#this response is actually VERY late because ive. been. doing school stuff

[absurdumsid]

I just think it's funny how everytime you say good morning it's 23:00 at my place ^⁠_⁠^

GOOD ALMOST MIDNIGHT !!!!

[prettyinpurplelights]

IV.

“I cannot believe we actually made it.” Mia gripped your hand excitedly, her acrylic nails digging painfully into your skin.

“Girl, hold my hand any tighter and you’ll crush my bones. I won’t have a hand to collect my diploma with.” You giggled softly, prying her fingers off the back of your hand so you could lace your fingers together instead, her sweaty palm pressing against yours.

“Sorry.” She replied and you squeezed her hand in response. “I’m just so nervous, can you believe after all our hard work, we’re finally here?”

“I know.” You sighed, looking out into the audience of family members and friends that were filling into the giant cathedral to watch and support their loved ones on one of the most important days of their lives. You and Mia had finally come to the end of your degrees, and today would encapsulate the last four years of all nighters and countless assignments. You were graduating with a Master’s degree in fashion design and marketing, Mia in medical neuroscience with psychology. As well as saying goodbye to your university, you were both parting ways with the city too, leaving Marseille for Paris early the following morning. During your final year, your main project was to put on your own fashion show, making the pieces as well as being responsible for promoting and marketing the event. You didn’t sleep for several weeks, but it had all been worth it because the show was a huge success, landing you the highest grade in your cohort as well as a job waiting for you at Louis Vuitton, whom having interned for them the summer before, and after your show being such a hit, offered you a place at their headquarters in Paris. Mia had also secured a fellowship in one of the biggest hospitals in the country, working with their research department on new treatments and cures and finding the causes for all sorts of illnesses to do with the brain that she had tried to explain to you but had gone completely over your head. All you understood was that it was incredibly competitive and very hard to get into, so you were extremely proud of her, and very excited to start this new chapter of your young adult lives together. You had already leased an apartment to share, and moved almost all your stuff over during the summer break. It was now a matter of starting to unpack and make it more of a home when you both returned to Paris for the last time in less than 24 hours.

“Ouuu I see Elliot!” Mia squealed, waving her hand that wasn’t holding yours excitedly. “He’s with our parents, come on, let's go and say hi before grad starts.” She stood up, dragging you down the small steps where the choir would usually be during mass, instead, today, it was where the graduates were to be seated during the graduation ceremony. She pulled you through the aisle, mumbling a few excuse me’s as you weaved through the sea of people talking to each other, the atmosphere electrified with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming ceremony.

“Mommy, Daddy!” Mia's smile grew wider as she hugged her parents tightly. Her parents had moved to London when she was 14, her dad’s hotel business was expanding and he’d started to branch out into the rest of Europe. Mia was supposed to have gone with them but she didn’t want to move to England, and after a lot of bargaining, she’d managed to agree with her parents that she’d live with her grandmother instead, hence how you became friends, she had moved to Bondy late into the school year and the only spare seat in your form tutor was next to you and the rest was history. Unfortunately, Mia’s grandmother had passed away just before she was due to start university, and since she was officially an adult, her parents let her stay in France. She’d fly out to see them regularly but it had been a while since she last saw them, and they’re very busy people so you knew she was very pleased to have them here and you’re glad they could show up for her.

You hugged your own parents, your dad clicking at his camera repeatedly, making sure he had enough photos to commemorate this occasion.

“Dad, I don’t even think I’m in the frame in the one you just took.” You laughed at him, as he squinted behind the lens.

“Close enough! I’m so proud of you, my sweet baby girl.” He leant over to kiss your cheek before walking off, muttering about finding someone to take a group photograph.

“You know I don’t think he made such a fuss when I was graduating.” Elliot appeared by your side, his hand reaching up to grab your cap, to remove it so he could ruffle your hair. You ducked under his arm, knowing exactly what he was trying to do and pushed him away from you.

“Don’t you dare El, I was up at 6 this morning doing my hair, you’re not messing it up!” You scowled. “And besides, we both know I’m mum and dad’s favourite.” You added. A smug smile spread across your face as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “At least I’m the smart one, all you do is play with pretty fabric all day.” Elliot had graduated with a degree in sports science the year before, ending up at PSG, working as part of their medical staff. From what he had told you, he was really enjoying himself, and it probably helped that it was the same team Kylian played for, those two together, you were sure they were putting the other PSG players and staff members through hell.

“You know without people like Y/N, the rest of us would have nothing to wear, you’d be naked right now.” Mia slid up to Elliot, her arm wrapping around his waist as his went over her shoulder and squeezed it.

“I know you wouldn’t complain about that.” He replied.

“Mmmm, probably not.” She looked up at him, pursing her lips as he reached down to kiss her.

“Ew, the both of you. Please, I’m literally standing right here.”

They both laughed, pulling away just as your dad returned, some poor 20-something looking boy in his stead, holding the camera.

“Where’s Marco? Is he not coming?” Elliot asked, craning his head around to see if he could spot your boyfriend.

“Um…he’s in Tokyo. We broke up.”

Ex-boyfriend.

“Oh shit, sorry sis. What hap-“

“Group photo everyone, quick together!” Your dad interrupted his sentence, and you were thankful for his extraness in that moment, not wanting to answer any questions about your break-up. Your dad ushered you, your mum, Elliot, Mia and her parents into a huddle. It took a couple of minutes to organise everybody, your dad was kind of a perfectionist; it’s probably where Elliot got it from. You were stood between Mia and your mum, your brother behind the both of you. You turned to face him and from the look in your eyes and the way your lip turned downward slightly, he knew what you were going to ask, the issue of Marco long forgotten. Someone else was on your mind now.

“He’s going to be here Y/N. He might be a bit late, but he’ll be here.”

“He didn’t come down with you?”

“I had to pick Mum and Dad up so we got a later flight, he said he’d make it down himself. He wouldn’t miss this. I’m sure he’s on his way.”

You nodded, as you turned back to the boy holding the camera, mustering up the biggest smile you could, trying to ignore the way your heart felt so heavy in your chest and the sudden way your gown started to feel stuffy and uncomfortable. You and Kylian weren’t on bad terms, in fact, you were great. It had been almost three years since you’d decided to take a step back from him, and focus on yourself and who you were outside loving him. Not to say you stopped loving him, you don’t think that was something you’d ever be able to do, but you’d reached a point where he wasn’t all you thought about and it didn’t dictate everything you did and consume your entire being. You’d even managed to date someone this year, your first official boyfriend, Marco, for about 10 months, until he had to move to Japan for a student exchange transfer and you’d mutually decided to end things while you were on a good note because long distance for a whole year was not worth it; you’d remained friends though. You liked him a lot, but you didn’t love him, which was one of the reasons why he’d also agreed, howbeit reluctantly, to break up before his transfer, he’d told you he loved you 2 months prior and you were still yet to say it back. He had wanted to stay for you, but you encouraged him to go, not wanting to hold him back, especially when his feelings were so strong for you and yours were…well, not as strong. You didn’t want to disappoint him if you still couldn’t commit several months down the line and he’d thrown his future away for you.

“Graduates please make your way to your assigned seats, the ceremony will begin in 5 minutes.”

You and Mia hugged your families one more time before making your way back towards the stage. Your phone buzzed in your hand as you sat down, bringing it up to your face.

“Kylian?” Mia asked, her inquisitive nature causing her to lean over your shoulder and read the text on your phone.

“Ouuuu Marcoooo.” She sang teasingly as sat back and unlocked her own phone.

Hey, I know we’re not together anymore, but you’re still my friend so I wanted to wish you luck today! ♥️ proud of you always

Thank you Marco 🥺 I really appreciate it. How’s Japan treating you?

It’s amazing. The culture is just wow. And the sushi DEFINITELY tastes better here. You’d love it.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type out a reply when he sent another message.

I miss you.

You heard Mia wince audibly next to you, obviously reading the conversation between you and Marco.

“Get your big ass head out of my business.” You bumped your shoulder against hers as you sent Marco a quick reply about the ceremony starting so you had to go, not at all in the mood to unpack what that “I miss you” meant.

“Shame. I liked Marco. He was good for you.”

“Mmmm.”

“At least he congratulated you, better than that idiot your brother calls a best friend.”

“Ky’s our best friend too. And I thought you were on his side? Team KyY/N?”

“That was two years ago Y/N. He couldn’t even be bothered to send you a message about not coming.”

“El said he’d be here.”

“You think so?”

“I told him about today personally. He promised me he’d be here. For the both of us.”

“Oh we both know which one of us he’s coming for. And honestly I couldn’t give a fuck if he shows up for me, no offence. But for you? I’m skinning him alive the second we get to Paris.”

“He’ll be here.” You whispered to no one, almost as though you were trying to convince yourself. He had given you his word he wouldn’t miss today when you’d called him a few months ago about it. Initially you thought it might be weird, speaking to him on the phone, since you’d only been texting recently, but the thing about you and Kylian is no matter how much time you spent apart, you never fail to fall right back into your usual stead of things.

You hadn’t seen him since your birthday at the end of January, where there’d been a sort of awkward moment when you’d introduced him to Marco, who then had been your official boyfriend for a couple of weeks. He had just gotten back together with Renee, they had been together since your little confrontation at the airport two years back when you’d told him to focus on her. They had been on and off since they’d started dating, from what you’ve seen in the media, Kylian never really talked to you about her. From what you’d read over the course of the years, they’d broken up a couple of times, not that you cared or were keeping count.

******

He picked up after 3 rings, his face filling the screen when he answered. You gave him a little wave and a smile spread across his features, his dimples greeting you.

“Y/N. Hey.”

“Hi!” You replied, your voice chirpier than you’d expected it to be.

“You okay? Did something happen?”

He must’ve noticed the way you anxiously chewed at your bottom lip, your telltale sign something was wrong or you were nervous. In a similar way, he would squeeze his eyebrows together and his nose would twitch involuntarily when he was feeling the same. The harder he scrunched his eyebrows, the less nervous he was, the increased frequency of frown lines strewn across his forehead meant he was more likely to be angry instead. You knew each other’s tics and tells, probably better than you knew your own. By logic you and Kylian should’ve worked, you complemented and contrasted each other in the most perfect ways, but for some reason, the universe didn’t seem to agree and rather preferred to have the two of you in constant awkward situations and miscommunications leading to petty arguments. It was a quite cruel joke to be honest.

“Um, no, everything’s fine, I’m good. I was just wondering what you were doing August 1st.”

“Hmmm, the league starts again the week after that I’m sure, so just training.”

“Or nothing, if that’s what you need me to be doing.” He added and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered a little bit his words.

“Well Mia and I are finally graduating on the 1st. My parents and Elliot will be there. I was wondering if you wanted to come-“

“I’ll be there.”

“Really?” He laughed at your response.

“Gummy, you’ve wanted to be a fashion designer for as long as I’ve known you. I remember when you took it upon yourself to be mine and El’s stylists in middle school, I don’t even know why I let you do that, you used to put me in the most ridiculous outfits.”

“All you wanted to wear to school was your football kit.” You rolled your eyes. “I was trying to broaden your horizon a little bit.”

“Even then, you had talent, I can’t even imagine what you’re able to do now.”

“Well not to brag, but I am on track to finish top of my class.”

“Didn’t expect anything less from my girl.” He smiled genuinely and heat rose rapidly to your cheeks as you looked away from him for a moment.

“Of course I want to be there for you. But are you sure you’re 100% about it? Not to brag, but I am kind of a hotshot on the football scene right now.” He mocked, using your words against you playfully.

“Oh shut up!”

He laughed again, before continuing.

“I’m serious though Y/N, I know you like to stay out of the limelight and stuff, I don’t want to ruin that for you or steal attention away. This isn’t a private party like your birthday.”

“I want you there Ky, I want everyone I love there. I’ll be okay.” You nodded. Just then, you heard your boyfriend call out from your bedroom, his voice growing louder as he neared you in the kitchen.

“You ready babe?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressed a kiss against your cheek when he noticed you were on the phone.

“Oh hey man!” He waved at the screen. “How are you doing Kylian!”

“Hey…Marco. I’m good.” The smile on Kylian’s face dropped briefly as he greeted your boyfriend with a slight grimace. You quirked your eyebrow, wondering what the hell that was about but now it was his turn to break eye contact, looking everywhere but at you and Marco.

“How’s Renee?”

“Ummm she’s good. We’re…good.”

“Still can’t believe this guy is dating the biggest supermodel in the world, very fitting.”

You scowled, turning to face Marco, his comment grating on you a little bit.

“As opposed to you dating what?” You questioned, daring him to say some more bullshit.

“The hottest, smartest, kindest girl in the world of course.”

“Hmmm, better be.”

“How did you deal with her quick temper all your life Kylian?” Marco asked, and you elbowed his rib in response.

“You see what I mean?” He laughed, walking away from you. Kylian didn’t even bat an eye, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world at that moment.

“So anyways-“ You started but Kylian interrupted you, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster than you could register them.

“I gotta go. But I’ll be there August 1st. You have my word.”

“Oh, okay, yeah sure. Say hi to Renee for me.” You had barely managed to get out before he ended the FaceTime abruptly.

******

That was the last time you’d spoken, save the occasional text, but not once had he mentioned he wouldn’t be able to make it to your graduation. So by the time the ceremony was done and you had collected your diploma and walked down the aisle to cheers from your family, received more congratulations and took even more pictures and said your goodbyes to your family, to say you were simply pissed off was a great understandment. Some fool had even thought it would be funny to do Kylian’s infamous goal celebration in front of the cameras before collecting his diploma which amused everyone in the cathedral but vexed you even more. Kylian had always been there for you, he’s always tried his best to be present when you needed him, this was one of very few times he hadn’t shown up for you. But it hurt still, this was probably the most important thing you’d needed him for, and he’d not even bothered to shoot you a text he would be a no show.

“I know for sure he got on that plane Y/N.” Elliot had tried to reassure you earlier when you’d walked him and your parents to the Uber they had booked to take them back to the airport.

“Well that means fuck all to me. He’s not here.”

“Gosh he’s such an idiot. I’m going to skin him alive when I see him.”

“Funny your girlfriend said the same thing.” You laughed, but not really feeling humoured in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it El, I don’t know why I expected any different from him.”

“I know he has the funniest way of showing it, but he cares about you Y/N. And he loves you.” You ignored his comment, giving him one last hug before he slid into the front seat of the cab.

“I love you El.”

“Love you too sis. Always. You and Mia have fun tonight alright? And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You nodded, saying goodbye to your parents once more before the car pulled away. Mia appeared at your side, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Mia?”

“Mmhm?” She replied.

“Let’s get absolutely fucking wasted tonight.”

———

“Why the fuck did you listen to me when I said we should get wasted last night.” You groaned, flopping onto the couch, your suitcases abandoned by the door. You’d finally arrived at your apartment in Paris, a little before midday, exhausted and terribly hungover.

“You looked like you needed it.” Mia sat by your side, laying your head on her chest and rubbing your shoulders.

“You’re so lucky you recover quickly, I still feel like I’ve been hit by a monster truck.”

“I’m gonna go out and do some food shopping, I’ll bring you something. Get some rest.”

You’d practically gone straight from the bar to the train station. You, Mia and your group of university friends had gone out to celebrate graduating, and also spend one last night together before you all split and went your different ways. It had been a great night, but you’re definitely regretting it now, as you were sure the others were too. You hadn’t even had a chance to shower as you and Mia had to pack the last of your stuff and hand in your old keys to the landlord before 7am since the train to Paris Lyon was leaving Marseille St. Charles around 8.

You decided to take a long shower while Mia was gone, you usually felt much better after a good soak. You’re glad to have your little travel toiletries bag because you had absolutely no idea where anything was; the apartment was filled with countless unopened cardboard boxes. You had about two weeks before your new job started so you and Mia could hopefully unpack and decorate in that time.

Definitely starting tomorrow. There was absolutely no way you’d be putting together furniture and organising your wardrobe today, you planned to stay in bed as long as you could instead.

You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard the doorbell ring, probably Mia who had forgotten her keys. You wrapped your towel around you, securing it as you opened the door.

“Did you not take your key-“ You looked up, your sentence breaking down half way through when you realised it wasn’t Mia in front of you. You rolled your eyes, moving to close the door in his face but he was quick, his foot reaching out to block the door from locking.

“Y/N, hear me out, please.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you have to say Kylian, take your foot out of the way before I crush it.”

“I have boba?”

You paused for a second, still refusing to look at him.

“What flavour.”

“Mango milk tea with passion fruit pearls. I brought croissants too, from the best bakery in Paris. Very expensive. Very tasty.”

You opened the door wider, letting him walk through, cursing him for knowing you so well. He set the items on the little bit of space he could find on the kitchen worktop that wasn’t covered in boxes before turning to look at you.

His eyes scanned your body, starting at your legs, stopping when his eyes met yours. You felt stuck to the spot, your blood turning to lead as your eyes remained fixed on his, his mouth slightly ajar, your heart pounding fast. You forgot you were angry at him for a minute, flashbacks of the last time he’d seen you like this flickering across your mind instead as you suddenly remembered you were wearing next to nothing. Your hands came up to cover your chest and legs, breaking the both of you out of your hypnotic state.

“Umm…I’ll be back. Gonna put something on.” You muttered.

“Yeah…umm…sure, I’ll wait here.”

You raced to your room as quickly as you could, ignoring the funny feeling in your stomach and the way your heart was racing like it was running out of time. You rummaged through the boxes, trying to find one that had some clothes in it. After a couple of minutes of sifting through books and shoes and everything else, you managed to find a bag at the bottom of one of the boxes with your gym clothing.

You pulled the shorts and a t-shirt over your head, rolling your eyes when you realised which top you were wearing. You walked back into the room with your arms crossed, trying your best to look angry as you faced Kylian, a smile spreading across his face when he noticed your top.

“Wipe that smug grin off your face, I could only find my gym stuff and it was the only top in there.”

“You work out with my name on your back?” He held out the boba to you, his eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Shut up. These jerseys are surprisingly very breathable.” You snatched the plastic cup out of his grasp, piercing the film lid with the straw and taking a sip.

“Well yeah, we do run around in them for 90 minutes so we’d hope they’re breathable. Remind me to get you a new one from this season though, that one’s a bit outdated.”

“This one’s just fine. Thank you for the boba.” You raised the cup at him before stretching your hand out, pointing to the open door that led to the hallway. “You can go now.”

“Y/N-“

“Kylian I don’t want to hear it. You think what, by bringing my favourite drink and cracking jokes everything’s okay?”

“No, of course not. I tried to call you last night.“

“And I didn’t answer for a fucking reason. Did it cross your mind maybe I didn’t want to talk to you after you stood me and Mia up?”

“Listen-“

“There’s not an excuse you can give me that’s valid Kylian. You promised me you’d be there. I kept looking out for you, the whole ceremony, even after it was over, we lingered around the venue for so long my parents and Elliot almost missed their flight back home. Of course I didn’t tell them why I wanted to wait around, they still think you’re the best thing that’s happened to them besides their own kids.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I got on the plane to come to you, I swear-“

“So you were in Marseille yesterday?”

“Yes, I was on my way to-“

“Funny you were in Marseille yesterday.”

“Y/N-“

“Because I was in Marseille yesterday, and this morning too actually, up until about hmmm, 4 hours ago? But I didn’t see you. At all.”

“Y/N-“

“You’re so-“

“Y/N STOP TALKING!” He suddenly yelled, your sentence cut off midway by his outburst. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many frown lines across his forehead before, he must be really pissed. That makes two of you.

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

“Well I don’t have a choice if that’s the only way to get you to fucking listen.”

“I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say.”

