#three days left Holly cow!

[helpicantlogout27]

Drawing every day until ofmd s2 day 7/10 3 DAYS LEFT SO SOON! frenchie geting over his fear of cats!

[fluidstatick]

Going from SophieBaybey's arc to Robbie's arc on Balloon SMP is WILD.

Day 6, Sophie: Ok Rad, everybody's got diamond armor or better, I've kicked the Valkyrie's ass one handed multiple times, and the fuck off massive dungeon under our base is just a diamond farm now. Rusty's made friends with the elves, Bailey's got an army of Contraptions, Milk Ape beat the Globber to death with Ape's bare fists, Claire and Holly beat Stardew Valley two days ago on the next chunk over, and Death Itself is a mild to moderate inconvenience. Damn, Robby, you look like shit. Here, go that direction, you'll find my house maybe eventually probably. Yo, Gibson, you wanna make a nuke?

Dawn of day 7: Ok, time to kill God - What was that noise? [Not!Bailey skittering up behind her with a YakBak and a smile]

Day 6, Robby: Alfred and Kuu have been dead for three days. Char's chickens got eaten by a fox, and our one cow despawned. Bee died, saw God, resurrected from a balloon at the bottom of a lake, and immediately became a priest. A pack of balloons dropped off a family of nitwits, and while I was being hospitable and making them a damn house, a fucking Orca clipped through the cobblestone floor and bit me in half. I woke up on the back of a pig tied to a balloon, and Bee fell to their death again trying to get my feet back on the ground. They resurrected again, demanded that we devote our lives to the balloons in gratitude, and logged off. Char found an ice tiara that we're probably not supposed to have, then logged off. I wandered in the Nether for days looking for a wither fortress so we could get Alfred and Kuu back, limped back into the overworld for a moment of fresh air, and immediately got mauled by a grizzly bear. I don't have arrows, I don't have diamond armor, I don't have sacks or stew or potions or fucking elfstones -- I'm living in The Revenant, Castaway, Annihilation, and The VVitch simultaneously out here! Gibson and SophieSteak appeared from nowhere, promised me a Wither fortress, dragged me across thousands of blocks of arctic wasteland to a massive volcano made of petrified corpses, and left me! Now I'm wandering in the goddamn outback with no inventory space, no maps, and no backup. The wandering disembodied souls of my teammates are howling with disbelief in my twitch chat. I'm barricading myself into a cave with a pile of pumpkins three times my size and waiting for the grim reaper, fuck all of you.

Dawn of day 7: 🎵 🎸🔥🤘 I'M SCARED 🤘 I'M SCARED 🤘 I'M SCARED 🤘🔥🎸🎵

Fuckin' cinema. Poor Robby.

[shadow-book-wren]

Yule Superstitions

Animals

Legend says animals can speak on Christmas Eve but not to listen for them because it is unlucky to hear them

Some cattle ranchers believe that if the first person to cross the threshold on Christmas eve is female, only heifers will be born on the ranch for the next year. however, if it is a male, many male calves will be born

Feeding a sprig of mistletoe to the first calf-bearing cow of the new year ensures future fertility for both

Some British believe that ivy leaves fed to each cow after milking and before noon on Christmas morning will force the devil away from the herd and keeper for the next 12 months

If the stars are bright on Christmas Eve, hens will lay well the next year

Monsters

In Sweden, its believed that trolls travel freely through countryside from dusk on Christmas eve to dawn on Christmas morning. its common practice to stay indoor during those hours, in Sweden.

Greece and Poland considers it unlucky to be born on Christmas eve and Christmas day because the roaming monsters - kallikantzaroi (Greece) and werewolves (Poland) can capture the newborn's spirit for their own devices

It is customary, in Greece, to burn all old shoes to ward off misfortune in the new year

Ghost refuse to come out of hiding on Christmas day, babies born then are said to be forever free of ghostly troubles

Food

Refusing mincemeat pie on Christmas brings bad luck in the next year

You will lose a friend before next Christmas, if you don't eat plum pudding during the holiday season

Eat an apple at midnight on Christmas Eve for ensuring good health

Leave a loaf of bread on the table, after Christmas Eve, to guarantee plenty of bread for the household in the coming year

Christmas cakes must remain uncut until December 24, and one piece left uneaten until after Christmas day to ensure good fortune

In Germany, it's customary to eat greasy pancakes on the winter solstice and leave some on the table to feed the winter hag so that she doesn't "hunt you down, slice open your belly, and take the cakes right out"

Gift Giving

When giving clothing for a gift, don't wash or iron or it will press in bad luck and wash away good

House

Make sure all fires in your home burn throughout Yuletide season in order to be free of evil spirits

Some Scandinavian families place all their shoes side by side on Christmas Eve to bring harmony in the home

If you have holes in your stocking, hanging them upside down on the hearth before bed on Christmas Eve is said to have them repaired by St. Nick

Place a cherry tree branch in water two weeks before Christmas. if the branch blossoms by Christmas Day you'll have good luck in the new year.

If you fix a hole in your roof between Christmas and New Year's Day it will reappear

You'll have bad luck if you bring holly into your home before Christmas Eve, and triple bad luck if it's removed before January 6th

Mistletoe has to stay hung in place for one year to ensure good luck and when replaced, the old one should be burned

Burn evergreen and decorations of evergreens to ensure good luck

There is an ancient German custom that states that things with wheels, especially spinning ones- may not be used from 5 days before the solstice until six days after it or else the sun causes all fleece and fiber to tangle beyond repair

Marriage Omens

In Germany, girls play a holiday game, seemingly similar to duck-duck-goose, where the first player to be touched by the blindfolded goose will be first to marry of the participants.

In England on Christmas Eve, its customary for unmarried girls to knock on the hen house door... if a rooster crows in response, she'll be married within 12 months

In Northern Europe, some girls arrange three buckets of water in their bedroom, pin three sprigs of holly to their nightgowns before sleeping and are awakened by three shouts and three chuckles. an apparition of their future husbands will appear and if the buckets are rearranged - the marriage proposal wont have any issues ; If they aren't - they may not be a willing partner

In Poland, it is believed that grinding poppy seed on Christmas Eve will ensure a quick marriage for unmarried women

Tossing twelve sage leaves on Christmas Eve winds will make the image of your future lover materialize

Weather

If the night sky on Christmas Eve is clear and starry, summer harvest will be abundant

The 12 days of Christmas tells the weather for each following months. ex: first day of Christmas = snowy ; January = snowy

Easter will be cold if it doesn't snow on Christmas

if Christmas Day is breezy there will be good luck for the new year

[peru-perusals]

Day 7 - Part 3 - Cusco Dinner

Marita left us with a handful of riddles before saying goodbye. Answers to the riddles are at the end of the post!

1. How do you put nine cows in eight boxes, with only one per box?

2. How can half of twelve be seven?

3. How do you draw a square with three lines?

We arrived in Cusco and disembarked the bus. The van driver who picked us up skillfully navigated Cusco traffic, where cars regularly squeeze past each other on the sidewalk. We dropped off our stuff at the hotel before being picked up by our guide, Mario, and the woman that Holly had been communicating with, Lorena.

We walked to Santa Catalina street with lots of shops and went into a restaurant and sat by the door in a table that was angled because it was clearly too long for the space. We sat down with Mario, our guide, and said goodbye to Lorena. The waiter tried to bring us free Pisco Sour, but Holly turned it away, as it is alcoholic.

As with other restaurants, we ordered three courses. I got stuffed potato, Alfredo spaghetti, and cheese cake. The stuffed potato was closer to a croqueta than a baked potato, as it was meat and carrots and other goodies wrapped in mash potatoes and fried. It was excellent.

The Alfredo Spaghetti had undisclosed mushrooms which was very disappointing.

The cheesecake was closer to flan than American cheesecake and the only sweet portion was the crust. It still tasted pretty good!

We watched the same set of dancers as they kept changing into different outfits and performing dances from different communities.

Photo by Holly

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a little shop to buy more water and watched as the stray dogs chased each other around in the street. We walked back to the hotel settled in for the night.

Riddle Answers:

1. 🄽🄸🄽🄴🄲🄾🅆🅂

2. XII cut in half horizontally is VII

3. Just put the three lines inside of a square!

[the-firebird69]

MAICO Models 2022

Mostly Tommy F has been taking the factories and he took a lot of that stuff and he took about 3/4 of this company before they noticed and it was in Germany and it was Germans okay so they are pretty crafty about it and they came in as corks And they were running the factory too and they ruined their day and night and took it over I heard a bunch of them and they want it back at them and they're Germans and we want Adam too there's too many of them and it's going on now right now maaco is no longer they had three factories left and they shut the doors and they left everything there they want us to make it in Germany and we agree we have a different method of doing things but we can do it there and coordinate It off and we'll attract whoever wants to die and we'll build them there and in the states we have the designs but they are a bit off in that the Germans change them and not for the better we don't know what they're after but they made them slower but they are about the same size little and they start out at the same size they were about a 580 and they went up to about 9:20 for dirt bikes and they made some street bikes in the 50s and 60s that were 1200 cc 1500 CC 2000 CC and 3,000 CC and that's really huge for motorcycle it's because in Germany had some 7 and 8 ft people Germans and Bob birdies clan and people like them were out there and they needed bikes that actually worked with them on them and it's hard to find them these days holy cow is a whole bunch of dirt bikes Spider-Man Bailey and they had a whole bunch of dirt bikes and they're talking about on TV partially because they're coming back.

Did the bikes are big and they work real well and I want them up and running we're going to build a mega factory he says because people's trying to get bigger somewhere and they actually are and his little bikes everyone's putting out and no good and it's starting to buy The hollies and they're pretty good heavier for some reason they like heavier bikes so we tighten up the shocks and they're buying hours and they noticed the wheel and tires are hurry put the bikes for light and they're heavy so it makes up for it. the design is right, the bike is light and the way it rides with heavier people on it is heavy because of the tires and rims and wheels and we do know what we're talking about and Max get too heavy and I can't pull it so once again they're back to where they started they say and they find out ours and they buy them and we don't want to wait we want to make other things work as well and this is one of the companies we went back and they'll be back around for a while and we might have something similar so here we go we are going to have our company's back that we helped make and we're going to have some of the original people and Bill is around and wants to do it and he loves the car idea and he loves the clown car idea of making a smaller one so I said it's a good idea and he likes the car cuz it'll be a good seller and you can put the big motor in it's very cost-effective and was starting to build it now and it's not RTA it's like a Fiat that's what it looks like her car like that and a little bit like the Volkswagen yeah.

