not laugh in Asgard?"

"No," He exhaled, "At least, not like that." He grinned mischievously, waiting for you to take the bait.

"Like what?" You surrendered.

"Like that. Like you aren't waiting for some God to smite you where you stand." He sighed, smiling, "Free."

You swallowed, suddenly overcome with the urge to cower under the intensity of his stare.

It wasn't that he was burning holes into your skull, not like his stint in the time theater during the first time you two had properly met, it was a different sort of intensity. One that made a timid smile turn the corners of your lips, and one that you discovered you didn't mind all that much.

"What'd she say?" Mobius finally interjected, and you noticed the slight strain in his voice as he spoke.

A silent "Oh" Fell from you before you finally answered his question, "She asked if one of you was my prince."

Mobius let out a hushed, amused hum, "What'd you say?"

"I told her she would have to ask you herself."

"Oh!" Mobius blurted abruptly, "You really are a dream-crusher aren't you!"

"I am not!" You exclaimed playfully.

"Now she'll never know if one of us is your prince!"

"That's exactly what I said." Loki added knowingly.

The three of you found yourself trapped in a fit of laughter, bouncing comments of off each other until you were loosing your breath. You wondered if you had ever laughed that hard in your life, it felt nice, not to be chained to a desk for a moment, to just exist without the looming cloud of endless paperwork or the inevitable scolding from Ravonna.

It was joy, but not only that, it was joy on your terms.

It wasn't some feigned celebration for a coworkers birthday, nor was it some champagne popping 'case-closed' party.

It was yours.

Shared smiles and jokes between only you and Loki and Mobius.

No one else's.

"Little girl..." Mobius finally whispered, sighing and wiping his eyes of stray giggle-induced tears.

You hummed as a comfortable silence settled over the room.

Calm was a rare occurrence these days, so for a moment, you all just soaked it in, with only soft sighs and hushed shuffling exchanged between the three of you.

Mobius suddenly lifted his chin, hands pressing off of the table as he shot up from his seat, "You're very clever" Was all the indication he gave either of you before leaving.

You groaned, already feeling nostalgic over the few seconds peace and quiet that had passed before you were forced to chase after him again.

It seemed that Loki shared your grievance. "I suppose that's our cue then?"

There was another few beats of silence before you sighed, "I guess so."

You begrudgingly tore yourself from your seat, your feet feeling as if someone had trapped them in cement blocks as you trudged after Mobius.

You were honestly surprised that Loki hadn't just decided to rush past you in all your overworked and under-slept dreariness, though you couldn't say you minded the company as Mobius' silhouette became increasingly obscured.

"Seems to me you're always chasing after him." He mumbled.

You sighed, "He just gets excited."

"And does his incessant excitement always end with you trailing behind?"

"Loki." You paused, your fists clenching by your sides as you huffed, you were tired, the beginnings of a migraine already setting in, all you wanted was for this day to end and for you to finally get a break, a real break. The last thing you needed while you found yourself rushing after Mobius again was a new line of derisive questioning from someone you probably should have been interrogating yourself. "This is my job. He runs off to chase whatever new hunch he has, and I follow him-" You hated how weak your voice sounded, but you decided to blame it on your fatigue for now, "That's just the way things work."

You watched him, waiting for his next sarcastic remark, but nothing came. Instead, he just tilted his head, his eyes calculating as he gazed back at you.

You opened your mouth slightly, already preparing for him to respond with some mocking tirade about how sheepish and foolish you were, but you found your jaw dropping entirely at the answer he gave you.

"Shame, you'd work so well on your own."

He didn't even give you a moment to process his response before he continued.

"We better catch up then, wouldn't want him to think you've ran off with me." He winked.

He was already ahead of you before you could stop him.

You shook yourself from your own stupor as you caught up to him, your mind was racing with a million thoughts and questions all at once, though you couldn't find the energy to voice any of them.

At least for now.

You knew that even if you tried to push any of them back into that deep, hidden part of your brain, you knew that the dreaded, loathsome part of the night would somehow find a way to unlock them and allow them to roam free in your subconscious anyways.

Though you couldn't say you really dreaded all the ideas that Loki had now placed in your head.

Even now as he walked beside you, with every turn you took, he was still right there with you, like he knew every change in your pace before you even took another step.

He spoke as if he knew you.

And maybe in some strange way, he did.

You'd heard his story before, too many times to count, and after hearing it so many times, you sort of felt for him.

He had so much power, so much potential, yet he always seemed relegated to the side, written off as nothing more than someone else's plot device.

You always hated how Ravonna referenced to Loki whenever Mobius brought any of his variants into the conversation. An evil, lying, scourge. In a way, you supposed you oddly always saw a part of yourself in him.

Didn't everyone just want a chance to prove themselves?

You never thought that candy of all things would be the missing puzzle piece in the seemingly endless hunt for the variant, but you couldn't say you were that surprised. Stranger things had happened in your office.

"We are doing some good work today." Mobius chimed enthusiastically, once again leaving Loki and yourself to rush behind him as he hurried to his locker.

"I thought so too." Loki smiled, looking over to you for a brief moment before continuing, "I think we make quite the team."

You didn't have a second to understand what he may have actually meant by that before Mobius interrupted.

"I'm telling you, if you actually help us catch this variant? Who knows, my friend."

It was odd, seeing someone go from a prisoner to your colleague so quickly, and as he leaned casually on the concrete wall, the regulation TVA jacket collar popped just so, you discovered you didn't mind a little but more chaos in your workplace.

"Gather 'round for a briefing!" Another hunter called, and you groaned, finding yourself falling back into the same tedium that you had grown so accustom to.

You stood sandwiched between both men as the woman spoke.

"Roxxcart is a vast superstore common to the era. It consists of a series of sprawling sections, including a large warehouse. This warehouse is being used by civilians as a shelter to ride out the storm..."

"Is she always so enthusiastic?" Loki leaned into you, whispering.

It was too late to muffle the intrusive chortle that escaped you at his comment before everyone in the room immediately turned to you.

The woman didn't bother looking to you though, her menacing stare locking immediately onto Loki.

"Are you taking any of this seriously?" She seethed, her eyes squinting menacingly as she threatened him. "Or is this all just another game to you?" She huffed, "Units are being killed." She turned back to the rest of the group before continuing, "If you see a Loki. Prune it." She stated plainly, before walking to the small area behind her, presumably beginning to type the location's coordinates into her Tempad.

The rest of the group stood still, and you could tell it wasn't just you that seemed shaken by her abruptness.

"The bad one. Preferably." Loki smirked, earning a few more aggressive glares from the other hunters.

You could hear the exasperated sigh that came from Mobius before he spoke, "C'mon" He whispered to you, placing his hand on your lower back as he led you over to the glowing, orange portals that had quickly appeared near the front of the room.

Your lips drew into a thin line. You supposed you appreciated the sentiment, he probably noticed you were tired, he probably just wanted to look out for you.

But you couldn't deny the suave, sinister whisper that crept to the forefront of your mind.

"I didn't take you for a sidekick."

You stepped out into the rain, wincing at the sudden temperature drop as you quickly pulled up the hood of your rain jacket in a pointless attempt in shielding yourself from the downpour.

You looked to your side, watching as Loki turned, looking above him as another flash of thunder cracked against the grey, cavernous sky.

"Looking for someone?" You called out, raising your voice to compensate for the boisterous sound of the storm surrounding you.

You noticed the faint smile that crept onto his lips, the dim, flickering lights of the massive ROXXCART lettering reflecting in his eyes as you passed under it.

He smirked, a small huff escaping him, "How'd you know?"

The automatic doors opened with a soft, mechanical whirr. You were amazed in yourself that you were able to hear anything over the deafening sound of your own heartbeat.

You weren't a field agent, this wasn't what you did.

Most days, you were stuck behind a desk, filling out paperwork until your hands cramped. When you did go out onto the timeline, it was always during the after. All damage had already been done, you and Mobius were usually just picking up the pieces of whatever had been left behind.

You couldn't deny it was exciting though, feeling the adrenaline that pumped through your veins like it was electricity shooting through you.

But all of that didn't take away from the undercurrent of fear that licked at you, the feeling like being inches from an open flame that threatened to consume you if you got too close.

You were suddenly blinded by a green flash, and in seconds, you watched as Loki dried himself. He looked to you with a smirk.

You had almost forgotten.

His magic was back.

But before you could think too much of what that entailed, the echo of another clash of thunder seemed to shake every item in the store.

The hunter from before, who you now noticed her number from her vest, B-15, began ordering the rest of the hunters, sending them to various parts of the store before Mobius spoke up.

"We're gonna go check out the greenhouse-"

"Loki's coming with me." B-15 hissed, her tone was stern and unwavering as she continued, not allowing any room for Mobius to defend himself. "You two are fine to go to the greenhouse, but he stays with me."

"What are you-" Mobius stumbled over his words in his flustered state, "He's under my supervision."

"This is my field-op Mobius, and so far, if he's proved anything, its that he need a tighter leash. If he's not a threat than it won't be a problem."

"Of course he's a threat! Do you not remember the time theater? That's exactly why I want him with us!"

"So he can walk all over you?"

"Walk all- Are you kidding?-"

"Than he can come with me." The words fell from you before you even had a moment to think about them, "If you don't trust Mobius." You looked back to the two men and their matching astonished expressions. "Trust me."

B-15 sighed, her eyebrows raised as she looked at you, no, scanned you, as if looking for any weakness in your resolve.

"Why?" Her answer sounded more like a challenge more than a question, but still, you persisted.

You swallowed, steadying yourself, "Because, I'm not friends with Ravonna. If anything does happen, I have everything to lose." You felt yourself cringe at the very thought, but if that was what it would take for them to finally entrust you with more responsibility, you thought, than so be it.

Mobius whispered your name and you could hear the desperation in his voice, his unspoken discomfort clear in his tone.

This was your chance, to have something more. To be something more.

The largest responsibility you had ever been tasked with was running paperwork to another department.

Your brows furrowed, a partial smile on your lips in a desperate, silent plea.

Her groan was exasperated, almost disappointed, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about that when she finally answered you.

"Fine."

You suppressed the enthused cheer that threatened to escape you, settling for a dull, "Thank you." For now as you turned to Mobius.

"Don't do this." He whispered, his hand reaching out for yours.

You gave him a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting his hand go as you nodded, "I'll be fine. I promise."

"I'm serious. It's not like we're back there," He sighed, "I'm almost fine with B-15 taking him as long as that means you don't."

"And I'm serious, Mobius, I can do this."

He groaned, running a hand through his short hair, "You have nothing to prove here. I'm asking you to do this for me, or- to not do this for me. When have I ever asked you to do something for me? Just this one time, let this one go."

Suddenly, a new feeling replaced the joy that you had been basking in just moments ago from finally being trusted to look after Loki. It was jarring, something you didn't think you had ever felt towards Mobius, yet regardless, it was happening now.

"When am I not doing things for you." You spat, and you had to suppress the sharp gasp that almost left you as you watched Mobius's face fall. It was too late to pluck the words from the air, but you found that you didn't want to. They were true, and as much as it hurt you to finally voice them, there was also a sensation of reprieve that came from the small outburst. "Mobius, I'm sorry," You continued, "But this is my chance to show them I can actually do something."

"You-"

"Other than just run files." You grumbled, cutting him off before he had a chance to speak, "Please, let me have this. That's all I'm asking."

The both of you whipped your heads to face Loki when he broke interrupted your shared bubble of conversation.

"You can trust me." He inched closer to the two of you, "And I understand, I need to earn that." He nodded softly to Mobius before he shifted closer to your side. "And if you don't believe me, at the very least, trust her."

You kept your eyes on Mobius as you waited patiently for his answer. You noticed how his gaze quickly switched to Loki's before returning to you.

"I'll be fine." You repeated.

A hesitant, disgruntled smile appeared on his lips, "You always say that."

"And I'm always right." You smiled, doing your best to comfort him.

He sighed, shaking his head, he knew you better than to think you'd give up on this so easily. "For all time?"

"Always."

There was a second where he closed his eyes, his lips drawn into a thin line before his lids fluttered open again. "Just call me if anything happens, okay? I'll be right there."

You nodded, and with that, he was leaving you, turning to look over his shoulder one final time before he disappeared behind one of the many shelving units that littered the warehouse.

It was just you and Loki now.

You muttered a quick "C'mon" as you started your journey to the greenhouse, silently wandering through the never-ending aisles.

You didn't know what you had expected, maybe you had overestimated the responsibility of watching over Loki. He hadn't done anything but walk beside you, occasionally commenting on the ridiculousness of a product here and there, but other than that, you discovered an element of dullness that you hadn't expected from the God of Mischief.

“So, how long have you been with the T.V.A?” He finally spoke, and you could already feel the smug half-smile in his cadence alone, bitterly emphasizing each letter of the acronym.

“I’m not sure,” You sighed, “Too long, probably.”

Loki hummed at first in response, before another question fell from his lips “Do you like it?”

It was a simple question, but was it? You always liked the idea of how you had a larger part in the universe, to know that you were just a small part in the fight to preserve what has been and what always will be. You liked working with Mobius, that was for sure, and even if you hated every moment of every daily cycle, you still weren’t sure you’d be able to say that you entirely despised it. Even during your worst moments, Mobius showed you how there were glimmers of hope in the monotony, there always was.

It was only until Loki continued that you realized how you had never even responded to his question, “I see.”

But maybe you already gave him your answer.

“Doesn’t it get… Tiring? The complete order of things?” He added, he sounded disgusted even just talking about anything related your work, and it made you laugh.

“What?” He playfully questioned your amusement.

You finally turned to him, and for the first time since you’ve come to know him, he was smiling, actually smiling. It wasn’t some conniving, wicked, villainous smile, it was warm and real, but most of all, unexpected.

“Nothing, it’s just that you seem so excited and totally on board with the TVA” You mocked.

“Ah, I’ve been found out” He deadpanned, “I just don’t understand how someone as clearly intelligent as you could just… Blindly follow three space lizards who you have never even met, might I add.”

You both mindlessly rounded another aisle, the point of your mission would have almost been entirely forgotten if it weren’t for the sounds of the other agents scrounging around the store.

“Well,” You sighed, “People have done less for more.”

His response was biting, his words coming out faster than you could barely finish your own sentence, “Don’t you ever wonder what else is out there in the universe? You can’t be content with just this.”

Your answer came quickly, almost too quickly for your own liking, as if the answer had been sitting in the back of your mind only waiting for someone to question your contentment. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because we both know you’re not.”

There was a pregnant pause, the silence only being filled with your joint footsteps and sounds of guards shuffling around the other aisles.

“I know, that you’re not.” He continued.

You wanted to argue, to retaliate with some clever quip so you both would forget the weight of his words, but you couldn’t. Not only that, but you found that you didn’t want to. You turned to face him again, there was no smirk this time, no air self assured smugness, his features read of nothing but absolute certainty and awareness, as if that even without your verbal confirmation, he knew he was right.

He let out a soft hum as he looked back at you, it was more of a sideways glance, but you were positive he had already seen the deer-in-headlights expression that was surely written all over your face.

Suddenly, he stopped walking, and you had to catch yourself from almost tripping over your own feet when he paused as you turned back at him, your brows furrowed in confusion.

Your name tumbled from his lips easily, too easily, you thought, before he continued, “I have a proposal.”

You could feel your own heartbeat in your throat as you both stood across from each other, like a scene from one of those Western films Mobius would occasionally bring back from missions.

Your throat was dry in anticipation, any other agent probably would have restrained him by now, you knew you probably should have been.

You probably would have if he wasn't looking so intently at you.

His gaze was fierce, unmoving as he studied you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

Even as his eyes heated you from the inside out, you stood frozen, your feet firmly planted to the ground as if they had been glued to the spot.

He let out a barely audible hum before continuing, "You want something more than just this, yes?"

Your lips were now drawn into a thin line of frustration, "I never said that."

"Didn't you?"

There was a weighted moment of quiet between the two of you as a surge of warmth flooded your senses, you hated this. You hated how he cocked his eyebrow at you, you hated the sarcastic, knowing smirk that slowly turned the corner of his lips. You hated how even when you were supposed to be in control, it still felt as if he held all the power.

There was a flicker of realization in your spiraling thoughts, behind all the anxiety and doubt he had planted in your mind, you understood now what Mobius had warned you about.

With all of his dark hair and charm, and even in the emblazoned jacket he reluctantly donned, he was a predator, and no amount of reform would ever change that fact.

You thought that maybe if you squinted, if you blurred your vision just enough, you would be able to see the glint of fangs, or maybe even the shine of polished claws slowly reaching towards you, ready to trap and smother you until you finally gave in.

Prey. That's all you were.

But even Red Riding Hood made mistakes.

"Okay..." Even though you never even gave him a full admission, he smiled.

That was all he needed, your unspoken surrender.

"I need a reason for them to trust me..." He crooned, sauntering closer to you with every word.

"What..?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze paralyzing as he began to circle you.

Like a hawk, you thought.

"They all trust you, so what better way to get them on my side than to..." He purred, and you watched in a mixture of awe and horror as his expression slowly turned, a devilish smile growing on his lips before he finished. "Associate."

You breath hitched in your throat, though you'd be lying if you didn't feel an embarrassing rush of heat flood your cheeks at his implication.

"You're assigned to Mobius." You managed to sputter, opting now to just look straight ahead into the endless stretch of store in an attempt to avoid him entirely, "I'm just- I'm helping out."

He chuckled, though the sound was anything but benevolent. His ominous laughter seemed to bounce off of every wall in the store, each rumble through his chest making you almost wince.

"So consider this just that. Helping out. And in turn, maybe I can help you."

You shook your head to yourself, trying to throw off the sudden, magnetic excitement that seemed to grow just a little bit more with every passing moment.

He has his magic back, he's probably just-

"No tricks, no magic," He smirked, "Just an invitation, of sorts."

"What is it?" You couldn't deny that he had sparked your interest, no matter how steeped in deceit the situation may have been.

"You, are clearly tired of your station and all the... Monotony, that comes with it, even though you may still act as if you enjoy your time here. And I need for them to trust me."

You let out a soft groan of resentment, though you knew were already past the point of protesting his seduction. "And what does that have to do with me?" This time, you didn't even make an effort to hide the slight tremble in your tone, you were sure he already knew what effect he was having on you anyways.

"Be with me." He abruptly answered.

"What?" Your voice was a strained whisper as you tried your best not to bring any more attention to the two of you, hoping that Mobius and the other hunters were too preoccupied to notice how Loki and yourself had just stopped in the middle of an aisle.

"They'll finally see that you're not just some blinded TVA devout, and in turn, understand that I'm not just a useless variant only waiting to be disintegrated."

Your mind was spinning, your thoughts bouncing between baffled realization and even more confusion as you tried to wrap your head around what he was asking of you.

And for what you realized to be for the countless time this night, it seemed as if he had read your mind.

"I'm asking you to get involved with me..."

He must have seen the look of utter bewilderment that was surely written all over your features, and after a deep, exasperated breath, he finally confirmed your suspicions.

"...Romantically."

There was no stifling the muted gasp that escaped you. "What?"

"Don't act so thrilled, it doesn't have to be legitimate."

"No, but-" You huffed, gathering your thoughts before continuing, "What makes you think they're going to trust you more with me?"

He hummed, and you watched how his heated stare traveled to your shoes, examining every inch of you, his eyes darting across your form until his analytical glare met your own more hesitant one. It felt as if he was melting you from the inside with just a look, and the smug, wicked sneer that suddenly appeared on his lips told you that he knew that fact just as well as you.

"I think you underestimate yourself, my sweet."

The epithet rolled off his tongue too comfortably, too effortlessly, to the point at which you thought that maybe if you were a bystander, you would've thought he had already called you that hundreds of times.

You should've hated it.

But the only thing you found disdaining was the fact that you didn't.

"They put more faith in you than you realize."

You cocked your eyebrow at him in response, sighing "I think you've got the wrong Analyst."

"I don't believe you understand..." He stepped closer to you, only stopping until his face was inches from your own. "I think I have just the right one."

You found your eyes wandering to his tie, the proximity making you squirm.

"What-" You swallowed, "What do you want?"

"You."

Your eyes immediately flickered to his.

You wondered how he did it, how his eyes could remain so calm and kind, you'd even dare to say that they were inviting, even while his lips still turned into that wicked smirk that had your stomach sinking.

"You know, working together, flirting, getting to know each other in public... Make them trust me."

You could see his angle, how associating himself with Mobius's little do-gooder would benefit how everyone saw him. What you didn't understand though, was how this would help you at all.

"And what about me?" You gathered the strength to finally look at him directly, and you couldn't help but preen a little at his approving hum as you did. "What do I get from this?"

"They'll see you."

If your muscles weren't already frozen stiff before, they were petrified now.

You had traveled across every continent and universe, you'd experienced almost every culture that there was to experience, you had admired every religion that could ever be worshiped, and one detail that always seemed to span them all, was the devil.

Beelzebub. Satan. Mephistopheles. Lucifer. At the end of the day, they were all the same.

Horns and lies and mischief.

But as Loki looked back at you now, you were certain there was one element that all those stories left out.

The devil never looked this tempting.

"You wouldn't just be Mobius' little pet anymore-"

"I'm not his-"

"I know that." He interrupted, "I know you aren't. But wouldn't it be fun to prove it to them? Hm? To show them what else you can do?.."

An abrupt wave of sadness washed over you at the thought, had you really not proved that to them already?

"What do I have to prove?" Your voice shook as his breath fanned across your cheek.

"That you can be more."

A gasp found itself lodged in your throat, blocking any oxygen from escaping your lungs.

The air around you was thick, heavy with not only his weighted acknowledgment of what you had once thought were your own private desires, though they didn't seem so private anymore, but a strange sort of irresistible tension. One that dared to pull you even closer to each other, despite the already existing intimacy.

"All you have to do is say yes. It's painless, really."

You noticed how his pitch-black pupils had now almost entirely absorbed his irises, his gaze so dark that you could almost see your own reflection in them.

Maybe Mobius had been right all along, maybe he was a bad influence.

But as he continued to watch you, his eyes fixed on yours as he waited for your answer, looking at you like he was preparing to eat you alive, you felt the last semblance of any logical thought fly from you.

As of right now, you only knew of two things.

One; If he continued looking at you like that, you were certain you'd burn alive from the inside out.

And two; Mobius wasn't here right now.

A third thought did come to mind, though you weren't sure if there was ever a moment during this whole night at which it wasn't there, whispering at you since you had first stepped through the automatic doors of the store.

"So, what will it be?"

His smooth voice flooded your senses, pulling you towards a cliff edge like a siren's song that grew louder and louder in each moment that passed, threatening to drop you over the ledge as you struggled against its grasp.

But you decided right then, you were done fighting it.

"Okay."

loki is. a sexy man. send tweet. he could really convince me to do anything and i'd say yes. anywaYS!!! i hope you all are enjoying the this series so far!! i know things just sort of kicked off for loki and his favorite analyst (it's you, you are his most favorite analyst :)) but i'm so excited to show you all where they go next!! mwauh!! thank you so so much for reading!!

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always, always appreciated!!

want more loki? check out my masterlist!!

or check out the perfect illusions masterlist!!

part 1 ⥈ part 3

[ta0ken]

LITTERA SCRIPTA MANET (the written letter lasts)

❝𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮❞ — atticus. 

have you ever felt what it was like to dream? to even vividly remember the dream? how does it feel; does it feel nice? you wonder and wonder, but the dreams are always there (only with a few changes). you're only reliving a dream.

                                                         in books, freedom →

TAPPING RESOUNDED THROUGHOUT THE ROOM, yet there's a silence that fills the room you sat in as well. It's noisy, yet it's not. It's quiet, yet it's not. It's contradictory, in your opinion, as you leaned onto your chin, resting it on your fist. You hummed, unsure of what would happen. A small huff left your lips, blowing out strands from your hair, continuously bothering you from your work (though, you weren't really working).

Your pen scattered dots all around your lined paper, yet nothing was written on it. "This isn't some connect the dots game..." you softly sighed to yourself, raising a brow at the paper, disappointed and obviously unamused.

Glancing out the window, you stared, watching the sun rays light up your dim-lit room. You closed your eyes, reminiscing the times you were in high school (were you?), not really having any friends, only focusing on smarts and academics, though you weren't weak.

Too bad you had gotten into too many fights that caused your school record to drop at the lowest of low.

The dreams you've had were weird. You, at first, thought that you had grown older, done different things, lived a different life, but all of those were dreams; lucid, but merely dreams (but they only occurred two times, so, perhaps they don't count). Your eyes scanned the dots once more, still unimpressed with what you've gotten. Head drooping down, you let out another sigh, one full of frustration and exhaustion - you wouldn't be able to write a poem at any rate, would you?

"Oh, how this wounds me," you said to yourself. "Woe is me, woe is me... I guess."

Leaning back in your seat, you stared at your ceiling, blinking. The ceiling remained the same, nothing had changed. Maybe, I can just write about dreams or something... Gah! I hate this... You sulked and sulked and sulked, but nothing would change the fact that you couldn't write anything—

Ah. Now you know why. Someone had been murdered, you remembered. Not someone you knew, but for some reason, you felt like you recognized the person who had murdered the random nobody. Still, you weren't sure, and it didn't matter.

"...Weird," you muttered, balancing a pen between your lips and nose. "Really weird."

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh, slowly sinking into your seat without a care. You felt tired, and you didn’t want to do any more work, though you weren’t doing any work anyway.

“Oi, [Name]!”

Your eyes open, and you blink. Slowly taking the pen between your lips and nose, you stare at the ceiling that shouldn’t have changed, yet it did. You slowly lower your head, still blinking, and looked at the person in front of you that had long hair, yellow eyes, and sharp teeth (though, that was his original appearance; the one you weren’t used to seeing).

”…Baji,” you acknowledge, expression forming into one of boredom. “What do you need, more tutor lessons?”

He gives you a scowl, before grinning, jutting his thumb behind him, exclaiming, “Nah, I wanted to hang out with ya. Me, you, and the others!”

A grim expression replaces your bored one, and you wave your hand in the air, other hand in your pocket. Leaning back into your seat, you twirl the pen in your hands, and you simply tell him, “No.” You didn’t want to hang out; there was no need to. “We’re not friends, Baji; I’m only your tutor, or whatever.” You ignore the feeling that this wasn’t a dream (but you wished it was).

The boy lets out a breath, crossing his arms. “Man… You’re a guy, ya know that?”

”I… I’d hope I’m a guy—“

”That’s not what I meant!” he barks. He turns his head, a frown appearing on his face. Upon your expression, he frowns even more. “Listen, I’m only asking you anyway because of you helping me out with school and shit.”

Your hand twitches and your brow furrows, a crease forming. This scene feels like it’s repeating, going on and on and on and on—why? You didn’t realize you were staring at him, until he waves a hand in your face, obviously impatient. “…Uh,” you blink, “sorry—No, I don’t… want to go.”

A small huff.

You only shrug in response, slowly getting up from your seat. You glance down at the floor, noticing your bag beside the leg of the chair. Why? You stare at it with narrowed eyes, distressed, but you hid it; the boy before you didn’t need to know what was happening, anyway. Grabbing your bag, you slung it across your shoulder, sparing Baji a glance. “…Why are you still here?” you ask, raising a brow, “Don’t you have your gang to go to?”

“Anyway, I’m going home. Bye,” you mutter, shuffling past the long-haired boy.

✎______

“You’re very selfish, Baji.”

”Huh? And you’re acting like you’re not?”

You rest your chin on your hand, lips in a thin line. You were with Baji and Chifuyu, who was technically his underclassmen, but he got held back a lot of times. You cock your head to the side, slowly gazing over towards the blonde, “How d’you manage to hang out with him? He’s a brute.”

”The hell did you say?!” Baji’s hand slams down onto the table booth you all sat at, glaring at you. “I’m no brute!”

You give him a blank stare. “…I can assume that your ma said you were a ‘handsome fellow’ or somethin’?”

Chifuyu coughs at that, hiding his snort. “C’mon, [Name], do you really think a guy like him is handsome?” He has a grin on his face, leaning back into his own seat, amused by the bickering (or maybe exhausted, who knows?).

You raise a brow, glancing over at Baji, who was fuming. Rubbing your chin, you hum in thought. “He’s pretty…” you say, trailing off, ignoring the suspicious look from Chifuyu and the arrogant look from Baji, and continued, “…for a girl.”

”Wh- I’M NOT A GIRL!”

”PFFFT—“

You grin, amused. Leaning back into your seat, you look back up to the ceiling, the grin dropping slowly. As fun as it was, can this dream end? Your hand raised up towards your face, pinching it as hard as you could, but it only left a mark.

It left a mark.

You lower your head once more, eyes staring at the wooden table that seemed too polished for its own good, the light showing your reflection. You were back in your 15-year-old body, still in middle school, though it made no sense. Shifting, your eyes darted towards the other two, one older, one younger, and they seemed the same from middle school; laughing, smiling, joking around.

Your hand clenches, gripping your uniform pants.

”…Am I dreaming?” you whisper to yourself, “Is this nothing but a mere illusion, to hinder my dob- doubts—? Fuck.”

“Did you stumble over your words again, [Name]?” Baji teases, leaning over towards you.

Your face flushes red, and you narrow your eyes at him. “No,” you say indignantly, “I did nuh- not. I did, not.”

”But, you did, just now,” Chifuyu points out. “Right, Baji-san? He just stumbled over his words?”

”…I said—“

”No, yeah, he did.”

”I SAID I FUCKING DIDN’T—“

✎______ [Name] occasionally stumbles over his words, despite knowing so many. And he ends up getting mad over it.

You rest your head on the table, grumbling profanities. Despite being smart, despite all of this, you were still foul-mouthed, and you were still a ‘child.’ You muffle out a small, “One day, I’ll kill the both of you, just you wait.”

Baji lets out a snort, patting your back harshly, “Sure you will.”

“I will.”

Chifuyu nods sarcastically, finished with his noodles. “Yes, of course, you will.”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “Well, fuck you guys, too.” You glance over at the pair, before you looked away, not wanting to deal with them. But, you continued to pinch your arm, not caring about the pain, for you just wanted to go back to your regular life.

"Hey."

I want to go back. Let me be a poet, once more, you sigh wistfully, leaning onto your fist, zoning out. I need to be a poet, once more; I graduated, did I not? I did, I did, so then why, why can't I wake up?

"[Name]."

This is all a dream.

"[Name], wake up!"

You blink, eyes wide. Turning your head towards the pair, you stare for a few seconds, before blinking once more. "...Sorry, what?" you say with a smile, ignoring the aching pain in your arm now, "Did you need something? Or were you guys planning on bothering me again."

Chifuyu narrows his eyes at you, suspicious of how you were acting. "...No, you were just pinching your arm really hard and not saying anything about it," he remarks, crossing his arms. "Are you some sort of masochist?"

Baji raises a brow, checking you out as he leans forward, "...I wouldn't put it past him to be a masochist. He gives off that sort of vibe, you know?"

"Oi, what's that s'posed to mean?" you scowl, pushing yourself away from the two. "I'm no fuck—I'm not a masochist." Despite you saying all of that, Baji only laughs, hand ruffling your hair.

"...I hate you all."

"Sure you do."

✎______

You weren't sure if you had this feeling that you were going to insane or if you were lucid dreaming (it was probably both), but it was slowly getting to you. Each step felt like it was pulling you towards the ground, keeping you there from moving on, from trying to back to the present (or was it future?). But was it even the present if you're you now?

It didn't occur to you, that you were back in the past. Every dream, every time you close your eyes, every time you open your eyes, there's a new view.