“You know what? You always do this. You always assume you know what I’m going to say, or how I feel so you just cut me off before I get a chance to even explain myself.”

“Because I know you’re going to come out with some bullshit Kylian! Always you and your empty fucking promises, I’m so over it. But sure, prove me wrong. Go on, explain yourself then.”

You raised your arms as if to say he has the floor to speak. He clenched his jaw, his lips in a tight line as the both of you stared at each other, a million and one emotions swirling around you. Anger, pain, disappointment, sadness. If looks could kill, the both of you would be simultaneously 6 feet under.

“I swear I didn’t mean to miss your graduation Y/N, I really wanted to be there. I literally got to the airport and I, I bumped into Renee. I swear it was unplanned, I had no idea she was going to be there, and we just started talking and she had a lot she wanted to say to me, and honestly I didn’t realise how long we were together for, I swear it wasn’t my intention to miss your ceremony.”

“So what was so important that you had to talk about there in that moment, for such a long time-“

“She wanted to get back together.”

“You broke up?” This was news to you, as far as you were concerned, Kylian was still dating her, you hadn’t seen anything in the tabloids about them breaking up.

“Yeah. A couple of months ago.”

“So you’re back together now? For what, the 5th time?”

“It’s complicated Y/N. I love her.”

A sharp but fleeting pain travelled across your chest and it took everything in you not to physically keel over. It was laughable, how easy it was for one person to completely lose feelings they claim to have had and fall in love with someone else, while the other couldn’t even utter the words to another, whether they meant it or not. Because the pent up feelings were still there, choking you, gripping your heart tight and rendering you useless, incapable of loving anyone else, but him. You felt like dying, maybe it would hurt less than living in this sick and twisted reality, this constant loop of being reminded he’s never going to love you the way you love him.

“Yeah, Kylian, I can tell. Because she clearly means more to you than I do. I told you about this weeks in advance, you gave me your word yet when something better comes along you’re quick to just brush me under the rug like you always do.”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even know how to talk to you when I realised I’d missed the ceremony, I didn’t think you’d want me there-“

“Of course I’d want you there, you fucking idiot, you’re my best friend. Why else would I ask you personally to come?

“I knew you’d at least be with your family, Mia, Marco.” He said Marco’s name with such disdain you almost laughed at the audacity he had to seem irked by the mere mention of your ex-boyfriend when he had a girlfriend of his own.

“Marco is in Japan. We broke up. For good.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? You don’t talk to me about Renee, I don’t talk to you about Marco. Some kind of unspoken rule right?”

There was a silence between you before he spoke.

“I’m sorry. I know you loved him.” For someone who’d been in your life for almost two decades, perhaps Kylian really didn’t know you as well as you thought he did. Or maybe you were so good at pretending you’d managed to convince everyone but yourself you’d been in love with Marco.

“Anyways Ky, I think you’ve done all your explaining. You can leave.”

He rounded the kitchen island, stepping closer to you so he could take your hand that wasn’t holding the drink, gripping it softly in his.

“Y/N, I really am sorry. Please, l don’t want us to start your move to Paris on a bad note. You have no idea how happy I am that you're finally here to stay. Let me take you out tomorrow. Just me and you, a celebratory dinner. On me. Heck I’ll even take you shopping, any store you like, I’ll carry all the bags and not complain one bit.”

A soft giggle left your lips and you cursed yourself for letting him get away with his shit so easily.

“Please, I’m sorry gummy. It won’t happen again. Let me make it up to you.”

“You better bring your shiniest Amex card tomorrow when you pick me up.”

“It’s a date.” He smiled, and you tried not to think too deeply into what he’d just said.

Just then, you heard the front door close, Mia appearing in the doorway with several shopping bags, singing to herself. She noticed you and Kylian stood in the middle of the kitchen, your hand in his and she rolled her eyes, knowing you had definitely let him off easy. Luckily for you, she wasn’t about to do that. She smiled sweetly, before reaching into one of the bags and pulling out an orange. It happened so quickly, you didn’t not anticipate the orange leaving Mia’s hand with such force, heading straight for Kylian’s head. He managed to duck at the last second, the fruit finding the wall behind him instead of his skull.

“Mia what the hell?!” He shouted.

“Fucking dickhead. You’re lucky that wasn’t a knife.”

/———-/

Part 4 finally 😭😭 just two more parts to go! Sorry it took so long please forgive me 🤞🏿 and it may seem like it’s going round in circles but they gotta do this stupid arguing and not talking about their feelings 5 times before they finally get their shit together so we’re getting close to the happy ending, very soon though it’s deffo going to get very messy before it gets better 😵‍💫 I hope y’all like it <3 (also it’s half 3 in the morning and I haven’t edited this entirely so I’m super sorry for any mistakes 🙏🏿)

Also I know the French don’t do graduations (shame if you ask me, I loved my grad) but I had to have one to fit the story 🤭

And I’m sorry for making y’all wait, im back at work and it’s hard to find the time to write (I had a bit of writers block) and also I find it hard to write super short pieces so it does take me a while to write so I’m super grateful to y’all for being so kind and patient 🥺🫶🏿

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@lululuvsfooty @nayeoniie @cherimbp @karotland @m4k444 @cixstar @lovefks

[rrxnjun]

IM SORRY FOR ANSWERING SO SUPER LATE LIFE GOT SO HECTIC ALL OF THE SUDDEN☹️

STILL WITH THE TAKE THE STAIRS FIC U GAVE ME LIFE WITH IT ACTUALLY IT WAS SO NICE TO JUST TURN MY BRAIN OFF AND READ IT SO I THANK U FOR IT!! and like actually need a jaemin in my life istg!! AND THE SAME GOES FOR THE TEASER OF UR NEW CHENLE FIC!!! IT ALREADY SEEMS SO FUN!! SO EXCITED ABOUT IT!!! 🥳🤭

I AGREE I WOULD ALSO RATHER JUST GOOGLE THE END OF THE SHOW!!

AHH I HOPE U FOUND SOME ARTISTS SINCE THEN!!! AND THANK U SO MUCH FOR TAKING TIME OUT OF UR DAY AND TRANSLATING FOR ME!! IM SURE U ARE VERY BUSY AS WELL SO THANK U SO MUCH I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!!!!🥹🥹💝💓 and my god the lyrics are so☹️☹️☹️ it's just such a great song and now it even got so much better with understanding it!!!🥲

WELL IF IT DOES HAPPEN I WILL BE HERE XD parents smh /j (but like actually i understand them cuz traveling alone can be risky☹️) thank u i hope we will figure something out if it does happen🥹🥹

IM GLAD THAT U ARE DONE WITH ONE OF UR ESSAYS ALREADY!! AND I HOPE SINCE MY LAST ASK U STILL ARE DOING GOOD WITH UR SCHOOL WORK AND STUFF🥳

I LOVE UR POSTS THERE LMAO SO DONT BE SORRY and ofc i agree!!! zach was my fav from the why dont we boys🤭 OH MY I HAVENT HEARD ABOUT THE VAMPS IN AGES damn now i'm gonna go and listen to them😵‍💫(also saw that u turned into a treasure stan🫣 and ur take on jikjin!! it's such a great song glad u listened to it!!!)

(liebestraum anon💕 and sorry if i disappear again and for writing a lot i swear i will try and keep it short for once☹️)

AHH ITS TOTALLY OKAY!!!! cant say i didnt miss you but i ofc understand that u have your own life and responsibilities and such,, so dont worry about it🤍🤍 AND THANK U SM AGAIN!!!

DJDJSJ MY CHENLE FIC IS FUN BUT THEN IT GETS DEPRESSING REAL QUICK SO UHHH HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR SOME ANGST ;-; (also i started rewriting liebestraum. just thought i'd let you know<3)

im super glad u enjoyed my translation!! the lyrics are really screamable in my opinion,,, and i also hope i did them justice however i bet i did a better job than all of the ones i saw online :p its not the best artistic lyricism but i like it nonetheless DJSK sometimes u need simple songs to jam to.

travelling alone COULD be risky </3 me and my uni friends randomly travelled to vienna last week because it was warm out and we thought our seasonal depression was finally over and i love me some spontaneous decisions but also it was so anxiety inducing bc it was my first time going abroad with no supervision 😭😭 we had SO much fun but also the stress we were put through to find the bus platform back home ??? never again. was so bad that i broke my 5 month streak of not smoking bc i had to calm myself down somehow and then i was put through the stress of buying cigarettes in german when i caNT SPEAK GOOD GERMAN but 10/10 i would do it again and it made me more confident abt travelling with friends so i WILL drag my equally spontaneous uni friends to budapest as soon as i can. (please tell me they speak at least a little english there)

I AM ACTUALLY DONE W 4 ESSAYS NOW WHOOP WHOOP ‼‼‼ 4 MORE TO GO BUT IM DOING WELL NO STRESS SO FAR. HOPE YOUR SCHOOL IS GOING WELL TOO!

wait do u rlly bc i think im so annoying on there sometimes like girl chill😭😭 but ZACH WAS ALWAYS MY FAV TOO altho i did have a daniel phase. I havent listened to the vamps in ages either i should catch up or sum ;-;

omg dont mention the teumefication of bar i wont admit it to myself yet DHSKSK however jikjin is now my fav song and i fear seeing my 2023 spotify wrapped bc of it now. ive also been watching a concerning amount of treasure map and finding myself in love with jihoon but thats...not important rn.

ill be waiting for u liebestraum anon!!! dw abt sending long asks i always look forward to them🤍 hope your days are filled with joy mwah

[endless-summer-soldier]

what's my age again? (iv)

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: when you learn that Bucky knows nothing about music, you start introducing him to some of your favorite bands. as your hang outs become more and more frequent, you start to catch feelings for the super soldier.

warnings: alcohol, references to a family death, implied sex

word count: 1.9k

series playlist

series masterlist

taglist: @sebsgirl71479

X

“Hey, what time do you get done?” Bucky asked as he entered your work station. You looked down at your watch and peered back up at him.

“In about fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect, I’ll come by then.”

“Oh do we have plans now?” you inquired.

“We do.”

“And what might that entail?”

He shrugged, “I feel like taking a drive and could use some company.”

“Sounds like fun,” you smiled at him. He nodded at you and left, promising to come back when your shift was over. The end of your work day seemed to drag on endlessly. But it finally came to a close and you saw those beautiful blue eyes peer at you from across the room.

“Ready?” he asked you and you responded with a nod and a smile as you collected your things.

“So, you just feel like a drive?” you asked him.

“Yeah, I’ve been a little pent up lately and I need to get out.”

“And you just invited me because you wanna hear my driving playlist, right?”

He let out a laugh and said, “You caught me.”

“Lucky for you I have just the band for driving around aimlessly.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, driving around without a destination reminds me of high school and there is only one band that embodies teenage nostalgia.”

“And that is?”

“Blink-182.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Shocking,” you joked. Bucky walked you towards a black Jeep that he unlocked and threw his stuff in the back. “Honestly, I didn’t even know you had a car.”

“Yeah, I usually take the bike mainly because it's easier to park in the city. But there’s something about driving that’s relaxing.”

“I’d agree with that.”

“So tell me more about this Blink-182.”

“They are essentially responsible for the rise in popularity of the pop-punk genre. It’s a lot more fast paced, upbeat, and a little bit edgier compared to everything else I’ve introduced you to so be prepared for that. Actually, it’s completely different from everything else that we’ve listened to.”

“Alright, lay it on me.” You expertly connected your phone to his audio system and scrolled through the songs, looking for the perfect introduction to the band.

“I’m gonna do something rare and play you my favorite first. Mainly just because I’m in the mood to listen to it.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

“But first, windows down for the full experience.” Bucky rolled down the windows and you took that as your cue to start the song. You clicked on the track, Don’t Leave Me, and smiled as the familiar guitar intro started. It only took moments for you to start headbanging and singing along. You hadn’t even left the parking space yet and Bucky looked over at you with a shocked look on your face.

“Who are you and what have you done with Y/F/N Y/L/N?” he asked.

“What? This reminds me of my youth and my teenage angst.”

“I have never seen this side of you before.”

“Not many people have so you should feel honored. Now can you drive, I want to feel the wind passing me by to get the full effect.” Bucky pulled out of the parking spot and hit the open road as you continued to jam.

“You know, this would be a lot more fun if you were singing along with me,” you said as What’s My Age Again? started playing.

“I’m sure it would.”

“And this song is perfect for you,” you said, lightly punching Bucky on the shoulder before singing along with the chorus.

“Ha. Very funny,” he said. Although his tone was unamused, he couldn’t hide the smile on his face at seeing you so loose around him. “I could say the same about you.”

“I told you that Blink brings me back to my high school days! I can’t help it!”

“It is nice to see you loosen up a little. You’ve been so tense recently,” he said.

“Well yeah I have a very stressful job,” you retorted. “Now the real question is, how do I get you to loosen up?”

“That is a secret I will not be sharing with you.”

“What if I play some swing music from the 40s. I bet that’ll do the trick,” you joked.

He chuckled and shook his head, “Only one way to find out…”

“See if we weren’t listening to one of my favorite bands, I would test that theory out right now.”

You went back to jamming out and singing to yourself as Bucky continued to navigate the busy New York City streets.

“What were you like in high school?” you asked.

Bucky scoffed, “That’s probably a better question for Steve.”

“Well Steve’s not here, is he?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “To be honest, in high school I thought I was the shit. I slacked off in class and charmed the teachers into passing me. I could get any girl I wanted. I thought the world revolved around me. The military changed that very quickly.”

“That fits,” you agreed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“I mean you’re a good looking guy, I get it.” He looked away from you as a slight blush colored his cheeks.

“My world was so small back then. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Well yeah, it was a lifetime ago.”

“And what about you?” he offered.

“Oh, my high school experience is not very interesting.”

“I still would like to hear about it.”

You sighed, “I was a bit of a bookworm. I focused on school and getting into a good college. I had a small group of friends that I still keep in touch with but I pretty much kept to myself. I was never invited to the fun parties, I didn’t get drunk at prom, I just focused on getting through it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said.

“Yeah I don’t know that I would’ve really fit in with your crowd.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said.

You glared at him, “Bucky, you were a popular kid. I was a nerd. High school hasn’t changed that much since the 30s.”

“I would’ve noticed you,” he replied seriously.

You studied him, unsure of what to say. The song changed to First Date, which helped you come up with a response.

“Tell me about your first date.”

“My first date ever?”

“Yes.”

“Um well I guess it would’ve been the summer carnival.”

“What was her name?”

“Betty. I was probably 14 and I went with all my friends, she went with hers. Our friends forced us into the ferris wheel together. We started holding hands and then we stopped at the top of the ferris wheel and I kissed her.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Tell me about your first date,” he countered.

“Oh, it is nowhere near as cute as your story. I was 15. His name was Tyler. We went to see a scary movie, and I don’t like scary movies so the fact that I agreed to that is insane. We sat in the back row of the theater. About halfway through the movie he tried to put his arm around me, but it was such an awkward position for both of us that it didn’t last very long. And then when the movie ended we left and he hugged me goodbye. And he went in for a kiss, but I didn’t realize it so I gave him the cheek accidentally. And then I waited for my mom to pick me up. There was not a second date,” you added, laughing.

“I don’t know, sounds like a pretty good date to me.”

At first you thought he was being sarcastic, but he seemed pretty serious. “Yeah, okay,” you joked.

“I mean you were there, so that alone makes it a good date.” Now it was your turn to blush. Was the super soldier flirting with you? Before you could respond, he added, “The movies are a great first date though. I used to be at the drive-in every weekend.”

“I wish we had drive-ins.”

“You’ve never been?”

“Nope, they don’t really exist anymore.”

“Sure they do, you just have to get creative.”

“How so?” you questioned.

“You’ll see,” he smirked. Bucky looped the Jeep around the block and started heading back toward the compound. He had a twinkle in his eye and you knew he was up to something. When you reached the compound, Bucky didn’t pull into the parking garage, opting to go off road and drive the car onto the grass and around the building.

“What are you doing?” you asked with a light laugh in your voice.

“Just relax, I do this all the time.”

“Really?”

“Well I’ve done it once before.” He drove until he reached the outdoor training grounds and he backed the jeep up so that it was facing one of the sides of the compound. He put the car in park and said, stay here for a minute. He ran inside with a sense of urgency and a few minutes later he came out with his arms full. He had pillows and blankets along with a variety of snacks. He opened the back of the jeep and you said, “Need some help?”

“Sure,” he said. You climbed out of the jeep and walked around the back to help him. He was laying out a quilt and propped the pillows up against the back seat.

“Climb in,” he said once everything was finished. You propped yourself up into the trunk and slid back.

“Hey Friday? Set up movie projection,” he called to the AI. Within moments there was a big screen projection set up on the wall in front of them.

“What should we watch?” he asked you.

“Hmm….Friday, play The Princess Bride.”

“I haven’t seen that one,” he commented.

“Why does that not surprise me,” you smiled.

You sat beside Bucky and pulled the plaid blanket he always kept in the back of the car up towards your chest. You both watched in silence, other than the occasional chuckle. Your eyes were focused on the movie, but you noticed Bucky glancing over at you every now and then. Before you realized it your head was resting on Bucky’s shoulder ever so slightly. You noticed his breathing quicken and his enhanced arm carefully made its way around your back and onto your hip bone, gently rubbing circles into the denim of your jeans. You were hyper aware of your own breath as it came in and out, struggling to focus on the film when Bucky’s touch was making your heart skip a beat. Sitting like this seemed so natural, yet so foreign at the same time. It was impossible to ignore his heavenly scent: bergamot with a hint of citrus. It activated the butterflies in your stomach. You had to focus on your breathing. One breath in, one breath out. Don’t think about how good he smells. Don’t think about his gentle touch on your torso. Don’t think about all the things you want to do to him. Just breathe.

You wondered if Bucky knew what kind of effect he was having on you. With his enhanced senses, you were sure that he could hear your heart beating and your deep breathing. But if he noticed, he didn’t say anything which you were grateful for. You peered up at him and his eyes were glued to the screen and he had a slight smile plastered on his face.You must’ve looked a little too long because his face dropped to meet yours.

“You watching me?” he joked.

“Just checking to see if you’re enjoying the movie.”

His smile grew even bigger, “Of course I’m enjoying it. You’re here with me.”

[spencerspecifics]

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

~

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

~

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

~

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

~

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

~

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

~

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

~

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

~

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

~

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

~

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

~

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

~

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

[tennessoui]

Pleaseeee do 43 or 46. I love your work btw

(insert months late panicked noises about how I thought 45 was 'falling in love with best friend's partner' and so wrote hold me fast for it, but actually 43 is 'falling in love with best friend's partner' very whoops very my b)

so i did 43 again anyway, but in a modern au and where the couple is actually in love (but it is an obikin happy ending because kit did write it)

(wife is unnamed the entire time so no character bashing it could literally be anyone ive been calling her rebecca in my head lmao)

43. Falling In Love With Best Friend's Partner (2.7k.......)

Obi-Wan’s kettle goes off with a whistle right as there’s a fierce banging on the door. He almost drops his favorite mug in surprise, which puts him in a bad mood from the get-go. But for the love of Christ, who would come call at his house at nine at night? It’s more than rude; it’s downright indecent.

He stalks through the house until he can unlock the door to give the person on his porch a piece of his mind, but then he sees who it is.

It’s Anakin, and he’s crying.

If there’s anything that can make Obi-Wan quiet his temper on a normal day, it’s Anakin Skywalker. A distressed Anakin Skywalker brings out every ounce of his compassion.