Along with the dirt bike so we're going to make street bikes and girls and adventure bikes and we're going to make a smaller bike but not real small maybe like a 250 to show what it's about it's for Stout riders and a 250 is a starter for our son and that would be off road and 500 would be a starter for the street it's still a little bit larger it's like a full size bike and pretty fast and it's got to get used to a real bike if he's ever going to ride one and that's the question but we need these and he knows it and we're building them and a lot of them we're going to build a ton of these big bikes and really the big bike is like A Boss hoss it's big and actually fast and it's actually lighter because it's not a car motor and it has a lot of power and a lot of stealth and speed it's just giant I mean the seats up like 50 in you have to be 8 ft tall at least and Joe is almost there his legs a little short though. He'd be good with a 2000 so going to make one for him and he's going to have it hopefully tomorrow as a prototype and a test module and it says that's great so I'm going to be Preston one too when he gets out and Joe will pull up and honk the horn and it's brand new Ford f650 stepside it says that's great he wants an outfitted and he's writing stuff so we can do that and Mac will help out cuz he has partial ownership and we are moving on to another subject no. We're going to get this company going and they called KTM or a couple of stars for our son and he's riding little bikes because he was little and he's not grown it's going to be some fun okay coming up cuz these people are going nuts when they see these bikes come out everyone's going to want one everyone's going to try and find him they're awesome motorcycles they kick some ass they're very powerful and we're going to win races maaco had an issue too and once again with the motor so we're going to fix it it's kind of a similar idea but the ports are a little screwy and they need to be straightened out in that the angles are wrong they're too steep any thought so and you just never changed it and he thought it'd screwing with it he did they start making it cuz they couldn't figure out how to stop it from doing that and they couldn't tolerate it also found a way to tolerate it had a certain RPM it wasn't doing it and the ideal RPM and that's why it's like that but it's just a little bit rough cuz you have to go through the gears all the time and we're going to go ahead and do it they've got the coral museum on TV and they're catching on

I want this bike company up and running by tomorrow morning and I want sales and I want dealerships and Joe says he knows who to go to it's the max and which ones is the parties and Bob purdy's just standing up he says and let's let's hope it's not next to Preston. Is laughing saying is laying down but he's not so we're going to organize it and get the dealerships going and a lot of clones are going to try and take the bikes so you'll see them trying to get it up. We've got the mega plant going in it's being built right now all the manufacturing stuff is being built the factory itself is up on the ground and it's stable and they're putting foundation in and our son and daughter are going nuts building it try and make the schedule and he says that she better start going on the gear and casual wear as for big people don't make a complete line of big people casual wear it's kind of motorcycle orientated it'll be like jeans and t-shirts and long shirts and jerseys I'm going to help with that actually Freya is going over there now and it's a good time but this Coral museum and her son and daughter just got it it's from where the pyramids are and the pyramids might be the tip of a huge pyramid and they will be astounded because there's two and it's going to Bermuda triangle is and it's almost exactly with the pyramids are and his granddaddy put him there not not Biden it was ghwb and he's trying to point out that there's something there and he doesn't know what it is and it might be ancient ships and a son is saying it and I told him my name and he said no way so they went right out there I came back and we know what they saw they didn't see anything but they couldn't get to it its restricted area and the clones are there it's not a clone project

Thor Freya

They're also on the island in the Mediterranean

[redfurrycat]

Ghost!Goose looks good with all the physical activity! =D (Carole will be happy when she joins him a few years later.)

*

Mitchell Senior: Come on, son, Mitchells have more game than that! USE IT. Use the motorcycle & lending jacket move. Works every single time.

*

Icemav and Slider have three days in Greece left. Slider has managed to secure himself some alone time (well not so alone, he found charming company every now and then). Still he suffers the company of the pilots good-naturedly. ISH. (Okay. With some alcohol to help a bit.)

They're enjoying some food when they hear a group of people wolf-whistling and shouting happily. It's Holly, Wolf, Chip, Sunny, Carole, and Baby Goose!

Them: SUUUUUUUUUUUUURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!

Mav running towards them and literally jumping onto the group. Ice follows closely - never far away from his wingman - and greeting everyone with a sunny smile (not the Mav Sunny Smile, but close).

Slider?

Slider grabs Baby Goose and says "I'm stealing the only sane person -besides me- away, we're going swimming. See you fuc**** later! .... Good to see you all'"

Mav carries Carole bridal-style up to her room, their laughter echoing and their heads close so as to whisper secrets and gossips.

Ice is just watching the love of his life with the biggest heart eyes.

Hollywood, whistling: whipped.

Sundown: Need some Ice to cool it down?

Chipper: Heh. I understand why Slider's suffering. It's going to be fun!

Wolfman (shirtless already, cause he dirtied his only shirt - but he can borrow Holly's clothes instead): Keep it in your pants, Kazansky.

*

Meanwhile, Slider has Baby Goose on his shoulders and is telling him the secrets of how to woo a fellow naval aviator ("Being Carole's son and Mav's godson, you'll end up marrying someone in the Navy, I can tell.")

Baby Goose: Can I have Ice cream Uncle Sli?

Bradley:

Slider can't resist the sad cow eyes. Both end up stuffing themselves on icecream until supper!

*

@mafiatsunafish Nice summary! xD

Some mornings, Mav, when he feels like it, pops in Ice lap and spends breakfast playing with his partner's hair because he still feels sleep and doesn't really want to let go of the sensation, murmuring sweet nothing and nuzzling against his neck and his ear.

[gimmesumsuga]

Ps. I woof you

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 26K

Summary: The one with a happy accident of the furry, four-legged kind - “Are you calling my dog a slut?!” 

Warnings: Extreme fluff and domesticity, cursing, mild angst, smut inclusive of: fingering, oral sex (female receiving) and unprotected penetrative sex 

** Click here to read on Archive of our own (AO3) should the read more on mobile not work due to fic length **

Thank you @readyplayerhobi​ for my super cute banner and @johobi​ for the gorgeous moodboard! ^^

“Seriously?!” Sitting up with a suddenness that borders on miraculous given how fast asleep you were just a few blissful moments ago, you glare out into the darkness that fills your room.  

The wall opposite your bed may as well be vibrating, so insistent is the thud of bass that’s thumping through from the apartment next door, and if you thought you were pissed about being so rudely awakened in the middle of the night, that’s nothing compared to the indignance of your dog, Remi.  Barking her head off, you’re met by the sight of her pacing up and down the span of the wall once you turn on the light, blinking as your eyes adjust to the offending brightness.  

“This is just so not the time,” you hiss as you swing your legs out of bed and then stalk across the room to hammer your fist against the plaster, swearing under your breath.  Usually, you’re quite quick to try and stifle Remi when she gets her knickers all in a twist, but not right now - not when her yapping is perfectly justified and the dog next door then has the sheer gall to start barking back.  

“Oh, it’s on,” you grit out through your teeth, banging your fist against the wall with renewed vigour ‘til your fist is sore and Remi’s so worked up that she’s up on her hind legs pawing the paintwork right alongside you.  

Thankfully, your next-door neighbour soon gets the message and turns off his music, no doubt feeling cowed at having been met with such vehement disapproval from the opposite side of the wall.  You sigh, satisfied, but it seems Remi has no such intention of letting it go so lightly, her barking match with her nemesis next door carrying on despite the battle being over.  

“Hey, hey,” you hush as you squat down to her level, running your fingers through her fur, “It’s ok, you can stop now, Rem.  We won, it’s ok.”  She quietens slightly at the reassuring tone of your voice but, stubborn as she is, she remains determined to get the last bark in, growling low in her throat and staring at the wall until she’s absolutely sure that the dog next door has been forced to back down.  

She’s always been the same; vocal even as a pup.  She’s a canine of very few faults (or so you like to believe), but you’ll admit that she can be a little too loud at times - a little too quick to run her mouth off at the slightest unfamiliar noise despite you discouraging her from it as best you can.  

It was actually one of the reasons you and your ex broke up, as silly as that sounds.  He’d always been intolerant of Remi’s noise - of anything being anything other than perfectly perfect, frankly  - and the final straw had come when one day, in a fit of red-faced rage, he’d taken off his shoe and thrown it at her from across the room.   She’d yelped and ran off to hide, and that’d been it.  By dinner time that evening, he’d been in the process of moving out his things.  A two-year relationship over, just like that. 

Good riddance, as far as you were concerned.  Remi was your roommate years before he ever had been; your loyalties lay with her, as they do to this day.  

And boy, does she know it.  You think it to yourself now, as you lay back down in bed and she sits at your bedside with her chin rested on the covers looking up at you with her big, brown puppy-dog eyes.  

“Oh come on then,” you grumble, shifting over and patting the space you’ve made for her atop the duvet.  She leaps up, tail wagging, and quickly circles on the spot before lying down snuggled up against you, exhaling noisily in contentment as you fuss her soft, pointed ears. “You’re never going to make any friends if you keep barking at everyone all the time, you know.”  Remi closes her eyes, utterly unrepentant.  

Not that it’ll soon matter what the next-door neighbours think of you, that is - not if you don’t ace the interview that you’re due to attend in a disgustingly short amount of time.  You really should’ve gone to bed earlier, given that the ability to pay your rent is now riding on exactly three and a half hours sleep should you not manage to drift off again for what little time you have left before your alarm is set.  

Luckily, the slow rise and fall of Remi’s soft little body lying next to yours proves as soothing as you’d hoped it would, and you’re able to steal a couple of hours more of precious sleep before having to drag your unwilling carcass out of bed and into a pair of high heels.  Full of nerves, you bite your nails the whole way there and are forced to make a pitstop in a public restroom prior to your arrival (nervous bowels for the win), but despite all that, you get the feeling the interview actually goes rather well.  It’s not for anything fancy, mind - a retail position at one of the more high-end-but-not-quite-designer clothing stores in the city - but the woman quizzing you seems friendly enough, all nods and smiles and shiny white teeth.  You even manage to make her laugh, which is impressive given how lame your sense of humour can get when you’re nervous.  

She tells you that you can expect to hear back by the end of the working day, and whilst at first that sounds perfectly reasonable, by the time you’ve gotten home and changed into something more comfortable you’re already going out of your mind.  Remi seems to pick up on your unease, too, sitting dutifully by your side as you glance at the arm of the sofa where your phone lies every other second, her little ears alert and twitching.    

It’s only after you’ve checked it’s not on silent for perhaps the hundredth time that you finally decide you’ve had enough.  Decisive, you rise to your feet and slip on your shoes before grabbing Remi’s lead from where it hangs by the side of the door.  

“Who wants to go on a walk, huh?” you offer, but having already seen you reach for her lead, Remi is already beside herself with excitement.  Atop her back her fuzzy little tail is wagging up a storm, dusting back and forth across the floor once she finally calms down enough to plop her bottom down onto the laminate and let you actually attach her to the thing.  

“Ok, ok, don’t pull,” you murmur mostly for your own benefit as you open up the door and then pause to lock up, her lead looped around your wrist.  Heaven knows Remi’s not listening anyway - not when she’s this wound up.   “Jeez, I’m coming!” you complain, turning on the spot when she yaps impatiently only to take one step towards the staircase and then come to a complete stop once you realise someone’s already coming up the other way.  

That someone being Min Yoongi, your aforementioned next-door neighbour, and his dog, a little toy poodle you’re not entirely sure of the name of.  