But there were no views this time, as you stared, blankly wandering around on your own. Baji left to do his own thing, as did Chifuyu. You weren't sure what they were doing, but you didn't want to get involved with gang fights anyway.

Instead, you chose to go back to the store nearby your old apartment (well, technically, your current one, huh?). You haven't met the rest of the Toman members except for the 'Founding Members', but even then, you didn't want to join. They weren't your friends (well, in the past, you didn't consider them friends, but they probably considered you a friend), and you didn't want to be their friend.

Well, maybe you did.

It gets lonely, anyway. Having to repeat life over and over again, without knowing who's the cause (once you find out who's causing it, though...).

You look at the cashier, hands in your pockets as you slump over, eyes drooping due to exhaustion. You could feel yourself beginning to tire throughout the day, yet it was only the afternoon still, almost evening.

"Can I have one pack of cigarettes?"

✎______

You lean back against the wall, looking off into the distance, sighing. You had the pack of cigarettes in your hand, glancing around the area, putting a cancer stick in your mouth, letting it hang off from between your lips. Tilting your head, you let out a huff. You were only 15-years-old, yet you were originally 26-years-old at the start (or was it at the original? You weren't sure, too many things ran through your head, really).

Drip.

Ignoring the dripping sounds that slowly grew into pitter-patter, you didn't bother to light the cigarette, simply satisfied with the feeling of it on your lips. A small sigh was drawn out, your eyes gazing at the droplets of rain that splattered on the cement, sometimes getting onto your boots.

Drip drip drip drip drip drip drip—

Rubbing the back of your head, you glanced away, pushing yourself away from the wall. You begin to walk, not caring about the rain that made you damp, your hair flattening on your head. Ignoring it, you clench and unclench your fists, trying to still wake yourself up from this dream that seemed all too real (you wish you could wake up, but you never will).

You look up at the rain, humming, sometimes squinting due to the droplets hitting you straight in the eye. Your face twitches, but you shrug your shoulders.

"Rain's a bad sign, ain't it? Especially if it's heavy like this..." you say to yourself, walking on the sidewalk. "August 3rd... Huh. The day of the festival... Hm."

You close your eyes, shrugging once again.

Looking up at the rain once more, you say to yourself quietly, voice barely near a whisper, "...Is this a dream that I can wake up from, or is this a dream that I'm stuck in forever? Hm... I wonder..." you look back towards the road, "...if the world just hates me after all."

A small laugh left your lips.

"Yeah. The world hates me, for sure."

[angelz-dust]

masters of none - part 4 (jason todd x reader)

summary: after many months, we are back in action and back in reader’s head. pls enjoy these jason crumbs. if you need a refresher on the plot, the other chapters will be linked below!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: food/eating. alcohol. cursing.

part 1 /// part 2 //// part 3

gravity

ever since i ever felt ya, right there life couldn't seem better. tulip flowers in my sweater. ask me now, is this forever?

…

you rested your chin on the table before you, your arms hanging limply between your knees as you listened to your manager, dana. you were really just watching her mouth open and close while she pointed at a powerpoint. god, what you would've given for an extra hour of sleep. the all nighters in the studio were starting to take a toll. 

the feeling of the back of daisy’s soft hands brought you back to earth. the smell of cocoa butter dancing beneath your nostrils as her smooth engagement ring rolled across your cheek. you breathed in her smell, exhaling in content through your nose.

“you good?” she mouthed and you closed your eyes, giving her a little nod. the bassist rubbed her calloused fingers against your forehead, pushing strands of your hair past your hairline. you pouted when she eventually pulled away, leaving you only with the sensation of touch that once was.

you heard tyler shift in his seat and then felt some air graze against your hand. you looked under the table, noticing he was holding something out to you. you two made eye contact briefly before you scooted back in, grabbing what felt like an envelope. looking down at your lap, you saw a sticky note attached to it. jason’s money was what it said. you carefully put the envelope in your jacket pocket, sitting back in your seat now and looking at dana’s powerpoint. she was going over reports from your publicist, jerry, which you didn't particularly care about.

“now, i have to ask,” dana’s words pierced your bubble of inattention. “have you all thought about what i said about this next album?”

jordy raised his hand like a school kid. “yes?”

“y/n and i decided that we'd be okay with making our album a group project. it has been, admittedly, kinda hard and boring without everyone else. we’d honestly be doing ourselves a disservice by not doing it together,” jordy explained, dana clapping her hands together.

“wonderful,” she nodded, keeping her hands clasped. “i know you two were excited to do your own thing, but i was talking to jerry and he was really pressing me to get a group album from you guys. the people wanna see you guys as a unit of established artists, which you all are. so what's the concept? we never discussed it.”

“uh,” you verbally paused, raising your arms above your head to stretch. “disco, jazz, and funk. it's a mix of those.”

“retro is in right now,” dana nodded, pacing around the room. “how far back will this set us on a release date?”

you grimaced, leaning back in your seat, the back of the seat lightly bouncing as it absorbed your weight. you pondered the question for a moment. “if it’s gonna be a group thing, it'll have to be significantly longer. we have a decent starting off point but i'm gonna need way more songs now.”

“what about the rest of you? any tracks that we could swing?” dana asked, looking at the rest of the group. 

grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper, you started jotting down notes as everyone spoke out to you. dex and quinton didn’t have anything, but they wouldn’t be a problem. you just needed to give them a beat to rap over and you’d be set. the twins had a finished song already that fit the concept, which was good. with tyler’s voice and aly’s excellent song writing abilities, you doubted very seriously that anything else needed to be done to it. daisy and hector had plenty of lyricless songs, too. funk and soul was their specialty, after all. misha even had a demo track she was willing to share. 

you looked over the notes you had taken, tapping your pen on the table as you hummed to yourself. “this could probably work. we’ll need to go over everything in the studio, though.”

“we should just do it now. no one is doing shit else today, right?” dex asked the group, who all shook their head. 

“i have a request,” you raised your finger, looking at dana. “i want gotham to be involved in this project.”

“gotham…” dana repeated slowly, unsure of what you meant. “care to elaborate?”

“music videos directed by student directors from gotham university, commissioning local artists for album art. dancers, actors, musicians, whatever. all of them have to be from gotham. i don't want any of the money we put into this project leaving this city,” you stated firmly, dana giving you a blank look. 

“i like that idea,” hector said, giving you a kind smile before turning to dana, shifting in his seat. the drummer was like a big brother, always backing you up in moments like these. “accessibility to the arts is really limited here and we should change that.”

“i’d rather give back to the city, too,” quinton agreed, playing with the gold cross hanging from his neck. “we’re one of the only groups in gotham known outside of gotham. we should use that as an opportunity to rep our city.”

“it sounds like you have your minds made up on this,” dana narrowed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “it would definitely be good PR.”

“because god forbid we do something out of the kindness of our hearts,” misha laughed, rolling her eyes. “we're trying to put the city on and you're worried about how it makes us look.”

“that's my job, misha. don't you want me to do my job?” dana retorted. “besides, i'm more concerned with the funding. you all don't have disposable income, believe it or not.”

“but i know someone who does,” she said with a singsong tone, giving you a look.

“i hope you're not referring to me,” you deadpanned. your income was far from disposable.

“i’m referring to our good friend, bruce wayne,” she explained, grabbing a business card out of her purse, handing it over to dana. “ever since i got invited to that charity gala, i've had a direct line to a representative with the wayne foundation. i say we ask them to help fund the project.”

“now that could work,” dana admitted, eyeing the card as she tapped her foot. “if we pitch for more youth involvement, it'll probably go over better. we all know how much bruce wayne loves saving the children.”

you frowned at how dana described bruce’s initiatives as a philanthropist. you were sure his motivations for favoring youth projects were good intentioned, considering his parents had been killed when he was just a little boy. you wanted to go into this good intentioned, too and you hoped that they'd agree. they being the wayne foundation and subsequently, bruce himself.

“ty and quinton could do something with forrester. if we’re going for the youth involvement route, i mean,” aly spoke up. 

“forrester correctional. our old stomping grounds,” quinton sighed wistfully as he patted tyler on the shoulder. “i think that would be a good idea.”

“they use the arts as an outlet for them, so it could be beneficial for everyone,” tyler nodded. “there are a lot of good kids there. just unfortunate circumstances, that’s all.”

“wasn’t one of bruce’s son’s a troublemaker before he was adopted?” aly continued, not noticing the look you and tyler shared. “i’m sure he’d probably be interested in doing something with them if his son comes from the same background.”

“it’s settled, then. you all keep working on the music. jerry and i will handle the rest. we need this album out before hector and daisy’s wedding,” dana said, grabbing her suitcase. 

…

hey, i have your money. did you still want it?

you stared down at the unsent message, your thumb floating over the send arrow. you hadn’t spoken to jason since that night after the race, as per his request. your mind kept wandering back to it, even as time still went on. what happened was scary, to say the least. fun, but scary. you wondered how the hell jason didn’t get the two of you killed. that part, you didn't want to think about too hard. everyone in gotham had their secrets and it was an unspoken rule amongst citizens to not pry. secrets were secrets for a reason. nothing good ever came from unearthing them.

speaking of secrets, you hadn't exactly told tyler and quinton what happened that night. not in detail. you conveniently left out the chase and stopping to get something to eat. omitting the first part was obvious, but the second one was for your own sanity. you didn't need them teasing you over nothing. besides, all that mattered was no one was dead or arrested. and for the way the three of you used to get down, that was a win. 

you considered texting jason earlier this week, just to check in on him, but you decided against it. he obviously wanted you to text him and you obviously had to do the opposite. his little mind game wasn’t going to work on you. you pressed send, frowning immediately as you did so.

maybe it already had.

“it’s too many people in this bitch,” dex sighed, the cold of the water bottle you had asked him for against your hand bringing you back to reality. blinking, you were suddenly very aware of the chaos surrounding you in the studio as you put your phone back in your pocket. you looked to your left, where jordy was leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. to your right was aly, who was scribbling in her songbook in the chair next to you. you remembered you were supposed to be working, too. “we need a new stu.”

“i’m working on it!” hector hollered from inside the booth as he and daisy were setting up equipment and instruments. you glanced up at the glass in front when you heard his voice, accidentally catching the pair share a little kiss. you quickly averted your gaze, smiling to yourself.

“new stu, new view, what it do?” quinton began to freestyle to a beat he was making on the coffee table in front of him. “off 92, posted up with southside crew.” 

“okay,” dex laughed, noddinh his head as he was vibing with the beat, making his way out of your line of sight. you heard someone, presumably tyler, join in and add some depth to the beat. it sounded like he was hitting a pencil against a shot glass.

“i got a new boo, but i’m tryna slide with misha, too,” quinton continued, dex adlibbing in the back as quinton lowered his voice to his signature melodic whisper. “on the low, nobody gotta know.”

“would you shut the fuck up?” you heard misha say, followed by a barrage of muffled smacking noises and verbal objections from quinton, who you assumed was on the receiving end of what sounded like an assault by pillow.

laughing to yourself, you leaned your head in aly’s direction, not fully facing her. “pass me the flash drive?” you held your hand out weakly. once you felt the plastic in your palm, you leaned back over and put it into the computer, pulling up the proper files. 

“we’re done back here,” daisy smiled at you, she and hector coming out from the booth. 

you clapped your hands together. “wonderful. everybody shut up, please.”

you pulled up the twin’s song and let it play, your eyes fixed on the colorful audio loops on the screen. the green ones were tyler’s vocals, the purple were aly’s. it looked like blue was reserved for instruments and red was any added sound effects or layered sounds. 

“you two sound really great,” jordy walked up behind aly’s seat, leaning against it as he swayed his head to the beat. 

“thanks. i wrote it with our mother in mind,” aly said, the words coming out of her mouth uncomfortably. you placed your hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze, which earned you a look of appreciation.

“it's missing something, though,” tyler scratched the back of his head. “i need the producer squad to give us some assistance.”

“oh, say less,” dex laughed, snapping his fingers to the beat with one hand and holding his glass of hennessy in the other. he danced his way over, taking aly’s seat as she, tyler and jordy moved to give you all some space. 

misha sauntered her way over, sitting against the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. the smell of her sweet perfume floated in the air around you. “i think it just needs some fluffing up. some snapping might work. more vocal layering in certain spots.”

“i agree,” you nodded, dex letting out a satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his cold drink. 

“is it good?” misha asked him teasingly and he took his final swig, letting out a more dramatic and drawn out sigh. this time, though, it was on beat with the song. you were pretty sure it was unintentional on his part, since he and misha just shared a laugh before returning their attention to the screen.

after a moment of pondering, you swiveled around in your chair, looking at tyler. “okay, hear me out…”

…

two weeks of very diligent working between the nine of you had given you a lot to work with for the album. all that was left was to start putting things together. you still had a ways to go, but you had a good starting off point. as much as you hated to admit it, it was a good call on dana’s part to have you all do a group album. the fans seemed to be greatly anticipating the release and the work ethic the nine of you shared was incredible. even in that cramped little studio, you all made it work.

you all agreed to take the day off, but you were still working at some capacity. you had just traded one small space for another, working in your walk-in closet/home studio for the day. you still needed said walk-in to function as a closet, so there were still garment bags pushed up into a corner and shoe boxes haphazardly stacked, surrounding your desk that you had shoved in there. there was just enough space for you to move your chair and safely get out without twisting an ankle, a fate you often flirted with in that room.

in the spirit of your day off, you hadn't done anything too difficult. you were just trying to decide what order you wanted the completed songs to go in. it may seem like an insignificant detail, but the order was important. the transitions between songs couldn't be jarring for the listener. everything had to flow together with natural progression. at this point, it didn't matter since you weren't done with the album, but it was just giving you an idea of how to fill the gaps with future songs. 

the sound of your growling stomach indicated that it was time to stop for the day. you quickly saved all your work and headed to the kitchen. you popped some leftovers in the microwave and scrolled on twitter while you waited. the microwave beeped at you, so you set your phone back down and grabbed the bowl, mixing up the contents with your fork. the flash of light coming from your phone got your attention. a text notification.

are you home?

oh, so now he wanted to respond? cute.

despite your annoyance with the situation, you quickly responded with a yes and set the phone back down. you leaned against the counter, eating what little food you had in your reheated bowl. you mixed the contents around with your fork, grumbling. stupid jason and his stupid inability to text back. he could have at least had the decency to leave you on read. he probably didn't even have read receipts on. you weren't sure which was worse. tossing your now empty bowl into the sink, you grabbed your phone to read his next message.

i’ll be over soon. 

soon was very vague and you wished that you would've demanded an exact time, but that opportunity had passed by the time you thought about it. you busied yourself with tidying up, trying to make your place look presentable. you even lit your new candle, which you found yourself focusing your attention on while you waited for him to show up. staring at the flame was much more entrancing than you anticipated.

you heard the door buzzer go off. you weren't expecting anyone else, so it had to be him. you leaned against the wall, pressing your finger to the button.

“who goes there?” you presented the question as a joke, but your tone was a little flat.

“it’s the irs,” jason’s voice came through and you buzzed him in. 

not too long after, you heard him knock on the door. you cracked it open and the first thing you noticed was his cologne. it was a strong but pleasant scent. spicy and sweet. it was very intoxicating, actually. so much so that you almost forgot you were angry at him.

“hi.”

“hello.”

you opened the door fully and handed the envelope to him. jason eyed it suspiciously. he opened it up and began to count it out in front of you. he made an effort to do it very slow, the sound of the crisp dollars echoing in the quiet hall. his eyes stayed glued to yours as he counted out loud. you leaned against the doorframe as you watched.

“six… seven… eight,” he said, pulling out his wallet and stuffing it with the cash. “thought you would've skimmed some off the top.”

“i should have with how long you made me wait,” you said matter of factly, letting your annoyance be known now. 

“i know. i’m sorry,” he sounded honest but you couldn't see it in his face or in his eyes, which was worrisome. it was a nice alternative to listening to a sputter of excuses, though. “let me make it up to you?”

“how do you plan on doing that?”

“i’m so glad you asked,” he smiled. “as it turns out, i've recently come into some money. let me spend it on you?”

“so you like throwing money at your problems?” you asked him. well, you weren't really asking. it was more like you were telling him. 

“no,” he said, sounding a little offended. “i just thought-”

“you just thought that throwing money at me would make me forget about the fact that you ignored me for a month.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, sighing in frustration. “listen, i-”

“i really don't wanna hear it,” you said honestly, watching as his frustrated look turned into kicked puppy. you almost felt bad. “i don't like feeling stupid, jason. that's how i feel right now. i want you to make it up to me but you'll have to be a bit more creative than this.”

“you want me to make it up to you?” jason had repeated, confusion on his face. 

you poked him harshly in the chest. “you do that or you leave me alone. those are your options. goodbye.”

you shut the door in his face and let out the breath you were holding in. you weren’t sure how jason was going to react to your little ultimatum, but those were your terms. you liked him but you weren’t going to stress over someone you barely knew, especially with your assumptions about him floating around in your head. 

“i’ll be right back,” you heard him say through the door, catching you off guard. 

“what?”

“don’t go anywhere.”

you didn’t respond but you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he walked down the hall. the elevator ding indicated that he had left. you stood there, confused as to what it was he was trying to do. you were still stewing in your negative emotions, so you went and busied yourself again. you decided the dishes needed washing and got on it right away. in the middle of scrubbing the stubborn sauce stains out of your plate, you heard your door buzzer go off again. 

so he did come back after all. interesting.

you buzzed him in like you did before and waited by the door for him. he knocked and when you opened it, you were met with two gifts: a bouquet of pink tulips and a small box of something from the bakery around the corner. 

“i shouldn’t have ignored you. it was rude and stupid and i’m sorry. it won’t happen again,” he said to you, holding out the items to you. you hesitantly accepted them, taking the opportunity to look through the plastic opening of the box to see chocolate covered strawberries. 

“it better not happen again,” you pouted, looking up at him. you had to appreciate the effort he put in at such short notice. it was a sweet gesture and he actually looked sorry this time. 

“it won’t,” he assured you and you smiled.

“i forgive you. but you’re on thin fucking ice,” you reminded him and he grinned at you with a nod.

“i’m going to make it up to you. just you wait,” he said confidently. “not all of us are naturally creative like you, though. you gotta give me some time to think of something else.”

“seems like you’re getting your feet wet with the flower selection,” you noted, taking a whiff of the delicate and fresh scent. they’d look nice on your coffee table.

“lady at the shop said they would convey my sincerest apologies,” he explained, a hopeful look in his eyes. “did it work?”

“for now,” you shrugged, setting the items down on the table next to the door. 

“i can accept that.”

“you’re gonna have to because that’s all i’m giving you,” you said firmly. his charm wasn’t going to get him out of this one. not completely. “now go away. i want to eat my berries in peace.”

“i’ll text you as soon as i get the chance,” he told you as you were shutting the door. you peered at him, narrowing your eyes before shutting it again. “i’m serious!”

“goodbye, jason!” you said through the door. you heard his faint farewell as you walked away, plopping on the couch with your dessert in hand.

were you still a little mad at him? yes. but you weren’t going to pass up free stuff, even if you had made all that fuss about the money earlier. at least the gifts had some thought behind them. so long as he held up his end of the deal, you had a feeling being friends with jason wouldn’t be that bad.

hopefully, anyway.

[dragonsareourfuture]

Death Note/GN!Reader — Pick Up Lines

A quick little scenario in which your Death Note sweetheart uses a terrible pick up line on you! I feel as though these all kinda suck since I write this a while ago but it’s fine. It’s fine.

Mello

Staying up late every night and watching security footage was not fairing well for Mello. Dark circles started to form underneath his eyes, and you pointed out that he was turning into L, all he needed was black hair and a haircut. He simply responded “The day I cut my hair short is the day the world ends.”

Usually when Mello got tired he would turn into a grumpy, adorable gremlin but, mixed with the excessive amount of chocolate he consumed due to boredom, he had turned loopy. Matt had relied on his headphones to keep him sane, whereas you were left with no escape from the babbling blond.

Mello rambled on and on about how he was going to beat Near with every fiber of his being, slowly getting sidetracked into a conversation about sheep.

“They’re so fucking fluffy. Standing around, eating grass, taunting me.” The blond mumbled, his head resting on your lap as you stroked his hair, listening with genuine interest.

“Mhmm, how do they taunt you?” you inquired, wanting to know more before your boyfriend fell asleep and you never got to find out why he felt so threatened by white, fluffy animals.

“They just...do  .”

“Well, I’ll always keep you safe from the mean, mean sheep.”

Mello shifted so that he was gazing up at you. He lifted his hand to your face and gently smacked your cheek with his palm, rubbing his tired eyes with the other hand.

“Aw, babe you’re so sweet when you talk like that... You make me melt like chocolate in the summer~ ”

“I do what?”

Before Mello could answer, unconsciousness grasped him and pulled him down into the dimension of sleep. You sighed, disappointed that you wouldn’t get to hear more, yet also relieved that Mello could finally get the sleep that he needed.

“G’night, Mels,” You whispered, brushing his bangs to the side and kissing his forehead, “You make me melt, too.”

Matt

Matt’s been acting strangely clingy all day. As soon as you noticed this fact, you immediately figured that it was an anniversary or either one of your birthdays and it had slipped your mind. However, upon further inspection of your phone calendar, today appeared to be nothing special.

You were seated on the couch, watching a bit of television while Matt washed the dishes. You had insisted that you could handle that task yourself, but the goggle-wearing sweetheart had insisted that you relax.

Suddenly you heard the sink turn off and footsteps lead up to the couch. You turned around to see the redhead wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind.

“Hey, I lost my phone number...can I have yours? ” He asked with a sly smile.

“Matt, you have my number. Is that a pickup line? You know we’re already dating, right? Is my number not working?” You interrogated, grabbing his phone from the coffee table and calling your cell from it to ensure that your phone number still worked.

“No- it’s... you’re supposed to go along with it!”

“Well, come up with a better one next time, dumb ass,” You tossed Matt’s phone back at him, the device landing in his lap. He pouted and shoved it into his jacket pocket, getting up to return to the kitchen.

“You’re no fun.”

L

The room grew dim and increasingly empty as the hours ran further into the day, eventually turning to night. Despite the signs that you should be on your way home, you stayed with the only detective who thought it appropriate to work into the ungodly hours of the night.

You glanced over at L, back turned to you with his nose practically pressed against the computer screen. You rolled your eyes and switched on the main light of the room, saying, “You’re gonna ruin your eyes reading in the dark like that.”

L did not respond but, at the looks of it, kept on reading the minuscule words on his screen with intent.

“Do you need anything? Water? Maybe some cake?” You asked, giggling at the end of your words for no other reason than the tiredness getting to your brain.

“No, thank you.  I already have you, and you’re sweeter than cake, anyway,” L droned matter of factly, not even tearing his eyes away from the luminescent screen.

“Awww! Oh my god, L!” You squealed, running up to L and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ah...(name), I c-can’t breathe...”

Near

You could practically hear the blood flow to your brain as you spun around in a desk chair at painful hours of the night. The screens that filled the SPK headquarters shone in your eyes, keeping you awake along with the unhealthy amounts of caffeine you had consumed.

Your white haired boyfriend sat crouched on the floor by your feet. The clicking of building blocks rang throughout the otherwise empty room as he stacked them on top of one another, paying no mind to anything else.

You sighed, placing your chin on the palm of your hand and deflating on the spot. No amount of caffeine could keep you here as late as Near always stayed, no matter how much you wanted it to. You hated that he was here alone all the time and, even though he always tried to convince you that he didn’t care, you knew it took a toll on his mental state.

You shifted in your chair, about to heave your body up when Near’s monotonous voice kept you still.

“(Name).”

You waited for him to continue, and spoke up when he stayed silent, “What’s up, babe?”

“Do you like LEGO ?” Near inquired. His eyes finally met yours as he twirled a LEGO piece in between his fingers.

“Uh, I guess—“

“Because I want to build a world with you... ”

You froze, wondering if the caffeine was getting to your head or if Near had actually used a pickup line on you — and a goddamn adorable one at that.

A weak smile tugged at your lips. You slid off the office chair and dropped to your knees on the cold tile beside Near, throwing your arms around the boy without another word.

Though he stiffened at first, Near melted under your embrace. He buried his face into your shoulder and wrapped his noodle arms around your torso. You stayed like this for either a minute, or an hour. It was so quiet that you could hear your hearts beating in sync. Everything was so perfect, so loving, so-

“ARE YOU GUYS STILL HERE!?”

Your heart nearly burst from your chest at the sound of a door banging against metal and the rough tone of Rester calling out to you.

Near grumbled and shoved his face into your neck, trying and failing to escape the booming echo of footsteps that approached your little heap on the floor.

“Yeah,” your voice came out ragged and small, but enough for Rester to hear and follow, “right here.”

“You both look exhausted! Come on, let’s get you to sleep.”

When Near barely moved a muscle, you took it upon yourself to pick up his limp body from the floor bridal style and carry him to bed. Though you almost dropped the poor boy more than once, you’d say you did a fairly good job. And, once you were both snuggled up in bed, you got a good nights rest of a solid three hours of sleep. It was the most Near’s gotten in weeks, so you were not complaining.

Light

Though you were already in a relationship with Light, the cheesy lines and swooning from him never ceased. You wouldn’t have to fend him off with a stick but he loved to be all over you even when he already won you over, and you loved that about him.

This was mainly exhibited when you two were alone together, him finding public displays of affection to be childish and overall unnecessary as everyone you hung around with at school respected your relationship quite nicely.

The two of you were strolling on the sidewalk after a headache inducing day of school. His arm was resting lazily over your neck as you walked while all attention was focused on you and you alone. You ranted about the difficulties of the day and, although they were mostly all minor inconveniences, they really got under your skin once all added up.

When you had finished, you huffed and rubbed at your temple.

Breaking the silence that followed, Light blurted,  “How would you like to be the goddess of the new world?  You wouldn’t have to deal with that crap anymore.”

You laughed, reaching up to lace your fingers with the hand that dangled by your shoulder. “Dude, I barely know what taxes are. I don’t think I can handle being a goddess.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Light pouted jokingly.

The two of you came to a stop in front of his house, him pulling you flush against him and just staring wistfully (up/down) at you. “Do you want to come in? I’m sure Sayu will be delighted to see you.”

“Oh, I’d love to but I don’t want to intrude—“

“Nonsense. Come on.”

And so, Light guided you into his home, his mother and Sayu cheerfully greeting you at the door and whisking you away into a night of wonderful conversation and a lovely dinner.

Matsuda

You took advantage of the daylight, working nonstop so that you wouldn’t have to stay after hours to get your unfinished work done.

Through your tireless efforts, you failed to notice a pair of familiar eyes glancing back at you every so often. You only noticed a change in your boyfriend’s behavior when he came rolling up to your desk in his wheely chair, resting his chin on his elbows and looking at you expectantly.

“Hey, what’s up, Teddy Bear?” You greeted, barely tearing your eyes from the papers splayed out all across your desk.

Matsuda grinned from ear to ear every time he heard that nickname. It made him feel wanted and loved whenever he was around you. Sometimes, this caused the filter between his brain and his mouth to thin, allowing whatever he’s thinking in that moment to slip out.

“Do you have a map? Because I’m getting lost in your eyes... ” he said dreamily.

Your head shot up in an instant, puzzled by the seemingly random affection, only to see Matsuda covering his lips as a dark blush began to rise on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Th-that’s not...I-“

“Honey...” you shook your head and sighed, placing your pen down flat on the desk, “That is the literal worst line ever but it sounds wonderful coming from you.”

“O-oh. Thanks?” He chuckled nervously, massaging the back of his neck as his skin became slick with sweat.

You leaned over the desk and pecked his lips before collecting your paperwork in a neat stack, placing it all carefully in your shoulder bag, careful not to bend any corners. “Why don’t I finish my work in that nice little coffee shop across the street. Join me?”

“Y-yes! I’d love to. It’s getting a little stuffy in here, anyway.”

Misa

“Ughhhhh I’m so tired! What a day!” Misa exclaimed, stretching out her arms above her head as she walked over to her folding chair. The white, feathery wings fastened to her back smacked people and equipment as she passed them, but you saw her as nothing but elegant.

Your girlfriend plopped her butt down into the fragile chair, giving Matsuda a scare when it nearly toppled over. With beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, he handed the girl her coffee.

“Aw, thanks, Matsu! And you too, (Name)! I wouldn’t be able to do any of my scenes without you guys cheering me on!”

You chuckled, cheeks turning a dusted shade of pink at Misa’s praise. “Dont give us all the credit, babe. You’re the one giving your all up there.”

Misa twisted in her chair to grab at your hand and intertwine her fingers with yours. “You’re too sweet, honey! Y’know, if it were up to me, you’d be the one wearing these wings!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I couldn’t take your place!” You said, gesturing to the fountain where Misa’s scene had just been filmed.

The blonde giggled and brought your fingers to her lips, giving them a couple kisses before shaking her head. “I meant I’d have you in these wings because you’re an absolute Angel , silly!”

Before you could even begin to respond, Matsuda beat you to it. “Aww my gosh, you guys! Could I be the best man at your wedding?”

“Hmm...” you pretended to ponder while tapping your chin with your index finger. “How do you feel about being the flower boy?”

“Done!”

[marjansmarwani]

we’re not broken, just bent

7.1k || ao3

When the school year started, Carlos Reyes had not been expecting to fall for the new English teacher. When he met TK Strand, Carlos had not expected to find the love he had always wanted so close at hand. Now that they have each other everything seems just a bit brighter, and a bit lighter. Navigating the twists of turns or life and teaching and relationships isn’t always easy, but if Carlos gets to keep TK Strand in his life, he will do anything to make it work - even if he doesn’t always get it right on the first try. 

Or, Teacher AU, Part 2

Revisiting one of my favorite AUs for Day 6 of Carlos Reyes Week. Find the first part here. 

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

“You would think that by now you would know better than to have your phone out at my table, Carlos Alberto Reyes.” 

Carlos looked, startled, from his phone to find his mother looking at him pointedly while his dad tried not to look too amused from his seat across from Carlos. He blinked, before realizing he must have been staring at his phone for longer than he had thought before hastily sliding it back into his pocket. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly, “were you saying something?”

His father didn’t even bother to contain his laughter at that and his mother rolled her eyes, “I was, but now I’m more interested to know who this boy that has you glued to your phone is.”

“Who says it’s a boy?” Carlos said defensively, ignoring the feeling of heat climbing up his cheeks. 

“Unless something significant has changed in the past 2 weeks I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet, mijo,” his mother deadpanned. “He must be something special to make you smile like that.”

“I wasn’t smiling.” 

His mom looked unimpressed, but his dad snorted outright, “it’s a good thing you’re a good teacher kid, because you would make a lousy actor.” 

“You know if you guys are just going to keep ganging up on me I might just stop coming over for Sunday lunches.” 

“It’s not wise to make empty threats Carlos, we all know you can’t resist my cooking.” 

“I wonder what it’s like to have nice parents.” 

Both of his parents ignored his jab. His dad returned his attention to his lunch while his mother leaned closer, “you know I have to tease you, Carlos, it’s my job. But if this boy makes you as happy as those smiles seem to indicate, then I am happy for you. I’d also like to meet him,” she added almost as an afterthought. 

“Mom.”

“It’s a mother’s prerogative, Carlos. You should bring him by for lunch one Sunday.”

His mother was looking at him earnestly, but Carlos turned his gaze instead to the food on his plate, “things are still pretty new,” he admitted, “I don’t want to move too fast. He’s still a little gun shy from some past experiences, I want to make sure we go at a pace that works for him.”