“Anakin?” He asks immediately, stepping forward to touch the man on his arm gently and guide him inside. He doesn’t even have to suppress a sigh when Anakin doesn’t remember to toe off his shoes in the entry way--that’s how worried he is at Anakin’s tears and the way they only increase in frequency and sound when Obi-Wan moves his hand to his back and pushes him further into his house, all the way to the dining table where he urges him to sit down.

Anakin still hasn’t said anything resembling actual words yet, so Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. It’s either that or give into the temptation to thumb the tear tracks off of his cheeks and that’s a little more revealing than Obi-Wan likes.

He’s not that brave, for one.

For another, Anakin is a married man. A man married to one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends, a previous grad student turned co-author of at least seven publications, with more on the way. He can’t risk tenderly wiping away her husband’s tears because Obi-Wan Kenobi has been at least a little in love with him since they were introduced four years ago, when he’d swanned up to him holding two champagne glasses in one hand and stuck out the other to shake. “My wife talks about you nonstop, Professor,” he’d said. “I used to be so jealous until I sat in on one of your lectures when I was still in school. Made sense then.”

Obi-Wan had not known what to do with that, but had taken the proffered champagne glass and assured this strange man he had nothing to worry about.

After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t the sort of man to chase after former students or people in marriages.

Over the next few years, however, it became quite clear to him that there was a big addendum needed in his moral code: people in marriages to former students drew his eyes apparently the way no one else has ever managed to in his life.

Or perhaps it was just Anakin. Perhaps it’s always been just Anakin.

Coming to terms with the shameful, quiet love he carried for a man who flirts like it’s second nature and always has a warm touch or word to bestow on Obi-Wan had been difficult, to say the least.

Anakin’s wife had been one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends. His inconvenient and persistent feelings for Anakin had turned her into one thing only: his wife. They could not be friends when Obi-Wan spends half his nights wondering what it would be like to sleep with his arms around her husband. They could not be friends when the last dozen times the married couple had invited him over for dinner, he had paid more attention to her husband than to the food or to the other topics of conversation or to her.

And she has to know. She has to know why their latest paper has taken eight months to write. She has to have seen the way Obi-Wan perks up so obviously when Anakin brings his wife her lunch, the way he has to turn away from their chaste kisses, the way he listens keenly to any information she gives him on her husband, the way he had excused himself from the room when he heard her tell another colleague that they were trying for children.

In academia, you learn fairly quickly that it is useless to resent someone for having what you do not. It seems that Obi-Wan has to learn this lesson all over again when it comes to people. It’s hard. It’s selfish. He hates that he loves Anakin. He hates that he loves Anakin the way he does, that it’s been four years and he still loves him, that not even his happy marriage, his love for his wife, the fact that his wife is Obi-Wan’s friend, can change it.

Anakin considers them friends now, which is so much worse and yet still more than a pathetic old man like Obi-Wan deserves. Worse, because when Obi-Wan had started rejecting dinners at the Skywalker household, Anakin had pushed back with worry. When he’d noticed that Obi-Wan’s lunch most often consisted of whatever cold cut sandwich was on sale at the gas station next to campus, he’d started bringing Obi-Wan a lunch along with his wife. When Obi-Wan had stopped responding to his texts, he showed up to drag him to a night out.

Worse, because being Anakin’s friend is nothing like being his husband, and the differences make him ache as much as the acts of kindness make him want to weep.

It’s still more than Obi-Wan deserves. He knows that intimately, the way he knows that nothing can ever happen between the two of them because Anakin loves his wife. And his wife--

“She cheated on me,” Anakin gets out between uneven breaths.

Obi-Wan promptly drops his favorite mug and watches it shatter on the floor.

“Oh!” Anakin exclaims at the loud noise, peeking around the corner, and looking like he’s about to offer to help. Obi-Wan shoos him out of the kitchen, and grabs the remaining mug of tea to follow him. The mess can wait for a later time.

“What did you say?” he asks carefully, nudging the mug over to Anakin, who wraps his hands around it.

Anakin blinks up at him wetly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Obi-Wan drags his chair closer and dares to lay a hand over Anakin’s arm, watching his face for any negative reaction. Anakin just looks at it though, as if he can’t even comprehend it.

“Please, tell me what happened,” he entreats softly.

Anakin blinks and takes a sip of the tea. It’s chamomile, which is the only tea blend Obi-Wan knows Anakin likes.

“I, um.” Anakin clears his throat and reaches up to wipe at his eyes. Obi-Wan thinks his breath leaves his body for a second when he sees the slighter lighter ring of skin around Anakin’s fourth finger. He never thought he’d see what that sliver of skin looks like.

“I came back early from a work trip, cause. Um. Cause we’ve been having problems,” he starts with a quick side glance at Obi-Wan. “Just some fighting. Going to bed angry. I guess stuff you’re never supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan tries to arrange his face in an expression meant to convey that he definitely knows what stuff one is supposed to do in a marriage.

“So I thought I could, you know. Surprise her. But when I got in, there was someone else in the house. In our bed, Obi-Wan, she fucked someone else in our bed. I--” Anakin starts crying dropping his head into his hands and dislodging Obi-Wan’s arm completely.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmurs, at a loss for what to say. He settles for kneeling down next to Anakin and rubbing his knee. This is platonic.This is fine. This isn’t taking advantage of Anakin in this state.

Obi-Wan has absolutely no desire to take advantage of Anakin in this state, not when he’s so hurt and sad and in need of comfort. Obi-Wan just wants to provide him with comfort, but it feels like a grievous violation to touch Anakin like this willingly. It breaks one of his most cardinal rules.

But it turns out he’d break a lot of rules for Anakin, apparently.

Especially when Anakin responds so well to his touch, practically throwing himself out of his own chair and into Obi-Wan’s arms, tea forgotten on the table.

“How am I supposed to go back there?” He sobs into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I thought...we were supposed to raise kids in that house and she...she’s been...she’s been cheating on me in our bed--”

Obi-Wan tentatively strokes through his hair, adding pressure when Anakin reacts positively. He hates seeing him like this, so torn up and aching. He’d loved his wife, it’s so clear to see.

But Anakin has always struck Obi-Wan as the sort of person to put loyalty over everything else. For his wife to break his trust so suddenly and quickly must spell the death of his love for her. That must be what Obi-Wan is witnessing now, with Anakin, sans wedding ring, sobbing into his arms like this. This must be how Anakin’s love dies.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he murmurs into the man’s temple, pressing his nose there at his hairline and inhaling as softly as he can. He’s disgusted with himself. He can’t help himself. He--

“She said she loved him,” Anakin sniffles, seemingly unaware of anything but his own pain. Obi-Wan gathers him closer at these words and rubs at his back, offering silent comfort. To have Anakin close like this is agony, but to be an appropriate distance away from him as he fell apart would also be agony of a different sort.

And if the last four years have proven anything, Obi-Wan will choose the agony that causes Anakin any modicum of happiness he can give him.

“She said--” here Anakin pauses and takes several deep breaths against the cotton of Obi-Wan’s now damp sleepshirt. “She said she didn’t when they started, but then I--I didn’t notice and it--she said it just happened, but--”

He breaks off and freezes in Obi-Wan’s arms quite suddenly. Obi-Wan stills his own hands in response. “But?” he asks, barely more than an exhale.

“But she said she couldn’t feel sorry about it,” Anakin whispers back, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stares at him, uncomprehending. Anakin’s wife is the unapologetic sort of woman, yes, but to be caught cheating on her husband and then refuse to apologize for the betrayal? That’s something else entirely. “What?” he stutters out in a completely unflattering way.

Anakin’s eyes glisten, but he purses his lips and flexes his jaw before he speaks again. “She said she couldn’t feel sorry about falling in love with someone else because it’s quite clear I’ve done the same thing. And--and she may have physically cheated on me first, but I’ve...I’ve been emotionally unfaithful to her for years now.”

Obi-Wan blinks quite a bit and very fast, tightening his hold on Anakin before pulling away just as quickly. “That’s absurd,” he spits out, trying to calm his rushing heartbeat. “Anakin, you’re the most loyal person I know. You would never--”

“She was right,” Anakin cuts him off, breaking eye contact with him to look over his shoulder and then down at...at his lips. “I didn’t even realize she was right until she said it, but. But I’ve been in love with someone else for three years of my five year marriage. I--I’m not who we thought I was.”

And his eyes well up with tears again and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough this time from stopping himself from reaching out and brushing one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anakin, you’re not…” thinking straight, serious, in your right mind, in love with anyone but your wife. “You’re hurting, Anakin,” he settles on saying. “You need to...sleep. To rest.”

You need to stop saying things that will break my heart in a few days when you realize you don’t actually mean them.

But Anakin has always been stubborn, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan’s demands. “Obi-Wan,” he insists, shoving his face forward so that their heads connect with a thump. “Obi-Wan, it’s you. It’s been you. For. For longer than I knew. For three years at least. Maybe longer. It should have been you from the beginning. When--”

“Anakin, please,” he finds himself begging, scrambling up and off the floor and away from this troublesome man. “Do not say anything you cannot take back. You are in distress, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Anakin follows him to his feet. “I need to say this,” he says, voice breaking. “Please, Obi-Wan. Let me say this.”

Obi-Wan has never known how to say no to Anakin. He closes his mouth instead.

“Before we even started dating, that’s when I sat in on your lecture. When we were seniors. I just wanted to see. Wanted to know why she liked you so much, measure up my competition. But then I liked you, more than I’ve ever liked a guy before. And it only got worse after I met you again, at that party, I don’t know if you remember, but. The days after, I drove my wife insane asking questions about you and your work and your interests and your hobbies, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

“You were just...you were so amazing. But I loved her so much I didn’t even notice I had any love left in my heart to give to anyone else, but then there you were. There you were and every time I saw you it was like...coming up for air. Like I was living someone else’s life and then sometimes I just got to be myself and it was only ever when you were around and--I didn’t know it was love until my wife told me tonight that she fucked another man because she couldn’t stand that I fell in love with one first, and I knew immediately who she was talking about. It was you. It’s...Obi-Wan, it’s always been you.”

Anakin closes the distance between them slowly, as if he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to run. Obi-Wan does consider it, he won’t lie, but he stands stock still as if frozen to the ground. Anakin reaches up gently and wipes at one of his tears. Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized he started crying.

“Please don’t cry,” Anakin whispers through his tears. “I understand if you--if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t be quiet about it once I realized. I don’t know how to love quietly.”

Obi-Wan does. Obi-Wan’s spent four years loving Anakin quietly, and now he doesn’t have any words left in him to love him out loud.

Anakin’s hand falls away from his face at his continued silence and he looks, if possible, more heartbroken. “I...I understand,” he murmurs. “You don’t feel the way I do. I--yes. I get it. I...deserve it.”

At this, Obi-Wan has to say something because it’s been one of the tenets of his world for years now that Anakin Skywalker deserves all the love there is in the entire universe. “No,” he says roughly, dragging the words kicking and screaming from the pit of his stomach. “It’s not that. It’s--”

Anakin looks at him with wide, wet, blue eyes.

“It’s that if you...if I say it and then...tomorrow you decide you don’t mean it...darling you have to know there would be no recovering from that, for me. I’ve been so obvious.”

Anakin blinks as the words register in his brain, and Obi-Wan can tell the exact moment they do because he inches closer and clutches tightly onto his shirt. “You’ve not been obvious at all,” he murmurs, eyes still shining, even as he directs his entire attention to his lips.

“What would I need to do?” Obi-Wan breathes, aching to wrap his arms around his waist and terrified that doing so will startle Anakin away from him. “What would I need to do for you to understand how much I...how much I’ve loved you for all these years?”

“Kiss me,” Anakin whispers, leaning down as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

Obi-Wan knows he will hate himself in the morning for giving in when Anakin is so obviously grief-stricken and looking for no-strings-attached physical comfort. And yet, he meets him halfway anyway.

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!

Word count: 9,361

Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.