If you’re honest, you’re barely on a first-name basis with the man himself, nevermind his canine companion.  You’re fairly certain you remember him introducing himself when you first moved in, but other than that you’ve had very little to do with each other since then apart from the one time you accidentally picked up his mail and he came knocking on your door in search of it.  You remember thinking he was cute, too, back then, but despite the smiles that you’ve offered up whenever you may pass in the hall, Yoongi has remained somewhat of a mystery.  

Is he just shy, perhaps?  Or is he really as aloof and disinterested as the perma-furrow in his brow might have you believe?  

Of course, as soon as Remi spots the other dog she starts whimpering and pulling even more with the want to go and say hello, which is ridiculous, really, because you know as the moment the poodle comes close she’ll turn tail and run - which lo and behold, she does.  Their noses have barely touched when she jumps backwards and then scampers to hide behind your legs, tangling you up in her lead as she goes.  

“Oh Remi, you big wuss!” you sigh as you fight to shuffle backwards enough for Yoongi and his dog to actually be able to get past - a task easier said than done given that the poodle seems set on chasing after her, tangling you up even more.  

“Holly, leave it,” you hear Yoongi warn as you peer down at the dogs dancing between your legs, praying for Remi not to do anything that might embarrass the both of you.  

She’s never been aggressive before - all bark and no bite through and through - but there’s always a first time… 

As if right on cue, Remi releases a deep, rumbling growl as a warning once it becomes apparent that Holly doesn’t have any intention of backing off without a fight.  You cringe at the sound, embarrassed.  

“Hey!  Be nice!” you scold as the other dog very quickly turns tail and runs back to his owner, startled.   You feel your cheeks fill with heat as Yoongi scoops Holly off the ground and into his arms, making a mental note to not give Remi any of her usual bedtime treats this evening.  

“I’m really sorry about that,” you gush despite Remi looking anything but, sat scratching herself at your feet without a care in the world.  

“It’s fine,” Yoongi shrugs, glancing down at Holly with a hint of a smile, “‘Bout time someone put him in his place.”  You can’t quite think what to say to that - caught off guard by how very different Yoongi looks when there’s a smile on his face rather than a frown.   

Yeah, he’s definitely cute.  Cute button nose?  Check.  Honey-boy smile?  Check.  Even the dye job on his hair is better than your own - a deep mahogany red to suit the changing of the seasons.  

Your silence earns you a quizzical look but no further comment, and mentally you kick yourself for being such an absolute loser as Yoongi turns and heads back towards his apartment, Holly still cradled in his arms.  

"And I'm sorry about last night!" you call after him like the unstoppable moron you are.  

Why would you bring that up?!  There's nothing but more awkwardness in-store by mentioning that, surely?! 

Still, deep down you feel obliged to offer some sort of apology.  After all, you expect Yoongi would have had the pleasure of having to overhear some of yours and your ex's more colourful arguments in the past.  Not to mention the fact that Remi decides to bark every time she sees a bicycle on the television screen.  

“It’s just… I had an interview this morning,” you explain as he slowly turns back around to face you again, one eyebrow slightly raised, “And I already went to bed late, so…” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way Yoongi averts his gaze and seems to shrink in on himself a little bit as he looks at Holly rather than you.  “I should apologise.  I didn’t realise how late it was.  Lose track of time when inspiration hits.”  

“Oh, that was you?” you enquire before stopping to think that maybe Yoongi might not want to share any further.  He appears to hesitate before answering, but when he does he offers you a small smile and another shrug of his shoulders along with it.  

“I’ve got a home studio,” he explains, exhaling with amusement before adding, “Not gotten around to soundproofing it yet.  Obviously.” 

So he works in the music business, huh?  You figure he must be pretty good, considering how you’ve always presumed it’s been mainstream chart stuff that you’ve been hearing through the walls in the past.  

“That’s really cool,” you grin, pleased to see him smile back, and you’re just about to open your mouth to keep the small talk going when all of a sudden Remi tugs sharply on her lead, jolting you off balance.  Flustered, you glare at her accusingly only to see her staring right back, impatient for the walk she’s been promised.  

Little madam would be tapping her paw on the floor and checking her watch if she only knew how… 

Giggling to mask your embarrassment, you make your excuses and bid Yoongi farewell, and you’re about halfway down the concrete steps to take you to the ground floor when suddenly his voice calls after you,

“How did it go?”  Looking up, you see his face peering down at you over the railings. The apples of his cheeks look even more pinchable from below; so smooth and sweet and round.  "The interview, I mean," he explains further when all you do is gawp back up at him, mouth hanging ajar.  

"Oh!" Could this really be real?  Is Yoongi - introverted, mysterious Min Yoongi -  taking an active interest in you?  Well, not you necessarily, but something to do with you, nonetheless.  "Yeah, I mean, I think it went pretty well."  He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. 

"Well, good luck with it," he says, and all of a sudden Holly's face pops over the side too, tongue lolling out.  At your feet, Remi grumbles disgruntedly.  

"Thanks," you reply, face aching with the effort it's taking for you to try not to grin too hard.  "Keeping all my fingers crossed."  Yoongi gives you one last final nod and then disappears out of sight, keys jingling as he opens his front door, and you’re left giddy in his wake.  

Realistically, you know this whole exchange was little more than every day ordinary - some might even say mundane - but it's caught you so off guard that you very nearly fall down the stairs when Remi barks you back to reality, tugging once more on her lead.  

"Oh alright, alright, alright…"

  ****

  Turns out, your gut feeling that the interview went well was right. 

Not that you’d actually found that out until much later on in the day, mind.  Thanks to all the faffing around you’d been doing with your phone prior to leaving the house, you’d managed to leave it by the front door rather than take it with you, and by the time you’d gotten home, there were three missed calls and a rather perturbed sounding voicemail waiting for you.  Still, better late than never, eh?  You were just glad your new employer hadn’t mistaken your sudden unavailability as a lack of enthusiasm; full of spluttered apologies and excuses by the time you eventually called them back.  

That was two weeks ago, now, and you’ve been pleasantly surprised as to how well things have been going so far.  Being a high-end store, the clientele are somewhat more demanding than you’ve been used to before, but the money’s good and your new colleagues have been more welcoming than you could’ve hoped.  Everything’s been coming up roses,  and whilst you’re revelling in your newfound financial security, Remi is… well, Remi’s not been taking to it quite so well.  

It was only a month or two that you were unemployed prior to starting this job, but it seems as though that was time enough for Remi to become all too accustomed to you spending all your time at home.  You’ve no idea how she is when you’re out during your shifts, but the way she sits whining at the front door whilst you get ready for work is enough to break your heart alone, and she’s so excited to see you every time you get back that it doesn’t take a genius to assume she’s been mourning your absence every moment that you’re gone.  

It makes you feel horrifically guilty, but what else can you do?  You need to work and dog sitters are a luxury you can't afford - at least not right now, anyway.   And so of course, like every individual who’s ever suffered with ‘mom guilt’, you end up over-compensating to make up for it; new toys, tastier treats, extra-long walks.  Basically, anything Remi might ever want.  

And it’s on one of these longer walks that you finally end up bumping into Yoongi and his canine companion again, meandering through the park nearest your home.  He doesn’t spot you, at first, which gives you ample opportunity to observe the fondness with which he watches Holly chasing the autumn leaves dancing along the path with each gust of wind.  You even get to hear him laugh for the very first time when Holly abandons the leaves and opts to chase his tail instead, and the whole scene is so endearing that you can’t help but stop and scrunch your nose at the two of them, grinning to yourself from where you linger further down the path.  

Does he have any idea how cute he is, you wonder?  You can’t imagine Yoongi would be the type of guy who’d appreciate hearing it, should you ever work up the courage to tell him so.  

“Hey!” you call out once you’ve mustered up the courage to finally reveal yourself, approaching them with Remi’s lead held firmly in hand.  On hearing your voice, Yoongi looks up from where he’d squatted down to give Holly a fuss, his small eyes widening infinitesimally once he realises it’s you. 

“Oh, hey,” he greets, quickly straightening up and brushing off the leaves that’d gotten caught on the front of his long, black coat.  

“How’s it going?”  You keep a close eye on Remi as you approach, and whilst she still tugs on the lead in an attempt to rush forward, you’re glad to find that this time around the two of them are somewhat calmer as to how they go about greeting each other.  There’s plenty of sniffing, still, and plenty of bouncing around, but apparently Holly is a quick learner and knows better than to come on so strong this time around.  

“Yeah, not bad.”  You can tell Yoongi’s a responsible owner by the way he closely watches Holly as the two dogs say hello, but as he glances up you can’t help but notice that there are dark circles under Yoongi’s eyes despite his profession of good health.  

Has he been staying up late again, absorbed in his music?  If he has, he must’ve had the forethought to use some headphones, as you haven’t been awoken during the night at all ever since that fateful evening a couple of weeks ago.  

“Hey, uh, how’d it turn out with that job, in the end?” Yoongi asks, and it’s stupid but you swear you feel your insides flutter with excitement at a) the fact that he remembered and b) would care enough to ask about it further on down the line.   

“Really good!” you reply as Remi sinks down into a playful stance amongst the leaves, bottom eagerly wiggling. “I got it, yeah!  Started last week.”  Yoongi smiles mildly, though it’s nowhere near the toothy grin you’d seen him bestow on Holly earlier.  What would you have to do to earn one of those, you wonder?  

“I figured you had.”  Your brows furrow in curiosity as he slips one hand into his pocket, shifting his weight.  

“Oh?  How’d you work that out?”  He glances at Remi for a second, pausing before he answers.  

“Your dog, Remi?” You nod, growing more curious with every second. “Well, she’s gotten kind of… noisy since you went back to work.”  

Oh.  Oh shit.  

Your embarrassment must show all over your face because Yoongi’s quick to continue explaining, his own expression turning into one of worry.  

“I mean, it’s no trouble.  It’s not like I’m trying to sleep or anything and my headphones cancel her barking out anyway,” he rambles as the two dogs continue to spring back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. “It’s just… I feel kind of sorry for her, is all.”  

And oh boy, if you didn’t feel guilty already about leaving her than you sure do now.  What must Yoongi think of you?  Does he think you’re being neglectful of her?  That you’re some horrible, conscienceless owner?  Oh god, what if he reports you for animal cruelty or something?  

“I didn’t… um…” Realising you’re on the verge of bursting into tears, you purse your lips and look down at Remi for a second or two, trying to remind yourself that no matter what anyone may think, you’re doing the best you can.  She’s in good health and she’s happy… most of the time.  “I didn’t realise she was getting so upset while I was gone,” you say, blinking back the tears and forcing a smile as you shrug your shoulders like it’s not so much of a big deal.  “Maybe I’ll have to look into a sitter, or… or…” 

“I didn’t mention it to try and make you feel bad,” Yoongi gently interrupts, and you can tell that he’s being genuine from the tone in which he says it.  Somehow, he doesn’t strike you as the sort to bullshit someone just to spare their feelings.  “I’ve just been thinking; maybe I can take her out with me for a walk in the afternoon?  I’ll be walking Holly anyway, so…”  

“Are you serious?!” you exclaim, your sheer volume and enthusiasm so unexpected that Yoongi actually takes an involuntary step back, his eyes widening in alarm.  Even the dogs momentarily stop their play,  heads cocked to the side as they stare up at you, bemused.  “That’d be amazing, thank you!”  Yoongi smiles, rubbing bashfully at his neck, and if it weren’t for the fact you’re unsure of how he’d respond, you’d have thrown your arms around him already while you girlishly squeal your thanks.  