He could feel the gaze of both of his parents on him now, but he kept his focus on his plate. It was something that he had been reminding himself of every day. TK had opened up to him, had told him everything and all the ways his ex had hurt him. He had made huge strides and put so much of it behind him, but Carlos was still wary. He didn’t want to push too hard; he didn’t want to risk what they were starting by being too hasty. What they had right now was so good, and if being patient and a little cautious meant he got to keep it, Carlos was okay with that. 

He knew his mother was studying him without even having to see her face. When he did look up and meet her eyes, she gave him a smile, “You have always had a big heart mijo, it’s one of the things that makes you so special. You’ve spent your life always looking out for others, so I just need to ask: is that what you want too? Is that what is going to make you happy?” 

He holds his mother’s gaze, and can feel his father watching them both. They’re waiting for him to answer, giving him time to think about it, but he doesn’t need to: “Yes Mom, he makes me happy.” 

She smiles wide and reaches out to place a hand on top of his, “Then I am sure we will love him, whenever we get to meet him.” 

-----------

“How was lunch with your parents?” 

Carlos looked up from the coffee machine on TK’s counter to see his boyfriend watching him from the table. Carlos shrugged as the pot finished brewing, pouring the fresh coffee into two mugs, “Pretty much the usual, but with the addition of them giving me shit about being on my phone because someone was texting me.” 

“I refuse to be guilted for wanting to talk to my boyfriend,” TK declared as he accepted the offered mug, “besides, if I had to suffer through Mateo’s niece's softball game, I wasn’t going to do it alone.” 

“Good to know I could bring you some comfort in such trying times.” 

TK rolled his eyes at him as he settled into the seat across from him and he grinned. He studied TK for a moment, taking in how at ease he looked. It was a far cry from the man he had met back in September, with walls a mile high and still living out of boxes because he was too scared to put down roots. Looking around his apartment now, you would never know. 

The bookshelves were haphazardly arranged with books and mementos, and the walls were covered in pictures. Some included the backdrop of the Big Apple, but more and more were of his new life here in Austin. There were pictures of TK and his team on trivia nights and bowling outings. There was a picture from the faculty-student volleyball game, and more than a few of TK and Carlos. It was a physical reminder of how far they’d come; a visual representation of their journey together. 

Not that Carlos had forgotten a single moment of it, but it was still nice to see it memorialized. 

That reminded him of his mom’s question earlier, and his answer. He hadn’t needed to think about it and here was the proof: he was happy. It had only been a few months, but being with TK Strand was everything Carlos had always wanted, but had been becoming less and less sure he would ever get. 

“They asked about you, actually,” he finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. 

TK looked up abruptly, surprise written all over his face, “They did?” 

Carlos nodded, “They, uh...they want you to come over for lunch with me some week.” 

“Oh.” 

The response was soft, but it set Carlos’s nerves on end. They were in such a good place, he didn’t want to ruin this. He should have never brought it up, “I told them it was too soon,” he said quickly, “that we were taking it slow.” 

“Oh,” TK said again, voice still quiet, “okay.” 

There was something in his expression Carlos couldn’t quite identify, but before he could dive deeper into it, TK changed the subject. 

“Remind me again why we always seem to save all this for Sunday night?” 

Carlos glanced down to his abandoned stack of papers waiting to be graded and back to find TK looking at him mournfully beside his own stack. 

“Because we are responsible adults who understand time management?” he offered. 

“Sounds right,” TK agreed, turning his focus back down to the paragraph he had been reading. Carlos finished the paper he had been on before he decided they needed fresh coffee and reached for the next one in the stack, only to frown as he read the first line: In the novel Things Fall Apart, the main character Okonkwo…

He doesn’t read the rest, because his classes don’t read Things Fall Apart. He holds it up to TK instead, “I think this is one of yours.”

TK scowled at the offending paper, “Do you want to grade it?” 

“I do not.”  

“And here I thought you liked me.” 

Carlos gave him an unimpressed look and pushed the paper towards him. TK took the offered paper with a dramatic sigh, “I love teaching, I really do, but every time I let the grading pile up I question my life choices all over again.” 

“I guess that is on us for deciding to teach English,” Carlos mused, “I hear other content areas don’t have to grade piles of writing each week.” 

“So you’re saying we should switch content areas? Just show up tomorrow and tell Judd we’re teaching new stuff now?”

“Gym teacher always did sound kind of appealing,” Carlos admitted wistfully, “it would be a lot less grading.” 

“Now that is an idea I can get behind,” TK said appreciatively, running a suggestive gaze over Carlos’s form, “does it come with those little shorts?”

Carlos gave his boyfriend an exasperated look before reaching over to grab a pen, which he threw at him, “Focus, Strand. Work now, play later.” 

“Authoritative too - I’m liking gym teacher Carlos more and more.” 

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“Prepping for your SAT tutoring sessions?” 

“Yes, actually. Which is why I really need to get this done, if you don’t mind.” 

The words had far more bite than he had intended and he regretted them the moment they were out of his mouth. TK’s expression softened as he handed the pen Carlos had just tossed at him, “I’m sorry Carlos, I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I didn’t mean to distract you.” 

“No,” Carlos countered, running a hand through his hair, “you’re fine, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just a little tense, I think.”

“Can’t imagine why,” TK said lightly, “it’s not like you were asked to take over SAT prep for the entire 12th grade on top of everything you already do or anything.” 

“Not the whole thing, just the English portion.” 

“That’s enough Carlos. And you’re going to do great with it because you're an amazing teacher. And I’m going to help you, however I can - starting with shutting up and getting my work done so you can get some work done, I promise.” 

TK gave him a smile and Carlos watched as he returned to his work, biting on his lip absentmindedly as he read, reaching down occasionally to write something in the margins. As he thought he gently tapped his pen against his mouth and when he went to stretch his shirt rode up ever so slightly, giving Carlos a peek at his toned chest. As all this was happening, Carlos made a decision. 

“One more hour, then we put it away,” he announced. 

TK glanced at him in surprise, “You sure? We still have a lot to do.”  

“Nobody’s going to die if these assignments aren’t graded tonight,” Carlos reminded him. “Besides, I can think of many other things I would rather do on a Sunday night when I have you all to myself, Mr. Strand.” 

TK confused expression melted and a coy grin took its place, “Oh, is that so Mr. Reyes?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait an hour to find out.” 

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

“Remind me again what we’re doing?” 

“We’re putting up a bulletin board of 9th graders who have been on the honor roll for the first two quarters.” 

“Uh-huh. And why am I - someone who does not teach 9th graders - the one helping you?” 

“Because Marwani and Chavez get too distracted during this kind of stuff and while your boyfriend would usually be my choice, he’s grading essays. And you know how he gets when he’s grading essays. Besides, don’t pretend like you’re hating the chance to get to see some more of my face, Reyes.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes at Paul as he handed him the next stack of papers to be stapled to the bulletin board in the front entry of the school, “That is blatantly false, I object.” 

“Then maybe it’s the fact that you’re too nice to tell me no.” 

“I am not too nice to leave you stranded here with no help Strickland, don’t tempt me.” 

“It always does my heart good to hear the dulcet tones of inter-grade level cooperation,” a new voice said wryly and Carlos twisted around to see Judd Ryder approaching. “Do y’all need a babysitter or can you play nice?” 

“I think we can handle it,” Carlos assured him, “but if not I’ll let you know.” 

“Please try not too, I have so much paperwork to catch up on.” 

“Ah, the glamorous life of an administrator,” Paul noted as he stapled more student names up onto the board, “next you’re going to wow us with tales of your endless meetings.” 

“You laugh now, but give it a few more years and you might just decide to give it a try yourself. I think you'd have a knack for it - both of you.” 

“But if we took you up on that you’d be down two teachers,” Carlos pointed out, “better not risk it.” 

“Besides,” Paul added as he climbed down from the chair he had been standing on, “I greatly prefer only having to deal with misbehaving teenagers. You can have all the problem-causing adults, thank you very much.” 

“I’d try to argue, but you’re right. Sometimes I miss the days where the kids were the only ones I was responsible for. Since I’ve got you here though Reyes, I wanted to check in - how’s the SAT prep going?” 

Carlos shrugged, “we’re having our first session tonight, but the signup sheet makes it look like there should be a good turn out.” 

“Good. Thanks again for taking on the extra work, I know it can’t have been easy.” 

Carlos shrugged again, “if it helps them then why not? It’s only a few sessions, not a big deal.”

Judd nodded and gave him a smile, “Still, I really appreciate it. I do actually have stuff to do so I’m going to head back to my office, try to behave yourselves out here.” 

With a wave to them both he was gone, and Paul turned to Carlos with raised eyebrows, “It’s only a few sessions, not a big deal? Man, talk about brown-nosing: you have been a walking stress headache since you took that on.”  

“Yeah, but that was all the prep work. Running the actual sessions should be fine.” 

“Either you’re Superman or you’re lying to yourself.” 

“How are things going in the 9th grade wing? I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to stop by in a while.” 

Paul’s look clearly stated how much subtlety Carlos lacked, but he answered regardless, “Pretty good. No major drama for the past few months, thank god. Just a lot of the typical teen drama.” 

“Then I guess they don’t change all that much because that’s pretty much how the Seniors are, with the added bonus of college applications. How’s Seth doing?” 

“Better. He’s been doing some one on ones with TK and I think they’ve really helped.”

“I think they’ve helped them both,” Carlos admitted, “I think being able to see his past as something to help someone else has been a good thing.”

Paul smiled sadly as he began to gather up the extra supplies, “I’m happy for him. I hated seeing him so ashamed about it, and no amount of saying it was fine ever seemed to get through to him.” 

“Are you calling TK Strand stubborn Paul?” 

“Perish the thought.” 

Carlos laughed as he helped Paul gather the last of the supplies and they turned back towards the 9th grade wing and Paul’s classroom. They walked in silence for a bit before Paul spoke, “Are you sure you don’t need any help with these extra sessions? I don’t know how much help I would be with the actual content part as a science teacher, but if you just want another body in the room or something all you have to do is ask.”

Carlos shook his head and gave the other man a smile, “I’m good Paul, really. Besides, TK has already offered at least 6 times.” 

“Still, if you need anything...” 

“If I need any help with a bulletin board, I’ll know exactly who to call.”  

Paul rolled his eyes but made no comment as they neared his classroom. As they walked by the door to TK’s neighboring room Carlos paused. TK was walking through the room, glancing at student’s papers as they worked. As Carlos watched he paused and crouched down next to a student desk, looking at something on their paper, listening as the student asked their question. He answered, but as he was getting back up he looked towards the door and gave Carlos a smile that warmed him from the inside out. 

Carlos smiled back, hoping that even a fraction of the affection he felt for the other man showed in the simple gesture. He lingered for only a moment more before he stepped out of the doorway, hoping he had left before he was spotted by any of his boyfriend’s students. The last time they had caught him in the doorway they hadn’t stopped teasing TK for a week, which meant that Carlos had gotten to hear about it for a week. 

Paul noticed his hasty retreat and snorted, “Scared of some 15-year-olds, Reyes?” 

“Not willing to deal with my annoyed boyfriend if said 15-year-olds drive him nuts for a week.” 

Paul shook his head as he unlocked his classroom door, holding it open so Carlos could follow him in. They dropped the supplies on a table in the back before Carlos glanced at his watch. 

“And I have a class starting in 3 minutes. Guess this is goodbye then.” 

“Yeah, but try not to be such a stranger. I know you may not like us all as much as your boyfriend, but we’re still here you know.” 

“Who are you again?” 

Paul rolled his eyes, “everyone’s a comedian,” he muttered. 

Carlos grinned, but paused right before he stepped out the door, “we should try to do something as a group after school, soon,” he amended, and Paul smiled at him. 

“Apology accepted Reyes. Now get lost before you’re late for class.” 

--------

At the end of his first SAT prep session, Carlos gathered his bag and headed out of his room, locking the door behind him. It had gone better than he had expected because, despite all his insistence that it would be fine, he had been nervous. But it had gone well, really. Yes, the extra prep work wasn’t ideal and it did cut into his free time, but now that the first one was done he realized that he had actually enjoyed it. Which was certainly not a realization he thought he would be having today. 

If he was being completely honest with himself, he had been hesitant from the moment Judd had approached him. He wasn’t a fan of the concept of the SATs as a whole to start with, but like them or not they were a part of the college admission process, as Judd had reminded him. More than that, there were scholarships that were dependent on SAT scores. They were a necessary evil their students who were applying to college needed to face, and while maybe some could afford private tutors, most couldn’t. 

Looking at it from that perspective, of trying to give students a leg up in an unfair situation, had helped to justify the extra time spent to himself. Now after their first session, he realized that he should have done it regardless. This was nothing more than kids wanting to learn, and he could never say no to that. 

He left his room but instead of heading towards the exit, he turned towards TK’s classroom instead. He had told him that they could meet up after he was done, but TK has been insistent that he would wait for Carlos, that he had more than enough work to keep him busy while Carlos was working. Objectively Carlos knew that was true, but the thought that TK had wanted to wait for him to continue their habit of leaving together each day even when his day was significantly longer than usual filled him with such affection he couldn’t even put it into words. If he had to though, he would say it felt a little bit like love. 

But he quickly abandoned that thought process. They hadn’t said those words yet and Carlos didn’t want to push. Slow and steady was their pace, and Carlos was loath to do anything to jeopardize what they had. 

When he turned the corner into TK’s hallway to find the lone light of his classroom shining into the dark corridor, he was surprised to hear voices coming from the room. He approached quietly, peeking his head into the room and surprised to find his boyfriend sitting at his desk alone. 

TK looked up at the sound of his footsteps and smiled at him, holding up his phone so Carlos could see that it was on, and on speaker. There was an unfamiliar voice coming over the line and TK indicated for Carlos to wait a moment before he turned his attention back to the phone, “Dad, I’m going to have to go now, but I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“Okay, kiddo. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” 

With that TK hung up the phone and beamed at Carlos, “Hey babe, how’d the session go?” 

“It went really well, actually,” Carlos admitted as he entered the room. 

“I told you it would, but I’m still proud of you.” 

Carlos smiled even wider at that, “Thanks, TK.” He watched as TK got up from his desk and began to gather his papers and begin piling them into his bag. “How’s your dad?” 

“He’s good,” TK said absently as he searched his desk for something. He made a triumphant noise as he found it, placed it in his bag and zipped it, hiking it up on his shoulder as he turned to face Carlos, “He’s coming to visit.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. He has a good amount of vacation time saved up and figured escaping a New York winter for a bit might not be such a bad idea.” 

“Any idea when?” 

“Three weeks from now.” 

“Wow, that’s exciting,” Carlos said, but really all he felt was panic. He didn’t know how they were supposed to approach this. He wasn’t sure if TK was ready to cross the “meet the parents” bridge, and he didn’t know how to ask. He also wasn’t sure how to avoid it if he wasn’t. 

His anxiety spiral was interrupted by TK crossing to him and taking his hand before leading the way to the door. “He can’t wait to meet you.” 

“Oh,” Carlos said, unable to hide his surprise, “is that what you want?” 

TK froze at the doorway, turning to face Carlos with a furrowed brow, “Of course it is. You’re one of the most important parts of my life, of course I want you to meet my dad. Why, do you not want to?” 

“No!” Carlos said hastily, “No, I don’t mind. It’s just, with the whole taking things slow and everything I wasn’t sure…” 

He trailed off and TK’s expression softened as he dropped Carlos's hand and instead reached up to cup his face, “Carlos Reyes, you are somebody I am proud to be with, and I cannot wait to show you off to my dad.”

The intensity of his expression took Carlos’s breath away and they stood like that for several long moments: TK’s hand on Carlos’s face as they stood alone in the evening silence of the empty high school. 

All too soon TK lowered his hand and gave a lighter grin, “Besides, think of all the embarrassing secrets you’ll get to learn, if you want to come that is.” 

Carlos reached out and took TK’s hand in his own and gave him a warm smile, “Well, how could I possibly turn down an offer like that?”

---------

“Are you sure it’s not too soon though?” 

“Carlos,” Michelle said, exasperation evident in her tone, “it’s been 3 months.” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“But what, Carlos? It’s been 3 months, you guys are solid, his dad is coming across the country to visit him and he wants you to meet him. It’s not that complicated.”

He scowled at Michelle who turned her attention back to her salad, jabbing at the arugula with more force than strictly necessary, “You’re mean today.” 

“I am not mean, you are insane. He likes you, Carlos! He wants you to meet his dad! It’s not weird so stop trying to make it seem like it is!”

Carlos groaned and ran a hand across his face, “It’s just that we agreed to go slow, because he wasn’t sure if he was ready for anything else and meeting the parents seems like it might be surpassing the ‘going slow’ plan. I already got around it with my parents and I wasn’t expecting it to come up on his end.” 

“Your parents want to meet him?” 

“Yeah, they mentioned it at lunch a few weeks ago.” 

“Did you ask TK about it?” 

“I mentioned it.” 

The look Michelle gave him was withering, “I would throw something at you right now but I don’t think anything in my salad would make enough of an impact.” 

“There’s no need for violence, Michelle.” 

“There’s no need for someone as smart as you to make such idiotic decisions either, but here we are.” 

Carlos gave her a baffled look and she rolled her eyes before setting down her fork to explain, “When you mentioned that your parents wanted to meet him, what did he say?” 

“He didn’t. I mentioned it and he looked kind of like a deer in the headlights, so I told him that I had already told them it was too soon.” 

Michelle stared at him for a moment before dropping her head into her hands with a groan. When she looked up again a few seconds later her voice was measured as she spoke, “Did you even ask him if he wants to meet your parents before you made up your mind?” 

Carlos held her gaze for several long seconds before he admitted, “No.” 

“Carlos Reyes, I love you, but sometimes you can be an idiot.” 

---------

Carlos rang the bell and waited anxiously outside the door of TK’s apartment, twisting the paper bag in his hand nervously. TK had texted him that they had gotten back from the airport and that he had picked up stuff for dinner, so logically he knew everything should be pretty much normal. But there was also a huge addition that made everything seem so far from normal Carlos could barely wrap his head around it. That was probably his anxiety talking, but the fact remained. 

The door swung open to reveal his boyfriend but rather an older man with a striking resemblance to his boyfriend. Their eyes met and after a moment of confusion Owen Strand - for that had to be who this was - stepped forward with a smile and an extended hand, “You must be Carlos.” 

Carlos matched the man’s smile and took the offered hand, “Yes sir.”

TK’s father stepped aside to let him in and waved off his formalities, “Please, call me Owen.” 

“Well then Owen, it is a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise, Carlos. What do you have there?” 

“Oh,” Carlos said, suddenly remembering the bag in his hands, “Biscuits from Olamaie - a local restaurant.” 

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Owen assured him, “but judging by the smell of those I think I’m glad you did.” 

Carlos smiled at the older man, who stepped further into the apartment, clearing the entry hall for Carlos could enter as well. As he steps into the main room his eyes find the kitchen, where TK is pulling a stack of plates from the cupboard, “Hey Carlos, I’m just getting dinner together. Why don’t you and my dad get settled at the table.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he asked, partially because anytime TK stepped into the kitchen it was a cause for concern in his experience, and partially because Carlos dreaded the idea of having to make small talk with his boyfriend’s father. 

TK paused long enough to roll his eyes, “it’s already cooked, all I have to do is warm it up and get it on plates. Pretty sure I can handle that.” 

“Okay, but if you change your mind…” 

“Go,” TK said with a laugh and Carlos grinned before heading to the table and joining Owen. He sat down and looked at the other man, who was clearly appraising him. “How was your flight?” he ventured, not sure what else to say.

“Good, it was good,” Owen said with a vague nod. Carlos nodded too and they lapsed into silence. He was searching his mind, trying to come up with something to say, wishing he had done a google search of “conversation starters with your boyfriend’s parent” before he came when Owen broke the silence. 

“Listen, Carlos,” he said, glancing over at the kitchen where TK was still intently assembling dinner, “I know we just met, but I wanted to make sure I got a chance to say thank you.” 

Carlos frowned, he had absolutely no idea where this was coming from, “Thank you for what?” 

“For being there for TK, for helping him find himself again. He wasn’t in the best place when he came down here, but I can tell from our phone calls and now seeing him again that he is happier than I have seen him in far too long. And I know that a good part of that is because of you, so thank you.” 

“I’m happy you think he’s happy with me,” Carlos countered, “but I didn’t do much. Everything he did, all the healing and growing, is because of what he did, not anyone else. I was just in the room when it happened.” 

He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected from the older man, but a beaming smile was not one of them. “I really am so glad that you found each other,” he said, voice thick, “and I am so glad he has someone like you.” He paused and gestured to the pictures lining the walls, “having my only kid move across the country has been hard not only because I miss him, but also because I was worried about him. Coming here and seeing this, seeing you with him, makes me feel so much better. So thank you, really.” 

Carlos doesn’t know what to say to that, but he is saved by the arrival of TK bearing a platter of food and a stack of plates. He jumps up to help him carry them to the table and sits down with him. 

“What have you two been talking about?” TK asks as he serves food onto plates for everyone. 

“Oh, just getting to know each other,” Owen responded breezily, “and I think I like this one TK.” 

“That’s good dad,” TK quipped, meeting Carlos’s eyes, “because I like him too.” 

Carlos smiled back at him and as the food was passed around, the conversation morphed. Soon enough it was Owen holding court, filling Carlos in on all of teen TK’s antics while TK grimaced from his seat. 

“And then,” Owen was saying, already laughing, “he decided…” 

“Okay!” TK interrupted, face going red, “I think that’s more than enough for one night. Pace yourself dad, you’ve still got a couple more nights here. Wouldn’t want to use up all your material.” 

“Oh, don’t worry kid: I have no intention of leaving any stone unturned or any story untold.” 

“Great,” TK deadpanned, “remind me again why I was excited for you to visit?” 

Carlos chuckled and TK turned his attention to him, “And you are enjoying this far too much.” 

“I would say I am enjoying it the appropriate amount, actually,” Carlos corrected. 

TK narrowed his eyes at him but Carlos just laughed before glancing at his watch, “it’s really late, I should go and let you two get some sleep too.” 

“See you tomorrow, Carlos?” Owen asked as Carlos rose from the table. 

“Count on it,” Carlos assured him, “there are so many more stories I still need to hear.” 

“I’ll walk you out, you traitor,” TK said with a roll of his eyes. 

Carlos waited until they were at the door before he spoke, “I really like him.”

“You only like him because he provides you with premium blackmail material.” 

“True,” Carlos mused, “but I also like him because he’s a lot like you. Besides, when you meet my parents it will be exactly the same, I assure you. I’m just enjoying this before the tables are turned.” 

TK's gaze was piercing as he studied Carlos, “When I meet your parents?”

Carlos nodded, “When. As in, whenever you are ready. I realized I should have asked you if you wanted to before just assuming you didn’t. So the ball is in your court: if you want to, I’d be honored to bring you home to my parents.” 

TK smiled and leaned in to kiss him. When he pulled away - far too soon for Carlos’s liking - he smiled, “I’d like that a lot, and I think we should. Maybe next week, after my dad leaves?”

Carlos nodded, “consider it a date, Tyler Kennedy.” 

“Oh he did not tell you that!” he exclaimed, throwing a glare back to where his father was still sitting. 

“I like it.” 

“And you’re lucky I like you, not everyone can get away with using that and live.” 

“Oh, so I’m special?” 

He said it as a joke, but the way TK held his gaze nearly toppled him. There was so much more intensity in his eyes than Carlos had been expecting, “You’re very special to me, Carlos Reyes.”  

They head each other’s gaze in the doorway to TK’s apartment in the late hours of the night and Carlos could practically feel all the things going unsaid between them. Now wasn’t the time to say them yet, but maybe, he thought, that time could be soon. 

----------

Carlos checked the clock on the wall above his desk. 8:01, the exam had just started. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He knew that there was no reason to be here, he knew there was nothing more he could do. He had spent 5 weeks preparing these kids though, and had offered to come in early on the Saturday of the exam for any last-minute questions and pep talks. There had been more than a few takers but now they were all in the gym, opening their test booklets and Carlos was left with nothing more to do but wait. 

Logically he knew he could wait and worry just as well from home, but somehow being here made him feel a little better. He pulled a stack of papers from the turn in tray on his desk on the pretense of grading them while he waited, but he knew that he wouldn’t get anything done. He was just considering maybe attempting to organize something instead when there was a soft knock at his door. He looked up to see TK, standing in the doorway with a tray holding two paper cups, a bag, and a warm smile, “Hey you.” 

“Hey yourself, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he added hastily, “I just wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Why, because it’s Saturday before 9 am and you're in your classroom?”  

“More or less, yeah.” 

TK grinned as he entered, setting down the bag to drag one of the chairs up to Carlos’s desk so he could join him. 

“Usually you’d be right,” he admitted as he pulled two foil wrapped burritos out of the bag and handed one to Carlos, “but I knew you would be here, and I knew you’d spend the whole time worrying. So I figured you should at least have breakfast while you worried. And coffee,” he added pressing one of the cups into Carlos’s hand. 

Carlos was too stunned to say anything, so he took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, exactly the way he liked it. He set down the cup and studied TK, who was sipping his own coffee. 

“You’re perfect, have I ever told you that?”

“Maybe, but a guy can never get too sick of hearing it.” 

“So modest too.” 

TK rolled his eyes but smiled as he settled into his seat at the corner of Carlos’s desk, unwrapping his burrito. 

“Thanks for coming, I appreciate it. I could really use the company.” 

TK nodded, “I figured as much. Besides, I kind of like spending time here, it makes me a little nostalgic.” At Carlos’s questioning look he explained, “this is where we had our first real conversation, and where I decided that you were someone I should risk getting to know, even though I was afraid of it ending up exactly where it did.” 

“Oh, so you were scared of me?”

“Eh, I was,” TK said dismissively, “turns out you’re not that scary. And,” he added, voice going more sincere, “it turns out I wasn’t as broken as I thought. I just needed someone to help me see that.” 

Carlos smiled at him, but soon enough his eyes were pulled back to the clock. It was 8:05 now. 

“Okay, spill.” 

“What?” Carlos asked, looking over at TK with a bewildered expression. 

“Spill. I know you’re nervous, but maybe if you tell me why, I can help.” 

Carlos took a deep breath and let his eyes wander to the clock one more time before turning his focus back to TK, “I know I’ve done everything I could think of, but this is still an important test. Most of the kids taking it today are taking it again in hopes of raising their scores so they can qualify for more scholarships. There’s so much riding on this; it could determine some of their futures. And, I just don’t know if I did enough - if I was enough.” 

“Carlos…” 

“There are so many other people in the department TK, I don’t know why they asked me. I’m not anything special, and this whole time I keep thinking that someone else could have done a better job. I’m worried that I let these kids down.” 

“Carlos,” TK said again, more forcefully, “you are special. Don’t ever say you’re not again. You were asked because you are an amazing teacher. Don’t deny it,” he said when Carlos opened his mouth to interrupt, “because I’m right. I’ve seen you with your classes. They don’t only respect you, they trust you. They feel safe enough to ask you questions, to show that they don’t know something. And you have never responded to any question with anything less than understanding and compassion. You always find a way to help. That’s why they asked you - because you are the best at this. Sure, maybe someone else might be better with the technicalities, but no one can hold a candle to Carlos Reyes when it comes to helping students grow. It’s one of the things I love about you.” 

Carlos could already feel emotions building within him at TK’s words and the sincerity with which he said them, but his last sentence froze him in his tracks. He was pretty sure his brain was short circuiting; it kept playing the last sentence on loop: It’s one of the things I love about you.

“Carlos?” TK asked, expression furrowing in concern, “are you okay?” 

“Do you mean that?” Carlos asked instead. 

The look he gave him in response was truly baffled, “mean what?” 

“You said ‘it’s one of the things I love about you.’”

TK’s eyes widened for just a second, before he smiled, “Yes,” he said softly, “I do. I love you, Carlos Reyes, because of all of that and because of so many other things.” 

Carlos blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears that had tried to sneak out without his permission. This was everything he had ever wanted; TK was everything he had ever dreamed of. He had wanted this for so long, and he had felt the same way for TK for months now, even if he had been denying it. To hear that his boyfriend felt the same way meant more to him than he could ever possibly say. 

So he settled on the next best thing, “I love you too, Tyler Kennedy, more than I have ever loved anyone. More than I thought I could ever love anyone.” 

TK rolled his eyes, but it did nothing to detract from his beaming smile, “You just had to use the full name, didn’t you?” 

“Unfortunately for you, I love it because it’s yours; and I happen to love everything about you.”

“You are a sap Carlos Reyes.” 

“Yeah, but that’s one of the things you love about me, right?” 

“Definitely,” TK agreed, before glancing at the clock. Carlos followed his gaze; it was 8:15 now. 

“We still have 3 hours,” TK noted, “I think that might be time to get through some of the other things, if you’re interested.” 

Carlos leaned forward to give him a quick but tender kiss. He took a moment to rest his forehead on TK’s, savoring the feel of the contact for another moment before he pulled back and grinned at him, “I’m interested in anything, as long as it’s with you.” 

-----------

The next afternoon Carlos pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. He put the car in park and turned to look at his passenger. TK was fiddling with the collar of his shirt and anxiously smoothing it for imaginary wrinkles. Carlos reached over and grabbed one of his hands. 

“Hey,” he said, “stop worrying, you look perfect. They’re going to love you.” 

“Are you sure?” TK asked and Carlos’s heart hurt to hear his voice so small and full of doubt, “I can’t imagine that too many parents would love the idea of their child dating an addict.” 

“What matters is that you have overcome it,” Carlos said firmly, “and that I love you. That’s all they need to know, and it will be enough.” 

They had said those words roughly a hundred times since TK had first let it slip in his classroom yesterday morning and each time Carlos could feel his heartbeat just a little bit faster. He loved TK Strand and he was loved by TK Strand. Nothing in the world had ever felt so good. Now he was going to take TK inside to meet his parents where he would undoubtedly learn all sorts of embarrassing stories and become that much further entrenched in Carlos’s life and in his heart. He couldn’t think of a better possible next step than that. 

He leaned over to press a kiss to TK’s lips, smiling when he felt some of the tension melt from the other man. When he pulled away he met TK’s gorgeous eyes and squeezed the hand he was still holding. 

“It’s going to be fine and I’m going to be right beside you, no matter what.”

“Promise?” 

Carlos nodded with a smile, “Yeah, I promise. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” 

[c-rose2081]

Chiffon & Steel

(or how Jeff Tracy and Penelope Creighton-Ward first met)

—

Summer was in full swing on Tracy Island, yet somehow in the midst of oil fires, asteroids and hurricanes, they still found time to be together for a monthly barbecue. With Alan home for the long haul, it was ruckus as usual, the boys splashing about in the pool trying to dunk one another. Tin-Tin (growing up nicely, one could note) had found a spot to take in a bit of sun, while Kyrano and Ohana worked the grill. The Island had visitors today in the form of Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward and Aloysius Parker. The lady’s chauffeur had found himself a nice lawn chair and was reading the paper, while Lady Penelope sat with Jeff Tracy, overlooking the scene before them.

“I don’t know how you do it, Jefferson. Truly, I don’t.” Penelope mused, staring at the chessboard which was spread between them, “so much boyish fuss.

“Ah, but that’s the best part.” Jeff mumbled, still caught between moves. Sliding a pawn across the board, he grunted slightly in displeasure, “you always were better at chess then me.”

“Fathers doing I’m afraid,” Penelope sighed, taking said pawn with her knight, “Such a stuffy game, chess.”

“I still don’t know why you put up with that empty old house of yours. You really shouldn’t box yourself up so much.”

Jeff moved another pawn to try and counter Penelope’s impending check, and succeeded as the woman chuckled and tipped her head.