Tag list: @madamevirgo​ @ravennight41​ @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard​ @badasspolygenderfriend​

~~~

    In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.

    “[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.

    [Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.

    “Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”

    [Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.

    “Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”

    The second voice responded, “Former.”

    [Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true. 

Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.

“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”

“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”

“They were tested on?”

“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”

The third asked, “What changed?”

“Wanda.”

[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.

“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.

The other voices offered their murmured agreements.

“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”

That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own. 

“And they believed them?”

They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.

[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.

“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”

Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”

The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.

“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”

“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”

After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.

[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different. 

[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.

First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”

Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”

The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.

“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.

The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”

Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”

The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.

“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”

Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.

[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.

You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.

    You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.

    “Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”

    You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls. 

    You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.

    “[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.

    “Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.

    “Vis?”

    “Yes, my favorite teacup?”

    You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”

    “Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”

    That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”

    “Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”

    You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”

    One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”

    The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.

    “The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.

    Vision chuckled. “What was that?”

    You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”

    “Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.

    The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.

    “Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.

    You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.

    “Oh, my.”

    “What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”

    “No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”

    Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.

    A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?

    “What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”

    You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.

    You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…? 

    Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.

    “Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”

    “They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”

    “No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.

    Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.

    “Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

    A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.

    Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”

    You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.

    Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it. 

    It felt like coming home.

    Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.

    The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again. 

    I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.

    Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse. 

    Shhh!

    Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.

    “Vis,” you said.

    Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”

    You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”

    Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two. 

    Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”

    Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him. 

    “Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”

    You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other. 

    Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.

    “Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.

    Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.

    Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”

    Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.

    Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.

    A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.

    “No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”

    You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—

    Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.

    “You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”

    He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”

    “Just a little—”

    “And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”

    You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.

    You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.” 

    “What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”

    “I threw it back,” you pointed out.

    “Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.

    You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.

    Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”

    “I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”

    “Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.

    That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”

    “Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”

    Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

    “Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”

    Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.

    You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.

    “Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.” 

    “Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”

    You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”

    “You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.

    You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.

    “A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.

    You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”

    Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything. 

    “I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”

    “Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.

    “Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”

    “Your what?” Vision said.

    “It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”

    “Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”

    You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”

    The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.

    “Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”

    Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”

    You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?

    “To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.

    Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.

    You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”

    “Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.

    Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.

    “Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.

    “Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…

    “Why ask if you would fall?”

    Oh.

    “Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again. 

    Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”   

    You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”

    Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”

    You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”

    Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.

    “Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”

    Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”

    “Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”

You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way. 

Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.

You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”

    You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started. 

    That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”

    Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.

    “Is that you unpacked my house?”

    Another nod. 

    “And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”

    “That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand. 

    “Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.

    “I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”

    “I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”

    Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.

    “I had to magic it out of him,” she added.

    Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.

    Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”

    “Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.

    “Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts. 

    You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.

    “Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”

    You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”

    There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.

    “Vis?” she murmured.

    He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”

    “Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”

    Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.

    “Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”

    “That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.

    “It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”

    Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever. 

    Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man. 

    “And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.

    “Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”

    Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”

    The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.

    “I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.

    Not yet, anyway.

    You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”

    The married couple in question chortled at that.

    You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.

    “Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”

    Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”

    “Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”

    Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.

    You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.

    “Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”

    You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!” 

You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.

When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.

    You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”

    She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”

    “I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”

    Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”

    “The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”

    Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.

    You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”

    That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”

    Another little smile.

    “I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”

    Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.

    “That was Dotty’s?”

    You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”

    Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”

    Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.

    You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”

    Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”

    “Have anything to add?”

    “You’re doing wonderfully.”

    “Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”

    “I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.

    “So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”

    She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.

    “Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”

    “I’m not saying that.”

    You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”

    “Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.

    It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.

    Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.

    It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.

    “So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”

    You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim. 

    Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his. 

    You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.

    Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.

    “You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”

    “I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

    There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—

    Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”

    In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline. 

    Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

    In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”

[transgenderer]

ive been having a lot of thoughts lately about responsibility and delayed gratification and ambition, both at small and large scales. delayed gratification isnt exactly what i mean, but it feels like the accepted term for what i mean, which is doing something you dont want to do now for the sake of a greater benefit later. i think the idea that the capacity for delayed gratification is very good is drilled into kids, and that makes sense, because its an important part of functioning, both in general but especially in modern society and especially especially in the education system. but i think this can be sort of...over-drilled, or taught wrong.

so like, the central idea is the marshmallow test: you can have one marshmallow now, but if you wait, youll get two later. and i think kids who can do that sort of thing are told is good, and they need to do that a lot. but theres an easy wrong lesson to learn, that doing the less pleasant thing that feels vaguely more responsible is always better. and of course, in life, theres no researcher! you are given, over and over, the choice to have a marshmallow now, and its only your own flawed predictive capacity that tells you what effect eating it now will have

so like, what do you do? do you enjoy yourself now, or suffer now to have good stuff happen later? obviously it depends on the case. school presents lots of situations where its obviously better to do unpleasant stuff now so you dont have to rush later, but those are all short term. what about longer term choices? should you go to the harder school that might improve your career chances? take the less fun class that might be more employable? study instead of having fun? and its not a binary, its a continuum, so you cant just say yes/no, you have to try to figure out the optimum choice

and the whole *idea* of ambition, of the grind, etc, which is pretty glorified, is about pushing as hard as you can towards the delayed choice, suffering now in the hopes of succeeding and being happy later. but culture is a tug of war, so theres also the big idea of living in the moment, of enjoying the now and ignoring tomorrow. but over and over you have to face that the optimal choice depends on information you dont have, or arent certain about.

i personally am kind of obsessed with acting optimally, which is foolish, and i have a massive irresponsibility-guilt module, so my balance involves convincing myself that im pushing myself as hard as i can, and pushing harder would actually make things worse, cuz maybe my grades would be worse if i took boring applied math classes that might be better for a job or something. but of course, i have no idea, my whole thought process is a tangle of motivated reasoning, vague hunches, and bad info. so its messy, and it sucks. and it makes me feel like maybe any sort of ambition is bullshit, i should just look for something easy-ish i dont hate, try to live somewhere cheap, and who gives a shit otherwise, about like, prestige or whatever. but idk! i never know, we are all always making choices walking backwards and telling a story about the path revealed with each step, which means constantly adding ad hoc bullshit to the preexisting narrative

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (IV)

Part 4: How You Became Lambkin

 Here we go for a new chapter! This is cute, but also, an important chapter for many reasons! The plot is now starting to unfold!!

No warnings of any kind to apply here, really, it's just rather innocent and cute. I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 3911

I

Holmes Chapel, 2007

 Shakespeare was a pain.

Maybe it was still relevant if you went to the theatre and saw professionals actually perform the play, but from the point of view of two 13 years old who had to read the plays for school… it was a pain.

Besides the language being old, there was also the fact that tons of the words on the page had just been made up. Or at least, it sounded that way. Because Harry had most certainly never heard any of those being used before and he had better things to do with his time than try and guess the meaning of these words. Playing football was one of them. And there was no way his mother would let him out of the house before he would have finished his homework.

There was only one way he could get to the pitch on time to play tonight with his friends. He had to ask for the help of the brightest mind he knew.

He got up from his bed where he was lying down with his copy of Henry V covering his face. He let the book fall on his bed while he reached for the piece of red glass that rested on the side of his window. He aimed at the sun, until the reflection of the light on the glass would dance over your own window. The perks of having his best friend living in the house right next to his: it was easy to reach you.

And indeed, it took you less than a minute to appear before you would appear on the other side of your own window. He couldn't help but grin at the sight.

Harry grabbed a piece of cardboard from behind his desk, that he had already prepared. One of the messages that you often used and both had kept, ready, just in case you would need them.

Help with homework?

He saw you laughing and shaking your head, but you grabbed your own cardboard, large enough to hide you completely behind it.

My place?

He merely nodded with a big goofy grin on his face, before grabbing his bag, his book and heading to the living room.

"Mum!" he called, thumping through the hall.

"Yes, I am not deaf," Anne laughed at her son.

"Can I go over to Y/N's to do my homework with her?"

"To do your homework or play videogames?"

"I have a match tonight."

"Ha… so it's really for homework then! Sure, you can go. Bring some snacks if you want, I bought some cookies, the ones she likes."

"Thanks mum! I'll go directly to the field when I'm done…"

"No, you won't. You're going to come back here to drop off your stuff and to get changed and then you'll go to the field."

He heaved a sigh, but complied without arguing.

"Okay. Bye!"

"Love you!"

But Harry was already slamming the front door shut and sprinting towards your house. Your mother was waiting for him with her door open and an amused smile on her face.

"Hello, Harry! How are you today?"

"Great! Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N!"

"Y/N's in her bedroom. Do you want to bring up some snacks?"

"I've brought some cookies my mum bought today."

"How nice! Well, go ahead then!"

"Thanks!"

He took off his shoes, placing them in the space that was saved for him in the hall, before sprinting up the stairs to your room.

He closed the door behind him.

"Hey! Thanks, I'm struggling with this bloody play!"

You merely chuckled, resting your back against your wall as you sat on your bed.

"It's alright, I haven't started that one yet."

"Have you done maths already?"

"Yep! Just finished."

"Me too. But that English stuff… ugh…"

He climbed on your bed by your side, dragging behind him his notebook, pencils and his Shakespearean play.

Harry gave you some time to catch up with him on the assignment, although he hadn't done much yet. You then spent some time trying to analyse the text and answer the questions on your assignment about the scene.

Harry was annoyed to say the least.

"What are these words, even…" he groaned.

"Come on… some are cute… 'lambkin', that's cute!"

"Lambkin?! You think calling your girlfriend lambkin is cute?"

"I do. It's sweet!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Alright, then, I'll call you that from now on. We'll see for how long you find it cute."

You exploded in laughter, the sound enough to erase his grumpy frown.

"That's not fair! I would be the only one with a ridiculous nickname like that!" you protested.

"You are not calling me lambkin. Ever."

"Alright," you shook your head at his silly remark. "After we're done with this, we'll look for a nickname for you."

"I'm going to the field after, I'm playing with the guys."

"That just means I'll choose whatever I want to laugh at you!"

"Wow… scary… lambkin."

You narrowed your eyes at each other, and you considered his banter as a challenge.

"You're gonna regret that, Styles."

"Oh, am I, lambkin?"

But you could only keep up the serious act for a few more seconds, before you both let go and were lost in a fit of laughter.

You did manage to finish your homework on time for Harry to go play football with the guys. You spent the rest of your allowed time before a screen looking for old and ridiculous nicknames to use against Harry on your computer.

You eventually found the perfect one.

His phone beeped after he was back home, about to go to bed. He had changed in his pyjamas and was about to turn off the lights for the night when the sound rang through the room.

"Harry! Go to bed, you have school tomorrow," Anne ordered, as she was passing by in the corridor right at that moment.

"I am going to bed! It's Y/N!"

"If you're not in bed in five minutes…"

"I am going!"

He checked your text all the same.

Y/N: I've found your nickname. You are chuckaboo.

He snorted, answering once he was buried under his blankets.

Harry: What does that even mean?

He put his phone on silence to avoid his mother hearing your response.

Y/N: It's a term of endearment to call a friend. Fits just right. Plus, I think it suits you, chuckaboo.

Harry: You'd better not call me like that at school.

Y/N: Oh, I will :)

He laughed, despite feigning anger in his next response. You merely replied with another smiley face, and wished him good night.

He went to sleep with an amused smile on his face.

It was just a joke, it would last for a few days before you would both grow tired of it. Stupid nicknames that would make you laugh for a while. Or so he thought, at least.

Lambkin and Chuckaboo.

What a ridiculous pair…

II

Loch Lomond, 2020

Harry kept on holding your hand as you settled around the large table that had been set for your family. The atmosphere was more relaxed as you waited for Amy and her family to join all of you over dinner. Your mom and you sat between your father and Harry, a protection of some sort against the nasty glances that your dad kept on throwing at your fake boyfriend. Dinner was merry, and Amy's family provided a nice distraction for your own family members to focus on. Harry spent most of the evening lost in a deep conversation with Amy's grandfather about 'the music back then', and he seemed to blend in just fine, not that you had ever had any doubt that he would.

One chair though had been left empty. In the large hall decorated with flickering lights, the view upon the loch growing darker and darker as the hours passed, until there was nothing left to see but the stary sky, there was one empty spot. It was for one of Amy's cousins, who had to work late at the hospital in Glasgow, where he worked as a nurse, apparently. Patrick, was his name, and he was set to sit right opposite you. It's only when you were waiting for dessert that he appeared.

And you struggled quite a bit to hide your reaction.

Because Patrick was handsome. Patrick was very handsome. Patrick was also 1000% your type.

And Patrick was set right across from you around the long, rectangular table.

He gave a kiss to his family, was introduced properly by an Amy that was on her way to getting from tipsy to drunk, and he seemed a little embarrassed by her antiques as she praised him for his work in medicine and called all who were single around the table to 'give him a ring'. And you found it cute.

You decided it was your duty, as you were the person sitting across from him, to make some small talk. Anyway, your parents were entertaining a conversation of their own that you weren't particularly interested in, and Harry and Amy's grandfather were lost in a vivid argument about Carole King's best song on Tapestry.

"I'm Y/N!" you introduced yourself with a welcoming smile. "Cassie's cousin."

"Oh, so we're the cousins then! Nice to meet you!" he greeted you with a warm smile as well.

And he had a nice smile. Very nice smile, indeed…

"So… you're a nurse then!"

He ran a hand in his hair, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry about her rant, I think she's had too much to drink."

"It's her wedding, I reckon she has the right to have a little fun."

"I guess. And what do you do for a living?"

You were interrupted by the dessert arriving, and you waited for the waiters to have left to answer.

"I'm studying for a PhD in history."

"Oh, wow."

He seemed genuinely impressed, which was always nice to hear. You waited for the next question to strike what do you do with a PhD in history, but it didn't come. Instead he asked another question, seeming genuinely interested.

"What is your thesis about?"

"The influence and impact of the XIXth century international exchanges and relations on modern politics."

"Wow."

"It's a mouthful," you joked, nodding your head.

"No, no! It sounds very interesting! Where do you study."

"California. But before that I got my degree in Oxford."

"Dear God… I'm sitting in front of the next Nobel Prize."

You laughed, shying away.

"No, absolutely not. Besides, I don't even think there is one to congratulate historians."

"A shame. I would have bet on you."

You did notice the way he shot you a shy smile. And you did notice the way he didn't look away, and didn't look for another conversation to settle into. He was focused on you while you ate your dessert, and you did the same.

Your conversation went on when the coffees and teas were served. And you had to admit that you liked it that way. He was charming, with a cute Scottish accent, and eyes that glimmered in the yellowish light of the room.

It's only when your cup of coffee was empty that Harry took your hand in his again, planting your feet right back to Earth, and reminding you of what you were here for in the first place.

He gave you a smile, before guiding your hand up to his lips to place a kiss over your knuckles, surprising you with the tender gesture and making your heart rush a little more as he looked at you with the tenderest of gazes.

"Are you tired, babe? Or would you like to take a walk with me? I could use some fresh air."

Your heart stumbled a little at the pet name, and you didn't like it. You didn't like it one bit, so you forced the organ to stop its little dance.

"Sure."

You bid everyone a good night -and did notice the disappointed look Patrick gave you as you abruptly ended your conversation in order to leave with Harry - and some other people retreated to their rooms at the same time as you, while you followed Harry outside.

It was cold outside, a heavy wind sweeping skeleton leaves to gather at your feet. You could hear the shushed rumble of conversations on the other side of the windows and the wind caught in the branches and lifting the water of the loch in clapping waves. Harry offered you his arm, and as you noticed that you could still be seen from the table inside, you took it with a grateful smile.

You walked along the shore in silence for a few minutes, your gaze distracted from the dark path by the shining lights above your head, but you weren't worried about falling, not when you were holding Harry's arm. He would catch you before you could fall.

He finally heaved a sigh.