“Really, it’s no big deal,” he dismisses, but it’s too late.  As far as you’re concerned you’re already indebted to him for being kind enough to merely suggest it.  

“It is to me,” you smile and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear that Yoongi’s cheeks turn a softer shade pinker as he glances down at the floor, clearing his throat.  

“You can just drop a key over whenever.  Whatever’s easier for you.”  He shrugs his shoulders, all nonchalance in spite of your beaming smile.  Below you, Holly’s happily letting Remi clean the inside of his ears, oblivious.    

“Thanks, Yoongi.”  He looks up, and this time you know you’re not imagining the awkward blush dusted along his cheekbones.  “I owe you one.”  

It isn’t until later on, long after you’ve gotten home and whilst you’re trying (ie. failing) to get to sleep, that it suddenly dawns on you that there may be one potential downside to Yoongi’s generous offer.  

Now that you’ve given Yoongi your spare key, he can just come moseying on into your apartment any time he likes.  Any sane person would surely be concerned about the potential security risk that poses, surely, but you?  Oh no, your anxieties are centred around the fact that this means that Yoongi will get to see what an absolute shit-tip your apartment is and suss you out as the grotty little goblin you are, and thereby conclude that he should never, ever, ever speak to you again, for as long as you both shall live.  

Unsurprisingly, as soon as you realise this you’re even less able to sleep than you were before and proceed to spend the next four hours tidying up all the areas in the apartment you figure Yoongi is most likely to see.   You make a pretty good job of it, too, though you start to question whether it was worth it when you have to spend the next following day at work feeling as though you’ve got some sort of fatigue-induced hangover - dry mouth and all.  

It was, though, no doubt.  Once you finally arrive home all blurry eyes and aching feet, Remi seems a lot less manic than she has these past couple weeks when she’s been left alone.  She’s still pleased to see you, of course, but it’s a happy tail wag rather than a desperate nipping at your fingers or jumping up your legs like before.  You notice that Yoongi has re-filled her water bowl, too, and the calmness he’s imbued in her seems to last throughout the whole evening.  She's so calm, in fact, that you can’t help but wonder if he might’ve slipped something into said water bowl.  

If he did, you’d sure like to know what it was… 

And so it continues throughout the weeks that follow.  You and Yoongi never actually cross paths - much to your dismay - but Remi continues to relish her daily adventures out and about the town without you.  And it’s not just Remi that benefits from your newfound arrangement, either; with the time that you’d normally use to walk her yourself now no longer needed, you’re free to indulge in the self-care rituals that’d fallen by the wayside once the past few weeks.  Bubble-baths, face masks, deep cleanses - your skin has never looked better! 

“This is the life, huh Rem?” you sigh in contentment, glancing over to where she’s currently lounging atop the closed toilet seat opposite your bathtub, keeping you company whilst you luxuriate.   She says nothing, obviously, but looks happy enough with her chin rested on the sink and eyes half-closed.  She yawns, showing off all her teeth, and it catches - your mouth opening in a great big yawn as you reach out of the tub for the glass of wine precariously perched on the side.  

So what if it’s only three in the afternoon?  This is what weekends off work are for, and if Remi’s not judging you then you’re not about to go giving yourself a hard time either.

“What do you say to a little nap after this, hm?” Glass now empty, your fingers are starting to look a little bit pruney as you place it back on the side, and you take that as a sign to say you’ve been wallowing in your own filth long enough.  It’s time to make a move.  

With a great big groan of effort, you hoist yourself up out of the water and stand up, grinning to yourself at the little headrush that comes with it - purely from the change in blood pressure, obviously. Nothing to do with your midday alcohol consumption at all.  Unfortunately, your amusement is short-lived once you realise that in your eagerness to soak you’d completely forgotten to bring your towel along.  

“Ah shit,” you huff, climbing out onto the bathmat and then wiggling yourself in an attempt to drip dry as best you can before you venture out to where you know you’ve left it hanging on the radiator out in the hall.  Remi watches your shuffle curiously but it’s not as though she hasn’t already seen it all before, and you flash her a grin before covering up what you can with one hand and opening up the door, shivering a little as the cold air hits you.  

Suddenly, Remi darts out from the bathroom from between your legs, barking like mad, and maybe it’s because the alcohol has slowed your reflexes - or maybe you’re just a little slow in general - but it isn’t until you hear the front door shut and Yoongi calling Remi’s name that the slow realisation of what’s happening hits you. 

Remi's walk.  Yoongi's come to take Remi on her walk because as far as he knows you’re working, and why on earth would you have been smart enough to have had the forethought to let him know that you’re not?!   

“Hi Rem,” you hear Yoongi say once she’s finished yapping, her aggression replaced by excited whining as she no doubt dances around his feet.  Like an idiot, you’re so blindsided by his sudden arrival that all you can do is stand frozen in the hallway - the hallway that Yoongi would be able to see directly down should he only think to move a few paces to the left.  “You ready for walkies, girl?” 

Oh god, why now?!  Why you?!  

Remi lets out a bark of excitement and then, to your horror, you realise she’s turned tail and decided to come and fetch you to join in with all the fun, the bell on her collar jangling as she runs towards you, ushering in your doom.  

“Where are you off to?  You don’t want to go out today?  That’s a shame because Holly-”  The sound of Yoongi’s voice coming closer is finally enough to kick you into gear, and it’s with a yelp of alarm that you reach out and snatch the towel off the radiator and clutch it to your chest just in time for Yoongi to round the corner and come into sight.  

His eyes widen comically when he sees you, his mouth popping open as he freezes in the doorway and you scramble to cover yourself.  You’re not sure how much he actually saw but you think he must’ve seen something , judging by his reaction.  Between you, Remi runs back and forth, joyfully oblivious.  Your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment, and given the rising blush you can see on Yoongi’s cheeks you’d guess he’s not faring much better. 

“Um… I-”  you stutter out, holding the towel in place against your chest in case Remi decides to jump up your legs and yank it down. “I-I’m not working this weekend and-”  

Shamefully, Yoongi doesn’t even give you a chance to finish explaining.  With nothing more than a rapid series of blinks and a stiff nod, he turns around on the spot and walks out of your apartment faster than you’ve ever seen him move before, and though you and Remi rush aimlessly after him, he’s too quick to catch.  He doesn’t even shut the door after himself properly, so eager is he to escape.  

“Poor guy must've gone to pour bleach in his eyes," you sigh whilst Remi stares forlornly at the door as you press it shut, her tail hanging sadly between her legs.  You can only hope you haven’t scarred him for life and ruined your arrangement, and you tell yourself that it’s for Remi’s sake but really, you’re not sure your ego could handle it if it turned out Yoongi had taken one look at you naked and decided never to speak to you again.  

You run your fingers through the wet mass of tangles that is your hair, sighing once more as you head towards the kitchen, uncaring that you’re likely dripping bathwater all over the floor.  

“I think it’s time for another drink, Rem, don’t you?”  

  Remi doesn’t get walked that afternoon, much to her displeasure, and the reasons for that are twofold.  One - after having chugged down another two large glasses of wine in hopes of erasing your short-term memory, you were hardly in any fit state to pry yourself up off the sofa let alone walk around the block.    And two - even if you could walk, you would’ve still had to muster up the courage to step outside your front door.  Bumping into Yoongi and having him run away from you twice in one day was far too distressing a prospect for you to even consider attempting to move. 

Instead, you’d spent the rest of the afternoon lying about on the sofa, wallowing in your own self-pity until you’d fallen asleep in nothing but your towel, drooling all over the cushions.  It’d seemed like a good idea at the time, but the you of this morning is full of remorse having woken up with the back of her hair sticking out like a bird’s backside, a headache, and a craving for fried food that just won’t subside.  

It doesn’t help that Remi’s bouncing off the walls, either, and eventually you come to the conclusion that there’s really no way you can avoid taking her out for any longer.  You’re just going to have to pull on your big girl pants and if you see him, well… then you’ll just have to cross that bridge when it comes to it.  You’re both adults.  This shouldn’t be this big of a deal.  

But oh god it totally is because he’s so cute and what if he thinks you looked gross and oh god, oh god, oh god! 

But it’s fine.  Of course it’s fine, because you tell yourself it’ll be fine, and you didn’t bump into him for months at a time after you’d first moved in so why should it happen again now?  

Thankfully, fate appears to be on your side (or taking pity on you, at least).  You make it out of your building without seeing neither hide nor hair of your unwitting flashee - if that’s even a word - and despite having forgotten your purse, you still manage to find some change in the depths of your pockets for a snack from the food cart just outside the park.  

You munch it happily as Remi leads the way, darting from one side of the sunshine dappled pavement to the other to pee on everything she can find, and you’re just thinking about what a good call it was to get out of the house for a little while when you suddenly hear a familiar voice calling an all-too-familiar name and your stomach drops with dread.

Oh, fate can go fuck herself.  Fickle bitch. 

You come to an abrupt stop, eyes drawn to where your next-door neighbour is currently frolicking through the small field a little further down the path, just to your right.  

Frolicking is probably the wrong word, really, but you’re not sure what to call the gangly waving of arms and legs you can see going on past the small group of trees that’s concealing you from sight.  Holly’s off lead, you can tell that much, and Yoongi seems like he's having fun chasing after him, letting out some strange, high-pitched laugh when he almost trips over that has you guffawing in turn - a sound you quickly smother with the napkin you hadn’t yet thought to throw away.  

Yoongi drops to his knees amongst the grass and Holly is quick to take advantage, climbing up onto his owner’s lap to lick Yoongi’s face.  He groans and he grimaces, but you can still see him smiling as he wipes away the offending slobber, and you’re just about to start swooning at the way he’s lovingly fussing Holly’s ears when Remi startles you out of your reverie with a purposeful tug on her lead. 

Just like you, she’s spotted the object of your affections and is now desperate to make her way over, whining and pacing restlessly to and fro.  

“Rem, shh!” you hush when she lets out a bark of objection at your attempt to pull her back from the treeline.  As much as you enjoy seeing Yoongi you don’t actually want to see him right now, and if Remi keeps going the way she is you won’t end up with much of a choice in the matter.  

“Again, Hol?!  Really?!” Glancing over, you see Yoongi’s expression turn to one of distaste as Holly dips into a squat right in front of him, not a shred of thought spared for dignity.  You figure this is the best time to hurry on past while he’s suitably distracted but Remi doesn’t make it easy, pulling backwards as you try to walk on and then planting her bottom firmly on the ground once she realises brute strength is getting her very far.  