“You know this life isn’t for me, Jeff. The excitement of it all. My father would throw a fit if he ever found out what I’d been up to before we met. And can you imagine what the tabloids would say? The scandal.”

Moving her rook, Jeff once again grumbled and held his chin.

“Yes, I suppose he would. But you were so young then, Penny. You’re still so young.”

“I found my first gateway wrinkle the other day Jeff,” Penelope mused, kicking over one of Jeff’s pawns, “check.”

But the man wasn’t focused on the game anymore, rather the caged woman sitting before him.

“Penny, I remember those days before International Rescue like they were yesterday.” He insisted, causing sapphire eyes to glance up in surprise as the man half rose from his seat, “We chased stolen weapons through the Venetian canals and hunted for smuggled gold in Peru,”

“Jeff…” Penelope breathed, a flush of red coming

to her cheeks as the man continued, his hands waving in the air as his tone grew wistful.

“We jumped trains to avoid traffickers in India, sunk the boat of marine poachers in Argentina, and crossed borders in Mexico for crime lords. Don’t you ever miss those times?”

“Not particularly, no,” Penelope insisted, gasping as Jeff hauled her up from the chair. Having an audience didn’t seem to matter as he spun her dramatically on the concrete, causing a giggle to leave her throat.

“Come on, Pen. We danced salsa by firelight in Cuba. You remember,”

“Yes I do.” Swinging into Jeff’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her, Penelope rolled her eyes dramatically, “you held me just like this while you were madly in love with another woman, and with a son already on the way.”

The man giving a hearty chuckle as Penny shook him off, she straightened out her dress and folded her arms defiantly, “I hardly recall any of those moments being remotely good. Running for my life to avoid getting captured, tortured, or shot at isn’t necessarily a dream vacation. You haven’t forgotten the day we met, have you?”

“Of course not,” Jeff insisted, puffing out his chest with pride, “the boys at poker love to see the scar.”

Before the banter could continue between the pair, a harsh cough caught their attention. All eyes were on them, even Parker, who was watching from behind his paper.

“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds,” Gordon mocked, sitting on the end of the diving board, “but are you going to let the rest of us in on this little song and dance, or do we have to guess?”

“It’s nothing,” Penny insisted, placing her hands on her hips, “just a reminding your father why I stay in my stuffy old manor,”

“Hardly. That day was the beginning of the beginning,” Jeff insisted, “you wouldn’t believe it boys, but when I first met Penelope, she shot me.”

The ‘what’s!’ That chorused across the pool deck made the commander of International Rescue grin in victory as Penelope held a hand to her forehead, blushing madly with embarrassment.

“You shot our dad, Lady P?” Alan accused, “why?”

“I wish I could say it was simply a lucky break on my end,” She admitted, “but it was your father who walked right into the middle of a war zone.”

“I didn’t walk into anything. I was in front of my hotel.” Jeff complained, “you were the one holding the rifle.”

“It was a .47 Phantom Striker. Top of the line back then.” Penelope insisted, waving a finger in Jeff’s face before jabbing him in the chest with a manicured nail, “and I still have it in the boot of FAB 1 if you want another something to show to your poker friends.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Break it up you two, this isn’t the place for a lovers tiff.”

It was Virgil who came between them, forcing the two adults into their separate chairs as Penelope steamed and Jeff continued to chuckle, “since you’ve made a scene already, you,” pointing at Penelope, “need to tell us how you managed to shoot dad.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” the woman complained, “I was 18 years old, I’d only just learned how to shoot.”

“That's a bluff and you know it,” Jeff insisted, still grinning as Penelope sat back into the wicker seat with a nose huff of indignance, “I don’t know what they taught you at that finishing school, Pen, but it wasn’t how to hold a tea cup. Kyrano!”

Leaning over his shoulder to summon the man from the grill, he came over with a smile, spatula still in hand.

“Yes, Mr. Tracy?”

“Could you fetch a photograph from inside my office? The one inside the bottom drawer.”

“Yes of course, right away.”

“You didn’t keep that blasted thing did you, Jeff?” Penelope whined, “Oh please tell me you didn’t keep it!”

“Of course I kept it, Pen. It’s one of my fondest memories of you.” Jeff chuckled, taking the paper which Kyrano handed to him only a few moments later, “take a look boys.”

Crowding around the table still in their swimsuits, the photo itself was old and had worn edges and corners. The two figures in the photo sat in the back of a military jeep, surrounded by a landscape yellowed with dust. A younger looking Jeff Tracy sat on one side of the bed, his arm in a cloth sling and a youthful smile hidden under a dirty fedora. Penelope — still on the brink of adulthood in the picture — sat on the other side, leaning her weight on a long muzzled rifle. She too was smiling, but smaller, like the sun and sand had been physically beat into her.

“I’d been sleeping on the ground for a week when this was taken,” Penelope mused, shaking her head slightly as the image was passed from person to person, “it was my first solo assignment. It was supposed to be intelligence only, cut and dry. But a move had been made which my...hem, supervisors, weren’t expecting. So the plan changed unexpectedly.”

“If that’s the word you want to use for it, Penny.” Jeff chided, causing the woman to roll her eyes as the boys looked between one another.

“Well now you have to tell us the whole story,” Scott complained, “right guys?”

The group made noises of agreement as Penelope once again found herself blushing, watching the group gather around the base of the table like a primary school reading circle. Even Tin-Tin had caught ear of the conversation, and dragged her lawn chair across the pool deck as to be closer.

“Come on Penny, it’s a great story,” Jeff insisted, “and I know you tell it better then I do.”

“Oh...very well. I do love a captive audience.” Penelope insisted wistfully, “The year was 2047 I believe, and I had been in the small county of Asafar just North of Iran for almost two weeks…”

—

For those of you who saw the gif and thought I was stealing, that was 100% NOT my intention. So I took it off and am adding some stills instead. Thanks to the one who reached out and let me know so I could make the adjustment.

A/N: Thunderbirds 2004 has a very special place in my heart. I love Sophia Myles as Penelope, and I adore the flirty combo of Penny and Jeff portrayed in the film. This was written with that dynamic in mind ❤️

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Baku, Soft Baku, Stargazing

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Minor content warning for (discussions of) self-esteem issues. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

“Bakugou.”

With an absent hum, Bakugou turns the page, squints, scribbles down a line in his neat, tight handwriting. A piece of black fabric separates his hand from the paper, the same wrapped around his pen, too.

Kirishima leans forward, over his own book-and-notepad combination dotted with scrawled comments and colorful post-it notes. It’s been an hour since any of it has made sense to him.

“Bakuuu. C’mon.”

A sigh, annoyed. Another line is added. Then: “The fuck d’you want?”

It takes a few seconds until the silence has stretched enough for Bakugou to look up and into Kirishima’s pleading eyes. Bakugou’s expression barely changes beyond a raised brow, unimpressed. It’s the one reserved for when Kirishima’s being especially dense – slightly more severe than muttered curses and slightly less so than that God-help-me roll of his eyes he premiered during their last study session.

Which was yesterday. Kirishima would be proud of unlocking a new Angry Bakugou Face in record time… if U.A.’s grumpiest genius wasn’t the only thing standing between him and a frankly impressive row of failed grades.

Final’s Week is brutal, even for heroes-in-training. Especially for heroes-in-training. So: Desperate times, desperate measures.

“Slap me”, Kirishima tells Bakugou, hushed in their corner of the library. “As hard as you possibly can.”

The arch of Bakugou’s brow climbs higher, utterly devastating in its wordless criticism. He says, “What”, tone Aizawa-levels of flat, and it’s not a question. It’s a command: Explain or else.

Kirishima is in no state to resist. The confession bubbles out of him in a whiny rush.

“Dude, I slept like… zero hours last night ‘cause Kami got Pokémon Colosseum – y’know, the reboot? So cool – and we kinda lost track of time. I know, I know, it was a stupid idea, I swear it was an honest mistake!”

Bakugou continues to stare as he puts down his pen and wipes his palms on the edge of his shirt. Kirishima ducks his head, hiding behind the limp strands of his hair.

“Don’t look at me like that, man. I’m seriously about two minutes from passing out here and there’s like a hundred pages of this thing I haven’t read yet, let alone understood, and oh shit Mic will hand me my ass with words tomorr–”

It all happens so quickly: Kirishima catches a blur of motion headed his way and squeaks; his skin hardens about half-way before there’s sparks and his cheek smarts, and a hissed “Motherfucker” sounds right in front of him.

The sharp slap! noise registers only after the fact, when Kirishima holds his face and Bakugou holds his hand and they both stare at each other in mutual bafflement as their skin turns red with the impact.

That moment is like glue, clear and sticky as it extends past its natural limit – then Bakugou snorts and starts to laugh, a cackling hyena-laugh that Kirishima’s never heard in full and certainly not like this, loud and unrestrained, and all hopes of holding back his own laughter is lost as he cracks up, too.

They laugh and laugh, until Kirishima’s stomach starts to cramp up and there’s the sheen of tears in Bakugou’s eyes. “Your f-fucking face”, Bakugou wheezes at some point. “Fucking bastard, you almost broke my hand! With your fucking face!”

All it does is send them into another round of hysterics.

At some point, Kirishima glimpses some of their classmates poke their head around the bookshelves secluding their study corner from the rest of the library, faces ranging from exasperated to deeply disturbed. There’s Ashido, giggling at the sight of both of them bent over and struggling to get some sort of grip, and Kaminari, who just mumbles “What the hell, guys” while straddling the line between sleep-deprived and intensely fascinated by what he’s seeing.

And hey, at least Kirishima’s really freaking awake now. There’s the problem of trying and failing to breathe without dying, his face helplessly flushed and sweating, but the world’s colors are back to being bright and sharp. Across from him, Bakugou isn’t faring much better, shaking his head and the back of his hand covering the broad smile he can’t seem to get rid of.

“Fuck you, you stupid, moronic idiot. For fuck’s sake, Kirishima.”

Kirishima rubs at his chest, the ache in his lungs starting to lessen now that he’s marginally back in control. “I’m so sorry but like”, he waves at himself and he can’t help his grin despite the stinging protest coming from his cheek. “Thanks, dude!”

“Eat a dick.” There’s no bite whatsoever in Bakugou’s grumbling as he sits back down and digs his nose into his book once more, thoroughly ignoring their flabbergasted audience.

After a moment of pantomiming what amounts to I’ll tell you later to their friends, Kirishima joins him, ready to tackle the final boss that is the English language.

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

yo nitro (sent 17:48)

where u at? (sent 17:48)

-

why (received 17:52)

-

why what 🤔 (sent 17:53)

OH uh to hang out? (sent 17:55)

dw dude it’s just me (sent 17:55)

-

[location] (received 18:10)

-

bakugou katsuki what are you doing in the middle of the woods??? (sending…)

NO WAY (sending…)

signal’s gone AGAIN i’m going feral (sending…)

screw it (sending…)

*

The GPS signal craps out twice more before Kirishima heaves himself onto the edge of a cliff and spots a familiar silhouette. Sheltered by a bend in the rock bed, the glow of a fire illuminates a backpack set aside, a pair of discarded hiking boots – and Bakugou, leaning against solid stone with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Took ya long enough”, he says, the lazy smirk on his lips cut in flickering shadows.

“Listen.” Kirishima wipes beads of perspiration off his temple; a spontaneous rock-climbing session by the last light of day is not what he had hoped for after hours of exhaustive quirk training. “We already have a perfectly good camp. There’s, like, leftover curry and hot springs and stuff down there.”

Bakugou scoffs. “Yeah. And a bunch of extras.”

There’s an exasperated reply on his tongue – They’re called classmates, genius. Y’know, friends? – but Kirishima knows it’s pointless to even start that debate. He snipes him with his sweaty headband instead, celebrating his own marksmanship when it hits Bakugou square in the chest with a wet thwap.

“Wha– Shitty Hair!”

“You made me climb this stupid cliff in the middle of the night. Deal with it.”

Bakugou just throws it back, the force of an explosion propelling the thing past Kirishima’s shoulder and off the mountain entirely. Kirishima watches singed white fabric disappear into the abyss, bidding it goodbye with a somber salute.

“Well, that’s lame.”

“You’re lame, fuckface.”

“Bro.”

Shaking his head, Kirishima laughs and joins him by the fire.

It’s quiet for a bit while he gets comfy and Bakugou throws a chunk of wood into the flames, sparks bursting into life immediately. This far up, the air feels… brittle, in a way, thin and cold enough Kirishima wouldn’t have been surprised to see his breath mist. The breeze ruffles the crowns of the trees around them, the rush of rustling leaves in the distance strangely soothing.

Bakugou’s gaze is lost in the night sky when he starts to speak. “Been thinking of borrowing my parents’ car and driving out here by myself. Y’know, once I got my license and shit. ‘s got some good trails, people were talking ‘bout it on those shitty hiking forums. Forums, like we’re in the fucking 2000s.”

His elbows on his knees and his head propped on his hands, Kirishima hums and looks up as well. The moon is a thin island of white in an ocean of indigo blue growing steadily darker, a myriad of stars coming out to keep her company. “Yeah?”

“Mh”, Bakugou makes around a soft breath. “Guess they’re all shit out of luck though ‘cause it’s the personal playground of pro heroes, apparently. It’s a miracle none of our idiots got fucking lost coming out here.”

‘Our idiots’, huh? Kirishima nudges his chin lower and into his palms to hide his smile. “Kinda far of a trip to make just for some hiking, isn’t it?”

A casual shrug, followed by a nod upwards. “Not for this. The lodge is the only structure for miles in any direction and even with us here, it’s got fuck all on an entire city. Get it?”

“Yeah! No light pollution, right?”

“Yup”, Bakugou confirms, popping the ‘p’. A small grin is shot Kirishima’s way, teasing rather than mocking. “What’s this, huh? Don’t tell me you paid attention in fucking physics after all.”

Kirishima breathes an offended huff, mock-hurt.

“Pshh, please. Y’know how everyone has that one niche thing they randomly obsessed over as a kid? That was me with astronomy. Back in Middle School I had like, a huge model of all the planets in my room and my favorite constellations mapped across the ceiling with those glow-in-the-dark stars. Years of useless knowledge, all stored right here.”

Kirishima’s thumb taps his forehead as he smiles at Bakugou; Bakugou’s lips pull into a smile of his own, small but there. When he turns back to the stars, Kirishima does the same, sighing wistfully.

“If Thirteen’s class were just about that I’d freaking ace it, dude. I get that I’m kinda dumb with literally anything else, but space is my jam. Did you know that–”

“You’re not.”

The train of thought Kirishima was about to gleefully jump onto screeches to a halt. “…huh?”

Bakugou frowns at him. “You’re not”, a vague wave in his general direction, “stupid or whatever.”

Perhaps the dumbfounded blinking Kirishima’s doing in response is already enough to prove Bakugou wrong on that. Still, Kirishima sits up a bit straighter, eyebrows pulling together tightly.

“Um. I appreciate you saying that, bro, but I’m only here ‘cause Aizawa decided to get in touch with his merciful side after all. Like, Cementoss totally wiped the floor with me back home. There’s no point in lying to myself about that.”

“So you’re calling me a fucking liar, is that it?”

“Huh?”

Kirishima can only watch as Bakugou’s mouth twists beyond the usual doom and gloom and into something… frustrated. Genuinely annoyed. An iron weight settles in Kirishima’s gut, heavy and hard to ignore. “I didn’t– Look, man, can we not fight over this? I’m just saying I wanna face my mistakes and do better, that’s all.”

“Then say it!”

There’s a severity to the words that catches Kirishima off guard. Bakugou is staring him down with eyes so intense they possess their own gravitational pull, closer to black than crimson in the fire’s light–

Kirishima likes to think he knows Bakugou, at least a little. What makes him tick, what makes him angry – because there is a reason and a rhyme to his anger, a pattern to the things that set him off that Kirishima has yet to properly figure out. It’s just that Kirishima isn’t usually one of those things, not anymore.

“You lost me, Baku”, he admits, quietly, after a beat or two of tense silence. “What do you mean?”

Bakugou sighs, a harsh noise between them. The deep breath afterwards is new, however, a sharp inhale followed by a calmer exhale before Bakugou points at him, a wordless listen up.

“Just– Okay. You fucked up and wanna learn from it? Cool, fucking say that then. Not some bullshit about being too dumb to do shit ‘cause you’re not. Fuck right off with that.”

Mouth opening, Kirishima is stopped by a flurry of firecracker sparks and a terse growl of “Shut the hell up, I’m not done.” Finally, Bakugou’s look snaps elsewhere, one sock-clad foot kicking at a loose rock in clear irritation.

“Studying isn’t your strength, who gives a fuck? You got into U.A. top-fucking-two, you’re one of the only capable fuckers around and if you seriously think you don’t deserve to be here because Cementoss got lucky one fucking time then you got another thing coming.”

Kirishima sits there in a state of mild shock until Bakugou huffs and glares at him again. The threat behind it is ridiculously empty considering the impromptu speech he just gave and holy shit, Bakugou Katsuki is praising him. Kirishima Eijirou.

He might actually cry.

“What? You’re competition, bitch, so don’t make me a fucking liar by pretending otherwise.”

Scratch that, tears are definitely part of the picture now.

Wet-rimmed eyes and a quiet sniff, that’s as far as Kirishima gets before Bakugou’s expression suddenly falls, crestfallen to an almost comical degree. Kirishima does laugh then, a watery little chuckle that doesn’t seem to make things much better, either.

“Sorry, just… Damn Nitro, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. You really think so?”

And okay, yup, that’s a real glare, this time. Bakugou throws up his hands. “You’re so– Urgh. Did I fucking stutter?”

Kirishima rubs the moisture out of his eyes and smiles. “Nope.” Faint embarrassment heats his cheeks; he focuses on the warmth curling in his chest instead, glowing bright and comforting like the embers at their feet and the stars above.

“Good”, Bakugou mutters.

More wood is tossed into the fire and rekindled with red-hot palms. Scooting closer, Kirishima holds out his hands and hums happily as it chases away the ever-cooling temperatures. They can’t stay up here forever – Aizawa will have his hide for sure if he doesn’t show up to the remedial course tonight – yet Kirishima figures they have a few more minutes.

Bakugou goes right back to his earlier sprawl, unaffected by the cold: arms crossed, eyes on the sky like he can’t get enough of the sight. Kirishima thinks of glow-in-the-dark stickers, faded over time. Quietly, he wonders which constellation is Bakugou’s favorite.

“Kiri.”

“Hm? Yeah?”

Shoulders relaxed, voice even, Bakugou says: “Tell me something. About space, I mean.”

As complicated as being friends with Bakugou can get, it can be so, so easy, too. Just a while longer, Kirishima decides as he settles in next to his best friend and starts talking.

>>Chapter 4

[bangtancentricsblog]

the king, a prince and their grand maid duchess

➣ “What of this, have you given this to anyone?” he breathes, thumb still caressing the plush velvet of your lip. Your heart flutters, there’s this nagging voice in the back of your brain that urges to play coy. With any other man maybe you would but with Yoongi it’s different, the voice fades and you find yourself breathing a soft almost silent ‘no’. His thumb ceases its slow trek over your lip, a smirk pulling at his the color of his eyes grows darker at your answer.

❒ pairing: min yoongi x reader, hinted jung hoseok x reader

❒ genre: fluff, slight angst, smut

❒ alternative universe: royals, non-idol verse,

❒ word count: 2.9k+

warnings/disclosures: light angst, light smut, fluff, kissing, dry humping, yoongi is the only true heir, the others are sons of the concubines, king yoongi, prince bts, grand duchess reader, maid reader, her and yoongi have a past, playful yoongi, please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

*REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!* **this fic is exclusively being continued over on my ao3 only**

The soft scratch of the pen is grating to his ears, a sign that Yoongi is growing weary of all the paperwork that comes with ruling the kingdom. He doesn't hate it but he also wished he could push this work onto one of the princes. He’s sighing for what feel s like the millionth time since he sat down some three hours ago. His attendant Sungmin is tired too, tired that the king is being difficult when he’s been king for the grand total of a year. It's not that he doesn’t sympathize with the king because he does but he doesn't understand why he hasn't appointed any of the six princes to major roles in the palace. He’s sure prince Namjoon would be more than helpful in trying to settle a new tax that will lighten the financial burden on the lower class. But alas Yoongi has yet to decide any of that for his brothers.

“What else is there?” Yoongi breathes as he puts his pen down to rub at his tired eyes. The study feels stuffy, the sun is high in the sky and he doesn't want to be here until sundown.

“All that’s left is the Vermillion palace, your majesty.” Sungmin says a furrow to his brow at the topic.

“Really?”

“Yes, we can’t keep putting it off. It’s been a year and any time it’s brought up you say to save it for another day.” Sungmin says vehemently. He wants to bring up more pressing matters than the Vermillion Palace but he doesn’t think Yoongi will take too kindly to it.

“I suppose you’re right. I want it emptied out, reassign all personal to where they are needed, burn all that is left behind. Then have it torn down, summon an architect after the area has been cleared.” He says, expression cold and somewhat detached at the mention of the Vermillion palace.

“But your highness, where will the concubines live?” Sungmin sputters, baffled at the thought of the other princes’ mothers thrown to the streets so carelessly.

“Send word to the princes, if they wish to keep their mothers in their palaces they may and if not they are to do as they please.”

“If I may, your highness, where will you keep your harem if not the vermillion palace?” Yoongi’s glare is cold, colder than before, a look he’s never seen, especially not directed at him.

“I will lie with my queen and only the queen. The late king chose to lie with other women but I will not so I do not need a harem. If the next king chooses to do so then so be it but during my reign I will not take concubines as war prisoners or any other form.”

“I shall send word to the princes then.” Sungmin mutters taking note to inform the princes of the changes to come.

“Good, now leave and send for her.” Yoongi sighs, relaxing into the plushness of the chair he sits on, the grin that tugs at his lip is hard to miss.

*

There’s a knock at the door, one that had the grin at his lips stretching wider. He gives permission to enter and he’s happy to see her even if she’s wearing the maid uniform of the royal palace.

“You called your majesty?”

“Always ‘your majesty’, it’s never Yoongi anymore.” he chuckles watching attentively as she has yet to bring her gaze up from the floor.

“That would be improper, your majesty, how could a maid to the royal palace dream to address his majesty so casually.” she simpered a smirk tugging at her lips.

“I see, then how are you today Grand Duchess?” he asks, mirth coloring his tone. He watches amusedly as your head finally moves, gaze meeting his in a glare, brows pinched together at the mention of the title.

“I am not the Grand Duchess.”

“But you could be, the title is yours to take.” he quips gaze alight with glee.

“It is also my brothers, I have no need for a title.” His lips fall from the easy smile into a firm line, ‘I know’, he thinks because he does your father the only Grand Duke of the kingdom had willingly offered the title to either of you under the condition that should you ever take it you’d be wed to someone reliable who’d help lessen the burden of overseeing a dukedom.

“Do you remember your debutante ball?” he says instead choosing to redirect the conversation.

“Oh god, not this again.” you laugh hands coming up to cover your face. You look just as stunning in the plain black dress, your hair has been pulled away from your face in a ponytail, he wonders briefly if your hair is longer and still as silky as it looks.

“Yes, this again.” he teases.

“I can't remember who was more surprised by your attendance, your brothers or the ladies debuting.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You can’t have been so blind to the ways all the other noble ladies fawned over your presence.”

“If you insist, I only had one lady in mind. What I would give to see you in a proper dress again.” he sighs wistfully.

“You’re being very bold your majesty, and you see me in a dress everyday.” you giggle hand covering your mouth as you do so.

“The palace uniform is inadequate. I mean a real dress, one made of silk with an embroidered bodice in the colors of the royal family.”

“Is this you saying that you’ve finally decided to search for a queen consort?” you ask tone falling into something soft, not a single hint of affection. One that came with years of grooming to withstand the harsh life of a noble. The one you used when speaking with strangers who were too friendly with you. He did not like it.

“I don’t need to look for one, I have already chosen a consort. Do you remember what I told you all those years ago?” he whispers moving to stand, his legs protesting at the sudden change.

“I do,” you breathe, gaze falling to his desk, “I still don't have an answer.”

“How much longer must I wait?” he starts, then falls silent.

"I don't know.”

“Do you mean that? Do you really not know?”

“Yes, you are in your prime, your majesty it’s why I have urged you to look for a queen consort.” you mutter.

“As are you, why waste your life as a maid to the royal family when you could be Grand Duchess? Wouldn’t you rather spend your time at social gatherings and tea parties with friends?”

“I love the royal family. I will always love them as my own but I have no need for the title, I don't need it.” Yoongi laughs, something so cold almost mocking it makes you shiver.

“You can have the title of Grand Duchess but don’t want it. I offer you myself and the title of Queen and you still have yet to decide if you want it. I told you years ago that I would wait, and I will, if I have to wait many lifetimes then so be it, but I will wait until you are ready to give yourself to me as I have been since you were fourteen.” he says. Your hands have tightened their hold on the skirt of your uniform, fingers turned white at the grip you have of the soft cotton. There’s always been something about Yoongi that made your usual composure crumble, as if he knew which cracks to poke and prod until you were falling apart.

“I will not be Queen only in name -”

“You won't, - ”

“- and I will not stand by as my husband lies with other women who will grow heavy with his children.”

“- because I don't plan on having a harem.” he mumbles rounding the desk to stand before you. You want to move away from him, because being this close to Yoongi never ends well. The heat of his body seaks yours, as if searching for its lover. It’s just your deprived mind you reason, as he moves closer his breath now skimming over your cheeks the hint of mint from his earlier tea present as it washes over you.

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

“I will take no concubines, when I have my queen I will need no one but her. She will be the only one to bear my children. She will be the only one I lie with, the only one I will give my everything to.” Heat swirls low in your belly, a feeling you’re familiar with when in the presence of your king. Yoongi has only grown more handsome since you were fourteen and he’d asked for your hand in marriage, he hadn't cried when you’d stayed silent like you thought he would. No, he smiled promising he could wait because he was a patient man. It was laughable really since he’d only been two years older than you then, the moment ruined as his rambunctious brothers came crashing down on one another from hiding behind a pillar near the garden he’d lead you to. Were you really allowed to believe you could have it all, have him? Surely there was a trick, nothing came that easily.

“Who are you assigned to?” he asks, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“Which of my brothers do you serve?”

“Prince Hoseok, but why do you ask?”

“Hmm, have you given yourself to anyone?” he says instead, as you sputter to put words together.

“N-no, Yoongi!” you say on instinct the only two words that have come to mind when bombarded with such an intrusive and private question. You almost want to stomp your feet and yell at him for daring to ask a lady that, especially you of all people!

“I was the only true heir to the throne, when my father was on his deathbed.” Your brows come together knowing how much he’d cared for his father despite the slight contempt he held for him. “He could’ve chosen any of my brothers to take the throne, Hoseok would’ve made a good king.” he says, a hand grasping your hip as heat rushes to your face, the warmth settling just beneath the skin heating further as a palm moves to cup your jaw. The slow drag of his thumb across your lower lip pulls your attention. The heat in your belly swirls further pooling in the apex of your thighs, his eyes are half lidded, the rich pools of chocolate darkened to one you recognize easily. It's a look you’ve bore witness to since the two of you have begun this game of tiptoeing around the other. Friends you’d said once but not quite friends either bordering along the lines of something more, something you’ve always been too afraid to touch.

“What of this, have you given this to anyone?” he breathes, thumb still caressing the plush velvet of your lip. Your heart flutters, there’s this nagging voice in the back of your brain that urges to play coy. With any other man maybe you would but with Yoongi it’s different, the voice fades and you find yourself breathing a soft almost silent ‘no’. His thumb ceases its slow trek over your lip, he smirks a the color of his eyes grows darker at your answer.

“Hoseok would’ve made a good king,” he says again leaning in the slightest bit “he would’ve been quick to whisk you away and make you his queen, but I have never been good at letting people take what’s mine.” he growls slanting his lips to yours the feeling familiar. This isn't your first kiss, not with Yoongi anyway. Your first one was when you were fourteen and had shared stolen kisses throughout your life thereafter.

It was innocent at first, just a peck, a soft press of his lips to yours and then as you got older it grew more desperate. His hands tugging you closer as you hid in the apple orchard. It was the introduction of tongue and teeth that always left your breathless, the high collared dresses you wore in the sweltering summer heat of the capital to hide the marks he’d left the last time you’d seen him. Thus vowing to never wear any dresses that exposed too much skin when visiting him again!

This time reminded you of the last, his grip hard as he pulled you into his body, his hips pressed tight to yours. His tongue poked at the seam of your lips pulling a whine from deep within you as you pressed impossibly closer to him. He’s taller than you remember your arms loop around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss, your fingers tangle in his hair soft against your skin. You tug on it experimentally, a growl tickles your lips before he pulls away. The whimper that comes is involuntary, your body has betrayed you as your arms refuse to let him move even an inch away from you. He chuckles nipping at your lip softly before turning your bodies so that he can lift you easily to sit at the edge of his giant oak desk.

“Is this okay?” he rasps pecking you once, then twice as his nimble fingers skim the hem of your skirt. It’s just like last time the voice says and you nod once because this is more than okay. He’s more than eager to push your skirt up, slotting himself in the space between your thighs and pulling you forward to feel him. You gasp, thighs twitching as his manhood presses to your heat the trousers he wears do nothing to hide his growing desire. The black hosiery you wear is too thin as it grows damp your arousal soaking through your panties.

Yoongi thrusts into your heat, hands dimpling the meat of your thighs as he pulls you closer, rutting into you as if it’ll be the last time. It will be, the voice says, tauntingly reminding you that the first time he’d touched you like this was years ago, reminded you how shame had colored your gentle love stricken heart and had made you stay away from him. Your mind is racing body falling into the steady rhythm Yoongi has set. The hushed tone of his groans spark something within you a shaky whine slipping past your kiss bitten lips. His breath ghosts over your cheeks as he murmurs your name, the fog that clouds your brain is dense, so thick all you can manage is choked gasps. The half words that slide onto your tongue near incoherent babble as the feeling mounts. Yoongi’s grip is tight, trying desperately to angle his hips so that you can really feel him, all of him.

The sweet desperate lilt of your voice keeps him grounded, reminds him that your purity is still intact and he would rather die than take it from you like this. He’s not sure why it turned out like this, he’d only meant to tease you, and yet being able to have you even like this is truly a blessing. Like this he’ll be able to picture what you’ll be like when he can really feel all of you, to truly have you after you have given yourself to him. Your ankles have locked around his hips, the desperate pleas fuel his hunger, squeezing one of your perfect breasts pulls the sweetest high pitched whine from you. A sound he’s much too eager to swallow as he repeats the motion slotting his lips to yours once more as you squeal, oh she’ll be the death of me, he thinks, feeling the press of your hips into his.

“Yoo-yoongi, o-oh, plea-please, oh!” you wail legs twitching around his hips, tightening around him enough that he can no longer pull away from you to avoid his end. Your hips have yet to still, rolling softly into his as he continues to rutt into you with a strangled groan. The fog on your brain has begun to clear, now taking note of the way your panties stick to you uncomfortably. Yoongi’s warmth pressed close, he’s heavier than you last remember, broader too, he’s yet to say anything and fear peaks into your consciousness. Your hands lie limp at your sides though they ache to touch, to feel the heat of his skin, maybe he’s hiding more beneath the shirt, you want to see, you want to feel, you want Yoongi. But you're still not ready, it’s a harsh reality that drowns the warmth you had felt moments ago in chilling waters.

“Stop that.” he sighs, moving to stand, hips still neatly snug between your thighs.

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking so hard, I meant it then and I mean it now I will wait for you. Just don’t hide from me again.” a sad look colors his features as he says this, reminding you that you hadn’t been the only one affected by what had happened all those years ago.