"Well, that wasn't a complete disaster. It went better later on, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I reckon that once the shock had passed, it was alright," you nodded.

"Except for you father, of course. Judging by the way he was eyeing me all night, he probably will try to cut off my balls before the end of the week."

You laughed at that, the sound clear and joyful, luminous over the dark scenery that surrounded you. But the reflexions of the stars over the water was lovely all the same. They seemed brighter to Harry as your laughter echoed a little longer around both of you.

"He's not so fond of the idea. Don't know why."

Harry shrugged.

"Must think I'm not good enough for you."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

"Anyway… I think we're getting away with it."

"Getting the hang of it, babe?"

"Oh, shut up, chuckaboo."

"Ha, here you are again, back to your normal self. Will you start punching me next?"

"I've never punched you!"

"But you've threatened to do so dozens of times."

"I am very good at boxing."

His smile grew more tender, a little melancholic as well, but you attributed it to the quiet of the place that surrounded you. You were away from the lodge now, enough so for voices to have disappeared. It was only you, Harry, and the whisper of autumn leaves now.

"You're good at everything, Y/N."

There was a moment of silence, while you stared at him. But then, his expression grew a little mischievous, and he faked to be lost in thought.

"Except at cooking, and singing, and playing guitar, and most definitely climbing, and gymnastics, and…"

"Yeah, okay, I get it, you jerk!" you stopped him, punching his arm, although your gesture wasn't violent enough to hurt. Still, Harry dramatically held his arm as if you had thrown him your stronger uppercut.

"See, I knew it! Knew you would end up doing it for real, instead of only threatening me with your punches!"

"Well, you should shut up before I do it again."

"You're so cruel, lambkin," he tried to sound convincing, but the goofy smile upon his lips betrayed his thoughts.

You shook your head at him, wheezing.

You walked in silence for a little longer, before deciding to go back to the lodge. You were still holding Harry's arm, even if no one was around to see the two of you pretend. None of you acknowledge the fact, merely choosing to act as if you weren't. Maybe, a voice in your mind explained it by acting in case someone would bump into the two of you. You knew it wasn't the truth though, but you pretended that it was for the few minutes more that the gesture lasted while you walked on the edge of the water and under the tall trees.

"So… Patrick?" Harry asked after a long silence.

"He's nice!" you answered with a smile. "He's a nice chap!"

"Hmm," Harry nodded. "You did seem to have fun with him tonight. Even thought that maybe you didn't need my services anymore."

"Pfft! Don't be ridiculous! I've just talked with him for 5 minutes."

"Almost an hour, actually."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"You counted?"

He rolled his eyes at you.

"I just noticed it was a long conversation."

"Hmm…"

"You know, we can still tell the truth to everyone, and you can take your shot with Patrick."

You didn't know how to describe the tone he used to say the man's name, but it wasn't oozing with fondness, that was for certain. You looked at him suspiciously, a smirk creeping its way to your lips.

"Are you… jealous?"

"Jealous? Me?"

"You're the jealous type, don't deny it."

"And don't flatter yourself. We're not really together, remember? Why would I be jealous."

"I don't know, but you sound like you are."

"I'm not jealous."

"Good."

"But do you like him?"

You shrugged.

"I don't know. I think he's attractive. I think he's nice. So…"

"You like him."

"He's alright so far. And he is my type."

Harry raised an eyebrow, before his features molded into a frown instead. His mind couldn't help but compare himself to Patrick, and point out everything that was different between them.

"Am I your type?" he asked after a long silence.

You laughed, taken aback.

"What kind of question is that?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. Just wondering. I'm playing your boyfriend for a week, but… would I be your type? Had I not met you when we were five and crashed your ice-cream into your face… had you met me tonight instead of Patrick… would you have thought that I was your type?"

You looked away, finally letting go of his arm, and the lack of contact between your two bodies made Harry regret his question.

"I don't know," you lied, before finding back your composure, and shooting him a smile. "But you're my boyfriend for this week. So for the next seven days, you are most definitely my type, honey."

He laughed, shaking his head. You had walked back to the lodge, and he opened the door for you, dramatically bowing before you to let you through first.

"After you, my love."

Harry went first to take a shower, and then it was your turn. Some warm water was just what your tired muscles needed to relax after your busy day. When you walked out of the bathroom, a little bit of fog following you through the door, Harry was lying on the bed, atop the blankets, scrolling on his phone.

He had changed into a comfortable jumper and a pair or pyjama pants that seemed warmed and soft. His curls were still damped, wetting his pillow, but he didn't seem to mind it at all.

He looked up when you stepped out of the bathroom though, and you didn't fail to notice the way his eyes settled on your legs before hurrying to your face while his cheeks blushed.

Your pyjama shorts weren't that short at all, stopping right above your knees. Still, it seemed enough to make Harry's cheekbones and ears turn crimson. You wore an old Treat People With Kindness jumper too, matching his grey hoodie.

"You're alright, Harry?" you asked, rather puzzled by his reaction.

"Sure, why?"

"You're blushing."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"It's nothing. I'm just tired."

You weren't convinced, but chose to drop the subject, your own fatigue weighing on you. So you shrugged instead, finishing to get ready for bed.

You slipped under the covers and heaved a sigh as your head hit the pillow.

"Tired?" he asked, and you could only hum and nod in response.

He hesitated for a second, while you closed your eyes.

"There's an extra blanket. I can sleep on top of the covers, and you under them, if you want."

You opened your eyes again to look at him.

"Would that make you feel more comfortable?"

He considered your question, and shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"I don't really care. But… maybe for tonight, you can do that. Won't you be cold though?"

"It's quite warm in here. And the blanket looks cosy."

"Alright, but don't hesitate to get under the covers if you're too cold. I don't mind if you do."

"Okay," he nodded, before getting up to get the blanket.

He lied down by your side again, getting comfortable, before he would turn off the lamp on his nightstand, and you did the same, letting darkness take over every inch of the room, looking darker than it really was as your eyes got used to the shadows.

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You turned to your side, trying to get comfortable too, and your foot gently bumped into his through the layers of sheets and blankets as you moved.

"Sorry," you quipped, moving your foot away.

"'S okay," he replied, his voice lower than usual.

You let silence settle for a while, but it felt strange. Awkward. There was something unspoken hovering above the two of you, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I feel weird."

"Weird? You mean sick?" he asked with worry in his tone now.

"No, I mean… it's a little weird sleeping next to you. Why though? We've done that since we were six."

He shrugged, but couldn't deny that he was feeling the same. His heart was beating so fast, he was worried you would hear it in the silent night.

"Maybe it's because we're not children anymore," he whispered.

You hummed in response.

"And we haven't done it in a long time too," you added, and he heard you nodding, your cheek brushing against your pillow.

He took a deep breath before speaking again, his tone hesitant.

"Do you… would you feel better if I took the couch?"

You considered his offer, but shook your head.

"No, I… I don't feel uncomfortable. It's just… strange."

It was his turn to hum.

"Would you feel better on the couch?" you asked him.

"No, it's… it's a nice weird."

"Yeah, it is."

"I'm just… it makes me a little nervous."

"Nervous?"

He made a face, that you couldn't see, but you would have found it adorable if you had.

"I'm afraid I'll wake you up with my snoring. Or speak some nonsense in my sleep. Or you wake up tomorrow morning and see me drooling, with saliva all over my face."

You laughed at him, reaching in the dark to touch his arm. You patted the muscles tenderly.

"Don't worry, chuckaboo. I've seen worse! Seen you throwing up a fair amount of time. Also, I'll just punch you again to wake you up if you start snoring too much."

He laughed, and both of your laughter mingling through the room made most of the tension in the room disappear.

"You're right. Besides, maybe you'll be the one waking me up because of your snoring!" Harry went on.

"I don't snore!" you snorted.

"You do. I've heard you before."

"Well, then, you can wake me up if I do."

You moved your fingers away from his arm, but they lingered on the mattress near him all the same, in the little space between the two of you.

"Sleep well, lambkin," Harry whispered, closing his eyes, and when you answered, you had the same smile on your lips as the one that he wore.

"You too, chuckaboo."

************************************

Taglist : @emcchi​​ @fishstick-knows​​​ @eldahae​​​​ @just-damn-bored​​ @retrouvailessx​​​ @marvelstudies2020​​​ @boxofteenageideas​​@ponycake27​​​​​​​ @horsesreign​​​​​​​ @xinyourdreamsx​​​​​​ @jbluevelvet​​​​​@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​​​​​ @stuckupstucky​​​​​​@snek-shit​​​​​​ @suchatinyinfinity​​​​​​@i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​​​​​​​@jigsawlover10​​​​​​ @emyyjemyy​​​​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​​​​​​​​ @staringmoony​​​​​​​@madamrogers​​ @cronias13​​​ @stylesfics-xx​​​​ @mellamolayla​​​​ @mariaenchanted​

[satoriberry]

HELLOOOOO OMG IM ACTUALLY SO EXCITED TO SEE YOURE MUSLIM because hi hello bestie I love to see representation <33 I hope you’re doing good, and I was wondering if I could request a male romantic timeskip matchup! I’m female and my pronouns are she/her <3

So for my personality, I’m an enfp, social and outgoing. I love to laugh and laugh super easily at that too(also, I cry super easily). I get annoyed super quick(have a bad temper), but my mood also gets better just as quickly. I’m super laid back, kind of irresponsible and usually go for the easy way out 😗✌🏽 I’m also super loud and I’m mostly happy(have an optimistic streak within me too). I’m a huge daydreamer and spend half of my day envisioning stuff very unlikely to happen. Im spontaneous too and I loveeee teasing my friends!!!!!! I can be clingy too(mostly physically because my love language is physical touch). I’m also usually super energetic and enthusiastic and my friends say I’m the ‘child’ of the group(probably because I cry too much and am a teeennnnssyyyyy bit spoiled because of my south asian parents and their love for daughters). Some hobbies of mine are playing volleyball(despite being smol for it), baking(I love sweet food) and reading fantasy books!! I really love cats and actually animals in general but cats have a special place in my heart. Some songs I listen to on repeat nowadays are guy.exe by superfruit(pls it’s so catchy and relatable 😭✋🏼), I don’t do drugs by doja cat, sun kissed by khai dreams and cigarettes and feelings by the haunt.

A lovely stranger named @ydyf came up to me today and asked me for a new path in life...

↬ Berry's note: AHHH ive been so eager to write this matchup! Sorry for the late response, i got busy from school and other life stuff but here it is!!! Thank you for the request 

What do you know! You’ve the won the heart of the calm and collected, yet out going, Miya Osamu! Would you like to take a deeper look?

- WOOWOOO LETS GET INTO THIS >:] First of all, the reason I chose Osamu is because you two really complete each other. As you’ve mentioned in your ask, you’re a really extroverted, bubbly person that’s very social. Osamu, on the other hand, is more reserved (not asocial or timid). So being with you will bring out his louder, more social side (like we’ve seen him with Atsumu). You two are also very similar in being laidback and always choosing the easy route.

- I like to imagine that you two met each other at his shop. Like, one day you and a friend decided to have lunch together and you chose this "Miya Onigiri" shop that looks kinda dope :D

- Osamu was wiping the counter top, when he heard the jingle of the door's bell. As he usually does, he turns towards the new customers (or casuals) to greet them with a homey voice. "Welcome to Miya Onigiri. Table for how ma-" then he stopped in his tracks.

- Mf gazed at you for one second and he almost dropped to the floor. His lifespan multiplied by 5 after he saw you because oh.my.lord. You're so dazzling? What? Is this God finally giving him some fortune?

- No but seriously, the guy had to compose himself and repeat his welcome before running off to the kitchen (pussy-)

- You and your friend ordered some food and enjoyed your lunch, and Osamu tried to slip into the conversation so he can get to know you but he was too shy to do it 💔. So, to be more clever, he gave the two of you free desserts.

- "It's a tradition of mine to give new people a cake that's on the house, so enjoy." It was really sweet and you appreciated the thought!!.....then you saw that he had slipped a tiny paper with his number scribbled under the cake slice....it was weird but cute <3

- You added his number of course because 1) Cute guy and 2) Cute guy that owns a shop and 3) Cute guy that owns a shop that also gave you free dessert. He was so happy when he received that first phone call from you.

- Osamu is usually very composed and prefers to take his time with things, but he broke that habit when he asked you out on a date during the 5th walk-and-talk hangout you two had.

- He didn't pressure you, giving you the full option to reject him and keep being friends. But who could say no to his handsome face and attractive personality <3

- And really, after that, you two hit it off right away. So that's the getting together part, now, the actual relationship part!!!

- YOU TWO ARE THE COUPLE EVERYONE WANTS TO BE LIKE!!! SERIOUSLY THO!!! Extroverted girlfriend + Hubby material boyfriend that's also a fucking food shop owner??? Power couple shit.

- LOVESS it when you drop by at his shop and stay with him until his shift ends. You give him a sense of security and he really wouldn't trade it for anything else, and it really makes him work in a better mood.

- If you two aren't at his shop together, then you're definitely lounging around at your home. Listen, he's a shop owner AND chef, he wants some rest 💔

- Loves cuddling with you so much. Turns into a whole spider with his arms and legs looped around you, will NOT let you go.

- Reading together!! I headcanon him as someone who likes to read from often than not, so he adores lounging in the living room with you, books in hand and pinkies intertwined <3

-HE LOVES GOING TO THE FOOD MARKET WITH YOU!! Listen it's so cute 😭. At least twice a month, he wakes you up early (forcefully) and gets ready to take you to a fresh produce market so he can go around and get a bunch of stuff in adorable lil baskets <3

- Yes, the baskets are his favourite part. The apples are fucking shit and aren't as delectable as the farmer made them out to be? Doesn't matter, the basket is cute.

- Gatekeeps you from Atsumu. The second you met his blond twin, Osamu knew it was the biggest mistake because you two shared the same brain. He had to deal with two Atsumus that day 💔

- Househusband LMFAOOO. You're like the girlboss in the relationship, so he likes to play the role of the multitasking, reliable husband that does all the house chores, but you two share the load equally in the end

- Osamu + You = Cute couple with an even cuter dynamic. He really loves everything about you. Your face, your hair, your smile, your laugh, personality, everything. Will sell his soul just to have you smile everyday :]

Runner ups!

➵ Miya Atsumu (LMAOO)

➵ Tendou Satori

➵ Sugawara Koushi

↬ Berry's after-writing note: *cutely returns after 3 weeks of inactivity* hola chicos.....this is so embarrassing wtf 😶 I went through a shitty week and then 2 weeks of academic pressure woowoo. But here I am again. I'm so sorry for making you wait for your matchup and I feel like I couldve done better but shsksgishsjs here it is. Thanks for sending in your request MWAH <3

[gohyuck]

Love and War Act I - LDH

theater kid! hyuck with some enemies to lovers realness

word count: 3.2k

warnings: a lot of swearing and a lot of hatred, possible nsfw in future chapters

notes: in part based on this post

part of a series: yes, this is part 1

in which you really, really, really can’t stand lee donghyuck

Act I, Scene I: An Introduction of the Situation

You’ve never hated a musical more. 

In an effort to ‘generate student interest in the arts’, Neo Culture Tech’s very own Mr. Taeil Moon, head of the fine arts department at what can only be described as a STEM college preparatory school, had put word out that this year’s fall theater show would be an entirely student-produced musical. Whether it was to elevate NCT’s arts up to the level at which they’d have to get the same funding as the robotics team or whether it was to truly cultivate creativity, nobody was sure. Still, the play persisted. From the actual dialogue, to the songs and their composition, to the dances choreography, everything was to be a bona fide effort from students across the school, not just in the theater department. Before anyone could say anything, the band and orchestra students were forced to create and compose scores and songs while the choir kids had to write lyrics for their semester project. The dance team had to choreograph everything and the art students were told they’d be making the posters for the show.

All of this, of course, was to come after the actual play had been written by the students in the Theater IV: Theater Productions class. 

If only you’d stayed in Theater III. 

Regardless, every good story starts from the beginning. And at the start of this one, there was a group of 13 potential starring roles in the tragedy? Comedy? Romance? Of Mr. Moon’s Theater IV musical production.

The official Theater IV roster was - and is - as follows:

(Name) - (Nickname)

Julia Choi - (Lia)

Renjun Huang

Lucy Hwang - (Yeji)

Somi Jeon

Chaeryeong Lee

Donghyuck Lee - (Haechan)

Jeno Lee

Jaemin Na - (Nana)

Jisung Park

Joanne Shin - (Ryujin)

Hussey Shin - (Yuna)

Chenle Zhong

13 is a decent amount of people able to give input on a play - from characterization, to plot, to underlying themes, there’s a place for everyone. If all of you worked on it, it could’ve been done at the speed of light, with ample time for revision and practice. Playwrighting wouldn’t have been harrowing. In fact, the project seemed fun at the beginning, and it was something you were genuinely looking forward to. After all, you genuinely liked everyone in your class… or, at least, almost everyone. Still, with 11 other people besides you and him, you would have ample buffer for the brain damage you were sure he would inflict upon you simply due to proximity. 

You forgot entirely about Murphy’s Law.

Jeno, Renjun, Somi, and Chaeryeong were the first to opt out of writing the play, gently reminding Mr. Moon that they were tech theater students, and would much rather design and build the set. It didn’t take long after that for Jaemin, Ryujin, Jisung, and Yeji to choose choreographing with their dance teammates over being playwrights. Yuna was quick to state that she’d rather make the posters in her art classes, and both Lia and Chenle decided that writing lyrics in choir would take up enough of their time as it was. 

At the start there were 13. 

You were happy, looking forward to talking about settings with Somi and comedic effect necessities with Jaemin. You weren’t only in theater to act - you were in the program in order to satisfy your need to create. Creating an entire play from nothing made you more eager than anything.

That is, until 13 dwindled down to 2 with alarming speed. 

Act I, Scene II: The Devil Incarnate

“Her royal highness is finally here!” Donghyuck faux cheers as you walk into your English Literature class right before the bell rings. The smirk in his tone is not lost on you, though you do mentally revel in the fact that nobody laughs at his stupid declaration. His seat is to the right of yours, but that doesn’t keep him from angling away from the board just to prop his feet up onto your desk. You don’t grace him with a response, only rolling your eyes before shoving his sneaker-laden feet off your desk none too ceremoniously and dropping your backpack onto the floor beside you as you slide into your seat. 

“What,” He starts, evidently hellbent on annoying you at 8 in the morning. You don’t turn to look at him, though you can distinctly see his shit-eating grin out of the corner of your right eye. Donghyuck leans towards you, his face coming far too close to you for your own comfort. You hope he’ll get the hint from your silence and leave you alone, but he continues speaking, much to your chagrin. “No snarky response from our resident ice queen today? Is your tongue frozen solid, princess?”

“Call me princess one more time, and you won’t even have a tongue left,” You threaten, still facing forward in your adamant refusal to look Donghyuck Lee in the eyes. He lets out a short laugh and leans back, finally properly settling into his own seat, pleased at his success at pissing you off. Before either of you can try to insult the other again, Mr. Suh rushes into the room, his Staff ID askew around his neck and his glasses sliding down his nose. The door flies shut behind him, and you straighten your back. 

Class has officially started. 

“You were only three minutes late today, Johnny,” Beomgyu calls from the back as your teacher is getting himself settled, and you turn to see your classmate holding up his watch, mirth in his eyes. “It’s a new personal record.” 

As if cued, the rest of the class bursts into a round of applause, with Donghyuck whistling with his fingers beside you. Mr. Suh - better known simply as Johnny to his students, due to him being fresh out of his undergrad - can’t help but chuckle at your class’ antics, doing nothing but shaking his head and pushing his glasses up onto his face. 

“Alright, before I get called down to the front office again, let me fill out attendance,” Johnny says eventually, finally sitting down at his computer. While he starts calling out everyone’s names you rifle around in your backpack, searching for your copy of The Taming of the Shrew, the book you’re all currently reading in class. Though it has some… questionable moments and themes, you can’t help but love it - you daresay it’s your favorite required reading book yet. Just as you find it, Johnny says your name. 

“(Name),” He says, and you straighten yourself out, your copy of the Shakespearean play gripped firmly in your hand. “I’m h-” 

“She’s here. Didn’t you feel the frost when you came in?” Donghyuck beats you to it, and you finally whirl around to glare at him, raising the hand holding the book up high as if you’re about to beat him with it. 

“Donghyuck Lee, I fucking swear -”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Your teacher raises his voice, coming to stand between the two of your desks. “I’m going to ignore the swear word this time because Haechan’s being annoying -”

You lean back to meet Donghyuck’s eyes, sending him a smirk that directly contrasts his wince. 

“- But you know better than to let your emotions get the best of you on things like this.” Johnny finishes, his words now aimed at you. You sigh, lowering your book to rest on your desk and slouching back into your chair. 

“Now behave, you two, got it? Act like actual people for once.”

The snickers of your classmates behind you cause your face to go red, and your anger at Donghyuck flares up again alongside your urge to crawl into a hole and hibernate. Still, through a furrowed brow and clenched teeth, you nod your agreement.

“Yes, Johnny.” You say at the same time Donghyuck mutters a “Sorry, John.” Both of you slide down even further into your seats. 

Neither of you say anything to each other for the rest of class, though you make sure to send scathing glances his way whenever your eyes seem to meet. To his merit, he manages to flip you off effortlessly every time Johnny turns towards the board. By the time class ends and you’re packing up, the two of you are seething silently, anger emanating off of your persons. Donghyuck jostles you on purpose on your way out of the room, but before you can give him a piece of your mind out of Johnny’s earshot, he’s halfway down the hallway on the way to his next class. Still, you train all your angry thoughts in his general direction, praying he’ll trip and fall flat on his face, or something.

Jeno, who’s just walked out of the classroom next to yours, makes his way to fall into step beside you as he always does. He follows your red hot gaze towards Donghyuck, who’s currently leaning against a locker and talking to Renjun. 

“You shouldn’t let him bother you so much,” Jeno finally says, and you roll your eyes before looking up at your friend. “It gives you too much grief.”

“He shouldn’t be bothering me so much.” You counter, and a small smile crosses Jeno’s face as he shakes his head in both amusement and disbelief. 

“I guess you aren’t wrong.” He acquiesces as he pulls open the door to the chemistry classroom, letting you walk in before him. The two of you share a lab table and you pull his stool out along with your own as you orient yourself.  

“I still can’t believe you and him are friends,” You tell Jeno as he sits down beside you. “You’re so you and he’s so… him.”

“We have, like, 90% of our interests in common, (Name),” Jeno laughs, knocking your shoulder with him. “If the two of you stopped going at each others’ throats for even a moment, you might even learn to like each other.”

You can’t help the fake gagging noise you make at the suggestion, and your friend rolls his eyes at you, though not before laughing. As the rest of your classmates start filtering into the room, the two of you switch smoothly to another topic of conversation - “Can you believe Moon’s making us do all of the play stuff this year?” “I don’t know, Jeno, it seems kind of cool to me.” “I mean me too, but damn… imagine the hours I’ll be putting into set design this year.”-  all thoughts of the devil himself banished from your mind. 

Act I, Scene III: Murphy’s Law 

You’re almost at the door, deep in conversation with Hyunjin about a protest she’s planning when Mr. Jung calls your name, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Yes?” You ask after motioning for Hyunjin to go on to lunch without you. You haven’t done anything wrong that you can think of - not recently, you note, remembering the time you really had almost set Jeno on fire - so you can’t help but be confused about why he needs to talk to you. Before you can ask, your teacher holds out a slip of paper for you to take.

“The note Jaemin delivered earlier is for you. He said it isn’t urgent, so I figured I’d send you during lunch instead of during class.” 

You relax your shoulders almost instantly before taking the bright orange piece of cardstock from Mr. Jung’s grip. You head out of his room - though not before thanking him - and unfold the note immediately after walking into the hallway. 

Please come see me at your convenience! - Moon :)

♕ ♕ ♕

You get to the black box room before Mr. Moon does, causing you to lament not buying your lunch before coming to meet him. As you wait, you pull out your book, determined to at least do something with your time at the moment. Katherine and Petruchio are in the midst of hurling insults at each other when the sound of footsteps startles you out of your book, and you lay it down beside you just in time for Donghyuck to walk in and drop his backpack onto the floor by the door, his eyes trained on the phone in his hand. 

Wait.

Donghyuck?

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your tone is biting at best. He looks up from his screen in surprise, though his expression quickly morphs into one of clear disdain once he sees that it’s you who’s speaking. 

“Got a message from Moonie. What the fuck are you doing here?”

You hold up your orange slip, only just noticing the identical one hanging between two of his fingers. His eyes dart down to his own again before back up at you, seemingly still waiting for a response. 

“Same here.” You respond, and he sneers at you. Donghyuck looks like he’s about to say something - likely hurl an insult that’s completely unrelated to the situation - but, with spectacular timing, Mr. Moon walks in through the door, a large soda in one hand and a fast food bag in the other. Donghyuck finally sits down, his backpack still by the door. 

Your theatre director places his food on the desk in the corner of the room before leaning against it, placing his hands against the edge of the table for balance. He surveys the two of you, both of you on different sides of the room, for a moment.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’ve called you here,” Moon finally says, his words directed at you both. You nod while Donghyuck says a quiet “Yep.”, neither of you looking at one another. Moon nods himself before pushing himself off of his desk, reaching over to grab ahold of his rolling chair. 