“I can just pick you up, you know,” you threaten, narrowing your eyes at her, but just as you’re stalking forward about to carry out the said threat, you’re distracted by the sight of Yoongi rummaging through his pockets, lips moving as though he’s grumbling to himself.  

You’ve seen that dance before; it’s one you know well, given how forgetful you can be.  He’s either forgotten his poo bags or run out of them altogether, and now you’re faced with the moral dilemma of knowing you have a brand new roll stashed away in your pocket.   As if sensing your hesitation, Remi stares at you as you squat down to her level, hands outstretched.    

‘Really?’ her eyes say, ‘Are you really going to just let him leave it there?  What if someone steps in it?  Think of the children -'

“Oh fine!” you huff, standing up straight and marching out onto the grass before you lose your nerve, Remi trotting along happily at your side.  

Must you really be so god damn conscientious all the time?  You swear it causes you nothing but trouble.

Before Yoongi’s even realised you’re there, you’re grabbing the roll from your pocket and thrusting it into his line of sight. 

“Here,” you offer as he startles, glancing from you down to Remi in momentary bewilderment.  You hadn’t meant to sound so gruff but unless you’d forced the word out you probably wouldn’t have been able to say anything at all, so you plaster a nervous smile onto your face in time for when he looks at you again, willing your posture to relax.   

“Uh, thanks,” he says he takes them from your palm and pulls one off, quickly putting it to good use.  Rather than stand there staring you turn your attention to Remi, mortified to see she’s taken a break from dancing back and forth with Holly in favour of sitting and licking her genitals in the most unladylike fashion.   

“Why don’t you go have a run with Holly and just… not do that,” you mumble as you bend to unclip the lead from her harness, granting her freedom.  She takes you up on your offer immediately, and the moment she’s loose the two of them go bounding off across the field as fast as they can go, Holly’s ears flapping in the wind.   You let out a laugh as Remi manages to dodge and weave around the slightly smaller dog, never quite letting him catch her but keeping close enough to maintain his interest. 

If only you were so skilled at the whole ‘treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’ thing… 

“She’s really fast,” Yoongi comments, and as soon as he speaks it’s as though all the awkwardness comes flooding back for the both of you.  He can’t even seem to look you in the eye. “For a little dog.”  

“Yeah,” you chuckle back in the direction of your shoes, “She’s always acted like she’s twice her size.  Too big for her boots.”  

The two of you lapse into silence, Yoongi’s hands shuffling in his pockets whilst yours mess with your sleeves.  If only you could be so carefree as your canine companions who’ve now ceased their running and are circling around one another instead, sniffing each other out.  They’re having a great time, whereas the silence between you is quickly beginning to feel stifling, and you soon come to the conclusion that awkward or not, leaving things unaddressed like this is doing no good.  You’re just going to have to say something, even if it’s just to apologise and- 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi suddenly blurts out just as you were opening your mouth to do the same.  Your eyes meet and then quickly dart away again, cheeks flushed with heat.  “I didn’t mean to walk in- I mean, I didn’t realise you were home.”  

“That’s ok,” you rush to excuse, “It was my fault, I should’ve let you know I wasn’t working.”  You brave a look at him, smiling sheepishly.  “Sorry if I… gave you a shock.”  Yoongi shakes his head, a small smile on his face as he waves his hand dismissively.  

“I’ve seen worse, believe me,” he chortles, and then as if suddenly realising what it is he’s just said his eyes ping open wide and his face fills with colour.  “Sorry, that sounded bad, I-” He stops talking when he notices you’ve startled giggling at his expense, your shoulders shaking with mirth.  What he said wasn’t even that funny - hell, some might even be insulted - but he just looks so adorable when he gets all flustered that you just can’t help yourself.  It’s either laugh or start cooing and pinching his cheeks, and you doubt he’d appreciate the latter.  Soon enough, he’s chuckling along too - albeit rubbing at the flush on his neck as he does so.  

“Is it just me or have you noticed how all of our conversations seem to end up with one us apologising?” you observe once you’ve managed to stifle your giggling, happy with how much lighter the mood feels now that you’ve aired everything out.  

“I hadn’t until you just pointed it out,” Yoongi admits, absently swinging the hand in which he’s holding Holly’s lead as he looks out across the field towards the two of them.  His profile is so pretty; such a sharp jaw for such rounded cheeks to sit on.  “I must make an effort to be more interesting.”  

“You’re already plenty interesting.”  The words are out of your mouth before they’ve even taken form in your head, and you instantly wish you could catch them and stuff them back in as Yoongi’s eyebrows rise, his head turning to look back your way.  “I mean… what I meant was-” you stammer as the smallest of smiles tugs at his delicate lips, and though you love to see it you can’t bear to look him right now, too busy wishing the ground would just swallow you up and-

“Shit!”  You sharply look up, just in time to see Yoongi take off running at full speed, and your heart starts pounding for a completely different reason as you look ahead to where he’s headed and realise what it is that has him moving so fast. 

Where the two dogs had been so happily sniffing around one another just a moment ago, Remi now seems to be in some sort of distress.  You immediately assume they’re fighting given how loud she’s whining, but as you take in the sight of Holly mounting her rear end you very quickly come to realise it’s the very opposite of fighting that’s the problem and start running after Yoongi, shouting in a futile attempt to discourage the two.  

You hadn’t even realised Remi was in heat, for Christ’s sake!  No wonder she was so keen on saying hello to Holly, today of all days!  

As luck would have it, Yoongi reaches them two just in time to intervene.  His owner’s arm-waving and shouting startles Holly so much that he dismounts without Yoongi even having to touch him, and whilst their owners are left out of breath and harrowed to the core, the two dogs go on about their business like nothing’s happened at all.  

“I’m sorry,” you gush, hands shaking you’re so flustered, “I didn’t realise she was in season.”  

There you go apologising again… 

You quickly go about putting Remi back on the lead as Yoongi does the same, and she’s all innocent eyes as she gazes up at you wondering what all the fuss is about.  

“It should be ok, I think.”  With Holly firmly back in hand, Yoongi takes a moment to straighten out his beanie that’d come all askew.  “They didn’t… uh…” 

“Yeah, no, I know what you mean,” you interject rather than have him saying it out loud.  They didn’t get stuck together is what he was probably trying to say, and really you’d rather not have a conversation about knotting right now.  You’ve had more than enough embarrassment for one day, thank you very much.  

“I think I should get this one home before we have any more near-accidents,” Yoongi muses, frowning as he looks down at Holly who’s still clearly expressing an interest, nose twitching in Remi’s direction.  

“Sure,” you agree, “And maybe we should hold off on the joint walks for a week or so?” You hate to suggest it because you know Remi’s going to be absolutely miserable without them, and you’re sure Yoongi would keep a close eye on them from now on, but it’s just not worth the risk.  “Just until her heat is over, anyway.”  

“Yeah, probably best.”  You expect that to be it, then, but much to your surprise Yoongi suddenly breaches the gap between you and bends in front of Remi, scratching her under the chin just as you know she likes.  “See you soon girl, ok?” he promises, and you swear you feel your knees weaken slightly at the way he says it in that low, dulcet tone of his.  And if they didn’t then, then they most definitely do when he looks up at you and smiles, the sunlight catching his eyes.  

“Yeah, see you later.” Starstruck, you answer somewhat robotically as he stands back to normal height with that same small smile still playing on his lips.  

“Later,” he says, making himself scarce before anything else has a chance to go wrong.  

You take a moment just to close your eyes; to collect yourself and calm your heart.  Remi's innocent little face is awaiting you once they open again, gazing up at you as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and you can't help but soften as you bend down and run your fingers through her fur, sighing. 

"I know he's cute, Rem," you say, and part of you wonders whether it's Holly or Yoongi that you're talking about; Remi or yourself that you're talking to. "But you can't just go giving up the goods like that!"  She ever so sweetly licks your fingers - as if in penance - and you can’t help but wonder to yourself whether either of you is even really listening.  

At least she has the excuse of not being able to understand a word; you’re not sure what excuse your subconscious has for the numerous dreams it inflicts on you in the nights that follow.  Dreams of dark eyes, deep voices and long, wandering fingers that seem to linger on your skin even into wakefulness.  It doesn’t seem fair that whilst your sightings of the ‘real life’ Yoongi remain as sporadic and elusive as ever, you’re being haunted by his ever-so-alluring dream counterpart.  

It’s a stupid crush, really.  You know it is.  Your attraction to him is based on little more than his looks and the few short (and embarrassing) interactions you’ve had with the guy, and no-one is worth the realisation that you’re starting to resent your dog for all the time she gets to spend prancing around the park with him that you don’t. That's a new low, even for you.  

You’re just going to have to get over it, and as a couple of weeks go by with no further interaction between the two of you aside from the odd little post-it note left on your kitchen countertop once Remi's daily walks recommence, it gets a little easier to distract yourself from dwelling on the butterflies your next-door neighbour had been making you feel.  

Besides, if Yoongi was interested in pursuing something more than being your acquaintance surely he would’ve done it by now?  There’s no need for you to go messing up an arrangement that’s already working so well by getting feelings involved, especially if they’re not mutual.  Remi would kill you.  Or worse, Yoongi might start to think of charging you for his services rather than walking her out of the goodness of his heart.  Your new job may be going well, but that’s still not an option you’re in the position to afford.  

You feel as though you should do something for him, though.  You get the feeling Yoongi probably isn’t the type to appreciate a thank you card, and you’re not a good enough baker to go whipping up a batch of cookies or something else of the like.  Maybe you could splash out on a new piece of recording equipment the next time you get paid?  Hmm, but then that would require actually asking him what he wants, and no doubt it’ll be pricey if he’s using professional kit… Maybe you should just- 

“Oh, no, no, Remi, not there!  No!”  Panicked, you quickly pick Remi up off the sofa and rush her into the kitchen.  She continues retching even whilst in your arms and doesn’t stop until she’s finally thrown up this morning’s breakfast all over your laminate floor, uncaring of your whines of protest or the wrinkling of your nose.  

“See this is why-”  You groan with effort as you have to pick her up and move her out of the way to keep her from licking it all back up again.  You swear to god she’s getting heavier.  “-This is why you shouldn’t wolf everything down so fast!”  

Not that she’s ever had any issues with eating so quickly in the past.  Remi’s always gobbled down her food but it’s only the last day or two that she’s started bringing it back up again, and maybe it’d worry you if she seemed unwell in any other way, but she’s acting perfectly fine.  A little needier, perhaps, but you figure that’s just down to her missing her new playmate; she certainly isn’t shy about whining and pining after him whenever she can hear Holly next door.  

You’d even knocked on Yoongi’s door to check with him whether he thought Remi had seemed out of sorts at all, but he’d said he hadn’t noticed anything obvious either.  She’s not eating anything that she shouldn’t be and you haven’t changed her brand of food.  Sure, she might be eating a little bit extra of it lately but it can’t just be that, surely?  