“I won't.” you whisper rather petulantly tugging a smile onto his lips. He helps ease you from your position against the desk sliding the hem of your dress down over your hips. Your legs are shaky as you stand smoothing some of the wrinkles out of the fabric as he watches diligently.

“I should excuse myself.”

“Is that so, eager to return to Hoseok are you.” he asks around a smirk.

“No, I am still a maid, your majesty.” his smirk falls, eyes narrowing at the loss of his name.

“Fine, you may leave but do not expect to remain in Hoseok’s care forever.” he reminds you as you turn on your heel.

“Of course not my king.” you say closing the door but not missing the way his cheeks color at the term of endearment

[red-doll-face]

locked in. [michael myers x gn!reader]

Ok, SO. this is my first slasher fic ever so be gentle, or else I will cry. This isn’t a specific version of Mikey so feel free to imagine any version you like, Thank you for reading this shit, 😳

Summary: You don’t want to think about it. How hard you’re breathing. How much you hope that his hearing isn’t so great in that mask. How much you wished, no matter how cruel, that he had entered someone else’s house. Maybe the neighbors had a gun. A well placed baseball bat. You didn’t. And it was too late. He had chosen this house. No matter how indeliberate or random the choice. It was still you.

WC: 2899

Warnings: stalking, implied kidnapping, creepy mikey (but that’s to be expected)

The sun offered its blistering warmth that fell gently, swayed by the autumn breeze that afternoon, which moved the leaves in their races across the porch, tumbling and piling up in the corners. The day had progressed normally. Like any other day that passed before it; inconsequential and in no way seemed to affect your life specifically, Halloween being of no special importance. The cover of night time seemed to change that air of normality. The sun fell into the ground as slow as always and came all too quickly. If you had known what awaited you in the silver night that shrouded the windows and darkened the doorways, you would have vehemently begged for the sun to stay. For Halloween night to never come.

_

Television noise filtered through, duly registered, and in large part ignored due to the hesitant call of school work.

A heavy sigh pushed through your lips, and after that, the pervasive silence that blared after the break of a long time spent focusing. Fall weather chill came from the open window overlooking the yard above your desk, workspace cast in the sparse light of the small lamp, kept there for your neverending school work.

Silence prevailing over the house, besides a static-y television, you realized that your parents must have left for that stupid Halloween party. The one at your parents’ job that offered the free alcohol and tepid conversation that careened in circles. ‘How are you doing?’ s exchanged, launching into an awkward silence before someone hopefully picks a good joke or something cheesy. All of the couples’ costumes explanation nightmares. Every horrible attempt at socialization a broken record that played the same section over and over… The schoolwork was better.

“Again, the town of Haddonfield, Illinois is plunged into another horrible Halloween-” the finger over the button put a quick end to the reporters nonsense as you rubbed at your eyes. 10:24 p.m. Not so bad, a few good hours of working afforded you some rest from your class discussion notes. The doorbell startled you after the white noise of 10 o'clock news stopped filling the room. Giggles and quiet chatter came from the front door. Oh, yeah. It was Halloween and the children were out on the hunt for candy. You almost forgot kids do that.

“Trick or Treat!” a group of kids no older than 9 accompanied by two watchful mothers held bags open, ready to receive the gift of sugar.

"Here you guys go,” you said, with as best a smile you could offer the children at her door. “Happy Halloween.” they ran back to their parents, only saying thank you when the two women scolded them for being so rude. You smiled and gave a small wave to the mothers and shut the door. The red plastic bowl for the candy now sat empty by the front door table.

“Sorry, no more candy.” You muttered to yourself, flipping the switch to the light on the front porch. It was darker outside than you thought but you didn’t want kids expecting candy come to the door.

After a snack and some juice enjoyed in silence, or rather to the serenade of crickets and what little children or teens still lingered on the quiet streets of Haddonfield, you refill the glass and made the begrudging journey back to the books. But little complaining was done when you considered the alternative. Another half-hour of work passed you by and when your glass of juice revealed itself to be empty, your thirst won out and you trekked back to the kitchen.

It would have been normal if the back door hadn’t been open. When you turned to find the source of the chill creeping up your legs you found the back door ajar, letting in the cool air. A stint of fear shot through your veins until the wind shut it back closed in a violent bang. The wind might have blown it open, you rationalized in silent contemplation. The wind is often to blame. Your father used to say that about the noises in your house so you figured it must be the cause. It’s always the cause.

Quietly padding to the slamming door, you wondered how long this had been going on. You hadn’t heard it earlier when the TV was on and even after that. So when exactly did the wind begin to blow open your backdoor? A quick peek into the backyard didn’t answer any questions and only worked against you, ranking up your fear. The darkness crowded around the bleak circle of light the backyard lights emitted and stretched back to the trees lining the fence and even further after that. You shivered and huddled into the comfort of home, locking the door securely. Making sure to be deliberate. If it happened again, then you should be fearful.

When you had finally made it back upstairs after your little backdoor scare, your homework greeted you like a solemn reminder: due tomorrow. With a weak plop into the desk chair, you grabbed a pen and continued where you left off. But thoughts about the backdoor snuck up on you. For the life of you, you couldn’t pinpoint a certain moment; besides when you walked into the kitchen, where you could remember the sound of the backdoor banging on the now battered wall. You shake your head, your logical self trying its best to keep you on track.

'It was just the wind, mom and dad probably just forgot to lock it’.

Momentary placation drove your brain back into work, scribbling notes to distract. To calm. Notes were calming in the place of the implications your wide-open back door held over you.

One more half-hour. 11:03 p.m. glowed on your alarm clock. One more hour before your alarm would go off, demanding you go to bed. Groggy mornings would be the death of you. The phone makes you jump and you sigh again before trotting downstairs. You answer the phone, plucking it off the wall.

“Hello?” You answered tiredly, emphasizing how much you disliked being startled.

“Ohh, honey, we were just- stop that!” Raucous giggling and party chatter streamed through the phone. You rolled your eyes.

“We called to ask you how you were doing? Hard at work, I hope. My hardworking baby.” your mom cooed and you simply set your mouth in a line. So hard at work. Working so hard.

“Yeah, mom when are you coming home?”

“Your father and I will be home in an hour. There’s an afterparty! How exclusive is that? I feel like a celebrity; like I won an Oscar!” you rolled your eyes, that one a little more meaningful “Afterparty…” your mom sighed wistfully as if her quaint office party compared to an Oscars afterparty.

"Ok, well just get home safe. You worked out who’s driving ?”

“So responsible. Yes, yes we have all that worked out.” She whispered to someone else nearby and she gave a quick 'love you, bye!’ Before hanging up. Hm. you lingered at the phone for a while, putting it back on the hook delicately, the 'clack’ sound soothing in a strange sort of way. Then something much less comforting echoed through the barren lonely wasteland that was your house.

A creak.

You stilled. It was not you and that you were sure of. You hadn’t moved and even if you did, you know exactly where each creaky floorboard in your house is. There isn’t one by the phone.

'Old bones’ grandpa would say.

'What an imagination on you! The things you’ll do with it!’ your mom would say.

'The wind’ dad would say in that gruff tone he had when he was busy.

With all of those reminders, you couldn’t be sure. Was there someone in your house? Your friends did mention the local psycho killer and his October shenanigans. Some sort of escaped mental patient. But that was a local legend. He spent his Halloweens in a cell.

Then other, less silly options came to mind. Robbers, realistic killers, the Ted Bundy kind. The ones who were less legend and more substance. More manipulative than a faceless shape peeking from the shadows.

“Imagination” you rationalized. All those work hours were taking their toll. The words whirled around and finally sleep called.

But when you think about it, you weren’t so tired. Not sleepy. Only worried. The backdoor banging against the wall and now this ominous creak were like a storm on the horizon. When you really think about it, you want to leave.

'Silly, silly.’ you thought. This is your home. The safest place you know. Your room has a lock. And so do the windows. Nothing to be afraid of, surrounded by the safe and secure interior of the house you grew up in.

Thus began the slow cycle around your warm, familiar home. Every window and door leading directly outside was closed and locked up for the night. Locked tight and double-checked. All the dark corners and closets were searched and you finally felt like you could sit without feeling imaginary eyes burning holes into the back of your neck. Every door was closed as to alert you if you saw one open and you finally settled in.

Your nightly routine brought its comfort in that it was ritualistic. It repeats every night and you do it without fail. Brush teeth, clean and wash face, comb hair, prep hair, change clothes, old clothes in the hamper, open stupid shower curtains, dry face with a towel if still wet, plan out next days outfit, Put away books…

Each book found its place in your bookbag and it was placed by your room door for easy takeaway. and finally, the usual glass of water. the same glass with water from the gallon and chilled just how you liked it. No matter what mom and dad say about your strange habits, the glass of water was necessary. It just was.

The stairs didn’t so much as creak as you crept down them, thankful you didn’t turn off all the lights. You filled your glass and slowly made your way up to your room.

A noise, just behind, well not just but somewhere behind you. You whipped around, expecting to see the shadow of something that meant you harm but you didn’t see anything. When you turned back around you could see it. That something that meant you harm. Your throat went dry and your heart stopped.

At the top of the stairs was the tallest man you’d ever seen, wielding a giant kitchen knife and wearing dark blue coveralls. His shadow fell over your face and you couldn’t even think to run. The black holes cut in his white mask seemed viscous, like a bird of prey. Watching, waiting, timing, capturing. You were sure that you were the rabbit in this situation. Sure to end up the hawks meal. Or perhaps the owl as he tilted his head at you. He descended a step and you followed suit, taking a step back, trembling hands dripping water from the glass that might just cost you your life or save it.

You tossed the glass at him, hitting him square in the forearm he raised to fend off the clear shattered remains and you took the opportunity to bolt. He didn’t give chase but you knew he wouldn’t just let you leave. That’s not the endgame. Not for him anyway. The pantry called you, but first, you had to lead him astray. The pantry was the most obvious choice. In the movies, that’s how all the dummies die. Grabbing a chair from the dining table, you tossed it into the window and then hastily dashed into the pantry.

This was a mistake. But only if you made it that way. Surrounded by crinkling bags and carefully stacked boxes, absolutely no movement could be made. Not if you wanted to get away with your life.

The heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs. Creaking on every step, it had never occurred to you that you might be more nimble than your killer, or your killer would be heavier than your dad. The crunch of broken glass from afar signaled the glass you threw.

He passed over it, unfazed and you cover your mouth, afraid even the slightest breath would tell him where you were hiding. He was the local legend after all. You tried to pretend this was extreme hide and seek. Having your life on the line, however, seemed to make you sweat bullets.

The crunch of glass closer to your hiding place tells you he’s inspecting the window. Will he fall for it? You hope so. You’re not sure if it will give an opening for you to call the police.

Sure enough, you hear him grunt and his feet land on the earth outside your home. How long ago was it that you called your mom?

Slowly, you crawled to the dining table, closing the pantry door snail slow behind you. The phone taunted you from the hook it was placed on. So close, yet so far. You slowly rose to a crouch, and just as he seemed to turn back into the house, your ruse not fooling him for long, you had already bunched yourself into a ball behind the couch making intense eye contact with your phone. He vaulted the window, heavy workman’s boots creaking the hardwood floor underneath the window that would draw the eye to your dad’s shiny old Cadillac. You felt a tear roll down your cheek. Tears don’t help you escape.

He lowered himself to peek under the dining room table and you took the chance to move to the other couch, still out of his view. Gaining courage, you peek to see him slam open the pantry door. You shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t fallen for your little trick. While he was distracted, you took the chance to move quickly as possible to the phone, not quite in his line of sight but you’re hoping he’ll choose the basement. You’re praying, hoping he’ll investigate the basement but he spots the backdoor. Locked. You kicked yourself. If it was unlocked, he might have assumed. He crept towards where you were hiding but by some miracle he stops, waits. An alarm. Midnight. He stalks towards the sound like a man possessed. Your precise ways have saved your life again. You set the alarm in case you got sidetracked so that it would remind you to go to bed. With some quick thinking, you manage to slip into the curtains and he stomps up the stairs before it becomes quiet. he only lets you hear him when he wants to be heard. You exit the closet and pick up the phone dialing the police.

“I swear to god if that’s you again you little punk- ”

“Listen to me. There is a man in the house wearing a mask. My address is 569 Garrison ave. if you don’t come now, I will die.” Your breath hitches at the need to cry but you soak it up. He can’t hear you. Not if you want to live. “Please. Send someone. Goodbye.” You rushed that but it was obvious the police have been receiving prank calls. You hoped he wouldn’t write you off as another prank caller.

The man is still looking for you upstairs. You’re not sure if he’s still busy with the alarm clock. You creep away from the phone on your way to the front door.

Your escape isn’t hasty enough. You should know better by now. He is a predator. He watches. Waits. Strikes. A barreling force pins you to the wall by your shoulders, the pain shooting into your scapulas. You whimper in response and he closes in, seeming to revel in your little noise. You wonder if you had chosen to run to the door, would he have still caught you?

“What do you want?” You pant out.

“I didn’t do anything!” you wiggle and struggle but his brute strength surpasses your academic homebody. You are no match. His face is so close, you can hear the heavy breathing.

Inhale. You test his grip on you.

Exhale. He doesn’t falter.

Then he leans in. Too close for comfort, you think and you cry out as you realize he is feeling you. Studying you. Squeezing and sniffing. Consuming. He raises the strange mask to his nose, before licking the sweat accumulating at your neck. You wished you had seen his face. You hoped he wasn’t some extreme pervert.

He tilts his head in curiosity. He’s starting at you, right in your eyes. He pulls his mask down and grabs your throat and you wince at the thought. He’s gonna choke you to death.

Sirens drown out your little struggles and whines to be set free. He turns, bathed in the flashing, then bends down to pick you up by the waist, folding you over his shoulder.

“No! Stop!” He squeezes your thigh with an iron grip. A warning. Silent tears slip past your shut eyelids. You’re forced to do nothing while the police bang on your door.

“Open up, police!”

'So stupid. You locked yourself inside with him.’ You sob into the blue fabric of his coveralls, soundlessly disappearing out the backdoor.

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.2/25

Previous

Triss Merigold was bloody exhausted. The start of the school term was always the worst. She had barely had a break for the whole of the first two weeks. She flopped onto the sofa in the staffroom with a dramatic sigh. She loved the kids. She hated the parents. Already she’d been caught up on the phone with parents from the younger tutor forms just calling in to check up on their little darlings. No matter how many times she or the other teachers assured them that the school would notify them of any problems. The parents of the older kids were just as bad, blaming the teachers for their bad parenting skills and insisting that all their children should have been top of the class.

“It’s not that bad Triss.” Istredd Gynvael from the Feainnewedd tutor group hummed.

Istredd was the history teacher for the secondary school children and looked after one of the year ten forms. Overall he was well liked by most of the students, he wasn’t a strict teacher but Triss knew the students sometimes found his classes on the dull side. Not that Triss would ever tell him that. No, that little tidbit was between her and Yennefer alone, maybe Tissaia…

She’d never tell the Headmaster, Stregobor, at least.

“You don’t have to talk to the parents until parents’ evening, Is.” Triss moaned. “I have to deal with them all year round. They all think their angels can do no wrong.”

“We become teachers for the children. The parents are an unfortunate side effect.” Istredd sighed.

There was a murmur of agreement from across the staffroom.

“Sabrina’s mum called me a disgrace and failed artist last year.” Tissaia sighed as she turned a page in her book. “Apparently, they weren’t happy that I gave their daughter some constructive criticism on the use of lighting in her portraits. I’m not going to just throw compliments at every student. They’d never learn otherwise.”

Tissaia de Vries was the school’s art teacher. She was also the form teacher of Forget-Me-Nots, one of the year six classes. She’d been the person to encourage Yennefer’s career as an artist ever since she’d been a student at the school. It had been because of Tissaia that Yennefer had started teaching in the first place.

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier perked up from where he was scribbling in his notebook. “I happen to like the parents of my class.”

Triss rolled her eyes. Jaskier had dropped by her desk at reception at the end of the first day to ask for all the parents’ contact details so he could write his weekly emails. He’d been particularly interested in Ciri’s dad. Of course, Ciri was an interest to all the teachers at the school. She’d already been through hell and she was only six years old. The young girl didn’t seem all that bothered on the surface about her sudden change in circumstances. It was all a bit peculiar.

“That’s because you are a bit of a freak, Julian.” Mr Marx drawled from his corner of the staffroom.

Jaskier’s face turned to thunder and slammed his notebook shut.

Jaskier and Valdo Marx had known each other since before Jaskier started at the school. Their rivalry was legendary amongst the staff. No one was entirely sure of the details behind their feud. From what Triss could tell they had been at University together, both studying music at Oxenfurt. They had had some kind of falling out at some point. No one was really sure what about but last Solstice things had flared up when Valdo had had an affair with Jaskier’s partner. It was also Valdo that had told Stregobor and the rest of the staff that Jaskier’s birth name was Julian, something that her friend seemed to despise. Valdo refused to call Jaskier by his chosen name which never ceased to end in an argument between them.

This time was no different as Jaskier coiled up like a spring, ready to pounce on the other teacher.

“Call me that again one more time and I’m putting in a grievance. Wally.” Jaskier sneered. “Some of us actually care about the children we teach, and that means taking an interest in their home life and working out the best way to teach each child individually.”

“Name calling, Julian. How original.” Mr Marx smirked and patted Jaskier on the head as he moved to leave the room.

“Oh fuck you!” Jaskier called after him. “He’s just bitter because all the year twos wish they were Buttercups and not Foxgloves.” He muttered.

“He’s just bitter because he doesn’t get to talk to Mr Rivia at parents evening.” Triss sighed wistfully. “I would climb him like a tree.”

Jaskier’s scowled faded into a blissed out smile. “Oh he is dreamy isn’t he? Those eyes, like molten amber and that voice. Gods, it’s like sex personified.”

Triss giggled. “I knew it!”

Jaskier went wide eyed and slammed his hands over his mouth. “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Must you all be so dramatic?” Istredd called over Triss’s squeals of joy. “I’m trying to mark homework.”

“I think we’ve all earned a break, Istredd, if you want to mark in peace go back to your desk.” Tissaia hummed with eye roll.

Istredd sighed. “Just keep it down, maybe try and remain professional.”

“Oh come on, Is. You’ve not seen him. Geralt Rivia is hot!” Triss nudged her friend.

“Geralt? Yen’s ex?” Istredd put down his marking with a sudden scowl.

“No no no!” Jaskier whined. “Please tell me, I’m not competing with Yennefer Vengerberg!”

“Don’t worry Jaskier, that ship has long sailed. Isn’t that right, Is?” Triss winked at the history teacher. Istredd’s fingers gripped tighter around his pen and he muttered something under his breath before burying his nose back into the sheets of paper in front of him.

“Alright!” Jaskier called. “How many people here have had a crush on Yennefer Vengerberg? Hands up!”

“We’re not your kids, Jaskier.” Tissaia rolled her eyes at the younger teacher’s antics.

“True.” He admitted. “But humour me.”

Triss unashamedly put her hand up. Istredd was next. Chireadan was next and a handful of the other staff. Overall, just over half the staff in the room had their hands up.

Jaskier was not one of them.

“Not your type, Jask? I thought everyone was your type?” Triss teased.

Jaskier gasped and put his hand on his heart. “Triss! Just because I’m bisexual does not mean everyone is my type! She’s hot. I can admit that, but she fucking terrifies me.”

“And Geralt doesn’t?” Triss asked with a roll of her eyes, deciding not to point out that she was pansexual and already knew the myths of their sexualities were not true. “He could probably snap you like a twig.”

Jaskier beamed. “Oh I know!”

“Do we need to chaperone parents’ evening, Jaskier?” Tissaia asked cooly but her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“I’ll have you know I am a professional!” He gasped in mock outrage. “But yes absolutely. I have no idea how I managed to talk to him on the first day. Gods, he looked at me and I wanted to melt. I could write ballads about those eyes.”

“Please don’t” Istredd sighed. “Geralt’s not that great.”

“Oh come on, Is, you just don’t like the fact he used to date Yennefer.”

“Yenna is better than him.” Istredd scowled.

“Oh ho ho!” Jaskier laughed. “Are you going to finally ask her out then?”

“Shut up, Julian.” Istredd hissed.

“Jaskier’s got a point, Is.” Triss gave Istredd a pointed look as Jaskier visibly bristled at the name. “But what about you and Geralt?”

Jaskier grumbled as he moved to retrieve his notebook. “Nothing. There’s nothing about me and Geralt. He’s a parent and I am a professional.”

Istredd sighed loudly and gathered up his belongings and left the room. Tissaia chuckled as she sipped her tea and continued to read her book, but seemed to be content with the gossip that was rife in the staffroom. Other teachers were beginning to file out as the lunch break was ending.

“But you fancy him.” Triss persisted as she checked the time on her phone. She didn’t need to be back at the front desk for another ten minutes and she didn’t have to worry about lesson planning like the other teachers. Her job did have some perks.

“So do you.” Jaskier shot back. “I am simply appreciating that Mr Rivia is a good-looking man but his daughter’s in my class and you know me, I fall in love with everyone I meet.”

“Except Yennefer.” Triss pointed out.

Jaskier paled at the memory. “I have met Yennefer once and I genuinely thought I was going to die a terrible and painful death.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad.” Triss giggled.

_________

Yennefer didn’t come back to school very often when she was in town but occasionally she would pick Triss up if they were going to the pub after school finished. Sometimes Yennefer would glide through the halls of her old haunt to reminisce over her days as a teacher, popping in to say hello to her old colleagues. The first time she’d visited after Jaskier had started teaching she’d visited her old classroom, the classroom that Jaskier now occupied.

“What the fuck has happened to my door?” Yennefer glared at the bright yellow monstrosity that stood at the entrance to her old classroom. During Yennefer’s time at school the door had been painted lilac with elegant black silhouettes of flowers.

Jaskier had rather a different approach. His door was so bright you almost needed sunglasses to look at it and his class had drawn their own buttercups to cover the door. Their teaching style was completely different too.

Yennefer luckily had been in charge of an older class and mostly taught English Literature and Language to the Secondary school children. Yennefer was firm, and at times strict, she demanded respect from her students and many of them ended up in detention for missing out on homework or mucking about in class. Yennefer’s theory was that by messing about it was both a waste of her time and theirs. Yennefer was not a lover of wasted time. Every action she took was planned down to the letter. She knew what she wanted and how to get there. Her writing was very much the same.

The scripts she wrote for the school plays were intricate and beautiful. Every line, every stage direction, every detail in the costumes had some hidden meaning that would be revealed later on in the play. As a director she was fierce and many of the older students were scared shitless after their time in the theatre but many also went on to attend drama schools. Yennefer could have become an award winning author, actor or director but that wasn’t where her passion lay.

Yennefer Vengerberg loved art.

She always had ever since she’d studied at the school under Ms de Vries. She was a remarkably talented painter but her real skill was in her reviews and critiques of others art. Her analysis was unparalleled and her wit and sarcasm had drawn in a wide audience from all across the Art world.

As soon as she’d been able to earn enough money from her work at a critic she’d flown from the school, much to the delight of her poor students.

Jaskier on the other hand was a ray of sunshine. He was the sun to Yennefer’s moon. The kids adored him and almost everyone on the staff fancied him, not to mention the parents. His charm could have melted the heart of the ice queen herself and had to got him out of many a bad situation in the past, of course it had gotten him into just as many tight spots as well. Where Yennefer was unwaveringly focussed and unrelenting in her teaching, Jaskier was easily distracted and flitted from one topic to another like a whirlwind. He was kindhearted and nurturing to the children, playing his guitar almost every day and encouraging the kids to be the best they could be. He was entertaining and fun, and every child wanted to be in Buttercups.

The layout of the building had changed a lot since Yennefer’s time and this section of the school now housed the primary school classes which was why Jaskier’s class was now in the old English room.

Yennefer burst through the door, Triss trailing behind her. “Seriously! What the fuck?”

Jaskier jumped up from behind his desk, knocking his paper work all over the floor. “Bollocks! Shit! I mean… oh cock!” His travel mug tipped over as he scrambled after the the sheets of maths homework. Coffee poured everywhere, including down his teal floral shirt.

“Triss!” Yennefer snapped. “Why is there a child teaching in my classroom?”

Triss sighed and walked over to help Jaskier save his marking from the coffee that was now leaking onto the floor. “Yen, this is Jaskier Pankratz. Our new year two teacher.”

“What are you, twelve?” Yen asked raising her eyebrow at the young brunet.

“I’m twenty-six!” Jaskier pouted. “I just have good genes and quite frankly a fabulous skincare routine. Did you want a copy?”

“Are you saying I look old?” Yennefer smirked at Jaskier who visibly started to panic.

“Oh no. No no no. You look very radiant, ethereal! Eternally youthful. Please don’t kill me?” He fell backwards in a fluffy of maths homework.

“Oh dear god.” Yennefer covered her face with her hand. “I thought this place couldn’t get any worse. Come on Triss, there’s a couple of bottles of wine with our names on it. See you around, Buttercup.”

“See you on Monday, Jaskier!” Triss passed him a handful of sheets she had managed to salvage from the coffee.

“Holy mother of…” Jaskier breathed as he stared after the hurricane that was Yennefer Vengerberg.

_______________

Triss giggled at the memory. It had been just under three years ago, back when Yennefer and Geralt were still going through their off and on again stage. Jaskier had looked like a deer stuck in headlights in the fierce presence of Yennefer. Triss knew her friend could be quite intimidating but underneath it all was a loyal friend. A lot of her scary demeanour was just a mask to hide her insecurities. Yennefer wanted everything in life, a family, a career, fame, money, power. She wanted it all.

But she was so terrified that she would never be enough, never deserve the things that she desired. Her relationship with Geralt hadn’t help. They burned brighter than the sun on their good days but their fights could have risen the Gods from their slumber. They pulled and pushed at each others souls, tearing each other apart. Triss had never met Geralt before Ciri had started at the school but she’d been there for Yennefer every time he broke her heart.

“It absolutely was that bad.” Jaskier pouted. “I ruined my favourite shirt and made a complete fool of myself. She was looking at me with murder eyes!”

Triss patted his arm sympathetically. “If Yennefer wanted you dead, Jaskier, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Jaskier staggered back and stomped over to pick up his guitar case and satchel. “Wow. Thanks Triss. That is… so comforting.”

The bell chimed in the corridors, signalling the end of lunch.

“Bollocks!” Jaskier cursed and scampered out of the room. “This is all your fault Triss Merigold.”

Triss smirked after him. “You love it, Buttercup!”

_____________

Triss pulled her thick wooden green coat around her. It was surprisingly cold for the end of September and she’d forgotten to bring gloves. She was on home time duty this week which mostly involved waiting in the playground with the kids for the parents who had yet to learn how to read a damn clock. She stuffed her hands in her pockets in a poor attempt to keep them warm. At least her hair was long and thick enough to keep her ears warm. She daydreamed happily about a warm bath and a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream.

“Ms Merigold?” A small voice broke through her daydream and she felt hands tugging at her coat. She looked down at Ciri who was staring back at her with tears in her eyes. “Where’s Coën?”

Triss glanced down at her watch and bite her tongue to stop herself from swearing. Ciri’s babysitter was over thirty minutes late. It was unheard of. He was normally waiting at the gates as soon as the bells rang to signify the end of the day, but today Ciri was the last kid left.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll give Geralt a call.” Triss took the young girl’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. Ciri clung on to her tightly and sniffed, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

“What if he’s hurt?” Ciri asked quietly.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright.” Triss reassured her, wishing that she could believe her own words.

The pair of them hurried back inside and out of the cold. Triss let go of Ciri’s hand so she could search her desk for the file where she kept the emergency contact details.

“Mr Jaskier!!” Ciri cried and flew off down the corridor.

Triss looked up to see a very confused primary school teacher, guitar case slung haphazardly over his shoulder, struggling with an armful of small child. His leather satchel had dropped to the floor, books spilling out with a clatter.

“Ciri?” He stammered before he regained his composure and met Triss’s gaze with a worried look.

“Coën’s in trouble!” Ciri cried. “He’s going to leave me! Everyone always leaves me!”

“Oh Ciri.” Jaskier returned the girl’s clinging hug as she sobbed against his chest. “Ms Merigold is going to call your dad. We’ll figure this out together.”

Ciri sniffed loudly but nodded. “‘Kay.”

Triss found Geralt Rivia’s number with ease and dialled, praying that he would answer. She made a mental note to get Coën’s number too, he picked up Ciri most evenings during the week, depending on Geralt’s shift pattern, it was foolish that the young man hadn’t provided his contact details.

The phone rang three times before Geralt’s gruff voice answered.

“Geralt.” He grunted.

“Geralt, Hi. This is Ms Merigold, from Ciri’s school.” Triss started.

“Fuck. What’s happened?”

“Coën didn’t show at pick up today. Mr Pankratz is here with Ciri but she’s not taking it well.” Triss explained in a rush. She glanced over at Ciri and Jaskier. He’d sat down on the floor with her and seemed to be distracting her with a story. She still looked shaken but had calmed down and appeared to be completely captivated by the stories he was weaving.

“I’m on my way.”

Triss didn’t get a chance to reply as Geralt hung up the phone and the line went dead. She strolled over to Jaskier and Ciri, sitting down beside them. Jaskier glanced up at her without pausing his tale of knights and bards and princesses, and she nodded.

Ciri wasn’t an idiot though. She cut Jaskier off mid-sentence. “Is my dad coming to pick me up?”

“Yeah. We’ll wait here until he arrives yeah?” Triss suggested. “No point staying in the cold.”

“Is Mr Jaskier staying?” Ciri asked with wide eyes.

“As if I would leave you here!” Jaskier gasped and placed a hand over his heart, dramatic as always. “You are one of my Buttercups and we stick together!”

Jaskier pulled out his guitar whilst they waited for Geralt Rivia to arrive. Triss always enjoyed watching Jaskier play. She didn’t often get the chance. She knew he played for his class but her job kept her at her desk for the majority of the school day and they didn’t socialise that much outside of work. Occasionally, a handful of the teachers would head to the pub on a Friday evening but it wasn’t exactly the place to start playing acoustic guitar. Usually she’d only get to see him play quietly in the corner of the staffroom if he was working on a new song, or occasionally at a school event.

This was different though, it was intimate like a lullaby being sang in the dead of night. Triss was completely enchanted by her friend and was really starting to wonder how he wasn’t a famous musician. She’d expected him to play something uplifting to distract the young girl but Jaskier seemed to have other ideas. He played a song about heartbreak that was so full of yearning that even Triss could feel the telltale prick of tears in her eyes, and it seemed to do the trick. Ciri cried too but it wasn’t the chaotic full-bodied sobs from before. Tears rolled down her freckled cheeks quietly and Triss suddenly understood.

Jaskier was allowing the young girl to grieve.

He was telling her, through his music, that it was ok to be scared. It was ok to have these feelings and to cry. The teachers had all been concerned that Ciri didn’t seem to have processed the trauma of her young life very well and here was Jaskier, drawing out those emotions that the young girl had kept tucked away. Coën not turning up had triggered something in Ciri, some fear of abandonment that no one had realised had developed.

Triss smiled as she wiped a tear from her eyes. The young teacher had more depth than she’d realised. She’d underestimated him, perhaps they all had.

“Ciri!” Geralt came rushing through the doors, shattering the moment into a thousand shards of shimmering glass.

The girl in question squealed and flung her tiny body towards Geralt. Jaskier almost dropped his guitar in surprise and even Triss jumped a little at the sudden rush of movement.

“Dad!” Ciri cried as she wrapped her arms around her father.