“Come,” He looks at both of you, nodding towards the center of the room. “Bring your chairs in.”

You stare at your director for a moment before sighing, careful not to let Mr. Moon see you rolling your eyes. Reluctantly, you stand up, grabbing your chair and moving to sit in front of him. Donghyuck follows suit, managing to put as much distance as humanly possible between you while staying close enough that Mr. Moon won’t reprimand him. 

“You both know how your Theatre IV class is meant to be the ones writing the musical itself, right?” 

The two of you nod, and you can’t help but wonder what direction Moon might be going in. There’s thirteen people in your class - why is it just you two he’s called in?

“Out of everyone in the class, you two are the only ones that aren’t either tech theatre students or double dipping when it comes to fine arts.” Your director continues, his words coming out slower than usual. It almost feels as if he’s trying to force the two of you towards the conclusion rather than telling you what he means to himself. Still, you know your expression is one of confusion. Mr. Moon winces almost imperceptibly before sighing and leaning back, rolling back-and-forth ever so slightly with his chair. 

“When it comes to this year’s musical, students can only work with one of the departments, because having anyone work on two parts of it would be way too much work,” He finally says, leaning towards you and Donghyuck again. Silence falls over you as you furrow your brow, trying to figure out what Mr. Moon might mean. 

It hits both you and Donghyuck at the same time. 

“There’s no way I’m working with just him -”

“Moonie, c’mon, do you really hate me this much -”

“Stop.” Moon says, his voice rising easily in volume. He puts both of his hands up in emphasis, and you realize you’ve leaned further forward than you’d realize. You settle back into your seat, though not without returning the scowl Donghyuck is sending you. 

“If I didn’t think the two of you could do it together, I would’ve just written the damn thing myself,” Your director says, glancing sharply at both of you before continuing. “You’re my two best students - you both know this. I’ve seen you put your differences aside to act together on stage. This shouldn’t be any different than that.”

You stare at Mr. Moon for a long moment, weighing your options. You can say no, you know you can - though he’ll advise strongly against it, Moon will ultimately let you back out of the musical’s production if you ask - but your ego refuses to let you. That, and you’d been genuinely excited to work on it before, and you’d rather die than let Donghyuck, of all people, take something you care about from you. That, and you don’t trust him to write a good play worth performing. You’ll be damned if the fine arts department has to count on him in the end. Hell, you’ll write it by yourself if you have to.

“Fine,” You say, raising a hand up to rub your temples out. “But I’ll only play nice if he does, too.”

“You act like I’m the one who finds it difficult to interact normally with other people.” Donghyuck scoffs, and you shoot him a sharp glare. He returns it evenly for a beat too long before finally tearing his eyes away and hanging his head. You watch as he runs a hand through his hair and throws his head back, groaning loudly as he does so, almost as if it pains him to say his next words. When he finally looks forward at Moon again, he sighs before speaking.

“I’m in,” He declares, throwing you an unreadable look. “Let’s get this over with.”

Moon’s face lights up immediately, and, for a moment, you don’t regret what you’ve just agreed to.

“Brilliant!” He claps, standing up from his chair. “We can discuss it together as a group during our next class, but I’m glad we have this sorted out. Now,” He says, moving his chair back over to his desk before settling back down in it. “I have to eat lunch, and I’m guessing you both do too. Scram.”

You get up, placing your chair back from where you got it before gathering your things. Donghyuck avoids looking at you, and you return the courtesy. He gets to the door right before you do, stooping down to pick up his back. Both of you wave goodbye to your director before stepping out into the hallway. 

“When should we meet to talk about the planning and shit?” You ask, keeping your tone as steady as possible, though you know your eyes tell your feelings. Donghyuck rolls his eyes outright. 

“How about we figure that out in class? I’ve talked to you enough for the time being.”

You make a sound of disbelief, flipping him off as he turns to walk away from you. 

“You’re a grade A dickwad!” You call, staring at his back. 

“Whatever, you frigid bitch!” He yells back, not bothering to turn around and look at you. 

You sigh once he’s out of sight, dropping your head into one of your hands.

This is going to be a lot harder than Mr. Moon thinks it’ll be.

[deancas-fanfiction]

Hardest Part is Letting Go

Part 1/7

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Summary: Upon his diagnosis of a terminal illness, Dean vows to spend the rest of his short life with Cas by his side, completing his bucket list while learning what it really means to live and love. 

Also available on ao3.

Dean had never been a romantic – that was always Cas and his extravagant date planning. It was incredibly endearing, but Dean just wasn’t one of those people that cared about that kind of stuff. He loved it because Cas loved it. Funny how a terminal illness can change someone.

           It was one year earlier, just after Dean’s thirtieth birthday. Recently he hadn’t been feeling well. His energy level was low, and the sweeping waves of nausea became all too familiar. While low energy wasn’t exactly uncommon for him, this was different. Dean barely had the energy to get out of bed. At first, Cas assumed it was some kind of flu, so they spent day in bed watching old western movies and eating soup. It was a few days later when Dean realized something wasn’t quite right. Along with the loss of energy, came the loss of appetite, and consistent headaches. Dean hid it well, though. After all, he didn’t want to worry Cas or Sam. So he pretended everything was fine for the next few weeks and almost convinced himself he was starting to feel better. He thought that with time it would eventually go away. However, it ws quite the contrary.

           One morning Dean awoke at his worst with a sharp, hot pain in his head; it was by far the most excruciating thing he has ever experienced. Biting down on his pillow, he screamed. He screamed until his voice was hoarse, just trying to release some of the pressure in his head. His nails dug into the blankets, begging for the pain to end. Soon darkness took over his vision and he drifted into blissful unconsciousness, away from the pain.

           The next time Dean woke up he was in a hospital, with an IV hooked to his right arm and an oxygen tube in his nose. The fluorescent lights were harsh, highlighting the deep bags under his eyes. At least the pain in his head had subdued. His vision became sharper as the flog from the drugs cleared. Dean looked around the room, noting the ‘get well soon’ balloons and cards that littered the room. To his left was a card with a scrawl so ineligible it could only be identified as Sam’s attempt at handwriting. But the thing that caught his attention was Cas, sitting in this stiff chair next to his bed, his head resting on his hands.

           Dean shot up, suddenly alarmed as he remembered the events that led to him being here. He sat up, pulling at the IV, panic rising in his chest. His hate for hospitals was heightened and all he could focus on was getting out of here. But then Cas’s head shot up to the sounds of Dean rustling in bed. He scooted his chair closer to the bed, resting his hand on Dean’s.

           Dean frowned as he observed his boyfriend’s face. His nose was runny, and his eyes were pink and swollen. He had been crying. It was enough to stop Dean’s frantic movements as his heart rate increased. Cas very rarely cries, and when he does it’s for good reason. Cas ignored Dean’s questioning look. With light touches, he brushed Dean’s matted hair out of his face. It was comforting, but if anything, it just worried Dean more.  

           An advanced terminal illness. That’s what the test results said.    

           Those four words ruined Dean and Cas’s life. Those four words unraveled years of plans the two had previously made, imagining they had all of the time in the world. Now he was told he would have two years if he was lucky. Dean’s doctors offered aggressive treatment to prolong the inevitable, but he denied it. He knows what that treatment does to patients. They’re violently ill, bed ridden, and spend most of their time imprisoned in hospitals. Dean wanted to spend the rest of his short life as himself, with Cas by his side.

It wasn’t something to easily become accustomed to. Cas was in denial in the beginning. He went about life as if nothing has changed, but at night he would hold onto Dean extra tight, with no intention of letting go. It went on like this for a few weeks, until Dean came home from visiting Sam for the weekend to find Cas sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing. Dean dropped his duffel bag and wrapped his arms around Cas. He held him close, kissing the top of his head, burying his nose into his boyfriend’s dark hair, memorizing his scent. His hand rubbed small circles on Cas’s back, knowing it comforts him. He nearly let out a humorless laugh at the thought that he was the one dying, but also the one doing the comforting. It was then that he realized Cas is the only that has to live without him. If it was Cas dying, Dean knew he’d be completely broken too.

After they both released the emotions they had been repressing, they actually felt a little better. Now that they accepted the inevitable, they could live each day to the fullest. Without further discussion, Dean and Cas quit their respective jobs to focus on living life in the now. Besides, that’s what emergency savings are for, right?

This brings Dean to where he is now. Sitting in the living room at three in the morning with a glass of bourbon, paper, and a pen. He could feel his health slowly deteriorating and he knew he was running out of time. Dean estimated he had about six months remaining. At night he’d close his eyes and be met with the image of a clock. It would start with the seconds slowly ticking by and then morph into something sinister. Suddenly it was a calendar, with pages tearing away and flying off until there was nothing left but blackness and silence. There was nothingness. He’d wake in a cold sweat, with the constant reminder of the inevitable looming over his head. Dean shook his head, shaking the dark thoughts. He took a sip of his drink before focusing back on the task at hand.

1.     Have breakfast in bed

2.     Stargaze until the sun rises

3.     Kiss in the rain

4.     Rent a beach house for the weekend

5.     Watch Sam graduate from law school

6.     Go on a road trip with a kickass playlist

7.     Get married

8.     Go skinny dipping

9.     Die loved

Dean hadn’t realized he was crying until a tear his list, smudging some of his handwriting. There was still so much he wanted to do, so much more he wanted to see but deep down he knew he didn’t have the time for it. Hell, he didn’t=’t even know if he had time for his list. But he was going to try. He looked back at a few items on the list and managed a small smile, so much for not being a romantic.

Dean looked up when he heard some shuffling and the opening of a door. His eyes met a sleepy Cas, with his blue eyes bleary and hair ruffled more than usual. It was a sight he could never get sick of.

“Can’t sleep?” Cas asked quietly. Dean hummed in response, struggling to get his emotions in check. He hated this vulnerability that came with the diagnosis. Making this list made him even more emotional and he knew that crying in front of Cas would only make things harder.

“Me neither,” Cas sighed, joining Dean on the couch. He leaned into his side, curling in to soak in his body heat. “I can never sleep very long without you next to me.”

Dean smiled at that and kissed Cas on the temple. Cas sighed contentedly before frowning when he saw the list in Dean’s hand. “Is that your bucket list?”

“Yeah, I figured since we have some time, we should make the most of it, you know? And there’s a lot of things I’ll never get the chance to do, so I thought I’d make a list of the ones most important to me.”

Cas gingerly grabbed the list out of his hand and read through it, a sad smile on his face. “No backpacking across Europe?”

“I don’t think there’s time for a trip to Europe,” Dean mumbled. He and Cas had dreamed of backpacking across Europe since they were in college. They talked of romantic stops in Italy for the food, France for the champagne, Ireland for the Guinness and beautiful countryside, Scotland for the scotch, and so much more. Cas just nodded in response, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to think about the concept of time at the moment.

“What do you want to do first?” Cas asked, his voice cracking.

“Right now, all I want to do is go to bed with you.”

“Alright, then let’s go to bed,” He replied, grabbing Dean’s hand and leading him into the bedroom with a sly smile on his face.

The next morning Dean awoke with another headache. He wasn’t surprised, it’s been happening a lot more often lately. He sat up and reached for the numerous pill bottles on the table next to the bed and took the numerous pills prescribed to him by his doctors to keep his symptoms under control. Forcing his legs out from under the warmth of the blankets, Dean got up to go see what Cas was doing. While Dean has always slept later than Cas, he usually lays in bed with him reading a book while waiting for Dean to wake. After all, Cas knows how much Dean hates waking up alone.

           Just as Dean was crossing the door, he was met with Cas carrying a tray full of chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, a heaping pile of bacon and his usual cup of coffee.

           “Cas…” Dean started, realizing what he was doing.

           “Dean! You ruined it. To have breakfast in bed, you actually need to be in bed.” He pouted which caused Dean to laugh at his boyfriend. He quickly turned around and crawled back into their bed.

           “We don’t have to do everything on the list right away, angel.” He retorted, pulling the warm blankets on his lap. His voice came across softer than the joking manner he intended. His gratefulness for Cas shone through his usual sarcastic façade. Cas chose to ignore the comment and set the tray on the middle of the bed, settling next to him. “But thank you,” Dean added, giving Cas a kiss on the lips.

           Cas smiled, his blue eyes impossibly bright in the early afternoon light. Dean sighed, staring as he admired Cas’s beauty. His dark hair is tousled, sticking in all directions accompanied with the stubble that comes from not shaving for a few days. He’s dressed in one of Dean’s classic rock shirts and a pair of boxers, with the smell of coffee lingering on his breath. Dean smiles at him, bacon momentarily forgotten, only consumed by thoughts of Cas. When things get bad, he wants to remember this specific moment and how happy the two of them are. ‘When things get bad…’ Dean ended that train of thought and shook himself out of his daze, turning his attention to his delicious breakfast instead.

________

A/N: Hi friends! I’m so excited to post my first Dean/Cas fanfic! I’ve written for other fandoms before but I just can’t shake the finale so here’s my coping mechanism. This fic is finished, totaling at about 15,000 words. I plan to post either weekly or twice a week, depending on the reception this gets. Please let me know any feedback or submit any prompts!

[goodnightyoongi]

[Yoongi x fem!reader] pt3

genre: hurt/comfort/fluff

rating: gen

word count: 2,5k

summary: Yoongi and you are childhood friends, but you’re overcome by inability to take care of yourself or your life, lately. He’s right by your side to help you, and you recently discovered there might be something more than friendship between you.

warnings: implied depression, some self-critical thoughts, alcohol, drunken kissing. 

Can be read as standalone, but this fic is part of a chaptered series:  

Part I: Catalyze

Part II: Flicker

Part IV: Release

Your arms were awkwardly clutched around your midriff as you watched Yoongi rummage around the crowded corner shop, throwing thing after thing into the shopping basket without much consideration. 

The two of you were probably a peculiar sight right now. One of you looked ready to hurl any second, uncomfortable about being out in public again, and the other one resembled a small-time burglar with his snapback, dark sunglasses and hoodie pulled securely over his head.

“Just want to remain incognito, is all,” was the explanation he provided you earlier, after you giggled at the sight of him as he picked you up. “Fangirls tend to recognize me a lot...not in the mood for writing a gazillion autographs today.

Your initial reaction to that statement made you inwardly kick yourself. You actually felt a tiny ounce of what could only be described as jealousy when picturing him with all these fangirls – before a rational, inner voice reminded you that you were, firstly, being very silly, and secondly, about to head out with him in just a moment.

Oh, how shamelessly smitten you had become. It had already been a week since he surprised you by kissing you before taking you out for coffee, but there had been no second one yet, and this fact pushed you back into the pit of insecurity.

Maybe you were hoping for too much. You were a commoner, dealing with an array of different issues, and Yoongi was Yoongi. Famous, while you weren’t, and even your friendship couldn’t change this fact.

“Alright, we're almost set...just need to get the – hey, what's up? Are you okay?”

Yoongi had noticed the sickly green pallor of your face, and now his dark irises were regarding you with concern. You forced a strained smile, quickly unfurling your arms.

“Oh, yeah, sorry...I just...I'm not really used to being around people, is all...”

Once again, you cursed the way your voice sounded so frail. And you cursed the way everyday tasks such as shopping were so difficult all of a sudden. 

Shopping. It should be easy as pie, but no.

Yoongi was quick to calm you, sneaking an arm around your waist in a bid to chase away the anxiety. 

“You're good, hun. It's all good. We're almost done, just sit tight while I pay.”

Some thirty minutes later he swung the door to his apartment in Hannam open, and you scuttled inside, grateful to escape the ruckus of the busy streets of Seoul. Yoongi's gaze lingered on you, wandering to your behind as you bent down to untie your shoes, and this didn’t go unnoticed by you. You were flustered as you straightened out, and he smirked apologetically.

“Oh god, I’m sorry...I was staring, wasn't I...you just...you look really nice today, sweetie. Well you always do, but...” 

He paused, stepping closer, and your ears instantly heated up. You’d finally washed all your laundry, and the neat combination of light jeans and a loose white top apparently caught Yoongi's eyes.

“You're the most beautiful girl I know, you know that?”

“No I'm not –“

“Y/N...what did I tell you?”

Yoongi dug warning eyes into you, his arms tight over his chest. You yielded with a sigh. This guy wasn't about to allow one single chunk of self-critical narrative escape you anymore, that much was apparent by now.

“Sheesh, okay, okay...I'll accept the compliment...thanks.”

Yoongi looked satisfied, and a while later you were seated by the kitchen island with a glass of wine in your hand. You sipped it casually, trying your best to seem relaxed and unbothered.

Come on. Pull yourself together.

But you felt on edge, even though you'd been in this exact same scenario with Yoongi a million times before. 

Yoongi had discarded his hoodie, and you discreetly watched his t-shirt-covered back as he prepared dinner – just like you had a million times before. And your lower regions stirred just a little as you witnessed the muscles in his arms tense, veins getting more prominent as he cut up some vegetables – just like he had a million times before.

But now was different.

Now your feelings might be reciprocated. You still weren't entirely sure, though, but your sky was illuminated by a big fat maybe.

You cleared your throat, taking multiple distracting sips of wine to calm yourself.

“So um...you guys are just on a break now, then? No shows coming up or anything?”

Yoongi swung around, grabbing his own glass of whisky and stirring the liquid slightly. “Had some stuff scheduled, but I canceled it. I’m taking a few months off, we’ve been working so much this year...so yeah. Have all the time in the world to spend with you, sweetness.”

“BTS taking a break. That's a first. Are you sure the charts can handle that?”

“They’ll have to. I should have taken one earlier. You've been lacking from my life...way too much the past year.”

A blanket of melancholy settled over his face. You wondered what he was thinking. Was he, perhaps, thinking the same as you – that so many years had passed, that so many hidden feelings were harbored and never acted upon, and now the two of you were here. 

And maybe about to change that?

Yoongi blinked cryptically, before returning to his vegetables, and your heart performed a series of double somersaults. The bubble Yoongi created for the pair of you was safe, and you never wanted to step outside of it.

Never. 

Being in here was easy, here in Yoongi's lofty penthouse, tucked away from the real world with all its scary responsibilities.

Unfortunately, Yoongi decided to poke a hole in the protective layers of said bubble, just a moment later.

“Anyway, so...sorry to bring this up, but...have you given any more thought to return to school...to uni...soon?”

Yoongi's face fell when he saw you turn gloomy following the touchy subject. It had been avoided like the plague the past week, but of course you were aware, even though you just postponed it. 

Your mail was overflowing, flooded with reminders of overdue assignments and missed schedules, your phone full of unanswered calls from the guidance counselor. 

You didn’t avoid it by choice, but it had just...happened.

“I have,” you answered, gaze lowered. “Well...no I haven't...but, I know. I know I need to take care of it. I'll get kicked out soon unless I do, but...it just feels so overwhelming.”

Your tone was brittle as you hung your head in shame. The truth was you had made attempts to deal with it daily, but it was hard.

“Hey. Look at me,” Yoongi requested when he noticed your dejection. “It'll be okay. You can do it, just need to start small. But you should go see your school counselor you know, explain the situation, and uh…”

He paused a moment, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. You weren't sure you liked where this was going. You grabbed the glass of wine, chugging the rest of it in one go.

“...I think you should consider seeing a therapist. To talk about this, the struggles you're facing with your mental health and...everything.”

Yoongi's hand had sneakily crept into yours, and he sighed when you instantly ripped it away and pushed your chair back.

“I'm not crazy, okay, I don't need –”

“Y/N.” Yoongi's voice had a sharpness to it now, and it silenced you before you even had a chance to expand on that note. He continued, cautiously, with a hand brushing loose strands of hair out of your eyes as he moved closer.

“No one said that, pumpkin. It doesn't mean that. It doesn't mean you're crazy. But you might be...depressed. And there's help for you, ways to deal with it.”

“I'm not depressed,” you claimed, weakly. An uninvited tear clawed its way out, rolling down before you could prevent it. You angrily mopped your cheek dry, and Yoongi settled a hand on your neck, gently running it down your back.

“Y/N...I know it’s daunting. But you need to figure things out with uni, alright. I'll come with you, baby. You'll be okay. Don't worry about it, we'll handle it.”

You stared at the white marble of the kitchen island a moment, gratitude warming your chest because he said we. You managed a wordless nod, and Yoongi gathered you into a sideways-hug.

“Good. I'll give you a refill of wine, just a sec. Oh, and the stew should be ready soon.”

Yoongi was an excellent chef, but even despite this, eating wasn't the easiest for you, because your appetite had disappeared somewhere unknown the past few months. This fact was neither appreciated nor accepted by Yoongi.

“Come on, sweetheart. Need to eat,” he tutted from across the table, and you sighed, peering out the tall window. The sky was a periwinkle blue, a congregation of soft cotton clouds passing by in the distance, and the view was majestic from up here – it was perfect. You wish you could be too.

But Yoongi shushed you when unnecessary apologies started falling off your tongue, and somehow you managed. Half the plate, with the help of patient cajoling and encouraging nods.

Drinking wasn't hard, though, and Yoongi was the epitome of sweet and gentlemanly as he prepared fresh cocktails for you to sip on during the course of the meal. By the time you moved to the couch you had become charmingly flushed, slurring a little on your words as you thanked your host for dinner. 

“You seem a little tipsy, baby,” Yoongi observed, chuckling when you almost spilled your mojito down your chin as you attempted to take another sip. “Want to try a bit of whisky?”

“Oh, hell no. That shit is nasty.”

“It's an acquired taste. You're just too much of a kid still.”

You glanced at him, feeling your body gradually heating up to blazing temperatures. The comfortable buzz traveling through you thanks to the alcohol definitely didn’t help slow it down. Yoongi's lips looked so pink, so soft, his fingers so elegant and inviting when he raised the whiskey glass to his mouth.

You wanted those fingers to wrap around you.

Impulse overtook you, a coil of tightly packaged desire that spurred you into closing the distance between the two of you. The bitter taste of whiskey mingled with sour lime in your mouth as you pressed your lips against Yoongi's, and the kiss was sloppy, but tender. You half-expected him to jerk away, but he didn't – instead he wrapped arms around your waist, pulling you against himself with a possessiveness that made your downstairs regions scream at you to move this forward asap.

It had been ages since you’d been intimate with anyone. Ages. And this was your dream. Your longtime crush, your Yoongi.

Yoongi's hands were all over you, his fingers threading through your hair, his tongue finding its way into your mouth – but when your brain finally caught up, you ripped yourself away, catching your breath as Yoongi's inky eyes blinked at you in surprise.

“What's up?”

“I'm...shit, I'm sorry, Yoongi...I shouldn't have thrown myself at you like that, like what the hell...I don't know what I was thinking...”

You turned away from him, lowering your head into your hands. Once again you’d just assumed that he was game for whatever it was you wanted...and one kiss meant nothing. After all, Yoongi had acted totally blasé since then, like it never even happened.

A hand settled on your shoulder, tugging in a request for you to turn around.

“Yeah you should, dummy. Why apologize, huh? I want to kiss you.”

“Then why haven't you yet?” You straightened up, glaring at him. You knew you probably sounded accusatory and like a brat and you might regret this, but you couldn't help it.

“Why haven't you, since...last week? I mean...I thought you shared the same feelings as me but then you just didn't make a move and I figured –”

“I didn't want to rush you,” Yoongi bit you off, his eyes radiating sincerity mixed with regret. “I wanted it to be your call, and not just...eh, screw it. That was a mistake. I care about you so much, Y/N. I want to do everything right.”

His lips moved impossibly close again. The backdrop turned into smudged colors and vague contours as his warm breath pumped you full of life again, woke your body from its slumber, made you limbs tingly with need. And you could do little to stop it.

The room around swam around you when you parted from him, roughly pushing him onto his back and settling on top of him, your movements jerky and hasty. You eagerly kissed him, arching your back and grinding against his crotch and smirking when you noticed the blatant hard-on forming inside his jeans. 

“Wait, hold up, hun...wait a second.”

Yoongi had a firm palm on your chest suddenly, acting as a roadblock, and you couldn’t help but feel wounded as you came to a surprised halt.

“What's wrong? Don’t you want me?”

Yoongi shook his head, violently, his hand moving up to cradle your heated cheek. “God, Y/N. I want you. I want you okay, I want nothing more. But...you're drunk, and I'm not. I don't want to take advantage of you, I need you sober. Okay?”

“You're not taking advantage of me,” you stated grumpily, and Yoongi pushed himself onto his elbows, tilting his head sympathetically. He scrambled into sitting again, but you shied away, still reeling from the rejection when he attempted to haul you in.

“Y/N...baby...don't get any funny ideas. I want you. Your mind, your body. But you've been cooped up at home a long time, okay, alone...and this is still new. We have to go slow, i don’t want to hurt you.”

You grumbled something inaudible in response, refusing to look at him. He moved the curtain of hair away from your eyes, his voice honest and pleading when he spoke.

“Please, hun...don’t take it the wrong way. You’re beautiful, I mean you noticed what effect you had on me, but...I just want to treat you well, and I need you to be onboard and completely clear-headed...because you mean the world to me. Okay, pumpkin?”