Every sane person knows you shouldn’t google symptoms, but after you’ve cleaned up Remi’s mess and settled back down on the sofa, that's exactly what you find yourself doing.  With her curled up at your side, you scare yourself to death reading through all the horrible things that may or may not be the cause.  Parasites, liver failure, gastrointestinal blockages - none of them quite make sense because she’s perfectly fine - but as you continue to scroll there one possible explanation that catches your eye. 

Pregnancy.  

And suddenly it all clicks into place; Remi’s increased appetite, her cuddliness, the vomiting.  She’s pregnant!  

You twist in your seat, staring down at her peacefully sleeping form with wide eyes and a furiously beating heart, unable to comprehend that this might be true.  Your gaze strays to her stomach as though it might suddenly appear swollen now that the secret is out, but with all her long fur as covering she looks as normal as ever, leg twitching as she dreams.   

How can she be pregnant?!  You warned her about this - about giving away the goods too fast - and now look what’s happened!   Holly didn’t… they didn’t even…!  

Remi lets out a yelp of surprise as you suddenly scoop her up off the sofa and rush to your front door, in such a hurry that you don’t even bother to shut it after you as you storm down the hall.  Calling Yoongi’s name, you bang your clenched fist against his door with little care for how hysterical you might sound.  

Hell, you are hysterical!   What the bloody hell are you supposed to do with a litter of puppies?!  Your apartment is barely big enough for you and Remi, nevermind however many offspring she may be carrying!  

Yoongi’s bleary-eyed once he finally comes to the door, sleepiness adding to the bewilderment with which he squints at the sight of you red-faced and near hyperventilating.  It’s shameful that even as worked up as you are that your gaze still strays, unable to resist the lure of checking Yoongi out in his baggy tee and basketball shorts.  How is it that even his knobbly knees are so cute?!  

“Hey,” he greets, trying and failing to stifle a yawn that gives you an ever so lovely view of his tonsils.  He must’ve been up late working, and for just a moment you almost feel guilty for waking him up until Holly suddenly comes running to the front door as well.  Catching sight of Remi in your arms, he immediately starts to jump up your legs to try and reach her despite the death glare he’s greeted with. “What’s up?”  

“She’s pregnant,” you blurt out, thrusting Remi forward before placing her down on the floor so she and Holly can greet one another.  You can’t see the harm, after all.  It’s not as if he can go knocking her up again .   Yoongi’s brow furrows, head tilting as he sluggishly blinks, struggling to process this new information.  

“Sorry?”  

“Remi, she’s pregnant,” you state again, folding your arms across your chest as the words suddenly sink in and Yoongi's gaze plummets to the dogs at his feet.  “Holly knocked her up.”  For a moment, Yoongi says nothing.  All he does is stand there, rubbing the back of his neck as Remi affectionately nips and nuzzles at Holly, tugging on his ears.  

Finally, he looks up, eyebrows furrowed even deeper now.  

“How do you know it was Holly?”  Is he serious ?!  “I mean, you never know.  When they’re in heat they-” 

“Are you calling my dog a slut?!” you shriek, stepping forward so both Yoongi and the dogs are forced to move to accommodate your wrath.  He flinches, stepping back as the dogs scamper off somewhere further into the apartment.  “You were there!  We both saw them-”  Your arms flap as you search for the word, so outraged your face feels as though it’s on fire from all the red-hot blood rushing through your veins.  “- Canoodling !”  

If Yoongi weren’t so cute, you swear to god you’d kick him in the shins for the way the corners of his lips twitch at your choice of words.  

“Ok, alright,” he relents, cleverly deducing that trying to reason with you right now would be a fool’s game.  He glances over at the dogs, now cuddled up together in one of his armchairs.  “Just… how about we hold off on the meltdown until after we’re sure?”  Your eyes narrow despite knowing he’s right, unwilling to admit that just yet.  

There’s always the possibility you could be wrong.  The website you were looking at had so many different potential causes for her symptoms that it wouldn’t be impossible for it to be something else.  It might even turn out to be nothing at all.  

“I guess,” you admit after a moment has passed, unfolding your arms and letting them fall to your sides as you will your shoulders to relax.  

“The vet can do a scan, right?” Yoongi suggests, “Then we can figure out what to do if…” He glances at them again, drawing your eyes their way.  You have to admit they do make a very sweet looking couple, all curled up together like that.  “... if she is.”  

You bite your lip at the thought of the potential cost - you’ve got no idea how much it might cost or even when the right time to book it would be.  As if reading your mind, Yoongi speaks up again, rubbing at his neck once again. 

“I don’t mind splitting the cost if you want,” he offers, though he sounds a little awkward.  “You’re probably right about it being Holly…”  ‘Probably’ is a bit of an understatement, you think, but you’re not about to argue the semantics.  If you’re honest, you’re just feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of this; by the situation in itself and how level-headed and kind Yoongi has been to step up on Holly’s behalf so quickly.  

“They are a bit smitten with each other, aren’t they?” you smile, feeling a little calmer.  This could be a lot worse, you suppose.  The father could’ve just been some random dog in the park and you’d have been left facing this all alone.  

“Just a little,” he agrees, hands rested on his hips, and you swear the smile that blossoms on his face as he looks over at them is the sweetest one you’ve ever seen - your heart fluttering despite the promise you made yourself to get over this little crush.  

They’re not the only ones at risk of getting smitten, you think. 

“Anyway.”  You clear your throat in a futile attempt to get a hold of yourself. “Sorry for just barging round.  We’ll get going and let you get some more sleep.”  You call Remi’s name and she sleepily raises her head, refusing to move until you call her twice more, clapping your hands.  

“No worries. It’s about time I got up,” he says. “And what happened to us not saying sorry all the time, hm?”  Yoongi smiles crookedly, folding his arms, and god, it’s only the slightest bit of friendly teasing, so why is your heart racing so fast? 

“Whoops,” you giggle, acutely aware of the blush that’s warming your cheeks as you scoop Remi up in your arms. “I’ll try to do better.”  

“Then I'll expect your best,” Yoongi grins as he escorts you back to the door, and you swear to god you’re about to spontaneously combust any second.

“I’ll let you know about the scan, ok?”  He nods, returning your little wave as you say goodbye and then shutting the door before Holly has the chance to escape out into the hall after you.  You pause on the doorstep, willing your heart to calm down.  

“Oh you’re one to talk,” you hiss back at Remi when you notice her stare, wide-eyed and unblinking. The two of you wouldn’t be in this mess if she could’ve just kept it in her pants.  “You better hope I’m wrong about this, missus.”  

  You’re not, though.  The ultrasound scan that you attend the following week confirms your suspicions; Remi’s pregnant, about four weeks gone, and though the vet couldn’t be sure, she’d estimated her to be carrying at least three puppies.  She sends you away with her congratulations and an armful of literature - essentially the doggy equivalent of ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’ - and you spend the next hour after you leave the vets wandering the pet store aisles in some kind of daze, desperately trying to figure out which food you should buy.   

“Do you have any idea-” Yoongi looks surprised to see you when he opens the front door - Remi’s lead in one hand and a deluxe bag of dog food tucked under the other. “-How many different varieties of grain-free puppy food there are, Yoongi?”  He blinks, unsure, so you answer for him.  “Twelve.”  You can feel the bag starting to slip but you’re lacking the motivation to stop it, too overwhelmed from the morning you’ve had to want to fight anymore.  “Twelve. And not one single store assistant could tell me what the hell difference there is between any of them.”  The bag finally falls but luckily Yoongi’s right there to catch it, a furrow of concern creasing his brow.  “And it’s not even for the puppies.”  

“You… look like you could use a coffee,” Yoongi observes, stepping back from his doorway as he holds the bag against his chest.  

“Yes, thank you,” you sigh, stepping inside and bending down to let Remi off her lead as Yoongi puts the bag down by the front door and closes it.  

“So she’s definitely pregnant, then?” he asks as he reaches down to fuss Remi when she over bounds his way, tail wagging.  Holly follows quickly after but it’s not Yoongi he’s interested in - he’s too busy sniffing and licking at the bag of food.  

“Yep.  Triplets, apparently.  Or more, if we’re really lucky.”  Yoongi chuckles softly at the sarcasm in your tone, a faint smile on his face as he rounds the kitchen island and pulls out a stool on which you promptly sit, resting your elbows on the counter.

You hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate the decor the last time you got a glimpse inside Yoongi’s apartment, but now that you’ve got a minute you can’t help but notice how nicely put together the place is.  Yes, there’s some dirty dishware in the kitchen sink, and yes, his apartment is pretty much the same as yours in layout - just the other way around - but the warm, earthy tones of the place make it feel… cosier somehow.  More homely than the stark white walls and metallic countertops your ex-boyfriend had insisted you install back at your place.  

The smell of freshly brewed coffee grabs your attention, and you watch quietly as he pours you each a cup from a fancy looking cafetiere.  He’s surprisingly delicate in the way he moves - his long fingers deft and precise.  

“Milk?  Sugar?”  

“Yes.  And two please,” you mumble, still wallowing in your perceived misfortune.  At least you’ve got a nice view; Yoongi’s looking especially cute today in ripped jeans and a sweater that looks far too large, sleeves dangling as he reaches into the fridge.  

He takes his coffee with just the slightest touch of milk.  No sugar.  

“It’s not the end of the world,” he says eventually, breaking what would have been silence if it weren’t for the sounds of Remi and Holly play-fighting in the living room.  You swallow the sip of coffee you’d just taken - infinitely more flavorful than the cheap instant stuff you use at home. 

“I know,” you relent with a sigh.  You just hate feeling so out of your depth!  Usually, you research to death any kind of life choice you’re about to make - weighing out the pros and cons, thinking of any possible eventuality and most likely talking yourself out of it in the meantime - but you know nothing about dog breeding or raising puppies.  You’d never forgive yourself if you inadvertently did something wrong and Remi ended up getting sick or one of the puppies got hurt or- 

“My brother’s dog had puppies a couple years back, I can give him a call,” Yoongi says, as calm and level-headed as ever, “We go halves on everything and then split the profits afterwards.”  

“You think we should sell them?”  

“Well I hadn’t really planned on getting another dog anytime soon.”  His lips curve into a smile against the edge of his cup and you can’t help but smile in return, sighing again.  

“You think people will want them?” you ask after taking another sip and Yoongi puts down his cup to reach into his pocket, pulling out his phone.  

“I did a little research,” he says, rounding the counter to come and stand next to you, thumb tapping away at the screen.   Standing this close you’re able to smell his cologne; a soft yet masculine scent.  Does he realise how close he is, you wonder?  Or rather, does he have any idea how he’s got every single one of your nerve endings on high alert?    “Look,” he instructs, turning his phone your way to show you a picture of one of the most adorable little dogs you've ever seen.  It's got Remi's pointed little nose and brilliant white fur, but being half poodle that fur is slightly curly rather than straight, and unlike Remi's pointed ears, this dog's are long and floppy just like Holly's.