“I’m here, Princess. I’m here.” Geralt reassured her in a low voice.

“Where’s Coën?” Ciri asked wide-eyed.

“Flu. He text me but it didn’t come through until I left work. I’m sorry.” Geralt explained as he kissed her hair. The silver-haired man then looked up to face Triss and Jaskier. “I am so sorry. What do I owe you?”

“Owe us?” Jaskier spluttered. “Geralt.”

Jaskier said the other man’s name like a prayer, fervently and full of adoration.

“You would have been home over an hour ago if it weren’t for me.” Geralt insisted.

Triss noticed with barely hidden glee that Geralt was focussed almost completely on Jaskier. Triss was certain that she could have slipped away and back to her car, and Geralt wouldn’t have noticed. So it seemed that Jaskier’s little crush wasn’t quite an unrequited as he thought.

“Geralt, it’s our job to ensure the children are safe. It was simply an unfortunate and completely unforeseen event. This is not your fault, nor is it Ciri’s or Coën’s. You owe us nothing.” Jaskier insisted.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed but continued to watch Jaskier intently as the younger man packed up his guitar. “Thank you.”

“That’s quite alright, Geralt. We’re happy to help, right Triss?” Jaskier blushed and looked towards her.

Triss smirked. “Delighted, Mr Rivia, but try not to let it happen again, or I’ll have to inform Yennefer.” Triss teased.

Geralt scowled but Ciri perked up at the name. “Auntie Yennefer?!” She squealed in delight.

“An old dear friend of mine, Ciri.” Triss nodded, throwing a smile at the young girl.

“Please don’t tell Yen.” Geralt groaned.

“Yeah, Ms Merigold. No need to get Yennefer involved.” Jaskier mumbled, glancing down at his feet and then back up at Geralt.

Geralt peered at the brunet. “I thought you only met her once.”

“A story for another time I think.” Jaskier blushed and sent her a warning glare.

Triss rolled her eyes. “Ask Yen next time you call her.”

“Dad.” Ciri tugged Geralt’s arm. “I’m hungry.”

Geralt growled. “Right. Time to go. Thank you for keeping her safe, Ms Merigold. Jaskier.”

“Anytime!” Jaskier replied brightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ciri! See you, Geralt.”

“Have a good evening you two.” Triss waved them off.

Once they’d left the building, Jaskier sank to his knees and groaned.

“Alright there, Jaskier?” Triss teased with a laugh.

“Fuck me, he’s gorgeous.” Jaskier buried his face in his hands. “This year is going to destroy me.”

“Wouldn’t you rather Geralt destroy you?” Triss giggled as she pulled him to his feet and linked their arms.

“Triss Merigold!” Jaskier gasped. “No, no. You’re right. Oh good lord!”

“Ask him out.” Triss suggested.

Jaskier laughed weakly. “Not gonna happen. Stregobor would have me quartered.”

“Coward.”

“Absolutely! Come on, I think we deserve a drink! To the pub!” Jaskier announced loudly and together they finally left building for the evening.

______

Next

[spaceskam]

maybe i’m not a boy who would stay, but isn’t it kinda fun to be together?

slightly late day 11 of my 12 (actually 13) days of gifts! this time we have a ridiculously long one for @christchex! I have no excuse for the length of this, I had no intention for this to get this long, I am so sorry if it’s boring. Hope you enjoy it anyway lol

ao3

“Please!”

“No!”

“Ugh, you guys are no fun!”

Alex and Maria continued to laugh as they watched Liz throw a fit. They were all camping out on the roof of The Wild Pony, trying to enjoy their 3-person Christmas party on the eve of Christmas Eve. IT was all going successfully as possible and now Liz was ruining it by pouting. 

“We’re seventeen! That’s too old to write letters to Santa,” Maria explained.

“All I’m hearing is you’re too old for fun,” Liz insisted, crossing her arms as she plopped back down on her sleeping bag. Alex rolled his eyes.

“What’s fun about writing all that you want down and sending it to a person that doesn’t exist?” Alex asked. 

“You never know who might read it,” Liz said in a faux cryptic tone. Alex barked a laugh.

“Are you insinuating that there is an omnipotent being coming to grant your wishes?” Alex asked, “Or, wait, God is reading your letters to Santa? I think that’s blasphemous.” 

“Shut up!” Liz laughed, swatting his way, “I just hate how not festive everything feels. It doesn’t even feel like Christmas. The only thing that’s changed, though, is my age. I was hoping that doing something we did as kids would make it feel a bit more festive.”

Alex sighed as he reluctantly realized that she had a point. He’d spent the first few years of his life never actually enjoying Christmas because it just meant more time spent at home with his father, but, ever since Mimi got legal guardianship of him, it was his favorite time of year. He never missed out on feeling festive whenever Mimi decorated the house and had a stocking with his name embroidered on it and made really bomb trail mix. He wanted Liz to feel that festive feeling too.

“Okay, fine, we can write letters,” Alex sighed. Maria looked at him incredulously.

“Oh no,” she gasped, “Not you too.”

“I’ll go get some paper and pens,” Alex chuckled and crawled out of his sleeping bag. Liz cheered and Maria groaned. As groan-worthy as it was, he had nothing better to do.

He quickly dropped down to the top floor of the building where he, Maria, and Mimi all stayed, and slipped into his bedroom. It was small seeing as it was once-upon-a-time the dining room. Mimi had strung up thick curtains in lieu of doors and, while it wasn’t much, it was more than Alex had ever asked for. He grabbed a notepad and a few pens from his tiny desk/bedside table.

He returned to see Liz smiling childishly and Maria seeming to have grown on the idea. Alex passed out the papers and pens before sitting down again. They all wrote ‘Dear Santa,’ at the top. Then they very quickly realized they had no idea what the hell to wish for.

“Are you telling me you wanted us to write letters to Santa and then had no idea what you want from Santa?” Maria asked. Liz gave a guilty smile.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

“Jesus, Liz,” Alex laughed, “Okay, well, what’s something wild that you want, but would never get in a million years?”

“Oooh, a fully functioning biomedical lab with all the fancy equipment that I can play with for as long as I want,” Liz said excitedly. 

“God, you’re such a dork,” Maria said, but she smiled fondly as she urged Liz to write it down. “Alright, Alex, your turn. Wildest, unrealistic wish. Go.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, I feel like I’ve got everything I could ever ask for,” Alex admitted. Both girls ‘aw’d obnoxiously as he rolled his eyes.

“You have to be wanting something, Alex, it’s human nature,” Liz prodded.

“Oh, I know!” Maria exclaimed, “A boyfriend! You need one of those!”

“I do not‒”

“Write it down!”

Alex snorted, but couldn’t think of a valid reason why he couldn’t write it down. While a boyfriend wasn’t really at the top of his priority list, it would be sort of nice. He couldn’t deny that. Hell, just meeting another queer guy, in general, would be nice. So, he wrote it down.

“Oh, you can’t just write that,” Liz complained as she peered onto his paper, “I wrote all the things I want in my lab, write all the things you want in your male.”

Alex scoffed, “Like what?”

“Like soft hair and dreamy eyes,” Maria said wistfully, a playful smile on her face.

“Super smart, but sensetive,” Liz added.

“A good kisser!”

“Good in bed.”

“Okay, clearly you should be asking for a boyfriend,” Alex laughed, shaking his head. He instead listed a few qualities that he wanted.

Dear Santa,

This year for Christmas I would like a boyfriend who is nice, funny, and smart. And if he happens to be out-of-this-world handsome, I won’t complain.

Please and thank you, 

Alex Manes

“There, done,” Alex decided, “What did you write, Maria?”

“I asked for a million dollars,” she said with a grin. He scoffed.

“Oh, so you get something easy and I had to ask for a whole ass person?”

“A million dollars is not easy!”

“But that’s a go-to wish! That’s not fair!”

“A boyfriend is a go-to wish!”

“To whom?!”

“Ladies!” Liz yelled, throwing her arms out dramatically, “Relax, there’s enough fictional magic to go around.”

Giggles bubbled out of Alex as he shook his head. “Shut up.”

The night dwindled and they all ran to put their letters into the mailbox, laughing all the way. It was too fun to do these things, too fun to act like they weren’t graduating in a few months and fun to act like they didn’t know what might happen. This could be the very last Christmas they spent camping out together on the roof.

Might as well enjoy it.

-

At approximately 2:30 AM, the sky lit up.

The sky lit up and Alex woke up.

Alex woke up and he heard a crash.

He heard a crash and the ground shook.

Thankfully, when the ground shook, the girls woke up too and Alex didn’t have to freak out to wake them up. Instead, they got to freak out together like real best friends. Everything happened so quickly and they were all talked over each other, all too scared to go see what the hell just fell from the fucking sky. 

“You go look.”

“No, you!”

“You!”

“I’ll go look,” Alex sighed. He took a deep breath and slowly slipped from his sleeping bag before four hands grabbed him to keep him in place. “I can’t go look if you guys don’t let me go.”

“Sorry,” they grumbled, letting him go reluctantly. Well, sort of, because they ended up just coming with him.

Alex felt his heart thudding in his chest, but he couldn’t exactly figure out why. Something crashed behind The Pony, yes, but it could’ve been anything. It could’ve been a meteor or a tree or frozen waste from a plane like in Joe Dirt. That should’ve been his first thought.

But he lived in Roswell and nothing was ever that easy.

“Is that‒”

“Yep.”

“In Roswell?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck.”

The three of them peered over the edge of the roof to see a small, glittery aircraft half-buried in the ground nose-first. It was smoking and had made a very small crater which told Alex that, whoever was piloting it, had been semi-successful in making sure it didn’t hit with full force. However, that meant there was indeed a pilot. Which meant someone might be hurt.

“We have to go down there,” Alex said.

“Alex, we have no idea what’s gonna come out of there,” Maria stage-whispered as if whatever was down there might hear them.

“Okay, but they might need help!” Alex argued.

“They might be dead,” Liz added.

Alex jolted into action, racing towards the latter and all but jumping down to the floor. Liz and Maria followed, hissing his name, but he couldn’t stop himself. Someone might be hurt and he just couldn’t stand by and let it worsen. He’d been hurt because. Someone saved him.

He could try to save someone else.

Alex burst out of the back door and sprinted towards the spacecraft just as a figure crawled out. He stopped a few feet away, just in case, and caught his breath.

“Are you okay?! Do you need help?!” Alex called. The head of the figure turned to him, face covered in soot and eyes squinted like he was looking into the sun on a hot day. Alex went closer. 

The closer he got, the more he questioned if it was human or not. It looked human, but the spacecraft sure as hell didn’t. The creature had human-like skin and features, the main difference being his clothing and his hair. He was wearing a black, asymmetrical tunic with a ridiculously deep v-neck that had a white shirt underneath and very baggy, black pants. His hair was curly and brown, which was human, but the oddly constructed braids that looked to be made of more than 8 strands lined his entire head, leaving the curls to be left to a tuft on top. He was definitely strange looking.

Though, strangeness and soot aside, Alex was struck with how gorgeous he was.

“English?” the creature said, crawling further. Alex reached him and helped pull him further from the wreckage. He caught a glimpse of the girls standing far away but kept his focus on the creature. Him. It. Whatever. 

“Yeah, English, do you speak English?” Alex asked as let go and began looking to see if there was any obvious damage.

“Enough. I took many classes, watched many movies,” he said, voice deep and laced with an accent that Alex didn’t recognize which just further solidified the fact that whatever this was, it wasn’t human.

“Are you okay?” Alex wondered, ignoring all of the stresses that came with the fact that he was dealing with a very human-like not-human.

“Probably,” he said, grinning despite the fact that he literally just crashed. Alex helped him sit up and noticed a few cuts and soon-to-be bruises on his hands.

“Maria! Go get the first aid kit!” Alex called. The creature looked towards the girls, just now noticing their presence, and Liz and Maria both seemed frozen in time. “Hello?!”

“Right,” Maria said, turning and running inside and tugging Liz along with her. Alex sighed and turned back to the figure. 

“So, what do I call you? Where are you from? How did you crash?” Alex rambled, his eyes avoiding the creatures as he continued to check for any more cuts. He really needed to check beneath all the fabric but decided that it was probably not the best way to start a conversation with a stranger.

“You ask many questions,” the creature said. 

“Yeah, well, you crashed in my backyard, I reserve the right,” Alex insisted. The creature let out a soft little laugh.

“I promise I did not mean to, I thought I did the trajectory right. Got caught in the, uh, what is it you call it? Wormhole?” the creature said. Alex blinked in surprise.

“You got caught in a wormhole? How far away from home are you?” he asked.

“Enough,” he answered, “Home is Antar.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Alex admitted. The creature grinned.

“Earth hears nothing I heard,” he said. Alex huffed and shook his head. “I am Rath.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Rath?”

“Oh, we chose Earth names in Earth class last year. My name there is Michael. Is that better?” he asked. Alex smiled and shook his head.

“What do you prefer to be called? Your actual name or your Earth name?” Alex asked. The creature smirked in an all too human fashion.

“What do you prefer saying?” he said. Alex felt his cheeks heat up but shook it off.

“Michael will draw less attention,” Alex decided, “I’m Alex.”

“Alex,” Michael repeated, looking him up and down, “Human Alex.”

“Right,” Alex sighed, turning his head towards the door to see if Maria and Liz had come back yet and not at all so he didn’t have to look at him, “And what are you? Not human. You said you’re from Antar, so what are your people called? And are you, like, a man or are you something else?”

Michael tilted his head. “We are just Antarians. And I’m… close enough to a man in your terms, so yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” he answered. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

“Seventeen and you have a spacecraft?” Alex asked. A guilty smile appeared on his face. 

“I may have stolen it.”

“We got the first aid kit!”

Alex sighed and decided he’d patch him up before they figured out what the hell they were going to do.

-

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” 

“And tell them what? A teenage alien crashed in our backyard so they can cart him away to dissect him? Absolutely not.”

“I would prefer not to be dissected, please.”

The three of them looked over their shoulders to the alien boy who was covered in Disney Princess bandaids and the same tattered clothes he’d landed in. Once the sun began to rise, it became all too clear that they had an actual issue. They’d found a whole alien that had no way to get back home until his ship was fixed. Which would be fine if they knew how long that would take.

“Look, he can just stay here,” Alex insisted. Both girls looked at him like he’d lost it.

“We are not housing some random alien that fell from the sky! He could be dangerous!” Maria hissed, not even bothering to keep quiet even though Michael was well within earshot. Alex rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think he is and I don’t know if there’s a safer place than here.”

“How in the world is our tiny apartment safe? My mom could find out! And what are we gonna tell her?” 

“I don’t know yet! Just give me a minute!”

Alex paced a few times on the roof, chewing on his thumb as he let his mind race. He didn’t want to just throw this guy out, it wasn’t fair. Someone had taken him in, he should take someone else in. Even if it wasn’t really his place to take him in.

“Hello, I have an idea,” Michael said, raising his arm up and catching their attention, “I look close enough to human. Say I am human.”

“Okay, but my mom will still question why I’m harboring a whole person,” Maria shot back. He scrunched up his nose in defeat and Alex felt even more of a need to give him a place to stay.

“Look, please, just let me try to hide him for two days. I’ll take the entire fall if we’re caught,” Alex insisted. 

“Damn right you’ll take the fall! This is your fault!” Maria said, “You’re the one who asked for a boyfriend!” Alex’s eyes widened and he scoffed.

“Excuse you, I‒”

“Okay, shut up!” Liz shouted, “You said two days. What happens when those two days are up?”

“Well, hopefully, we’ll have fixed his ship,” Alex sighed. Liz and Maria looked at him skeptically while Michael gave a dopey smile. “I’ve been in robotics class for years. With his existing knowledge of how the craft works and my being able to see what it mostly should be, I think we could fix it.”

“Ay Dios mio, I can’t believe this is happening,” Liz grumbled as she pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.

“Just, two days,” Alex asked, “Then he’ll leave.”

“Fine. Two days. If he kills us before then, it’s your fault.”

“I do not kill anyone,” Michael chimed in once again.

“Wait, what about Christmas Eve dinner? You’re just going to leave a random alien in your house alone?” Liz asked. Maria turned to Alex, expecting him to provide the answer. Alex licked his lips and looked to Michael and then back at his friends.

“We’ll just… come,” Alex said, “We just… take him.”

“We?” Liz asked.

“Not ‘we’,” Maria said, “You.”

Alex sighed and then looked to Michael who was just blinking innocently. Why did he have to be so nice?

“Fine. Me.”

-

“Later tonight we can go to the junkyard and see what we can salvage.”

Michael stared up at him with lost eyes, but still smiling effortlessly as they looked at the ship. The two of them had pulled it out of the ground and checked out the front and now they were peering over the engine. For the most part, it was still in one piece and had done a damn good job at saving its pilot. The main issue seemed to lie in the fact that the engine had blown. Everything else, though, seemed to be cosmetic.

“Why did you crash exactly?” Alex asked. Michael gestured towards the engine.

“The wormhole made me go too fast. This was the closest planet with right air,” Michael said, “Then the shield… the… atmosphere? Atmosphere! It made me go too fast again.”

“Ah,” Alex said, looking towards the alien. He still had some soot on his face, but for the most part, he’d wiped it away. And now, in the sunlight, Alex thought he was even more gorgeous than before. “I think we can fix it.”

“Yes?” Michael said, smiling. He let out a cheer and a small laugh, peering over the engine again.

“So, you said you stole it,” Alex said, “Should I be worried that, like, alien police are gonna come down to kill us all?”

Michael’s nose scrunched up and he chuckled, “No. No, it is mine. My dad, uh… what is the word in English? Uh… take it away?”

“Grounded you?” Alex asked and Michael nodded.

“He grounded me. I take it back,” Michael said, “He knows I run off.”

“You run away a lot?” Alex said. Michael simply shrugged a shoulder.

“I like to explore,” Michael grinned. Alex liked the way he smiled. It was always just a little bit mischievous, always just a little bit like he knew too much. Alex wanted to know everything.

“And he’s not gonna look for you?”

“He gives me five days. I take longer, he calls rescue,” Michael said and then he smiled even bigger, “All rescue knows me by name.”

Alex laughed and shook his head. “I could never be that way.”

“Why not?”

“Honestly?” Alex said, focusing back on the engine, “Not sure anyone would go looking for me.”

Michael’s head jolted in shock and he made a wounded little noise. Despite the darker subject matter, Alex gave a small little smile. It didn’t subdue any shock.

“On Antar, your face would be on every paper. The world would search for you,” Michael said. Alex didn’t know how to take that and felt himself blush. He simply turned his head away again. This was a little bit too much.

“Maybe.”

-

“Okay, first of all, we need to make you look more human.”

Michael furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head like a confused, curious little puppy. Alex couldn’t help but smile.

“I have to bring you to the Christmas dinner, so you have to look human,” Alex explained as he stood off his bed and went towards the portable closet in the corner. He didn’t have much, but he had enough to share.

“I look human.”

“Not with that hair or those clothes,” Alex said, giving a kind smile when the alien looked semi-offended. He dropped a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans on the bed for him. “Change into those.”

“That’s ugly.”

“Rude,” Alex scoffed, “It’s normal.”

“This is normal,” Michael insisted, gesturing towards himself. Alex simply shook his head and turned around.

“Change and undo those braids,” Alex told him. Michael grumbled in a language that Alex didn't understand, continuously rambling as his thick fabric fell to the floor with a thump.

"Undo my hair?" Michael clarified once he was dressed in Alex's clothes, physically grabbing Alex to turn him around. 

"Yes," he said and gave him a once over, thankfully, “You have to zip up the jeans!”

“What?” Michael asked, looking down at himself, “Earth is weird.” 

“Oh my god, zip them,” Alex sighed, gesturing awkwardly to the zipper and the terrifying little patch of exposed skin. Michael sighed and it took him far, far too long to figure out how to do it. “Okay, now fix your hair.”

"I need water," Michael said like it was obvious. Alex sighed and peeked his head out of the curtain. He knew Mimi was downstairs preparing to open the bar and he knew Maria was at the Crashdown Christmas Eve Dinner, spinning some lie to excuse why Alex was going to be late Still, he wanted to double-check.

When it was clear, Alex hauled him to the bathroom and shut the door behind them.

"All flat?" Michael asked, looking over at him. 

"Huh?"

"All flat like you or can I keep this?" he asked, gesturing to the curls on his head.

"What? Yeah, you can keep the curls, just not the braids. People don't wear it like that here," Alex explained.

"In my place, flat is bad," Michael said. Alex rolled his eyes. "It is good on you, though. You are the only one my people would like it on."

"You know, on Earth, when you say stuff like that, it's considered flirting," Alex pointed out. Michael just grinned. 

Alex watched as he turned on the faucet and wet his fingertips. He rubbed the water over the braids and they slowly but surely loosened, unraveling with hardly any effort. Alex was mesmerized. 

"All done. Human?"

Alex examined it and smiled. He looked good.

"I bet girls are all over you back home," Alex said, trying not to cringe when he ended up sounding like a creepy grandma. Michael simply smiled, letting Alex ruffle his natural curls into the kinky ones the braids left behind.

“Enough,” Michael said, “Boys too.” Alex froze and looked at him.

“Huh?”

“Boys too,” Michael repeated. 

“And… no one cares?” Alex asked. Michael blinked and leaned a bit forward.

“Should they?”

“They do here.”

They stared at each other for a while. Alex was trying to imagine the place he came from. Somewhere where everyone was beautiful and open and queer. Somewhere where they wore ridiculous clothes and did their hair oddly. Somewhere where they had spacecrafts. 

Somewhere else.

“Okay, we should go,” Alex whispered. 

Michael simply smiled and nodded.

-

After spending all day on a few hours of sleep tinkering with a spaceship and then making an alien boy look human, Alex finally arrived at the Crashdown Christmas Eve Dinner. 

The whole place was bustling and filled with people in Christmas sweaters and hats. Alex and Michael were the only ones in black‒but that wasn’t that big of a deal. Alex always was. Maria and Liz spotted them pretty immediately and ushered them over to the booth. Alex dragged him over.

“Should I ask what is Christmas?” Michael wondered carefully as they sat down across from the girls. 

“It’s a holiday,” Alex answered simply, not bothering to look as offended as Maria and Liz did, “Where we celebrate just, like, togetherness and shit.”

“Oh,” Michael said, nodding his head as if that explained everything. He assumed he probably just didn’t care to ask more.

“So, you look awfully normal,” Maria noted before turning an overwhelming smile onto Alex, “I’m assuming no alien probing happened?”

Alex almost choked on Dr. Pepper he hadn’t taken a sip of yet.

“Jesus Christ,” Alex said, his face flushing hard, “No, we just fixed his hair and his clothes.”

Before anything else could happen, Liz’s father bounded over with a big smile and a tray full of food that he placed before them. 

“Alex! I’m glad you could join us!” he cheered, pulling Alex up to his feet and pulling him into a massive hug. He accepted it willingly, a smile finding his face as he squeezed right back. “And who's your friend?” 

“Uh, Michael,” Alex answered. Arturo held out a hand to him and Alex had to shoot him a look to make him grab it. Maybe he should’ve gone over a bit more human things. 

“Ah, well, welcome!” 

Getting Michael to eat human food proved more difficult than expected. He would ask what it was made of and then that didn't do much to sway him because he didn't know any of the things listed. They had to all but force him to try it and only then, after clarification that it didn’t taste like trash, did he bother to eat.

The only time Michael seemed to not have a problem was when Liz’s sister Rosa pulled him up to dance without even asking who he was. The three of them watched in confusion as the alien moved seamlessly to the music and with Rosa. She seemed super impressed by this and took a moment to wiggle her eyebrows at Alex before Michael spun and dipped her.

“What the hell, they have samba in space?” Liz asked. Alex didn’t even know what to say.

The guy was attractive and he was smart and he was fun to be around and he was into other guys. All of these were positives and, had he not been an alien, Alex would’ve been head over heels. But he was an alien. This wasn’t Carter whatever-his-last-name-was who sat two seats over from him in science last semester. That guy was easy to fall in love with even though he didn’t have a single conversation with him. He was cute and he was human. These felt like extremely pathetic standards, but who could fault him?

This guy ticked all the boxes and was an alien. A fucking alien.

Was it morally wrong to think an alien was hot?

“Nah, Kirk did it all the time,” Maria answered which made Alex realize he’d asked that out loud.

“Oh, that’s so cute!” Liz cooed in a baby voice, an exaggerated pout on her face as she turned to him, “He could be your Spock!” 

“Oh my God,” Alex laughed, shaking his head, “No.”

“Why not? He’s not and he clearly likes you,” Maria pointed out. Alex looked at her in confusion.

“What do you mean he clearly likes me?”

“I mean he’s been making heart eyes at you since you pulled him out of the wreckage,” Maria laughed, kicking him from beneath the table, “And you got him to change his hair and his clothes and eat food he isn’t used to. Sounds like love.”

“Sounds like he’s an alien we took in at four o’clock this morning.”

“So?” 

“You know, you guys were the ones who didn’t even want to keep him. Now you guys think I should hook up with him?” Alex scoffed.

“It’s the dancing,” Maria said.

“True. Boy moves his hips like Shakira taught him personally,” Liz agreed.

“Oh my God,” Alex breathed, shaking his head. But they really did have a point. “None of that even matters because he’s going to be gone the day after Christmas.”

“And you can’t enjoy it while it lasts?” Maria asked. Alex scrunched up his nose.

“Nah. If we did that, we wouldn’t get anything on the ship done,” Alex insisted.

He deserved the slaps to his shoulders he got.

-

“I am tired.”

“You wanna just wake up early to go to the junkyard?”

“Yes.”

Alex could see Michael’s eyes drooping as they made their way back to the Pony. Maria was trailing in front of them, skipping light on her toes. 

“Christmas is tomorrow!” she sang as if she just realized it. Alex couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Yeah, it is.”

“And you two are going to spend it working like dorks!” she added, spinning around to stick her tongue out at them before facing forward again.

“No… togetherness and shit?” Michael asked Alex, quoting him and sounding so very inhuman that it made Alex smile.

“Maria and her mom go to see family, so I usually just stay home and watch movies and then we have dinner together,” Alex explained, “Which, I guess you can come to and I’ll sneak you back in after.”

“And your family? You do not see them?” Michael asked. Alex took a slow, deep breath before giving him a smile.

“Not really, no,” he said. It was easier than any other response and Michael nodded.

“Okay. We can have togetherness and shit,” Michael decided which got Maria to look over her shoulder and shimmy her shoulders a bit at Alex. He rolled his eyes.

“Sounds good.”

It was incredibly easy to sneak Michael in considering Mimi was still manning the bar. Christmas Eve and Christmas day were two of the busiest days of the year for the bar, so she always worked late. All they had to do was slip Michael in the back and bring him straight to Alex’s space.

“It just occurred to me that I never asked how you feel,” Alex asked as he gave Michael a pair of sweats to change into. They faced opposite ways to change.

“I am… uncomfortable?” Michael said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

“Uncomfortable how?”

“I ache.”

“Oh, you’re sore?” Alex asked. 

“Yes, a bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I crashed,” Michael laughed. Alex turned around and saw him stretching, arms up and a strip of skin visible above his sweats. It made him second guess what Liz and Maria had said about taking advantage of the time he was here. 

What was the worst that could happen?

Obviously, he didn’t stay on that thought too long once Michael turned around again. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes were exhausted, but he still managed to give Alex a little smile. It was painstakingly adorable.

They both looked towards the tiny twin bed. Alex never felt it was really tiny before this moment when he realized he hadn’t considered where they were both going to sleep.

“So… I can sleep on the floor, I guess,” Alex suggested. Michael looked at him with a big frown.

“Why? We can fit.”

“Yeah, but it’s kinda weird to share a bed with someone,” Alex said. Michael still didn’t seem to get it.

“We are friends, yes?” Michael asked. Alex nodded slowly. “I sleep with friends always. It is not weird.”

“Okay, but on Earth it’s weird.”

“You saved me,” Michael said, “If it is weird, I will sleep on the floor.”

“No, you’re sore, I don’t want to make that worse by you sleeping on the floor.”

“Then we share.”

After some staring and internal debating, Alex agreed. He just decided he would never tell Liz or Maria about it because he would never live it down. This would just be his little secret after Michael went home.

They crawled into bed, back to back and fitting a little too snug. The first thing Alex noticed was how physically hot he was. It was like pressing his back up against a heater. Alex gulped softly and reached for his phone to set an alarm. They needed to be up before Mimi so they could sneak off to the junkyard without her realizing Alex had a boy in his bed overnight. 

God, Alex had a boy in his bed overnight. That sounded like a fake sentence.

“Thank you, Alex,” Michael said, “For helping me. You are very kind.” He added a few more sentences in his native tongue, but Alex didn’t need a translation to know that it was simply more appreciation. The sound of his voice was enough.

“You’re welcome.”

Michael reached behind him and grabbed Alex’s arm and gave it a squeeze. 

He fell asleep with a blush on his cheeks.

-

Alex woke up before his alarm went off which was actual bullshit. 

The reason he woke up, however, had everything to do with the space heater that had decided to press all up against him and wrap him up in his arms. Perhaps it would be romantic and sweet if Alex wasn’t sweating like crazy. 

“Oh my God, Michael, get off,” he grumbled sleepily, elbowing the body behind him. Michael simply hummed and squeezed him once. Alex whined and tried to wiggle out of the hold.

Eventually, Michael let go and Alex turned around to try to prevent that from happening again. Maybe if it was colder or maybe if he was wearing less clothes or maybe if he wasn’t trying to sleep it would’ve been fine. But those weren’t the circumstances and he was tired of sweating. 

It didn’t really help, though, as Michael, in his sleep, scooted back in. Alex fell back asleep with them physically nose to nose.

When the alarm actually went off, neither of them really wanted to budge. It was comfortable to lay there in bed. It was comfortable to lay next to each other. It was comfortable to have limp alien fingers pressed to Alex’s hip as a silent desire for affection.

Alex liked this much better.

His eyes slid open at the same time Michael’s did and they stared for a minute or two. For a moment or two, Alex didn’t want him to leave. It was an insane thought, he barely knew this guy, but he really wanted him to stay. He wanted to wake up and stare at him every morning. He thought he could survive waking up in the middle of the night to throw him off if it meant getting this one little moment of contented silence.

“You are beautiful,” Michael said like that was okay.

“Let’s go to the junkyard,” Alex said because that was okay.

The two of them dressed sluggishly and stole a couple of bananas off the counter. Alex left Mimi a note that said he’d be back for dinner, he had simply gotten up early to go for a walk. Then they slipped out quietly with two backpacks and headed for the junkyard.

Michael and Alex spent more than a few hours digging through parts and trying to find something to create something else that would have enough horsepower to propel him up to space and go through a wormhole enough to make it home. However, it took longer than it should’ve because, now that they were rested, it was easier to fuck around.

Hours went by and they only found a few things, spending most of the time laughing and teasing and getting comfortable. Alex liked being alone with him. He liked his sense of humor and he liked that he wasn’t scared to say what he thought. Alex taught him a few extra words and Michael attempted to teach him some of his native tongue, but it went so badly that Michael told him never to try it again. Which was valid when it sounded more like German than anything else.

“You think we could start your ship with this?” Alex asked as they loaded the parts into their bags. 

“I think so, yes. We could do it after later,” Michael suggested. Alex smiled and nodded, but he found that he was even more sad to see him go.

As they began to walk back, Alex asked, “What happens if we can’t get it started?”

“My dad will come.”

Alex was too scared to ask what all that could mean. 

-

Climbing into bed for the second night felt bittersweet. This would more than likely be the last night they would have. 