“Fine...okay, fine” You relented with a huff, but it transformed into giggling when Yoongi dragged you into his arms, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Good. Want to watch a movie? What do you fancy?”

You cruelly picked out a horror flick even though you knew your couch company hated them with a passion, and Yoongi agreed with a sigh, stating “anything for you, hun.” He threw a blanket around you, wrapping it around you snugly and collecting you into his arms as the opening credits rolled on the TV screen.

Silence followed as the lame plotline took off, but you weren't focusing on it. You were trying your hardest to still your beating heart, rays of warmth shooting through you when Yoongi drew you closer in, breathing hot air into your hair as he burrowed his nose into it.

It took a while for you to muster the courage to phrase the question lingering on your tongue, but you finally managed it.

“So...do you want to...”

“Be your boyfriend?”

You were stunned. You actually had planned on asking if he wanted to go for a proper date, but this was much better. Yoongi gripped your chin, turning you towards himself with an affectionate smile.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend for quite some time,” he mumbled, before leaning in for a kiss that made you drunk. Drunker than all the alcohol you'd had during the course of the entire evening.

[msmkcreates]

“so it’s a date?” “nope. not a date” for Slim/Reader? not from any specific fic, i dont think, though what ive read has been *chefs kiss*

I went with Mutt, since I'm not exactly sure what you meant by Slim? And also, this is absolutely not what you had in mind, most likely, so very sorry about that. On the bright side, it sets up for something else and I kinda like that.

Tags/Warnings: Eating Disorders, insults, not much fluff here, fat-phobia (?), reader has body issues and Mutt is an asshole, seriously an asshole

"Re-Hate-tionship" (SF!Papyrus/reader, platonic SF!Sans&Reader)

Was it bad, how much you hated Mutt? Was it wrong of you, as Black's best friend, to so completely despise his shit-talking older brother?

It can't be wrong, you reason, because he hates you just as much. He makes snide remarks at you, about your clothes, your hair, your anything really as long as it's something to pick at. He mocks you when you're trying to be serious, he pulls faces at the back of your head when he thinks you aren't looking, and you're pretty sure you could draw his middle finger from memory.

So, a mutual hate. A re-hate-tionship, if you will. You said that once, and he laughed, and then he looked so upset with himself for at least three days. Black has begged you both to get along, but honestly he's given up at this point--as long as nobody is throwing anything he lets you dance your dance of disapproval.

You'd asked him once, what you ever did to him, and he replied that you were a human of unknown intentions hanging around his brother...and you assumed that your retaliation had lit the flames to you being a bitch, which fed the hate. It isn't like you didn't try to be civil (okay it was rare but sometimes you tried) but it's hard to stay nice when three seconds after entering the house you're being insulted.

Today was no different, of course, you weren't sure what you'd expected when you'd come over for dinner. He hurled his usual insults at you, but this time he somehow hit a sensitive spot.

"why the fuck're we feeding you, too, again? honestly you could probably fit t'skip a meal, flesh-bag."

You stiffened immediately, and Black noticed. His face was full of fury, ready to tell Mutt off, but he didn't say anything when you sharply shook your head.

But it was too late, he'd noticed your lack of response. He didn't make another stab at your weight, at least not right away, but he smirked like he'd won something as you stabbed at your salad, perforating it over and over but ultimately pushing it away.

You weren't very hungry anymore.

It was halfway through the night, the movie still barely ramping up through the action, when he broke from his usual game of begrudging silence to take another crack at you.

"yer movie picker is shit," he said simply.

"It's a classic, everybody likes this movie," you huffed. "At least, anyone who isn't a complete degenerate. Guess I can't expect you to have any sort of taste, not like me and Black."

That earned a snicker from Black, almost a stamp of approval, and Mutt scowled. You only smiled back sweetly.

"i dunno if you can talk 'bout taste, do y'even taste the snacks you shove in yer face? or are y'just hooverin' them down?"

You pressed your lips into a thin line of displeasure, your free hand not holding the popcorn moving to Black's knee, squeezing as you felt him tense beside you. You don't respond, glaring at the TV in front of you, but you do put the popcorn aside, instead crossing your arms and wholly ignoring his presence.

It's fine. It wasn't as if you hadn't been horrible to him on other nights. You insulted him just as much for things he might be sensitive about--his scars, his golden tooth, other appearance based insults you'd be ashamed to repeat to your mother. Maybe if he didn't get a reaction, he'd poke at something else and leave your eating habits alone.

At the very least his little victory kept him in smug silence until the credits rolled.

"PERHAPS WE SHOULD SEND THE LEFTOVERS HOME WITH YOU, MY DEAR," Black said, bundling the last of it into a Tupperware. "DON'T THINK I DIDN'T NOTICE YOUR LACK OF APPETITE TONIGHT."

"M'fine," you said, waving away his thinly veiled concern. "You guys keep it."

"a shocking twist of generosity," Mutt added in a bored tone from the living room.

"I'm sorry, did I ask you? Or in some way imply that I was talking to you at all?" You huffed, glaring at him as Black rolled his eyelights, packing the Tupperware into your bag. "You know, you'd be a lot more fun to be around if you didn't spend every waking moment being an asshole."

"i don't spend every moment being an asshole," he chuckled, leaning over the half-wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. "it's somethin' i can turn off, so if that's my worst trait at least m'pretty."

"Gag me," you spat.

"now there's an image."

"Ew!" You scoffed, turning away from him to look at Black with exasperation.

"it's a date, then?" He laughed.

You looked back at him, horrified. "No, no, not a date, definitely not a fucking date. If you think you're coming anywhere close to my mouth with any filthy fucking part of your body--"

"what, i thought you liked a little sausage?" He practically purred. "y'certainly eat like ya'd suck a mean dick."

"MUTT! THAT IS ENOUGH!" Black said swiftly, but the damage was done.

It seemed he had found his new Favorite Thing to poke at about you. The unbothered look on his face as Black raised his voice at him was enough to make that blindingly clear, and you set your jaw, fists clenching as you glared at him.

"I eat like everybody else!" You said finally, hands shaking in your rage. "I'm not fat!"

"OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY--" Black tried, and you shook his hand off your arm.

"He did mean it that way!" You flipped Mutt off, with gusto. "Fuck you, and that isn't an invitation."

With that, you took off, storming out and onto the terrace. You would have left completely but your stuff wasn't all together yet and you didn't fancy coming back for it in twenty minutes. You slammed the sliding glass door as good as you could and dragged a deck chair to the edge of the balcony, plopping down and leaning on your crossed arms, staring down into the trees and foliage behind the building.

You could hear Black blowing up on Mutt inside, though the soundproofing was good enough that you couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, only the tone of it. He knows all about your history with your eating disorder, you'd broken down and cried to him after he'd asked you one too many times if you'd gotten enough to eat.

You understand that underground, resources were scarce, and that's why he always makes sure you've eaten enough. He's been good about his wording since then, carefully asking if you have everything you need, with heavy implications that he means food. It's worked thus far, and sending leftovers home was kind of his way of saying he loved you.

You assume, then, as you calmed down a bit, that Mutt really meant no offense when he said you eat well. It was probably a compliment, even, as veiled as it was. And it wasn't like you'd ever opened up to him about your strained relationship with food and your weight. He probably thought it was funny that a small compliment made you clam up in a way his insults never had.

The door slid open behind you and you sighed, closing your eyes. "It's fine, Black, I'll get over it."

"good, here i thought i'd hafta apologize."

You huffed and turned a glare on Mutt as he closed the door behind him. That was not your best friend as you had expected. "What, did he make you come out here to say sorry? Well, you can save it, I don't take insincere apologies."

"actually, he told me he's fed up with how i treat you and that he didn't want to see me within a mile of ya again." Mutt pulled up the second terrace chair and took a seat. "but i don't think i can do that."

"What, come to make fun of me, then?" You hissed, leaning back and glaring over at him. "Maybe call me names? Make pig noises?"

"i wouldn't do that," he said, seriously. "i pick my words pretty carefully, you know, if i'd'a known you had a thing about food i woulda picked 'em even more carefully."

"Since when do you give a shit about my feelings?"

"always," he said, and you snorted, disbelieving. "we may not get along, but yer important t'sans, that makes you important t'me. an' you ain't nothin' but beautiful, so i guess i didn't think that you'd take it as me callin' you fat."

"First you insult me, and now you lie to me." You stood up, and he looked right up at you as you loomed over him the best you could. "Anything else? Maybe poke fun at my dead mom, or fake-ask-me-out?"

"why would anyone fake asking someone out?" He asked, genuinely surprised. "i'm a mean bitch at heart, so is sans, but we'd never do that."

You huffed. "Well then congrats, you're better than the kids I went to school with. Barely."

He hummed thoughtful and you were about to turn and leave him behind--

"wanna fuck?"

Slowly, you turned around, looking at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry?"

"i said," he stood, crowding you against the balcony fencing, his hands on either side of you. "wanna fuck? you an' i might not get along, but you're fine as fuck, i'm not so bad, and i gotta bed we can work out our aggressions on. so, wanna fuck?"

You inhaled, hands on his chest and ready to push him away...but you're due for some stress relief and if anything you can trust him not to get attached, and despite being the opposite of friends you trust he'd never do anything to hurt you, if only for his brother's sake.

"You know what?" You breathed, straightening your posture. Your hands went from pushing to gripping his shirt. "Yeah. Let's fuck. You've had worse ideas."

[happykawa]

[ goldfish ] t.k

afsghjkdls ive got some writing juice i gotta use before it expires shdjhskj everyone’s 18+ and in college and this isn’t proofread sorry if its long

You help clean the volleyball court as the rest of the members pack their things. Today had been a fairly good day for training. Everything went smoothly, well, as smooth as things could go in the team. 

You say your goodbyes to your seniors before you head the opposite way with Tadashi and Tsukishima. 

“Say, y/n-chan,” Tadashi starts and you turn to him.

“Hm?”

 “How’s it going with your crush?” Tadashi asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tsukishima remains nonchalant, though he does turn to you.

You feel your ears turn pink and you look away, afraid your eyes may reveal something clandestine.

“Nothing, still. I haven’t gathered up the courage to confess.” You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tsukishima look away in disinterest, and you feel your heart break a little. Just a little though.

Tadashi sighs. “Maybe if you just told us we could help you!” He pokes your side with his elbow.

“N-no, no thanks. I feel like that would just make things even more complicated, and I wanna do it on my own terms.” You give Tadashi an apologetic smile, letting your eyes glance over to a certain blond for a split second.

That was an understatement. Telling Tadashi would make things much much more complicated, considering your crush was none other than the snarky blonde on the opposite side of your small group.

“Okay, I can respect that.” 

The rest of the walk is silent, and Tadashi eventually branches off to his street, leaving you alone with the one and only Tsukishima.

You could never really pinpoint when you started having a crush on Tsukishima. Next to Tadashi, you’ve known him the longest, so it’s definitely hard to say when it exactly started, given all the time you’ve spent together.

However, if you were asked, you’d probably say sometime before high school. When you realised it, you were terrified to say the least. Falling for the crankiest person you know isn’t exactly ideal.

Furthermore, Tsukki never really showed interest in romance, so for all your years of friendship, you don’t know anything about his preferences or his tells.

Recently, you’ve grown hyper aware of your emotions, due to spending even more time with him as an assistant manager of the volleyball club. It’s quite the miracle that you’re not a tomato now given your close proximity to the him. 

“Oi, don’t think too much, you might use your last brain cell.” A cool voice breaks you out of your reverie.

You huff and pout. “Tsukishima, you’re so mean. I have more than one brain cell you know. I can afford to think.”

“I’m surprised you even have one left, with how you were looking earlier with physics.” He snickers.

You slap his arm. “Well not all of us have an unlimited supply, you know. I have to make do with what I have.”

“Two brain cells?” He snickers once again.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yes, thank you very much.”

“Both working?”

“Okay, now that’s just mean.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help it if one of them decidedly thinks about–my crush.” You quickly save yourself the slip up of nearly saying ‘you’. You give yourself an internal pat on the back.

Seeing as you’ve entered the topic of your ‘crush’, you take the rare opportunity to subtly ask him about it. “Say, Tsukishima, if a girl were to confess to you, how would you want it to go, ideally?”

“I’d want her to make me king of the Japan, before gifting me with an Ankylosaurus army to take over the world with. Maybe a torture chamber for the king and the shrimp.”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous, you can’t even ride an Ankylosaurus, how the hell would you use it to take over the world?”

You hear what you can only think of as a chuckle from Tsukishima. “It’s more plausible than the question you’re asking me. Of all the people, really. Do I look like a person who cares about that stuff?”

“Well, I just thought, you’re a guy, you ought’a know, right? I’m sorry for assuming the best of you.” You huff out again.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s all gonna end the same anyway.”

“How’s that?”

He smiles positively, and your heart is filled with hope, confused hope, but hope nonetheless. 

“I’d happily reject them.” 

Your face falls. “You really are a horrible person.” You grumble.

“I don’t really care for romance. I think it’s useless and burdening, all that obligation and responsibility and for what? Just so you can feel validated by another person? I can do that for myself, and it’d be cheaper too. Plus, it’ll save me from all that nasty crying once we break up.” He replies coldly, and you feel your heart shatter. 

The way he says it doesn’t help. He says it with so much disdain that you can’t help but think about how stupid you are for thinking that that you could ever have a chance with him.

You manage to keep your tears in and your face straight. You can’t look him in the eyes without bursting so you opt for the road ahead of you instead. You feel relief as you catch sight of your house in the distance.

The walk there is filled with nothing but uncomfortable silence. Tsukishima has his headphones on and his face is the same.

‘So that’s how he feels…’ You can’t help but replay his words over and over in your head, and you feel your heart break every time. The only thing keeping the dam together was the embarrassment you now you’d feel if it were to break right now. 

With your house only a few paces away, you quicken your steps. “See you tomorrow, Tsukishima.” You manage to say goodbye without stuttering and you don’t dare look back, for fear that he’ll notice the welling tears in your eyes.

‘…useless and burdening…’

‘…it’ll save me from all that nasty crying once we break up…’

 You run through the door. Too focused on not sobbing, you don’t notice how Tsukishima’s gaze followed you as you ran, nor the concerned look in his eyes.

Turns out, you may have lied to Tsukishima. You didn’t see him the next day, or the day after that, or the rest of the week for that matter. Well, technically, you did. But you avoided all interaction with him at all costs. 

What he said really stung, and while you know it’s not really his fault maybe his parents’ but that’s for another story and it’s not exactly fair to just start ignoring him altogether, it’s also not fair that you fell in love with possibly the world’s most emotionally unavailable man but you aren’t complaining are you? Okay, maybe you are, but that’s besides the point. You’re not ready to face him yet, and you won’t until you are.

The classes you had together were spent with you surrounded by many other people. During volleyball practice, you always arrived when they were deep into training, and you left early as well, with the excuse of having to take care of your brother. You stopped walking home with Tadashi and Tsukishima.

Even during their breaks, you’d be so engrossed in something, be it homework or strategy that they couldn’t even disturb you, which they found strange since you never really were the most diligent student (read: you’re a known lazy ass).

All of the members, save for one particular blonde, tried to talk to you, but you simply waved it off as stress from school. None of them believed you, you know, but they got the message and decided against bothering you for more information.

It’s Saturday and your solid plan of sleeping in is effectively ruined by your phone ringing.

“I swear, I turned off all my alarms, who the fuck calls at–” you glance at your clock, “–six o’clock on a Saturday morning.”

You groan and grab your phone. For a moment you consider throwing it against the wall and going back to sleep.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Devil, how may I help you?” You croak. “Oh, you want to go to hell? Why, stay on this line and you will soon!” You hiss out and look at the caller ID.

SnarKei (+81) 22 37632

Okay, you admit, you feel a certain satisfaction at snarking him. Just a little.

“Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” He replies in a mocking cutesy voice. “Did the inevitable happen? Have you already been rejected?”

That stings you, and you mumble to yourself. “Something of the sort.” You’re not sure if he hears you though, and you really don’t care. Nope. Not. At. All.

You are met with silence, so you assume that he didn’t hear you, or else he most likely would have poked more fun at your still-bleeding wound.

“What do you want, Tsukishima?”

“Of course you’d forget. You have the memory of a goldfish.” Tsukishima comments bluntly. “We have Saturday training today, goldfish.”

“This early in the morning? Why don’t I remember this being announced?” You yawn and get up from bed.

“Yes, this early, because a big match is near. And you’d remember if, aside from your goldfish memory, you’d actually stayed until the end of training to hear announcements.” You can practically feel Tsukishima looming over you with his scary deadpan.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Tell coach I apologise for being late. I’ll be there in–” You yawn once more. “30 minutes.”

“Make sure you shower well. I can smell your stink from here.” Tsukishima’s infamous smirk pops in your mind and you subconsciously sneer. 

“You’re just smelling yourself.” You retort and end the call. You feel your heart ache, and sigh. At least it’s been reduced to a dull ache now, however troublesome.

‘I’m sure I’ll get over this. Maybe in a week or two.’  You think to yourself as you enter the shower.

You believe you just lied to yourself.

You hear no sound from the gym, and the lights are off. 

You check your watch just to be sure.

7:30 am

‘Okay, what the hell?’ You peek through the windows, maybe they’re practicing with the lights off? That wouldn’t explain the lack of squeaking shoes and balls dropping, though.

“You’re late.”

You jump and turn around. You’re ready to grab the pepper spray in your right boot when you identify the would-be-predator as Tsukishima.

“You scared me.” You breathe out, putting a hand on your racing heart in an attempt to calm it down. It doesn’t stop racing though.

Tsukishima feigns hurt. “What, with my beautiful voice?”

You roll your eyes and fight a smile. “Why’d you tell me there was training?”

“Because otherwise you wouldn’t have come and I wouldn’t find out why you’re avoiding me.” He states it as if he were talking about the weather, rather cheerfully. But you sense the hostility behind that cheerfulness, as any person would.

“I don’t know–” You start talking, but you stop as Tsukihima walks slowly towards you. He stops when he’s only a step away, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of your closeness and his unjust height advantage.

“…what you’re talking about.” You continue in a smaller voice, feeling yourself overwhelmed by Tsukishima’s presence and size. 

He continues to loom over and look down on you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You tentatively look into his eyes, and immediately look away. His golden-brown eyes are intense, and you’re scared that if you look for a second more you won’t be able to look away.

“Because I don’t like liars.”

You snort instinctively. “That’s ironic. Part of your role is deceiving.”

He shrugs. “Deceiving and lying are two different things.”

“Lying is deceiving.” You point out. You don’t notice that you are able to meet his eyes as you challenge him.

“But deceiving is not always lying.” He smirks back, and the two of you get into a staring contest.

You stare into his eyes and you feel yourself getting lost. You look away first, afraid of what might happen or what you might say if you don’t. You fail to notice his faltering smirk.

“So, I assume you didn’t just bring me here for semantics?” You cross you arms over your chest. Your previously calmed heart starts racing again.

Tsukishima takes a small step closer, and you instinctually take one back. “I told you, goldfish, I want to find out why you’re avoiding me.” 

His gaze never leaves your face, and you’re painfully aware of it, so much so that you will your eyes to look at anything but his. You’re tempted to look back, but you know once you do, all your walls will fall.

‘This is so unfair.’ You think to yourself as you start over-analysing Tsukishima’s shoes.

“Why don’t you look me in the eye? Afraid of what you might say?” He taunts you. He’s testing waters, and by the looks of it, he know he’s hit the bullseye.

“N-no. I’m perfectly confident with my words, thank you.” You reply, swallowing the bile in your throat.

He scoffs. “Prove it. Look at me.”

You feel your ears tingle and you attempt to resist, but your pride doesn’t allow it. Reluctantly, you meet his eyes, and you immediately regret it.

They’re fierce and intense, his golden eyes, even more so than before. Your breath is taken away and you forget what you were about to say. 

“Let’s try this one more time,” Tsukishima takes another, larger step forward, and you take one back, or at least, attempt to. Your back hits the wall, and before you know it, you’re cornered. His places his right arm next to your head as he leans over you. You can almost feel his minty breath on your face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he doesn’t place his left arm on the other side.

‘He’s giving me a way out.’ You think, and you can’t help but internally smile. He doesn’t want to force you into anything you don’t want, but he’s putting pressure on you. You bit your inner cheek in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Why have you been avoiding me since we last walked home together?” His voice is softer this time, but his intensity doesn’t waver. An emotion flashes in his eyes, you’re not sure what it is. Uncertainty? Hurt?

You swallow the bile in your throat. You feel like you just ran a marathon and your face seems to think so too, if the rising heat in your cheeks is anything to go by.

“I–I…” You fumble around for words, unsure of what to say. The golden irises staring into your soul surely isn’t making it any easier.

‘So much for my two working braincells..’ You say to yourself.

Your brain nearly overheats in attempting to make an excuse. Instead, it settles for giving your irrational courage to confess once and for all.

Knowing what you’re going to say, you are unable to look him in the eyes and deflate

“I was hurt…” You whisper softly, feeling the tears well in your eyes. “…by what you said.”

“Why?” He asks, quieter this time. 

You sigh defeatedly. There’s no point in delaying it now. You feel all the “healing” you went through in your time away dissipate into thin air. The once dull ache is now a stabbing pain in your chest, but you soldier on. 

“Because I like with you. And I idiotically thought that maybe you felt the same way. Yes, it’s dumb. You don’t have to reject me, I know what your answer is, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear about it and–” 

You’re interrupted by a pair of lips pressing against yours. It takes a second for it to register. Until it does.

You hear yourself internally screaming as Tsukishima slowly rises from his awkward position and straightens his back, forcing you to turn your head upwards and tip toe. 

Tsukishima realises this and smirks. He straightens up even more, just a touch too high for your lips.

You don’t even notice that your eyes are closed until you open them to see Tsukishima’s annoying smug face.

“I never grasped how small you are until now.” He teases, and you feel his cool breath brush against your skin.

You’re too flustered to make a retort, and you’re pretty sure your face is red. You take another moment to let the previous events sink in. 

‘Tsukishima…. Kissed… Me…’

He snorts. “Have your two braincells short-circuited?” He gazes down on you, and you see, behind his teasing, is genuine worry.

“You kissed me…” You blink multiple times, and a smile forms on your face as Tsukishima raises a brow. “…first.”

A giddy smile takes over your face, because of the fact that you just stated and the fact that Tsukishima is blushing right now. For once, you aren’t the one avoiding eye contact.

“You kissed me first.” You teased, tipping your toes even more to get a closer look at his blushing face.

“Only because you were putting words in my mouth and you wouldn’t stop.” He mumbles, giving you a sideways glance before looking away as he blushes even more,

You giggle. “Technically, I was putting your words into your mouth. Besides, what was all that ‘I don’t care for romance’ stuff you said?” You poke his warm cheek playfully.

“It’s called lying. And techinically, you confessed first.” It’s your turn to blush and Tsukishima’s to smugly smirk as he pokes your cheek back.

“So, what does this mean? And since when did you figure it out, given this whole set-up?” You mumble, fiddling with the edge of your white shirt with a red “shut up” written on it.

“It means I like you back, even if you have a goldfish brain, goldfish. And you weren’t exactly subtle with the way you got upset last time.” He pokes your cheek once more. His face is back to it’s regular nonchalant state, but you see a twinge of playfulness in his eyes.

You cross your arms over your chest and pout, sneering at him. “I don’t have a goldfish brain. How could I forget something that never existed?” 

“You can’t. Who said anything about training not existing?” He raises a brow.

“Didn’t you call me here to get me to confess?” You deadpan at the memory. “Coward.” You mumble under your breath.

Tsukishima smirks. “I did. But there is training, just not for the university.”

As if on cue, you hear a loud bickering noise.

You both turn to the source and find the old Karasuno team, complete with Hinata and Kageyama bickering.

You beam at the sight and turn to Tsukishima. You nearly tackle him into a hug, regardless of how he may feel about hugs.

He looks away with a light blush dusting his features once more. He uses his free hand to pat you on your head.

“Happy birthday, goldfish.”

fagdhefjks;laLKSJH i dont think i captured tsukki well here, and the part feels rushed. sorry for that idk where this went gg

[theninjamouse]

Title: Wisdom

Summery: It’s time for that dreaded procedure. 

(Hi, this is a silly little thing that I’ve wanted to write for ages and last night I stayed up way too late finally writing it. I’ll put it up on ao3 as well but for now, have this)

-

There comes a time in many people’s lives when they must face against a truth. A truth that cannot be avoided, nor ignored in the intensity of its pain. You had hoped against hope that perhaps, you would be spared this fate but alas!

Your time has come.