In short, it's frickin adorable.  

"Oh my god!" you squeal before you can help yourself, stealing the phone from Yoongi's grasp to get an even closer look. You keep scrolling through Google images and you swear each puppy is even cuter than the last, knees bouncing under the counter as your thumb relentlessly swipes.  

You totally miss the fondness with which Yoongi observes your excitement.  He's usually rather possessive over his tech, but you're just so enthusiastic he can't bring himself to cut your 'ooh-ing' and 'aww-ing' short - especially given how miserable you looked when you first arrived.  "They're so adorable, oh my gosh."

"I don't think we'll have any trouble finding buyers if they come out looking like that," he says, slipping his phone back into his pocket once you coyly handed it back, careful to avoid the brushing of your fingers. 

"No, you're probably right." If anything, you'll probably have trouble giving them up yourself!  Yoongi returns safely to the other side of the counter, smiling softly as he picks up his cup in both hands and takes another sip.  

"We'll figure it out," he assures you, and somehow, despite all your anxieties and doubts, there's something about Yoongi's voice that makes you put all your faith in him.  

Mind now at rest, the two of you chat whilst you finish your coffees, not just about the dogs but other things as well; his impressive home entertainment system, your plans for Christmas and various theories about the strange Mr Jung who lives alone on the floor below and yet can be heard shouting all hours of the day.  

It feels so easy to talk to him.  Familiar, almost.  Like you and Yoongi knew each other in a past life and have somehow found one another again.  

Or maybe you're just a hopeless romantic who's reading way too much into things but hey, you're not hurting anyone.  Just yourself, maybe, and you can live with that.  

"Thanks for the coffee," you smile as the conversation reaches a natural lull.  You're reluctant to leave but you'd rather not risk overstaying your welcome and turn what has been a lovely interaction sour.  

"Any time," Yoongi smiles in return.  This time you don't manage to avoid the brushing of your fingers as you hand your coffee cup back, and as your fingertips touch you end up pressing your thighs together under the counter from the thrill that runs through you.  Thank god he doesn't see it, lest Yoongi realises just how sexually deprived you've been since you and your ex broke up.  

Better leave now whilst you still have some semblance of self-control left. 

"Ok Rem, time to head on home," you call, slipping off the stool.  You pause, expecting to hear the jingling of the bell on her collar as she trots her way over to you, but nothing comes. "Remi?" You make your way into the living room only to find her curled up with Holly in that same spot on the sofa as last time, and if she heard you then she's certainly not acting as though she did.  "Rem, c'mon, gotta go."  Lazily, they lift their heads in perfect unison and yet Remi remains unmoving, yawning and stretching as Holly rolls onto his back.  

Glancing behind you, you ensure Yoongi is well out of earshot before squatting down so that you and Remi are eye to eye.  

"Look, I don't want to go either, but we don't want to overstay our welcome now, do we?" you whisper quietly, giving her fair warning before you slip your hands under her fuzzy little body and lift her from the seat. 

"Don't be sad." You almost jump out of your skin when you suddenly hear Yoongi right behind you, very nearly dropping Remi in your haste to turn around.  Apparently, Yoongi isn't a great believer in personal space (or else is oblivious to it) because he's close enough that he doesn't have to move an inch in order to reach out and stroke her fur, smiling. "We'll see each other soon," he reassures, looking up at you before adding, "Won't we?" 

"Yeah, definitely," you confirm, nodding like an idiot, and as though she understands Remi gives a little low rumble of contentment as she leans her head back against your chest, exposing her chin for scratches that Yoongi can't resist supplying.  

"I'll come fetch her for her walk tomorrow as normal." Yoongi pauses as he withdraws his affection, scratching behind his ear and keeping his eyes on Remi as he asks, "You are working tomorrow, aren't you?" 

Instantly, your cheeks flush with heat as you realise his intention for asking. "Y-yeah." God forbid he almost walk in on you semi-nude all over again… "Thanks." 

"No problem," he smiles, meeting your gaze.  You shyly return his smile, unable to think of anything more to say as he sees you to the door except to wish him goodbye, blushing once more when he quietly utters it back along with your name. 

It should be criminal for someone so good looking to have a voice so sexy.  How's a girl supposed to stand a chance?  Even when you're no longer in his presence, you can't stop thinking about him; his calm demeanour, his subtle smiles, the warmth he exudes around both Remi and Holly.  If he were just attractive that would be one thing, but now you're getting to know him more, little by little… boy, you're in trouble. 

And Remi doesn't seem to be faring much better, either.  Every small noise from next door that could possibly be her four-legged love has her pacing and whining, so eager to go to see him that every time you come home you have to be careful she doesn't dart out into the hallway between your legs and go scratching at Yoongi's door.  

Apparently, Remi's not concerned with the notion of looking desperate, which is why one evening when you come home and you're met with nothing more than silence and an empty apartment, you're more than just a little worried.  

Has she climbed her way out onto the balcony?  Shimmied across the window ledges mission impossible style in a desperate attempt to reach Holly next door?  

Unlikely, but you follow your gut instinct anyway and head over to Yoongi's as calmly as you can.  You take a deep, steadying breath as you knock on his door, trying to keep the rising sense of panic at bay.  You've already had a not so great day at work - too many customers with not enough manners.  The last thing you need now is a missing dog to add to the list.  

"Have you seen Remi?" you blurt out as soon as the door starts to open, frowning from the headache throbbing at the back of your skull.  "I just got home and she's not there and-" 

Yoongi's mouth opens but he has the chance to speak, the sound of Remi's bell does all the talking for him, jingling loudly as she comes running towards the door.  

"Hey you!" Your knees click as you bend down to fuss her, one hand on the hem of your skirt to make sure it doesn't ride up too far. "You scared me!"  Remorseless, Remi flops onto her side and cocks her leg up in invitation for you to stroke her stomach.  It's slowly starting to expand underneath all the fuzz, and despite your recent panic you still can't help but smile to feel it.  

"Sorry, should've left a note." Behind you, you hear the front door click shut.  Remi quickly has her fill of tummy rubs, and as she runs away back to Holly, you stand up straight and turn to Yoongi, endeared by the uneasy expression on his face and the awkwardness with which he shoves his hands into his pockets. "I keep hearing her whining after I've dropped her off, so I figured it wouldn't hurt for her to just stay a while longer 'till you get home." 

God, there he goes again being an absolute sweetheart. 

"Shouldn't have just assumed," he apologises but you're quick to wave it off, smiling.  

"Not at all.  Just glad she's safe." Yoongi smiles, hands coming out of his pockets, and as he walks on past you into the kitchen you're suddenly hit with the smell of cooking; onions and garlic and a sweet-smelling sauce.  

"You hungry?" he asks as he approaches the stove.  

You can't resist the opportunity to take a really good look at him whilst his back is turned; the epitome of effortless style in his open plaid shirt and skinny jeans.  He's barefoot, you realise, and you're not sure why you find that so attractive but you're not about to go analysing it now. Not when he's turned to look at you so expectantly - almost like you've completely missed something he's just said in favour of ogling how nicely the pockets of his jeans frame each of his perfect little butt cheeks.  

"Sorry?" you ask stupidly.  

"I always make too much," he says, mercifully turning back to his frying pan quick enough that he might have missed the blush on your cheeks. "Plenty to go around.  If you want." 

Wait.  Is Yoongi… Asking you to stay for dinner?  And do your eyes deceive you, or is the back of his neck turning a delightful shade of pink as he waits for you to answer?  

No.  No, that'd just be ridiculous.  You're just leaping to conclusions - presumptuous and delusional - but then… why are there already two place settings laid out on his small dining table?  Why is there an extra wine glass standing empty on the counter next to the one that's only half full?  

Did he… plan this out?  Hell, if he did, you're not about to go looking a gift horse in the mouth.  Fighting back a nervous smile, you remove your cardigan and hang it over the back of one of his bar stools as casually as you can. 

"Sure," you agree, untucking your blouse from your skirt before sliding onto the same stool to watch Yoongi plate up. "Smells a lot better than anything I could cook up." Would it be too much to go unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your blouse too?  Show a little skin?  

You're reaching to do just that when suddenly Yoongi turns around with his frying pan in hand and you promptly chicken out, clearing your throat.  From behind you, Holly and Remi come running into the room, and Yoongi gets distracted when your little lady starts pawing at his leg, vying for attention.  

"You want another treat, huh?" With his free hand, he plucks a little brown ball off of a baking tray by the sink and promptly throws it up in the air for Remi to catch, and as soon as it's within her jaws she lies down and merrily begins to chomp, crunching and munching away.  

"What's that?" you enquire as Yoongi recommences dishing up, spooning a chicken and vegetable something or other onto a bed of rice.  It's a good job you're not a fussy eater or else you might be slightly alarmed that he hasn't even told you what you're having…"The treat, I mean."  He looks up from sliding his frying pan into soapy water already waiting in the sink, glancing down at Remi.  

"Just some recipe I found online," he explains, casual as ever.  He brings over the wine glass you'd noticed earlier and offers to fill it with a tilt of the bottle, doing so when you nod.  "She needs the extra calories."

"You made them yourself?" you ask, incredulous that Yoongi would go so far and be so considerate as to go searching for homemade doggie treats.  He nods somewhat bashfully, avoiding your gaze as he carries both your plates over to the table and takes a seat. "You're unbelievable," you laugh before you can help yourself, wine glass cradled in both hands as you join him at the table.  

Perhaps it might be best not to drink too much of said wine.  Seems your tongue is loose enough already without adding extra lubrication.  

“I just mean-” You hasten to explain your brazen compliment, not missing the way Yoongi’s eyebrows lift in surprise when you reach for chopsticks rather than the knife and fork he’d placed beside your plate. “- My ex couldn’t even be bothered to learn how to use the washing machine, nevermind bake little organic dog treats in his spare time.”

Glancing over at Remi, you see her standing on her hind legs against the kitchen cupboards in desperate hope for more, and damn, now you’ve gotten a taste of Yoongi’s cooking you can totally understand why! 

“Oh my god ,” you groan around your mouthful, chopsticks clicking frantically as you gather up the next, completely distracted from whatever the hell it was you were just saying.  

“It wasn’t all organic,” you hear Yoongi mumble, cheeks pink as he takes a sip of his wine.  Is that just a little alcohol-induced flush you spy?  Or is he secretly flattered?  “Just the peanut butter.”  You smile, chewing ceaselessly as Yoongi deposits one very large mouthful into his not-nearly-so-small-as-it-looks mouth.  He fills his cheeks so full that for a few glorious seconds he resembles some kind of adorable human/hamster hybrid; so cute you just want to reach out and- 

"Always had your ex pegged as kind of an asshole, to be honest," Yoongi admits, eyes focused on his plate, and it's not so much the talking with his mouth full that has you nearly choking on your food - it's the bluntness with which he does it.  He looks up as you splutter, reaching for your wine. "No offence." He looks mildly alarmed as you cough once more. "It's just I used to hear him all the time through the walls, shouting his mouth off." 