Dinner with Mimi had gone better than expected. She took to Michael quickly and she found him incessantly charming. He seemed to love that. He loved it so much he ate her food without question and then offered to do dishes. It was strange, but it also made sense. He fit well in their little family. It was like he was a piece that had been missing beforehand. It only made Alex even more upset that he would have to go.

This time, they went to bed already facing each other. Every second that Alex stared was an extra second that he was considering just going for it. Michael was leaving in the morning. If he tried something and it went badly, he would only have to live with the embarrassment for a few hours. But, still, that sounded too ambitious.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Alex said instead. Michael’s legs shifted under the blankets, wedging his foot between Alex’s shins. It stole his breath.

“Me too.”

They laid nose to nose again, breathing in sync and existing in sync. How wild was it that he’d crashed where Alex could find him? How specific did life have to be to have them meet?

Alex slowly let his eyes close as he allowed himself to appreciate his body heat. He let himself appreciate the fact that he probably wouldn’t have someone else in his bed for a very long time. He let himself appreciate how immediate they seemed to click. It was like from the moment they saw each other, Alex was here for him. It was too fast for anyone, much less someone like Alex, but it was too good to push away.

“Alex,” Michael whispered. Alex had to put effort into opening his eyes, feeling lethargic and at ease.

“Hm?” 

Soft fingertips pressed into his jaw which made Alex a thousand times more alert. Then he was being kissed which both woke him up completely and subdued him entirely at the same time. It was slow and sleepy and had all the hair on Alex’s body standing on end. Michael’s leg curled around his and tugged him closer. It was too good. 

“Wow,” Alex breathed. Michael hummed, nudging their noses together. Alex felt at peace.

“Maybe,” Michael murmured, fingers moving from Alex’s jaw to his shoulder and down his arm, “Maybe I can come back sometime.” Alex’s stomach tied in a million knots, eager for it even if it was as vague as possible.

“Would you want to?” 

“Yes. More than anything.”

Alex slept better than he had in a while.

-

The ship came to life too quickly.

Alex tried not to feel too upset about it. He’d known Michael was going home and, the fact that it started, meant that they were really good at putting shit back together. And, if they’d failed, then Michael’s father would’ve come to search for him which only sounded like it could go wrong. Alex didn’t want to be at the forefront of a misunderstanding turned alien invasion.

Liz and Maria came to send him off, giving him hugs to say it was nice to meet him. He gave Alex a kiss that no longer felt new. In fact, after falling asleep to them and waking up to them, he found he was going to miss them more than anything in the entire world. 

“Goodbye,” Alex told him as he gave him a tight hug.

“Goodbye,” Michael repeated, pressing a kiss to his cheek one last time. It felt too fast, too unreal, when he simply climbed into the ship and left and suddenly it was like it’d never happened.

“Man, you really kissed him,” Maria noted. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Is that what we’re focusing on?”

“I’m just saying that I’m surprised. It was awfully fast.”

“You’re the one who told me I should in the first place!”

“Yeah, but‒”

“Are you going to miss him?” Liz asked, breaking the arguing. Alex licked his lips.

“Yeah,” he said, “But he said he’s going to come back. I don’t know when and maybe he won’t at all, but…”

“Yeah.”

They were all quiet for a bit longer as they stared up at the sky. It was truly an unforgettable Christmas. Alex silently hoped he could have more.

“Santa really does deliver.”

[never---ending---story]

How do I passive Aggressively Say ‘Fuck You’ In Flower

Possible Triggers: Swearing

word count: 3058

—————————————————

Eli’s eyes scanned over the words of the gardening magazine he was reading. He wasn’t necessarily processing them but he knew that if Nicolette found out she’d scold him for not trying. Which was completely fair, he wasn’t trying. He just needed extra money. The only thing that seemed to catch his interest was the flower meanings but last time Nicolette caught him reading the same book on flower meanings she said that if he didn’t learn how to pot a plant he’d be dead, and he really couldn’t afford to die with his scholarship on the line. So sitting behind the counter of a flower shop it was. A flower shop that was mainly just him sitting at a counter reading about how to actually take care of a plant. He may be learning how to save human lives but for the sake of all, you hold dear don’t let him plant sit. Nicolette was teaching him, but it was difficult for him to catch on.

Honestly, as much as Eli wanted to have a plant, to be able to say he had a son named Carl who was actually just a mason jar with a small cactus sitting in it, he just didn’t understand why they needed to be so high maintenance. It didn’t make sense. He could take care of a rabbit but not a fucking shrub. Eli heaved a sigh and pushed his glasses up his nose. He was bored beyond belief and was extremely relieved to hear the bell above the door jingle. He sat up.

“Mr.davidson we just got- oh” Eli was expecting the same old man who came on every day to get a flower for his wife, but instead it was a really cute boy.  The guy looked to be about his age with feathery black hair and annoyed brown eyes. He looked upset. He had on platform boots, pale blue jeans, and a black t-shirt with a simple doodle of a mountainscape. He had a set scowl on his lips as he walked up to the counter, leaning against it.

“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in a flower bouquet?’ he asked with an indignant tone. That question had definitely caught Eli off guard.

“Uhm,” he thought about it “meadowsweet flowers mean uselessness”

“That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?” the guy questioned

Eli shrugged “You’re the one asking how to say fuck you in flower.” Eli bit his lip and thought for a moment “I do think I can arrange a bouquet to say that though. Unless you just want orange lilies. They mean hatred. That’s close enough right”

The corner of the guy’s lip twitched but it went away as soon as it appeared. “Tell me about the bouquet oh wise flower boy”

Eli let himself smile at him “Well it has meadowsweet, which as I already said, mean uselessness. Foxgloves mean insincerity, Geraniums -- stupidity, yellow carnations-- you have disappointed me and the orange lilies.”

The guy considered that “would you get that for me flower boy?”

Eli chuckled “Sure thing sir,” he said, stepping from behind the counter, “would you like a card with that?” he asked as he grabbed the Geraniums.

The guy propped his head on his hand, still leaning on the counter “sure. I’ll let you fetch my bouquet of doom while I think of what to put”

Eli nodded and shuffled around picking out the nicest flowers he found for this special boy, even if his bouquet was less than friendly. Once he had gathered all the flowers, he grabbed a sheet of paper to wrap them up. No matter how many times Nicolette had taught him how to wrap them he always messed up, but this time it didn’t quite matter for this bouquet of pissed off glory. He looked up at the man who wanted the flowers. He had a teasing smirk on his face as he watched Eli struggle to wrap the flowers.

“And the card?” Eli asked 

The guy’s smirk only grew as Eli grabbed a small card and pen that had a paper flower on the end. “Dear dad” he began “Fuck you, I don’t need you anyway. I’m 22. Signed, Damien” he said, sounding satisfied. Damien huh? Eli went to write that down but after the first few letters he looked up.

“What?”

“You heard me,” the guy looked at Eli’s tag “Elijah?”

“Just call me Eli. Jesus, what did your dad do to you?” 

Damien shrugged “Disowned me. I should’ve seen it coming”

Eli finished writing and stapled it to the paper, binding the flowers “Then I guess he deserves this bouquet. Wanna throw in some butterfly weed.”

“Depends oh wise flower sage. What does it mean?”

“It means ‘leave me’. Kinda like fuck off” 

The man considered this and nodded after a pause “By all means throw it in.”

Eli laughed a bit and once again left the counter space, walking to the left side of the store. He grabbed two butterfly weed flowers and slid them into the bouquet. “Anything else?”

Damien shook his head “Nope. That’s it.”

Eli quickly rang up the guy for his flowers and scribbled his number on his receipt writing, “tell me how it goes >:D”

Damien inspected his receipt for a moment and caught Eli’s eyes when he looked up. He had a mischievous grin plastered on his face

“Sure thing blondie,” he said pocketing the receipt

Eli chuckled “He deserves a worse bouquet but unfortunately I don’t think you want to accidentally send him a death threat”

A chuckle sounded from Damien and he nodded “Yup, don’t want any police at my apartment.” he paused for a moment “thanks Eli”

Eli nodded in response “It’s my job. Your bouquet was fun though”

Damien laughed “I can only imagine.” he glanced at the clock on the wall “Shit I’ve got to get going” he muttered and then turned back to Eli “I’ll text you”

Eli nodded “You better. Now get to where ever you need to go”

Damien nodded and ran out of the shop yelling “TO MY DAD’S HOUSE”

Eli was leaning behind the counter tapping his fingers on the wooden surface. The door to the flower shop was cracked open so a cool breeze swept through. Spring had arrived. Spring meant more flowers. More flowers that Eli had already planted. Now he was sitting bored, wishing no one, in particular, would walk through the doors with his black fringe and platform boots. As soon as he thought about him his heart lept. Footsteps echoed across the tile of the shop and Eli’s eyes shot up.

“Damien-” he was sad to realize that this time it was Mr.Davidson. “Good afternoon  Mr.Davidson how can I help you?” he asked lazily

Mr.Davidson was a cheery only man with blue eyes and shiny white hair. He smiled at Eli.

“Hello, Elijah,” he said happily with a sweet smile. He adjusted his tan cardigan over his shoulders “I’m looking for some tulips. Those are in season aren’t they son?”

Eli walked out from behind the counter. He couldn’t help but smile at the short, happily go lucky old man, “they sure are sir. Are you looking for seeds this time around or just flowers?”

Mr.Davidson glanced around the shop as he contemplated, “well, I think I’ll get flowers.” he looked back to Eli, “Now, do you know what those signify, Elijah.”

Eli nodded as he led Mr.Davidson over to their tulip selection “Perfect love,” he answered wistfully, “it’s awfully sweet that you’re getting these for your wife sir.”

The old man looked at the flowers “Well I love her and feel she deserves them” the old man said, “I think I’ll get a bouquet.”

Eli sighed “Do you want me to wrap those for you?” he heard another set of steps enter the shop and looked over his shoulder to see Damien. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as Damien met his eyes “I’ll be with you in a minute.” he squeaked.

Mr.Davidson raised an eyebrow at Eli “You don’t need to wrap them. I do think that you like that boy over there though.”

Eli flushed more, and he looked away ash he started to pick out flowers. He made sure nothing was amiss and cut the stems, handing the flowers to the old man.

“Thirteen  dollars even,” he said holding the bouquet out to the old man who smiled and happily handed sawyer fifteen dollars 

“Keep the change,” he said before walking out. Eli waved to him and turned to Damien

“Sorry I’m once again the only one working. Sawyer’s got a stomach bug.” he walked up to him and smiled “What vengeful bouquet do you need this time”

Damien chuckled “How do you say: Sorry, you’re not my type in flower”

Eli raised his eyebrows “Ooo did someone ask you out?” he said wiggling his shoulders up and down, pretending like that didn’t make his heart sink to the floor.

“Yeah” Damien replied starting to walk around the shop “She’s my math tutor. Name’s Nicolette.”

Eli practically choked on air and Damien turned to him with an alarmed expression as he started laughing.

“She’s-” Eli put a hand over his mouth and laughed a bit more “She’s my boss, dude! I can’t believe you rejected her she’s so cool. Scary, but cool.”

Damien’s eyes widened “Well, it’s not my fault I like guys!”

The boy in the floral apron paused for a second. Damien was gay? Eli turned his attention back to Damien. “Yeah, okay. Fair point.”

Damien crossed his arms and looked protective of himself. Eli faltered when he realized why.

“Hey don’t worry. I’m gay too. I happens to the best of us” he nudged Damien’s shoulders “I think I know a flower that will work. Do you still want to be her friend?” Eli asked, changing the subject.

Damien looked at him with an expression Eli couldn’t discern. He uncrossed his arms. “Well, yeah. I do. She’s a good tutor”

Eli smiled at him, “She’s good at math!” he said cheerfully “I think yellow roses would fit perfectly. They signify friendship.”

The other boy nodded

“I could throw in some pansies” Eli added as he started to gather the yellow roses “Pansy was a name given to flamboyant gay guys like a hundred years ago

Damien snorted “that’d be great actually.”

Soon enough Eli was back behind the counter, facing the challenge of wrapping flowers. He heaved a heavy sigh and grabbed the paper.

Damien looked at him and smiled. “Do you want help there, flower boy?”

Eli looked up and bit his lip “Well, um”

Damien just chuckled “of course you do.” he said and then he walked behind the counter. He got way to close for what would usually be Eli’s comfort zone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care apart from being a bit flustered.

Damien pulled the flowers and wrapping paper over to himself. He looked over at Eli with a grin, you forgot the tissue paper.

Eli sighed “right, right” he grabbed a yellow piece of tissue paper and handed it to Damien who took it gratefully. The boy in black put the tissue paper under the flowers (but over the wrapping paper) and began to fold the paper.

As much as the silence was comfortable, Eli didn’t want that. He wanted to talk. So he did.

“So what’s with the platform boots?” He asked “You’re taller than me now, and I’m 5’10”

Damien looked over at him “I’m also 5’10. I just like to feel tall” he said with a shrug going back to folding the flowers “they’re only adding like three inches to my height and I’m 5’9”

Eli smiled “I’m taller than you?” he asked leaning against the counter.

Damien rolled his eyes “I guess so. Good thing I never take off these shoes. I’ll always be 2 inches taller if I can help it.”

Eli smiled “What color ribbon do you want to tie it off with?” he asked, sitting up straight.

Damien shrugged “surprise me, flower boy.”

Eli nodded and opened the drawer under the counter that held the ribbon. He grabbed green and cut off what Damien would need.

Damien tied a neat bow “Easy,” he said holding the flowers up. He looked over at Eli with a grin “no offense though”

Eli snorted “yeah okay.” he said, rolling his eyes. There was a moment of silence between them and Damien smelled the flowers and smiled. Eli felt his heart do a somersault.

“I’ll pay for the flowers” he blurted out.

Damien’s head snapped into Eli’s direction “really?”

Eli nodded hastily “yeah, I mean, you did wrap them. It’s how I’ll repay you.”

Eli could’ve sworn he saw Damien’s cheeks flush before he ducked his head away for a moment. Eli chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

“You’re an angel thank you,” he said.

Eli nodded “of course. Anything for a-” as Damien walked past him, he kissed Eli on the cheek and Eli stopped talking.

“I’ll see you soon Eli. I’ve gotta go” he said before walking out of the store. Eli stood in his place, feet glued to the ground as blood rushed to his cheeks. Did that just happen?

Eli hummed a tune idly to himself fanned himself with a magazine. He didn’t have much to do anyway. Classes were out and summer was in full swing. People came and went from the shop but Eli didn’t care. He was just excited that a certain someone was going to stop by. He had been texting Damien the night before who said that he needed to pick up some flowers. They had been texting a lot recently, but they never got the chance to meet up in real life. Between Eli’s classes and the job at the flower shop, he didn’t have time. Neither did Damien, he had classes when Damien didn’t. Luckily it was summer now, and they could sneak a chance. Eli wanted a different change though. He didn’t just want to hang out with Damien. Sure, hanging out is nice, but what Eli really wanted as a date of some kind. Maybe going to a coffee shop or a nice walk through the park. He didn’t know, nor care.

In his daydream, he had failed to notice someone walk in. The very someone he had been waiting for. 

Damien snapped his fingers in front of Eli’s face who jumped. He looked up at Damien. “I hate you” he hissed with no real malice. Beside him, his co-worker, Sawyer, was laughing at him. 

“You’re such a wimp sometimes,” he said, chuckling a bit.

“I’m not a wimp!” Eli fought “I’m studying to be a doctor!”

Sawyer stuck his tongue out at him and went back to texting someone on his phone.

Eli turned his attention back to Damien “that’s Sawyer” he said with a sigh, “anyway, what do you need. You didn’t cheat on someone this time did you?”

Damien shook his head “I’d never do that. I need a bouquet that means I think I’m in love with you.”

Eli froze, eyes wide with shock because, for some reason, he knew that was pointed at him. Maybe it was the blush on Damien’s cheeks or the shifting of Damien’s brown eyes.

“Well um…” he smiled at the boy in front of him “Well roses obviously stand for love, but begonia’s stand for deep thinking. Those two together could mean that you... y’know. Think you love someone.”

Damien smiled “well that sounds perfect to me,” He said sweetly.

Eli kept his eyes on Damien as he stepped out from behind the counter.

“Who are the flowers for?” he asked innocently, walking over to where the store had roses.

Damien grinned his beautiful grin “You’ll see Eli.”

Eli had grabbed three flowers but he turned to Damien “Eli? I thought I was flower boy” he said with mock offense.

Damien chuckled softly “Shut up flower boy.”

Soon enough Eli had gathered the flowers and he handed them over to Damien to wrap. “You’re good at it” he had said to which Sawyer called him a bitch for not trusting him to do it. He was getting awfully good at ruining cute moments.

Damien quickly wrapped the flowers up in red wrapping paper. He did it quickly but still managed to make it look pretty. Eli shoved him onto the other side of the counter.

“You have to pay this time,” he said with a small smirk.

Damien stuck out his bottom lip, “you’re so mean to me.”

Eli rolled his eyes as an idea popped into his head. He stuck a price barcode sticker onto the flower bouquet and scanned it.

“That’s going to be 13 dollars and a kiss,” he said cooly looking up.

Damien looked shocked but hid it quickly. “A price is a price” he replied, setting thirteen dollars on the counter. Then, in what seemed like without a second thought, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Eli’s lips to which Eli happily kissed back. They were at an awkward angle leaning over the counter, but neither of them seemed to mind. Eli easily fixed it by making them meet in the middle. Damien was the one to break it. 

“I think I’m all paid up then,” he said, picking up the flowers, “they’re are for you by the way,” he said. Damien put the flowers in front of Eli once again. Eli picked them up. “Thank you,” he said.

Damien nodded and kissed Eli one last time. “I’ve gotta go. Call me when you’re done working flower boy.” Damien winked before turning around and leaving the flower shop.

As the door swung shut, Sawyer spoke up. “What the hell just happened?” he said aloud.

Eli looked over at Sawyer and felt blood rush to his cheeks

Sawyer looked at the door and then to Eli, his platinum hair swishing with each dramatic turn of his head. “That was the smoothest shit I’ve seen.” he muttered, “You’re supposed to be an awkward baby!”

Eli laughed at Sawyer’s confusion, embarrassment fading away. He didn’t need to feel embarrassed about Damien, not now, not ever.

[rasenkaikyo]

with @magitek-powered-calligraphy​

It was to the convenience of the Majestic Theater's staff that the Prima Vista had a fully stocked bar setup not unlike what could be found in the Sandsea, especially for a round after a triumphant performance.

At this point during the softer hours, Hinako sat alone at the bar, having placed before her a set of items for tea, including a small dish with fine green powder and a bamboo whisk. In silence, the Raen sipped her tea.

With a thud, a bottle of Vintage Lea Monde was placed on the table. Priscilla sat next to Hinako moments afterwards with an empty glass. She uncorked the bottle without much words and poured the deep crimson liquid in her glad. She swirled the wine around a few times, lost in thought, before placing the glass back in the bar table and pushing it away from her with the tip of her fingers.

She looked to her side to Hinako for the first time. Her eyes slightly bloodshot. Her face saddened, almost pleading. Her mouth barely opened as if she was deciding to say something.

"...How's your wound? Feeling better?" Hinako looked to the bottle and then back to Priscilla, invoking the close call she had with that creature beneath the city.

As ever, Hinako smiled to her with an assuring, genuine warmth and comfort, but at close glance even she could not conceal the apparent fatigue in her eyes - likely from rest cut short, perhaps having burst into tears recently... or maybe both.

“I wanted to thank you…” Priscilla nodded. “I wouldn't be here without your intervention.” Her gaze dropped. “Thank you… gods, we are so fucked aren't we?” She rested her arms on the bar. “Carrying eikons on our pockets…”

Hinako nodded to Priscilla's gratitude, but did not readily respond to her sentiment. Wistfully, she looked to the glass of wine, and then back to her tea. Setting her own cup down, she partially filled one of the empty cups with the green powder, put some hot water over it and gently whisked the mix together. Finally, while giving a soft sigh, she placed the cup of tea near Priscilla.

"You know, I don't think we had any opportunity to speak after I joined, before this mission. I'm sorry that it had to be under such terms as these." Hinako continued to smile, albeit with a hint of sadness on her visage.

Priscilla replied with a corner smile as she grabbed the newly poured tea. She brought it close to her face and allowed herself to breathe, her expression softening. “This brings better memories…” She spoke. “Let’s make the best of it then. My name is Priscilla bas Scaevola, I am a writer and recently have been chronicling the Riskbreakers adventures.” She sipped on the tea and she felt some of the stress leave her forehead.

"Mm ♪." Hinako turned back to her own tea and picked it up; breathing in, taking another sip, breathing out. She felt more light return to her.

"I am Daigo no Hinako, of Iwa. 108th in a line of high priests. I had been friends with the company for a couple of years now - and with the dream of having further lands like Doma see the sun rise, I aligned my interests with RISK and pledged my aid."

“Like a princess, are you? There’s some elegance to the way you carry yourself.” Priscilla raised her eyebrows with a her own assessment. “I come from a family of engineers. My desire for writing went against their wishes. Then in writing about heroes I found myself a traitor to my nation and at Ashelia’s doorstep.” There’s melancholy in her smile. “Now I chronicle everything that has been happening with the company in order to publish it. People need to know…” She trails off.   

Hinako had chuckled softly at Priscilla's small assessment. It was strange; she had never really considered herself a princess, and yet over the time since she first left Doma she began to consider if those words were more true than she had realized.

The priest rested her cup and stared down at it for a moment. She knew that at this point, it was uncertain especially now to determine the way of these chronicles, but...

"...Auracite. Scantily referenced in some Doman scripture as 'seiseki', I think. It is said that time and again, heroes have convened with twelve stones to change the course of history. The Dalmascans have placed great faith in them."

Hinako glanced back towards Priscilla. "I know... I know it's tough to consider, and even I struggle to comprehend it, but... I pray that what you publish next will be able to detail how heroes found the resolve to push through adversity, even when turned against themselves."

“The belief the kami dwell in objects.” Priscilla recalled. “I guess the auracite is no different.” She nods a few times.

“I hope you are right, for everyone’s sake. I really want you to be.” Priscilla pauses. “Because they way is currently unfolding is going to end in terror and blood. You saw the place we were. Nive’s touch. Ashelia’s voice speaking of blood and sacrifice. There’s more than one agenda at play…” She trails off, eyes watering. “I know not what to do. I know not if our friends are still there. I want to save them, but I am just the writer…” she takes a long sip of her tea.

"You are right... there is a clash of agenda," Hinako muses, setting down her tea and folding her arms. "We are talking of these stones seemingly serving ancient beings, that which transcend our morals, what is considered good or evil... and it is scary. For us, and our friends, to endure something that one struggles to comprehend and to have it control, to have it act beyond the will of the individual. I don't like seeing what has become of many a Riskbreaker, including Lady Ashe.

"However... In the end they are still limited. It depends on all, if the resolve is steeled and the will is just, to rise above them. That is the conflict we need to stand vigil for, and we should be there for them for no one should have to suffer alone. Temptation can be great, and we needs help steer with whatever guidance we can, lest they drive themselves into oblivion. And if it can't be helped, then we need to find whatever reasonable way we can to pry the stones from their grasp, and heal."

Priscilla smiled, weakly but genuinely. “This strength you possess, to see light beyond this darkness.I do not know how you do it. To have that stillness of mind whilst I panic about impending doom.” She gestures a flourish with her hand as she speaks. “I can see why you would be fitting to be a high priestess. A beacon of light and peace, resolute and comforting. I imagine they looked up to you, your people.”  

Hinako glowed, letting out a quick breath, as she lowered her arms to prepare more tea. "We come of different vocations, after all. I do the best I can for them, and everyone..." It felt, there wasn't much difference between now and then, after Doma fell. She recalled the words of assurance, yet honest, she said for the people - she said to Mozu. That which served to secure the bonds between them. Such was her way.

She had faith that her words were not hollow, and she would not allow them to be hollow now.

"...As I will keep doing for you and yours, Priscilla. For all of us. We'll get through  this, together."

“Careful, princess” Priscilla smiled. “You’ll make it hard not to fall for you.” She laughed, trying to cup her mouth with her hand.

“But more seriously. What drove you? To travel away from your home and into the fray? Duty, vengeance, love?” More at ease chatting with Hinako, Priscilla finally procured a small notebook from her pocket. I am a writer. She reminded herself. “Also, what’s happened since you’ve taken the stone? Have you felt changes?” She inched her empty cup towards her. “Should at least document what’s happened, if not for us then for those to come.”

The ‘princess’ couldn’t help but laugh herself, and blush a little at Priscilla’s statement.

"Ah, love, maybe..." Hinako replied first, finishing with her cup. "I have someone who is fighting a good fight against the Empire, and after having reached a certain point of stability in Doma I thought I might join her in my own way, you know? From there, fate guided me here."

She looked to Priscilla's empty cup and opted to set her up with more tea as well. "As for my stone... If this is any consolation, I have sensed no invasive influence. Not biding its time - actively it is not interested in me as a 'vessel'. Simply put, Adrammelech is an entity of pure wrath, and I am not."

The priestess grinned a little and passed fresh tea back Pris' way. "Still we can reach out to one another, and recently it visited me in my dreams, as I slept."

“A dream?” Priscilla raised an eyebrow. “Was it trying to convince you? Warn you? Threaten you?” Her fingers played with a pen while she thought. “Was it because of your resistance? Or do you think the others are experiencing similarities?”

"...It is tough to say," Hinako replied, a bit of a frown appearing on her face as she recalled the dream, and the intensity of the feeling she felt. "Its presence was mostly ambivalent, but it did give unto me a vision, a lurid look into the past; truth of what we saw in Lea Monde.

"There was a woman and two men - two brothers, the younger undeniably being the man RISK captured. Grissom. ...They traveled deep underground to that altar, whereupon it the woman was handed the stone now in my possession by the elder brother. Then, with little warning in a seemingly tender moment, he put a dagger in her abdomen.

“He said he needed her soul as he twisted further. 'Blood for the Seraph, Blood for the Lady, Blood for the resurrection', the brother cited... but in her horrible final moments as she screamed and writhed, the woman was consumed with such great wrath against the man that a violent change was triggered. She pushed back -- A statue present at the altar embraced her, until they were one. The multi-armed, two-faced being of flesh and stone."

Priscilla’s eyes widened at the tale, her fingers loosely covering her mouth in slight terror. “Do their tales speak of a leader to these auracites?” The gears in her head began to turn, trying to extrapolate a conclusion between all this. She frowns recalling the events at Lea Monde. “Is it enough blood, My Lady” She fakes a deep voice, reminiscing of the words Nive’s body said. “Do they wish to resurrect this Seraph? Not that I would blame them, if they have been imprisoned in the stones for eons.” She ponders. “But why tell us? Why show you their plans? To flaunt their inevitability? There’s something we must be missing...”

Priscilla takes a few seconds before putting her pen away. “Sorry for the musings.” She grabbed the fresh tea and took her time to smell it before sipping again.

"It is fine, truly," Hinako said with a nod, before sipping her own tea. "I believe the Seraph in question is definitely Ultima, the High Seraph. One of twelve, legend notes that she was the de facto leader of these beings who rebelled against their empyrean masters. They failed and were subjugated forevermore."

She reached behind her and pulled out the book she has been holding on to, setting it on the table. "It makes sense that they would seek freedom, but there is so much left in the fog beyond that for sure." She furrowed her brow a little. "All I know is that even if I were subjected to the whims of demons, nothing could drive me to turn on another for blood sacrifice. Whoever yearns for it shall not have their way.”

“They shall not have their way.” Priscilla repeated with a nod. “That, we can definitely agree on.”

She allowed herself some silence with the tea and the company before continuing. “I think we are starting to move on the right direction. Information is crucial to conflict. Knowing the cards we’ve been dealt is half the fight. The other, like you mentioned, is in their hands.” Priscilla took another sip, trying to swallow the slight helplessness she felt. “Have you shared your vision with the others?”

Hinako shook her head and gestured palm-up. "Mm-mm, I haven't yet had the opportunity to see anyone over it. Mostly I needed to think about what I had seen, first... I do believe I know where I can find Nivelth, and perhaps I can cross with Akhutai along the way."

“Just…” Priscilla took a second to find the words. “Be careful. And Thanks”.

Hinako smiled back and gave an assuring nod. “Of course.”

[randombtsprincessa]

Aberrations || 3

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Chapter:  01  02

“Can’t you just go and check? I haven’t even had my coffee yet!” Taehyung said as I held on tightly to his forearm, unwilling to let him slip away from me when my sweet, amazing partner had already been snatched from me by the cruel Mr. Kim. Genius or not, the chance I was willing to give Min Yoongi was already gnawing in my mind. Maybe I should’ve told Namjoon that Yoongi had implied I try to seduce him. Maybe that would change his mind but I doubted it.

“Why do you need coffee to check a studio listing?” I mumbled. “I don’t want to see Suran so early in the morning. She asked me for my number yesterday. I mean, what for? We’ll see each other every day anyway.” He said. I blinked in surprise.

Tae was right. Why would Suran need his number? The project was dead lined to an entire month and Tae had never ever missed a class. Yoongi hadn’t asked and I hadn’t even thought about anything other than getting rid of him. Again, the words ‘truce for now’ cause a pang in my chest.

“I’m too scared.” Tae whispered.

“Relax, Tae bear you’ll be fine.” I said.

“Easy for you to say; you’re working with Min Yoongi.” He mumbled.

I stopped in my tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

Was there something that Taehyung knew about Yoongi? Why would Taehyung - sweet, awkward, smart and hard working Taehyung - know anything about rude, abrasive, harsh and mean Min Yoongi? I didn’t even know he was in our class. Yet, Mr. Kim had called him a genius and Taehyung knew about him? What had I missed?

Taehyung frowned at me through his glasses. “Well, you know; he is Min Yoongi; he’s had all of his mixes labeled at number one by Kim. He always beats us by some tone or nuance that Kim likes more. He doesn’t even have a partner. The guy he was working with changed majors to dance and Yoongi said he was ok alone. He must really be good.” Taehyung actually sounded gruff for the first time ever. “Some of his work plays in Dark Wild. Haven’t you heard any of the playlists Namjoon posts on the college website?” he looked at me like I had one eye.

“No…” I trailed off.

I suddenly felt like an idiot. Min Yoongi had his songs played in Dark Wild and I didn’t even know it. Was that why he was so arrogant? He felt like he had made it big already so he looked down on others? I never knew Mr. Kim ranked our mixes instead of just grading them. I felt uninformed.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I hissed.

“Hey, ow, I thought you already knew!” Taehyung winced when my fingers dug in harshly into his arm. “I just thought you didn’t care about the first place.” he said.

I frowned at him.

“Tae, but you care, you should’ve told me, we could’ve done something to get first rank.” I said.

“That’s never going to happen with Min here, which is basically ever. Its second place for us, Y/N.” he said. I pouted as we resumed our walk towards the bulletin boards. “We’ll work harder.” I promised.

“Don’t worry about it. At least, you’ll have your name up on the first rank.” He said wistfully. “Or…I will sabotage him so you get your spot. I only care about the first rank if you get it, Tae.” I said.

He shushed me, looking around. “You can’t say that stuff around. If something happens, it will come on you.” He said, his eyes wide, making me laugh at his innocence. “Ok, I won’t, you dork.” I nudged him to keep moving and finally we made it to the boards where we pushed past – Taehyung got dragged – students to the front.

“Oh god, where are we?” Taehyung asked.

“I got Studio Genius. You got Hope World.” I paused and looked at him with a grin. He mouthed at the list before giving me his boxed grin too. “We’re next to each other!” he cheered before looking about with a hint of blush on his cheeks. I laughed, pulling him away from the crowd.