~~~~~~

Grillby stares at you, blinking slowly. “They’re going to…what?”

You sigh. “I just explained it through dramatic monologue!”

“Give me a summery.”

Pouting, you monotone, “My wisdom teeth have grown in and it’s making all the rest of my teeth shift and it really hurts so they’re going to knock me out and remove them.”

Your explanation has not eased Grillby’s perplexion at all. “But…why would you grow them in at all just to have them removed?”

You shrug helplessly. “I didn’t choose to grow them in! It’s just a thing human mouths do sometimes!”

“Why?”

“Why does the human body work at all? It’s a mystery, honestly.”

Grillby scrubs at his face. “Okay so…afterwards?”

“Afterwards I’m going to be extremely out of it. The medicine they give you is uh. Well, it depends on the person but usually it makes you really loopy. There’s tons of videos online, I’ll have to show you some.”

“Will you be okay?”

Aw and there he is. The soft and caring boyfriend that you love so much. “Yeah, I’m gonna be fine,” you assure him, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. “I uh, I feel awkward asking but, I’m gonna need a few days to recover and I’d feel better if I was at your place. Please?”

A few sparks lift from his head, the equivalent of silent laughter. “You know that you don’t even need to ask.”

Sheepishly, you look down at your feet. He’s right but anxiety is still twisting at your gut. Whenever you got sick growing up, you didn’t exactly receive a lot of loving care, even though a part of you longed for it. The first time you came down with a cold, Grillby’s constant and gentle attention was almost too much for you and you had hidden under the covers and cried the moment he left the room.

This isn’t quite the same as getting sick but you’re still a little concerned about how you’re going to act after the procedure. But you’re going to need help, that much you’re sure of and there’s no one you trust more than him. “Just a warning, I really have no idea how I’m going to act after the surgery. I had a friend in high school that bit her mom when she tried to change the gauze.”

“Gauze?”

“Oh, it’s a sort of cotton sponge. To soak up the excess blood.”

He pales to green at that. But he quickly shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, it’s not like you could hurt me if you bit me.”

“Don’t I know it.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, blushing. “Anyway, I’m more than happy to take care of you.”

That stupid, choking emotion is already grabbing hold of you, so you hug him tightly, pressing your face into his chest. “Just warning you, I take no responsibility for my post-surgery actions.”

He scoffs quietly. “I think I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

~~~~

The surgery center is bustling with activity. You rub anxiously at your thumb, the soothing motion doing very little to calm your building nerves. Grillby puts a hand on your knee. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. The assurance is a little less effective thanks to the anxious green and white flashing across his face.

“GRILLBY IS RIGHT HUMAN!” Papyrus’ voice booms over the hushed murmuring of the waiting room. Every head turns towards him and he waves his hands enthusiastically. “THOUGH I MUST ADMIT, IT SEEMS A HUGE OVERSIGHT IN THE HUMAN DESIGN FOR THESE ‘WISDOM TEETH’ TO CAUSE SUCH A COMMON PROBLEM!”

Grillby, for all of his support, only has his rarely used motorcycle sitting in the skeleton brother’s garage. Seeing as how you wouldn’t be in any shape to drive after the surgery, you had reached out to those with licenses and cars for a lift. Papyrus had responded so eagerly and loudly that you simply couldn’t turn him down. He did have a sweet car after all.

In the seat next to him, Sans scuffs his foot against the worn linoleum. He looks far more uncomfortable than Papyrus, but he had insisted on coming along. At first, you had been touched that he cared enough to help out.

Then he had pulled a camcorder out of his pocket.

He turns it on you now, little red light blinking. “any final words before enlightenment?”

You fix the camera with a stare. “If I don’t come out of there, I want my full tab transferred to Sans.”

“GRILLBY! YOUR GIRLFRIEND HAS A TAB?” Papyrus tuts loudly and Grillby sighs.

A nurse steps out from the door leading into the back of the facility. She calls your name and your heart leaps into your throat. You scramble to grab Grillby’s hand and give it a final squeeze as you stand and hand off your bag. “Well, see you on the other side I guess?”

Grillby nods, still rather pale.

“GOOD LUCK HUMAN! YOU’RE GOING TO BE FINE!”

“that’s the tooth.”

“UGH!”

You follow the nurse back into a room that smells strongly of disinfectant and climb into the chair. You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be just fine, it’s a common surgery, nothing’s going to-

The nurse, smiling gently, sticks the needle attached to an IV in your arm and tears immediately start pouring down your face.

You! Hate! Needles!

It’s a few minutes later when the doctor comes in to find you still sniffling. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You try to smile, blubbering out, “I j-just don’t l-like needles is all, I’m f-fine!”

He smiles gently and gives your shoulder a pat. “You don’t need to worry, everything-”

His voice suddenly warps and fades away as his hand suddenly shifts to a gentle push. Without being really aware of falling, you suddenly find yourself floating along a river. It’s cool and pleasant to the touch. When you look at it, it shimmers like gold and you realize that it’s not water at all but golden coins carrying you along and oh, this is actually kind of nice! The river rocks you with a gentle motion and you could almost fall asleep, cradled in the gentle hold of gold which actually, that’s a little strange now that you think about it but oh, thinking is hard right now and everything just feels so warm and nice…

“…op rocking okay?”

You blink blearily. The river of gold is gone but the rocking continues. It’s nice. Everything is so nice!

“Shore, you have to stop rocking, okay? You’re going to make yourself dizzy.”

You’re already dizzy! You’re gonna keep rocking cause it feels nice!

There’s a blurred figure in front of you, holding a patch of white. “Here, wipe your eyes,” the garbled voice continues.

Oh! You’re crying still! Huh, that’s weird! You reach for what you assume is a tissue and miss. The figure takes your hand and places the tissue in your palm and the tears rush out even faster. “Fank you, fat’s so nice!”

“You’re welcome Shore.”

You lift the tissue to your face and miss your eyes, dabbing your mouth instead.

You’re not sure how long you sit there, watching the blurred shapes of people moving back and forth. It’s nice to just sit and rock. Eventually though, another lady-oh she’s so pretty, that’s so nice!- approaches you with a wheelchair and helps you ease into it.

You’re wheeled down a hallway and you wave at the blurry figures passing by. What nice people, taking care of you like this!

You hear a whoosh of automatic doors opening. The cool air of the surgery center gives way to sunny warmth. You turn your face to it, smiling blissfully.

The nurse brings you to a stop. “Okay Shore, here’s your ride,” she says in a bright and cheerful voice.

You look forward, delightfully surprised to see Grillby, Sans and Papyrus standing there. Oh that’s right, they’re here to take you home! You point, “Look, thaaaaaat’s my boyfriend!” you crow proudly.

“Oh wow, that’s awesome!” the nurse answers. She helps you to stand and fortunately keeps her hand on you because your legs don’t bother buckling; they simply refuse to work, and you nearly slide to the ground before she catches you.

“uh…doc is she actually ok to leave?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine, here you are.” The nurse hauls you up and pushes you forward into Grillby’s arms. He’s so warm! This is so nice!

You snuggle into the warmth, humming happily.

“…ore? ….kay?”

“PERHAPS WE…CAR…MEDICINE!”

Their voices dip in and out but you’re too concerned with keeping your face pressed against Grillby’s chest to really listen because good heck he smells amazing.

You blink again as Grillby very gently pries you off him and guides you into the car. The moment you sit down, a wave of exhaustion takes over and you close your eyes, thumping your head back against the headrest. If the Earth would stop swirling that would be wonderful.

Your head rolls loosely when you feel the warmth of Grillby’s body next to yours. Your eyes feel like they’ve got sandbags attached to them, but you slowly peel them open.

Oh no, he looks so concerned! He’s pale green, very gently cupping your cheek with his hand. Smiling as best as you can with your mouth currently crammed with fluffy clouds, you reach for his cheek, miss, and bap him in the center of his face.

“I’m okay!” Your voice sounds funny, all stuffed up and slurring. “Don’t…don’t cry, okay?”

“I’m not crying.”

“Don’t cry.”

“I won’t.”

“you’re the one who’s crying, tibia honest.”

You pull your gaze away from Grillby to Sans. He’s in the front passenger seat, mostly turned around to look back at you. He’s got that camcorder going. “Why didnja use your phone? It has a…a, a camera y’know.”

“i do know but let’s not talk about me. how’re ya feeling?”

“Good!” you slur brightly. And it’s the truth! You’re still feeling super floaty and stuff. It’s nice. “This stuff’s like maaaaagic.”

“magic huh?”

“Mmmyup! Am I still crying?”

“YES, IT’S ACTUALLY QUITE DISGUSTING,” Papyrus chimes in from the driver’s seat.

Disgusting?! You’re disgusting!?

“aw paps, you made her cry again.”

Papyrus looks back at you through the rearview mirror. “I’M SORRY SHORE! IT’S A HUMAN THING, NOT A ‘YOU’ THING!”

That’s…that’s fair. “Yanno what’s…what’s gross they, they puta thing in my nose and like, I was crying, and stuff and the snot got all caught in the tubes. It was groooss.”

Sans has a hand over his mouth and his shoulders are quivering a little. “oh my god this is amazing.”

“S’not amazing…” Hey, you made a pun. “Heh, snot.”  You giggle and choke a little.

“you ok?”

You hum, leaning on Grillby’s arm. “I’m…good. Where’re we going?”

“THE DOCTOR TOLD US TO GET YOU A MILKSHAKE WHEN WE GET YOUR MEDICINE! IT’LL HELP YOUR CHEEKS TO NOT BE SO PUFFED UP.”

Oh right. Yeah, that’s the usual thing to do after stuff like this. Right? “I gotta stay on liquids and stuff. ‘Member that!” You poke Grillby. “No chewing stuff. Cause like, I’m all…” You pat your swollen cheeks lightly. “Nuh uh.”

You can hear Sans doing his best to muffle his cackling.

Looking back up at Grillby, you say, “You got the good stuff right? Lotta…lotta um….”

Grillby runs his hand over your head. “Soups and ice cream and jello.”

“What about pudding?”

He frowns. “You told me you don’t like pudding.”

“Oh yeah! I don’t really like pudding. Well, the chocolate stuff’s okay. But not banana. It’s gross.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You nod, contented. “And…where are we going?”

“To get your medicine and the milkshake.”

“Oh yeah.” You smack your lips together a few times. They’re starting to buzz and tingle. “There’s bees in my mouth.”

That draws a huge bark of laughter from Sans. “bees?”

“Mmmhmm.” The tingling brings with it the feeling of bubbles. You’re not leaking blood, are you? You don’t want to make a mess. “They’re making it bubble. Am I bubbling?” You open your mouth as wide as you can at Grillby, leaning in close.

Somehow, he pales even further. You hear a soft thunk as his head hits the window.

“uh…paps i think grillby just passed out.”

“HE WHAT?”

Sans leans into the back a little bit more. “hey bud, lemme see your mouth.”

You oblige him, opening up. “Is there blood? Am I bubbling?”

He makes a face. “yeah, that’s uh…that’s getting kinda nasty. Maybe you shouldn’t talk so much?”

Your lip quivers a little, more tears spilling down. “’m sorry.”

“ah, no, it’s fine, don’t cry uh…here.” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a rumpled napkin. “it’s clean so uh, maybe wipe up a little before grillbz wakes up?”

You take the napkin. “Sans you’re so n-nice and Paps you are too. You guys are the best.” You dab at your lip, or what you hope is your lip and look to Grillby. His eyes are shut. “Is he taking a nap?”

Sans snorts. “something like that.”

You poke Grillby. You wanna ask him…something. You can’t remember what actually. Maybe what he needs is a kiss to wake him up, like Snow White. You try to lean over to him, but the seatbelt stops you. You fumble with it, whining quietly. Since you can’t seem to figure it out, you settle for kissing your finger and pressing it against his cheek.

He stirs. It worked! “I’m Prince Freaking Charming,” you say proudly to San’s camera.

“yeah ya are.”

Grillby sits up, looking so utterly confused that you start snorting, which makes you choke and sputter on the bubbling sensation in your mouth. “You don’t like the sighta blood huh?”

“No, I really don’t,” he says faintly.

“Walking Dead eat your heart out!” you crow, sticking your bloody tongue out.

Grillby groans loudly and hunches over, head in his hands. “Please don’t do that.”

“You big baby. When we get to…” You look back to Sans. “Where’re we going?”

“to get a milkshake.”

“Yeah! When we, we get to the milkshake, you can get one too to make you feel better.” You pat his back.

“Thanks.”

“You’re sooooo welcome!” You lean on his back, head resting on his shoulder. “I love ya so much. So, so much.”

He tinges blue and takes your hand. “I love you too.”

“Am I a good person?”

“One of the best.”

You giggle quietly, eyes slipping shut. Maybe it’s time to take a little nap before you get to…wherever it is that you’re going. “You’re a good person too,” you murmur. He says something in return but you don’t catch it, already slipping away into unconscious bliss.

~~~~~~

It takes you many hours and several naps to completely come out of the haze of post-surgery. Most of that time is just a blur, though you do recall Grillby nearly passing out again when he helped to change the bloody gauze out of your mouth. Papyrus had stepped in, loudly tutting and complaining about how Grillby should have a stronger stomach given how much greasy food he works around.

When you finally wake up for good, that wonderfully light feeling is gone, replaced by an awful heaviness that makes it hard to even form a coherent thought, let alone move. You’re on Grillby’s bed, propped up by many pillows and blankets. Grillby himself is just visible through the open doorway. At your low groan, he quickly puts down whatever he was doing and comes to your side.

“Hey,” he says gently, taking your hand. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly and blearily. “Like I got hit by a train. How do I look?”

“Like you got hit by a train,” he says, grinning weakly.

“…Did you pass out in the car or did I imagine that?”

He ignores that, which you take to mean that yes, yes that did happen, and instead says, “Do you feel up to some broth?”

“Not really but sure,” you breathe.

He pats your hand and leaves, returning shortly with a bowl of broth. “It’s not hot,” he says apologetically. “But it shouldn’t hurt this way.”

“Mkay.” You reach up to pull out the gauze and he blanches again. “Wow, big strong elemental really is a baby when it comes to blood.”

“Only when it’s yours.”

Oh, now that’s just sickeningly sweet. “Well good news is I think it’s stopped.”

“Thank the stars.” He takes a seat on the bed and spoons out some broth. Carefully, he spoon feeds you. Normally such a thing would have you red with embarrassment, but at the moment you’re honestly too weak to really care. He’s patient and gentle, never pushing you. He’s…he’s so nice and good to you and-!

You sniffle. He flashes pale, pulling the spoon back. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

You shake your head, blinking out tears. “You’re just so nice to me and I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“Oh, hey, hey it’s okay.” He sets the bowl down on the table and climbs into the bed next to you, very carefully pulling you into his arms. “Of course you deserve it.”

You lean against him, letting the gentle warmth of his soak into your aching body. “No, I don’t.”

“You do. And I’m going to keep being nice to you, even if you don’t think you deserve it.”

“Cause you love me?”

He smiles and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Because I love you.”

“Even with the blood and big old chipmunk cheeks?”

“Especially with the chipmunk cheeks.”

You chuckle quietly, closing your eyes and letting yourself bask in the security of Grillby’s embrace.