“This is amazing. We can visit each other when we want to.” I said.

“What if Yoongi doesn’t like it?” he asked.

“Then Yoongi can suck your cock,” I said.

“Y/N, I’m older than you! God, have some respect. If not for him then me, besides I’m not gay.” He swatted at me and I rolled my eyes before checking the time.

“Ok, time for class.” I sighed. “Thank god, I’ll go get my coffee.”

“Careful not to melt in front of the barista,” I teased. “Brat,” he grumbled but I caught his grin as we parted ways.

“Where were you? I’ve been waiting for 15 minutes for you!” Yerin said when I arrived, panting in front of our desk. “Sorry, had to check a listing with Tae,” I told her, sliding into my place next to her.

“Un huh….Well, make sure to tell him that we all are going to a party today.” She said, picking her pen up.

I groaned.

“Yerin, we went to a party just the day before yesterday! I can’t physically party today.” I moaned. “I’m not taking no for an answer, Y/N. I will hogtie you if I have to.” She said. “Well, you’re going to have to because I can’t. I…want to spend some time with Sehun. He’s being extra sweet these days. I want to get what I can out of that as long as it lasts.” I said. She slowly turned to me and raised my eyebrows, making me groan again.

“You’re so disgusting. I didn’t mean it like that.” I said.

She chuckled. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you did though, I have stayed over at your place when he came over. I think I know how sweet he really is or rather, how sweet you are.” She smirked, looking down into her notebook and I let out a wail of anguish. “Please tell me you didn’t!” I said. “Oh honey, Ara and Doona might be too nice to tell you to shut it but if I was your roommate I would’ve punched a hole through your walls. Or at least left you guys to finish it, as one of your best friends, it would be unethical of me to cock block you.” She said.

I put my head down on my arms, feeling boiling blood rear up like stallions in my face, unable to look up into her face again. Sehun and I weren’t that loud, were we? We always tried to be considerate of the others, which is why he rarely came over unless it was just to sleep. I would go over to his apartment more.

I felt her nudge my arm again.

“You can hide all you want right now. I want you hot and dolled up for the party, I am going to come over to make sure you look sexy.” She hissed into my exposed ear.

“Please Yerin, you’re torturing me,” I whined.

“That’s in the job description, babe. Plus, all you have to do is sit still and let me wield a brush on your face.” She said. “Too bad, we can’t all look naturally hot like you.” I hissed back, looking up slightly to glare at her.

She shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ manner and I put my head back again.

“I am not coming.” I said decisively.

There was a pause.

“We’ll see about that.” She said back sounding equally as decisive.

I rushed out of the class, trying to vanish before Yerin could catch me. My hasty retreat was spoiled, however, when I saw Sehun leaning in front of the hall, making me feet naturally gravitate towards him in confusion.

“Hey,” he said, looking up from his phone, the frown marring his face lightening slightly but not turning into a smile. My eyes darted from his face to the phone. “Sehun, is everything ok?” I asked.

He shrugged, finally giving me a small smile. “Sure, everything’s fine. It’s just that gig I told you about. Yeah, I have to put in extra hours for practice.” He waved the phone nonchalantly in the air before shoving it in his pocket. “How was class?” he asked, holding out his hand to me. “It was fine. I have to actually,” began when I heard the dreaded call.

“Sehun; are you up for a party tonight?”

I groaned, burying my face in his jacket. “Please say no,” I begged.

“Why, what’s wrong with going out tonight?” he asked quietly as he watched Yerin’s approach.

“I…” I trailed off as she finally reached us.

“Well,” Yerin stared at him expectantly.

“Sure, I’m fine. God knows I need to get out more.” He shrugged, looking down to see my expression.

“Perfect, we have that sorted then. Y/N, I’ll be at your at 6 sharp. We’ll all meet there at 8? I mean, it’s Friday. We can afford to stay out late.” She pointedly pouted at me.

“Don’t ‘puppy eye’ me, Yerin.” I warned. She stuck out her tongue at me before throwing Sehun a grateful grin. “Thanks for dragging this lump.” She said before turning on her heel and walking away.

“She’s something else, I swear. Come on, its Kim’s class.” I said, pulling Sehun along. “I told you to say no.” I said.

“I think it’s a good idea, Y/N. I haven’t gotten out in ages. I haven’t taken you out in ages. We could make this a date. Besides, I can ask around if the guys from my dance class want to come. You should meet them.” He said.

“You…want to take me on a date?” I teased, slowly running my fingers up his arm.

He paused, clearing his throat before grabbing my hand from his arm. “Is that wrong?” he asked, his voice a little stiff. “No, I like it, Sehun.” I eyed the way he removed my hand from his skin but didn’t say anything as we reached the class doors.

“A date would pick me up.” I said.

“A date would but we’re going with friends. The date will start once you show up at the club. Maybe then your date will save you a dance and a drink.” He grinned and I blinked; my cheeks heating, at the prospect of having him buy me drinks, where I’d been prowling about for a guy to get me drinks not two days ago.

I was right. Sobriety was going to make me feel guilty some way or another.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked.

“Sure, I just…I just missed you, you know.” I whispered.

There was a pause in which I felt his eyes boring into mine.

I looked up to see his face too close to mine, a frown on it again, like he just couldn’t feel relaxed today. “I miss you too. I hope you know that. I’m trying, ok?” he whispered.

He was positioned near the door and over his shoulder; I could see the students, busy chatting while waiting for the class to actually start. I could see Tae sitting huddled in his seat as Suran busily wrote things beside him in a notebook, lyrics mostly. Two seats down, my eyes froze. Min Yoongi was already in the bench and he had left the seat I had said I was going to sit in.

Also, his eyes were fixed on me.

My mouth ran dry and my breath caught momentarily at the sudden eye contact. Why was he staring at me? I thought that he might find his phone more interesting than student watching. His eyes, dark even from a distance bored into me before, very subtly, he raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting to Sehun’s back for a split second.

I felt scared all of a sudden. He didn’t know Sehun, did he? He wouldn’t say a word to him. We had a truce on. He couldn’t even see Sehun’s face right now.

“Y/N, tell me what’s wrong?” Sehun asked suddenly, his hands coming up to cradle my face.

I looked at him in a panic. “Nothing, absolutely nothing, I’ll see you at Dark Wild.” I said, reaching up to press my lips to his in a desperate kiss which made him stumble back before I practically shoved him away from the class doors and hurried inside.

By the time I was sitting next to him, Yoongi was already deep in his phone, not even bothering with a ‘hi’. I could live with that. I could completely abide by his indifference as long he stayed far away from me. Truce or not, I just wasn’t willing to put my guard down around him.

I turned my seat to look at Tae but he didn’t look at me. His hood was up, his glasses high on his nose, his lips pulled into a pout, and he mostly likely had his earphones in so he wouldn’t be able to listen to anything Suran said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I turned to glance at Yoongi to see him biting his lip, his fingernails busy tapping on the phone screen, steadily. I looked at the phone to see and snorted, “Piano Tiles,” I said in surprised amusement.

Yoongi’s fingers paused and he turned to look at me, his blond hair shiny in the fluorescent lights. “Got a problem, sweetheart?” he asked coldly. I shrugged, looking away as Kim finally marched in, adjusting his tie and casting a look around the class. “Mingling with the new partners, I see. Good, good,” he said.

There was some uncomfortable shuffling around but no one really argued.

Of course, I couldn’t help myself from looking at him and I saw he was already giving me a cold smirk, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. His fingers were tapping out piano tiles again, too fast for me comprehend. I looked away again.

“Right, so now that we’re all here. Let’s get to it shall we? I want you all to know that the studios aren’t being given out to you like Halloween candy. They are still meant only for juniors and seniors but time has been allotted for sophomores this year so use it well. You will only be able to work in the studios while your class time is in session, if you have special permission or a junior or senior is willing to let you in. Which means that any other time, you feel like meandering in the studio and rebel around, it will not be tolerated.” He looked around the class sternly.

“The equipment in the studio is expensive. If you don’t know what you are doing, call for someone. I don’t want any student to be liable to pay for some fancy mechanical object you can’t even pronounce.” Again, a look was casted around to see he was understood.

“Also, I do not care if you have not been around for some time. The studio is not for your personal activities. I think we’re all adult enough to know that fiction cannot be actually lived out in real life.” He looked away a little and adjusted his tie again.

Was he getting red around the neck?

I heard a chuckle next to me and looked at Yoongi who was slumping again, his knee resting on the front bench, his eyes, derisive on Namjoon. He caught my look and his smirk intensified, “He’s speaking from personal experience.” He muttered.

I made a disgusted face but bit my lip, unable to help the grin. He had to be right. Namjoon was embarrassed as he finally looked up at the class.

“If you all understand what I’m trying to say, I hope you have checked which studio you got allotted. You know where they are. Go and start checking them out. I don’t want any of you wandering. Remember, this project counts for your final grade.” He warned.

I grabbed my bag first, narrowing my eyes at my partner who sighed, looking reluctant to stop his stupid game. He glanced at me for a second before standing up, his bag clutched in his hand and he followed me slowly.

I moved quicker to catch up with Tae and I was right. A wire ran down from his neck into his pocket and I tugged it out of his ear making him look at me.

“Sorry, didn’t you see me?” I asked, linking in our arms.

“Yeah, sorry, I haven’t put my head up for half an hour now. Where’s your esteemed partner?” he asked. I turned around to look to see if Yoongi was still behind but he had vanished. I sighed. I knew it. The delinquent had to vanish and leave me hanging.

“He left.” I said.

Tae frowned. “He can’t do that. Namjoon or someone might catch him and report him. Your project won’t even get to start.” He said. I shook my head. “Maybe then you’ll get your first place.” I said. He rolled his eyes as we reached Hope World studio. “This is me. I’ll try to visit, ok?” he asked. I nodded, moving next door, studying the plaque of Genius Lab inscribed on the fogged glass.

I punched in the code and pushed it open, looking around.

It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t all that big either. A small couch lay on one side of the door, keyboards, drum sets, a sound board lining the desk. Music sheets lay in a pile on the desk and it looked like it had been freshly cleaned. I brushed my hand on the mike set and guitars when I heard a thud in the quiet space, making me squeal in fright.

“Relax, it’s just me.”

Yoongi looked too big in the studio but he looked at home, as if he’d been here countless time. He moved the pile of music sheets away and studied them critically before putting them in a drawer and clearing out a table as he pulled a sound board on top of it. “You know how to operate anything here?” he shot at me.

“Yes, of course,” I said, miffed.

“Not the instruments, sweetheart, that’s semantics. I mean the real deal, the kits, the boards, the computer programs.” He leaned back on the desk, arms folded, head tilted back slightly as he stared at me, “Let me guess, no, you don’t.”

I didn’t say anything.

Truth was I never needed to do that. Taehyung had an entire space set up for music which he called V space. I didn’t even know why he called it that. He made everything we decided on there while I sorted out the files.

“Right, well, today’s going to be shot with you in here and I don’t have the time or inclination to teach you anything today. I’m going to need my energy tonight and making sure you follow is going to be enough of a drain. You can head off to visit Taehyung if you want. Or you can tag along with me and see if we can come up with some lyrics during lunch,” he picked up his bag again and walked out the door, leaving me to gape after him.

Did he just ask me eat lunch with him? Did I want to eat lunch with him? Of course, now that I knew he was a veritable genius I knew he could make the entire project by himself and then erase me out of it completely. I couldn’t let him do that.

Picking up my bag, I rushed after him after making sure the door locked.

I stared at him as he hunched over the table, his arms surrounding the paper on which he was scribbling as if it was his first born child.

Yoongi had led me straight to one of the more backward cafes, some place I had never been. He had placed his order and quickly grabbed a seat while I was left to order something and slowly deposit myself in front of him. It didn’t seem like he even noticed, he was already writing down on a pad, lyrics most likely. I had shifted, coughed, to get his attention but he was completely engrossed. After a few minutes I gave up, choosing to stare at this ‘genius’ in front of me.

People said that genius had to be borne of pain. Well, Min Yoongi didn’t seem much borne of pain. His clothes looked eccentric yes like he’d just thrown whatever suited his bad boy image but now when I was studying him it struck me his clothes were definitely high end and very obviously designer.

He was dressed in all black today, the black t-shirt stretching across his chest. With the padded jacket he’d left open and a black cap now nestled backwards on his still blond hair. They were all labeled Puma.

Our order came and the waiter left but he didn’t move, his fingers still scribbling against the paper. I coughed again and he looked up finally, throwing an annoyed look at me. “Will you stop sniffling? Go get yourself a cough drop.” He snapped before his head dropped back down.

“Yoongi, if you’re making lyrics I should be in on it,” I said.

“You will be; these are just ideas.” He muttered. “Well, show me,” I demanded. He gave me a look. “Show me yours.” He said. My mouth dropped and he rolled his eyes. “Ideas; show me your ideas, trust me sweetheart, I can do better than you.” He waited as I retracted my arm. “Don’t have any ideas, do you? Maybe, if you think more and stare less at me,” he trailed off, his attention back on his writings and I clenched my jaw.

I was being stupid. This wasn’t Taehyung, I couldn’t wait for him to come to me and I was definitely not going to go to him. I picked up my bag and took my drink. “Well, I will show you my ideas tomorrow and I am not staring at you.” I was out of my seat, on the way out when I heard him pipe up, “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

Lights flashed around me as I clutched on to my glass, my lips quirked up as I stared at Ara and Doona dance to touch my body, doing the silly cover move and giggling. Beside me Yerin was deep in conversation with Taehyung, who looked mildly alarmed as Yerin was animatedly moving her hands. He kept dodging out of the way to avoid getting hit by them. On my other side, Sehun had an arm slung over my shoulder, a beer bottle in his hand.

His face was red from dancing earlier and while I still had some form of energy left, his was gone as he said, he needed to drink to recharge. Now, he was chatting with Baekhyun and Sebastian, two guys who had tagged along with Tae. “I know, acting can take quite a toll.” Baekhyun was saying when I tuned into their conversation.

Like me, it seemed like Sebastian had been relegated to the background. He didn’t speak much but he did keep an eye on Tae, maybe because Baek had told him to.

I turned to Yerin when she sighed, putting her head down on my shoulder. “Go dance with the others.” I said.

“I can’t, I’m waiting for Jungkook to show up so I can introduce him. If he’s not here in 15 seconds…”

“What will you do?”

We both turned around to look at the person who spoke and Yerin’s face split into a mischievous grin. “Maybe you’ll find out when you are actually late.” She giggled. The boy grinned back, wrapping a muscular arm around my best friend and pulling her in for a chaste kiss. “Maybe later then,” he mumbled. I glanced over to the girls and beckoned them over as Yerin and Jungkook pulled apart.

“Right, are we all here?” Yerin asked.

“There are still the guys from my dance class.” Sehun muttered. “Oh, well, we’ll get to them later. Jungkook, this is Ara, Doona, Taehyung and Y/N, my best friends. This is Sehun, Y/N’s boyfriend. That’s Baekhyun and Sebastian, Tae’s friends. Guys, this is Jeon Jungkook, the guy for however long he can put up with me.” Yerin said.

“Wow, I love your self esteem.” Jungkook muttered before nodding at us. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Word of advice; you better put up with Yerin. She acts like a badass but if you hurt her we will cut you.” Ara said as Doona and I nodded. “Ara, babe, I can do the threatening myself. You sound like my dad.” Yerin said glumly but Jungkook grinned, toasting Ara, “Noted, don’t worry,” he said.

“Anyways, I am recharged enough.” I said, pulling away from Sehun and grinning at the girls. “How about the four of us leave the guys to gawk at us?” I muttered slyly and with cheerful shouts, we all turned to the dance floor while pulling Tae along with us.

“This is one of Yoongi’s pieces.” Tae shouted in my ear suddenly as I made him twirl by crouching under my arm. I froze at his name. “It is?” I asked and Tae nodded as Yerin gripped his other arm and pulled him away from me.

I stayed where I was, my steps decidedly slowed as I focused on the music, trying to work out the beats from the fast almost harsh sounding tune. It was just music with no words but I could almost see him in the deep basses. It reminded me of his gruff voice.

“Y/N, come on, I need another drink!” Doona said and we returned to our seats in the bar when Sehun came up to me. “Babe, Doona, these are the guys from my dance class.” He said. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and pulled us to the counter where three guys were standing.

“Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Hoseok, our class leader and Jimin, the assistant choreographer. Oh and this is Yoongi, I think you know him, he’s in your music class.” Sehun said.

My steps had already faltered the second I recognized him, even if his back to me. I would recognize that particular shade of Blond anywhere. He turned slowly, his eyes piercing into me once before quickly darting to Sehun and his arm around me, his lips quirking ever so slightly.

“Hi,” my eyes moved to Hoseok who smiled widely at me, his hand stretching towards me. “I’m Hobi,” he said. “Hi Hobi,” I said smiling as Jimin stuck his hand too, a small cute smile on his face, his swollen eyes shutting into beautiful crescents. He was the type that just asked for his cheeks to be squished. I had an irrational urge to run my finger into his frumpy hair. “I’m Jimin. The cutest Mochi about,” he said and I giggled, shaking his hand too. “Hey, Park, keep the flirting to a minimum.” Sehun warned and laughter echoed in our small group. Hobi and Jimin shook hands with Doona before she slipped away to get a drink.

“Hi Yoongi,” I said finally, cautiously, when he made no move to say anything. His eyes were still on Sehun before he glanced at me, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

I looked up at Sehun to see him eyeing Yoongi almost uncomfortably.

“So, what are you guys working on now?” I asked quickly. “We could show you!” Jimin said quickly, looking at Hobi. “Hyung, the beat is perfect, Suga made this for our practice, remember? We could show her.” He said. Sehun rolled his eyes once as Hobi nodded, putting down his drink and nodding to me. “Tell me if you like it, it’s still a fledgling,” he said and Sehun dropped a kiss on my head before leaving with the two, staying on the fringe of the crowd so I could watch…and leaving me alone with Min Yoongi.

Doona must have called the others over because as soon as Hoseok, Jimin and Sehun’s overly complicated dance finished, there was another round of introduction.

Our separate group soon mingled into one as it turned around Jungkook and Sebastian were interested in dancing too and Baekhyun and Sehun started talking about their acting stuff which I just did not even try to follow. I spied Taehyung and Yoongi talking in one corner and quickly looked away.

“Is it me, or did the guys just ditch us?” Ara asked as Yerin downed her shot. “We’ll make them pay later,” She said. “Oh please, we all know you’re going to leave with Jungkook.” I said. “What’s got you in a twist? You’re leaving with your own hot man.” Yerin said. “To be honest, you all are lucky; Jungkook and Sehun have got to be the hottest guy in this damn club.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say that. Have you guys seen the boys from the dance class? Even the guy from Taehyung and Y/N’s class, he’s got to be the sexiest man I’ve seen tonight.” There was a pause in which Doona sighed. “If you’re taking Jimin home tonight, I’m going to have to ask to play music.” She said.

Ara raised her glass to Doona before smirking. “I thought you were going home with Taehyung and Baekhyun anyways,” she said slyly. Doona gasped, her cheeks reddening. “Ara, Tae’s our best friend!” she stuttered.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” she giggled and put her glass down, walking off with Doona following as they both kept their bickering on.

I laughed, turning to Yerin. “I need some fresh hair, want to come with?” I asked. “I don’t think I can move from this oh do comfortable stool with the perfect view of my boyfriend’s hot back. Inhale some extra fresh hair for me.” she said, her eyes fixed over my shoulder. I rolled my eyes, picking up my purse and walking out to the small back balcony and shut the door, taking in a long deep pull of cold night air and giggling into the silence.

“I would ask what’s funny but knowing you, it would be something stupid and I don’t want my brain cells to die.”

My giggle died down into a choke and I whirled about to see Yoongi leaning back against the wall beside the door. His booted foot was up on the wall; his head tilted back, eyes not even looking at me. I had walked straight past him. It took me a minute to regain my composure when I registered what he had said.

“You don’t know anything about me, Yoongi.” I said, crossing my arms.

“You’d think so but you’re pretty much easy to read.” He said.

“Oh, and you are such a mystery, aren’t you, Suga?” I asked.

That got his attention. His eyes settled on me and they weren’t friendly. I sighed, dropping my arms. “Look, we have a truce, remember? I also…heard one of your pieces, it was nice.” I said. His eyebrow rose. “Thanks,” he said coldly before frowning at me.

“Why did you come to me for a drink when your boyfriend’s so nice?” he asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“That guy; the one whose arm you are walking on so proudly. I know him. He’s one of the promised stars from our college. If you’re dating him, why’d you want to get with another guy?” he asked. “I know for a fact that even if you are just using him, you aren’t dumb enough to jeopardize that.”

He probably didn’t want to sound harsh but he did. He sounded curious yes, but all I could see was the ass who had indirectly called me a slut.

“Look, like I said, you don’t know anything about me or about Sehun. I suggest you forget that night as a drunken mistake on my part. Of course, because complimenting someone’s hair is trying to get them to buy you a drink in your life, I am hoping you will just dismiss it as a useless waste of ten minutes of your oh so precious life and stop making me feel bad.” I said in one breath and he stared at me.

Without another word, I reached past him for the door handle and pulled the door open, walking back into the warmth of the club, slamming the door shut and stopped when I saw the person in front of me.

Yerin was staring at me coldly, her lips curled into a scowl, her arms folded. I knew this pose. She meant business. Behind her I could see Ara and Doona, watching me with surprise as I stared back at them like a deer in headlights.

“You,” Yerin said, her voice cool and controlled, “are coming with me.” She said, nodding at Ara and Doona.

“Yerin, I don’t know what you heard,” I began but she chuckled, pulling out her phone and typing out a text. “Oh, I heard enough. I think Jungkook and the guys can wait tonight, can’t they girls?” She asked and Ara and Doona nodded. Of course, they would.

“Spill,” She said.

“It was nothing! Min Yoongi is an ass who doesn’t deserve a single second of thought. Why would you be so on top of that?” I asked.

“Because you went to him to bait him and he’s being a mean bastard to you ever since, hasn’t he? I heard enough and I am not an idiot. I know two plus two is four, Y/N.” Yerin hissed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ara asked.

“It wasn’t important.” I said.

“Meeting the guy who you baited then got burned by isn’t important?” Doona asked.

“Girls please,” I began to be cut off again by Yerin.

“This is my fault.” She said. “I was the one who pushed that idea onto you.”

“What, no it’s not! Yerin, I didn’t try and bait him. I thought his hair looked cool and went to tell him because I was drunk. He made this whole scenario up and he’s been hanging that over my head ever since.” I finally said.

“He’s blackmailing you? Oh he’s dead.” Yerin growled.

“Yerin, relax. We…have been partnered for a project. We called a truce. Hopefully after the project’s done, we’ll never see each other again.” I said.

“But,”

“Are you sure?” Ara asked, putting a hand on Yerin’s shoulder.

I nodded, still feeling a little unsure. Yoongi hadn’t agreed to the truce verbally. I had no idea if he had even taken the truce up for consideration, much less hold up his part of it but I couldn’t let the girls be upset because of my own stupidity.

“Ok, let’s just go home, Yerin you too. It’s ice cream and chick-flick night.” Doona said.

[nationaldoyoungday]

Hyuck + 86. Thank you 💓💓💓💓

pairing: lee donghyuck x readergenre: angst (i’m serious) | hanahaki!auword count: 1.8kprompt: “fine, don’t say anything and make me worry.”other: ajfgh life is ROUGH dude. Rough. sorta spun the hanahaki au ?

“What does this mean?”

You stare blankly at the file you’re gripping in your hand, the small printed letters glaring back at you.

“It means,” your doctor, a sweet old man, says sympathetically, “in short, you have the Hanahaki disease.”

You have the Hanahaki disease.

“I-I’m sorry,” you scoff. “H-how is that possible? I thought Hanahaki only manifests when you love someone who isn’t your soulmate?”

The doctor furrows his brows.

“Well, normally, yes.”

“You can’t get Hanahaki if you love your soulmate, right?” You pause.

“How can you be so sure that this is Hanahaki that I have? Could it be something else?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Maybe a bad case of the flu?”

He pushes his glasses further up his nose and narrows his eyes, scrutinizing something written on his clipboard.

“According to the test, you have Hanahaki, yes, which technically shouldn’t be possible.”

He pauses, circling something before showing the clipboard to you.

“But as you can see here,” he points to a diagram with his pen, “you seem to carry a unique gene marker that is only present in 0.001% of the population.”

“Y-you’re showing me the test results,” you clench your teeth, “but I have no idea what you’re saying. Unique gene marker?”

You lean back in your seat and take a deep breath.

“A unique gene marker for randomly developing Hanahaki out of nowhere? Is that what I have?”

“No, Ms. Y/L/N, not out of nowhere,” he says grimly.

“I’m afraid that because your soulmate is in love with someone who isn’t you, and therefore is sick with Hanahaki,” he says grimly, “you feel the effects as well.”

You haven’t talked to Donghyuck since your visit to the doctor.

In fact, you haven’t done much of anything since your visit to the doctor, except sit on the couch, wrapped in more blankets than necessary, and drowning your sorrows with ice cream.

As such, you haven’t been answering Lee Donghyuck’s 183 missed calls, and after being friends with him for so long, you should have known better.

Alas, you still chose to ignore every time your phone vibrated for the past three days, and it was now biting you in the ass.

“Y/N!” The banging on your door began five minutes ago, accompanied by the angry voice of your best friend, Donghyuck, and honestly, you shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Y/N, open up!” You ignore his incessantly hammering, opting instead to shovel a big scoop of Rocky Road ice cream into your mouth.

Barely a minute passes before he’s screaming at you again.

“I know you’re in there! Just open the door so I can make sure you’re alive!”

You roll your eyes, reaching for the remote to flick through the many channels playing.

“Y/N Y/L/N, open this door this instant!” You weren’t sure it was possible for him to get any louder, until he starts banging with even more vigor against your door — and that’s when you feel it.

The tightness of your lungs that, over the past week, you had learnt indicated the growth of yet another flower in your lungs.

It takes all of two seconds for you to shove open the bathroom door, before your hurling your flowery guts into the toilet.

The flowers were beautiful, there was no doubt. The flowers you had growing inside you were beautiful pink camellias, soft and fragrant, and oh-so-deadly. You remember that when you were younger, you had read somewhere that pink camellias represented longing.

How fitting, you thought wryly.

The flowers were beautiful, yes, but they were also all consuming, suffocating you with the reminder that the soulmate you loved so dearly did not love you back.

“…Y/N?” A few minutes had passed without any angry knocking, you realize, while you were in the bathroom, before Donghyuck speaks up again.

“Fine. Don’t say anything and make me worry.”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you roll your eyes as you flush the toilet, and any remnants of flowers.

If there was one thing Donghyuck was, (besides loud and annoying) it was overdramatic.

“Shut up, you baby,” you groan, padding over to your front door to swing it open.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Donghyuck chides you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shoves your shoulder lightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again! I can’t believe you really ignored me for three whole days!”

He looks at you worriedly.

“What happened to you? Are you dying?”

You swat away his hands as he checks your temperature, and roll your eyes.

“No, Hyuck, I just was feeling under the weather.”

“Well then…” he trails off. “Why couldn’t you return any of my calls?!”

“Okay, okay!” You relent.

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to talk to anybody…”

He scoffs.

“Am I just a random ‘anybody’ to you? Is that all our friendship is worth?”

“Yeah, shut up and come sit with me.”

A few minutes pass as the two of you watch reruns of old shows while sitting on your couch, and you can’t stop thinking about what the doctor told you.

“I’m afraid that because your soulmate is in love with someone who isn’t you.”

You steal a glance at Donghyuck, who seems thoroughly invested in the show that is playing on TV and sigh. Why, out of all people in the world, did you have to have your soulmate be your best friend?

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” You ask after a few moments.

“What do you mean?” He answers lately, feigns obliviousness, and you reach over to smack him.

“That you’re in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate,” you say softly, and he shrugs.

“I dunno,” he finally says. “I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

You scoff, before punching him in the arm.

“Why wouldn’t it be a big deal?” You cry. “You have Hanahaki!”

He looks away from you.

“I mean,” he says.

“I don’t like the idea of soulmates. Did you know that?”

No, you had never known for sure, but you always had your suspicions. Donghyuck had always been a stubborn and hard headed boy who wanted to make his own decisions — be independent, Y/N! — and there was always some part of you that knew he didn’t like the idea of the universe choosing who he should love.

“I guess with Hanahaki, I feel like I have the choice, you know?”

He sighs wistfully. “I can love whoever I want, and the flowers are a reminder that I don’t have to live the way that someone or something else decided I should. I wish we didn’t have to have soulmates.”

You know he isn’t targeting you specifically, but you can’t help the dagger that digs its way into your heart.

He didn’t want a soulmate, and if he ever found out you were his, things would never be the same. Sure, the flowers hurt right now, but the pain of losing Donghyuck forever would be far worse.

“But is it worth it?” You whisper. “Going through all that pain?”

His head lolls onto your shoulder as he contemplates his answer.

“But isn’t love supposed to be painful?”

“Tell me about this mystery girl that you feel pain for, then,” you decide to ask.

You aren’t sure why you would ask him that, when you know that it’ll only end up hurting you even more. You must have been a masochist, to talk about it.

“Oh, she’s great!” His eyes practically light up. “She actually goes to school in the next town over. Her name is…”

Donghyuck continues to blabber on about this mystery girl, and each word he says is like a nail in your coffin.

“That’s great, Hyuck,” you smile, and if he notices it’s watery, he doesn’t say anything.

You’ll never be her, the words mock you in your head.

You’ll never be her.

“Y/N?” The first thing you hear when you pick up the phone two months later is Donghyuck’s tentative voice.

Since your talk the week after your diagnosis, things had basically gone back to the way they were, despite the fact that you now had Hanahaki and Donghyuck basically had no idea.

“What’s up?” You ask casually, holding the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you attempt to paint your toes — a light pink, as a sort of homage to the pink camellias that grow in your ribcage.

“You’ll never believe it, Y/N! I—” He pauses on the other side of the line, and you can practically taste his excitement.

Interest peaked, you cap your nail polish.

“Oh?” You tease. “The great Lee Donghyuck, at a loss for words?”

You laugh lightly.

“What’s got you so excited, Hyuck?”

“I,” he announces proudly, “am now Hanahaki free!”

Your heart stutters, and you nearly drop your phone.

“W-what do you mean?”

A sense of dread blossoms inside you.

“I don’t know!” He says gleefully. “I just woke up one day a week ago, and then — nothing!”

Your mind is racing, and you can feel your throat tightening.

“I think—” he cuts off abruptly. “I think she’s my soulmate now, Y/N.”

You don’t know what to say. You knew that, in certain circumstances, people’s soulmates could change for whatever reason. Usually traumatic or life-changing events, like the passing of a soulmate or abuse or something of the sort —which is why you weren’t sure why is was happening to you,

“Y/N?” His voice comes through the speaker, and you remember that you haven’t responded yet.

“T-That’s great,” you manage to croak out.

“No, that’s fantastic, Hyuck!” Even as you say the words, you can feel your heart break, and tears are already welling up in your eyes.

“I’m so happy for you!”

You’re not sure how fake that sounds, and at this point, you’re not even sure you even care anymore. All you can think about is how to remove yourself from the situation as quick as possible.

“Hey, you know what?” You say, praying your voice doesn’t quaver.

“I-I have to be up early tomorrow, so I think I’m going to head to bed now.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “I’m happy for you, Hyuck. Goodnight.”

You jab the ‘hang up’ button before throwing your phone across the room and pulling your knees closer to your chest.

No, it wasn’t dread that had been blossoming inside you.

It was a bouquet of pink camellias.