"None taken," you wheeze, taking a sip of wine to clear the tickle that's left in your throat.  Your eyes are watering and no doubt your face is red, but that's the least of your worries right now, mortified to imagine just how many arguments Yoongi must've overheard during all the time that douchebag was part of your life.  

"Sorry if I'm overstepping the mark…" You shake your head quickly, waving off his concerns as Remi and Holly come trotting over as though to check on you.  Not that you're so naive as to really believe that - no doubt they're here to scavenge scraps off of the table rather than to ensure your wellbeing.  

"Not at all," you chuckle, "Asshole is probably putting it lightly.  Never really have had the best taste in men." Yoongi exhales a breathy laugh, smiling wryly.  

"Gotta kiss a few frogs to find the Prince, right?" You end up smiling even harder at that, snorting into your wine.   A few is probably an understatement, but that's not information Yoongi needs to know.  

"Sure he'll turn up one day," you muse, sounding ever so slightly wistful.  Your eyes meet Yoongi's from across the table and a beat passes, no words said as the two of you look at one another.  You don't dare move - even breathe - lest you risk breaking… whatever this moment between you may be. 

Unexpectedly, you feel soft fur against the bare skin of your leg and it startles you despite knowing full well what it is.  When you look down, you see Remi staring at you meaningfully, her eyes locked with yours even as she trots her way to the other end of the table to paw at Yoongi's leg, asking for a fuss.  

'I like this one, ' her eyes seem to say as Yoongi reaches down to pet her, smiling fondly, 'You should give this one a try.'

Oh, if only. 

“We can do this more often if you want,” Yoongi offers as his attention returns to his food.  “I don’t mind watching her ‘till you get back from work.”   

“Are you sure?” Once again you’re floored by Yoongi’s casual generosity.  He doesn’t even look up as he bobs his head in confirmation, his mouth too full to respond. 

“She’s no trouble,” he tells you once he’s eventually swallowed, “And Holly likes having her around.”  

“That’d be amazing,” you smile, “Thank you.”  He returns your smile - small, short and sweet - and you swear each and every time he flashes you a grin you end up falling just that little bit more.  

"Does that mean I have even more delicious dinners to look forward to?" you ask, surprising yourself with how flirty you sound.  How brave.  

Yoongi laughs at your forwardness, sputtering into his wine.  You don't really expect him to answer - assume he'll just laugh it off and not say anything at all - but Yoongi looks rather serious as he puts down his glass; his gaze so intense that for a second you actually forget how to chew.  

"If you're lucky," he promises, and oh boy, you hope you will be. "But next time, you bring the wine." 

  And so, you do.  

Every night throughout the week that follows, you pay a visit to the corner store on your way home to pick up a bottle of white, or rose, or red.  You're fairly certain the cashier might suspect you of having some sort of drinking problem, actually, but Yoongi's been so grateful that you can't stand the thought of turning up empty-handed.  And It’s not even as though you always drink the whole bottle, anyway.  It’s just a glass with dinner on Wednesday and Thursday, and then one extra on Friday and Saturday when Yoongi invites you to stay a little longer.  

And ok, so maybe he doesn’t actually ask you to stay, but when a guy starts asking whether you’ve seen this new show he really likes and turns on Netflix, what are you supposed to think?  

You end up thoroughly enjoying the hours you waste away sitting at the opposite end of his sofa with Remi in your lap, even the lazy Sunday evening that Yoongi spends watching some god-awful competitive fishing show that you pretend to like just because it makes him smile.  

It’s funny how simple a creature Yoongi turns out to be, considering how mysterious he’d first seemed.  He’s a man of few words but what he does say is always interesting, and you’d like to think you’ve gotten to know him pretty well as the week’s gone by.  He’s considerate and hard-working, introverted and yet speaks so fondly of the few friends he professes to have.  He loves music and fishing, cooking and expensive wine, and when he’s tipsy his voice gets even slower and deeper - his tone so dulcet that you could happily listen to him talk all night. 

By the end of the week you’ve spent more time in Yoongi’s apartment than you have your own, and you won’t pretend for even a second that you’ve thought that it’s a bad thing.  You’re well and truly smitten; the favourite part of your day now the moment you come home and have both Yoongi and the dogs there to greet you, even though that home is not your own.  

Picturing that - thinking of him - is the only thing that’s gotten you through the shittiness of your last few hours at work.  You really do enjoy your job, for the most part, but some days are inevitably better than others and today… today was a bad, bad, bad day.  The kind of bad day that has you searching the liquor aisle for the whisky with the highest volume of alcohol you can possibly find - the same bottle that you later slam down on Yoongi’s kitchen counter having already let yourself into his apartment, sighing every step of the way.  

“Bad day?” he asks, not yet having turned around to see the miserable look on your face.  You can’t bring yourself to say anything, too focused on trying to hold yourself together after having struggled to do so all afternoon, so you stay quiet as you give Remi the fussing she’s after.  Her tail is wagging with a glee you’re envious of, her fuzzy tummy growing more and more round by the day.  

“I can make this Irish if you want.”  You look up to see Yoongi standing beside you with a mug of coffee held in both hands and a soft smile on his face, and suddenly it’s just all too much.  The dam inside you that’d slowly begin to crack throughout the day finally bursts at the sight of him - overcome with emotion at having him treat you so kindly after having faced such rudeness and meanness for hours on end.  

“I’m sorry!” you squeak out as you burst into tears, your elbows meeting the counter as your face falls into your hands, not wanting to have Yoongi see you cry.  You can’t see anything with your eyes so tightly screwed shut, but if you could you’d witness the look of shock appear on Yoongi’s face - see his eyes widen and his lips slightly part as the rest of him freezes, unsure of what to do.  

You really try your best to stem your tears, but you’re so embarrassed to have him see you like this that it only makes you cry harder, shoulders trembling as you curl in on yourself in an attempt to hide.  

“I just h-had such a h-h-horrible day,” you sob, “This one w-woman - this bitch - she was s-so m-mean and she wouldn’t just-”  You abruptly stop speaking as an arm is suddenly laid across your shoulders, and before you realise what’s happening you’re being pulled into an embrace; your face nestled into a soft sweater.  

“Hey, hey,” you're gently shushed, and it’s not so much that Yoongi's comforting you that helps to calm you down, nor the feel of one of his large hands rubbing up and down the length of your back.  It’s more the shock of having Yoongi actually touch you that allows you to finally start catching your breath, your hands unknowingly reaching out to hold onto him.  “Whatever happened, it’s over now, right?  It’ll be ok,” he soothes.  

“Uh-huh,” you whisper into fabric, silently praying that your nose hasn’t run all over it, and although you’re no longer crying you allow yourself a moment more to enjoy the feel of his arms around you.  He smells wonderful - his slight body warm and firm pressed against you - and all you want to do is tighten your grip on his sweater and pull him even closer; tilt your head to skim your lips against his throat.  

“You ok?” Yoongi asks, and as you finally lift your head and dab away the moisture from under your eyes the last thing you expect is to feel his fingers fleetingly touch your hair.  You meet his gaze and the concern you see there is almost enough to make you start crying all over again - but then you watch as his pupils dart back and forth, up and down as he scans your face - and suddenly… suddenly you're kissing him. 

Or is it him who's kissing you? 

You're not sure who it is that makes the first move, but regardless of whoever the instigator may be, your mouths still meet in the middle.  Yoongi's lips are soft but his kiss is firm - purposeful - and utterly takes your breath away.  You make a grab for him again, clutching at the fabric at his hip to keep him close as you sweep your tongue across the seam of his lips, Yoongi's hands coming to rest upon your face.  They're so warm, so gentle as he traces your cheekbones with his thumbs, and-

All too soon he's pulling away, brought to his senses the moment he feels the moisture that lingers on your cheeks, and the quiet whine of protest that you're unable to hold back has your face burning with shame.  

"S-sorry," he rapidly stammers out as he stumbles back out of reach, retreating to the other side of the counter; a barrier between you.  His cheeks are flushed with the same heat as yours, unable to meet your eyes as he wipes at the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then rubs the side of his neck. "I didn't mean… I mean… you…" 

Oh lord, this is awkward.  So, so awkward!  What the hell did you have to go and kiss him for?!  He looks so painfully uncomfortable right now that you're sure he'd rather melt into the floor than look at you, and oh my god you're such an idiot!  What kind of moron goes snogging someone's face off at the slightest bit of physical contact?  Are you really that touch deprived?! 

"Sorry," he repeats, "You're upset-" You're already up and out of your stool before Yoongi even has the chance to finish his sentence.  

"I should just go," you blurt out as you pick Remi up off the floor and into your arms despite her huffed exhale of protest.  You're being a coward, you know that, but you're too fragile right now to go through the whole 'let you down gently' routine without sobbing all over again - especially if it's coming from someone you're so crazy about.  

No, you'd rather just see yourself out now and save him the bother.  Best for everyone if you just pretend this never happened… 

"Thanks for watching her."  You're moving too quickly for him to protest - to do anything but stand with his mouth agape as you race for the front door like the very flames of hell are licking at your heels.  

"Don't forget your-!" you hear Yoongi call, pulling the front door shut behind you too fast to make out the end of his sentence.  You scurry down the hall back to your own apartment, and it’s only as you’re struggling to get inside with Remi still balanced on your hip that you realise your hands are lightly shaking.  

“Never happened,” you mumble to yourself once you finally get the blasted thing open, relinquishing Remi from where she’d begun to wriggle and squirm in your grasp.  “Never happened.  It was just one stupid, silly kiss.”  You lean back against your front door, exhaling a sigh.  “Just… forget about it.”  

And oh, you really try.  You try everything and anything you can think of to get Yoongi off of your mind, but nothing works; not mindless trash TV, not blasting your favourite tunes while you’re in the shower - not finishing off the bottle of wine leftover from the night before last.  If anything, alcohol just makes things ten times worse.  As you lie on your bed amidst a tipsy haze, all you can think about is the way his lips felt pressed to yours and of how he tasted like the coffee you hadn’t had the chance to drink.  The low noise he’d made in the back of his throat when you’d grabbed at his clothes.  It was so hot… he’s so hot, and more than anything you just want to go back there right now and- 

You groan aloud in frustration, raking your fingers through your hair to keep them from finding their way into your pants.  God, you’re so royally fucked - and not in the way you’re wishing you were - but you’re too far tired and conflicted and just… sad to want to masturbate, no matter how fiercely Yoongi’s kiss may have made you ache.   So you ignore it, cocoon yourself in your duvet whilst Remi snores at your feet, and will yourself to fall asleep whilst silently reassuring yourself that tomorrow is another day.  

Come the next morning (which is mercifully hangover free), you ready yourself for work repeating just that.  Today has to be better - or at least it can't get much worse - and what happened with Yoongi was just… a blip.  Carelessness on your part.  And knowing Yoongi as you now do, you’re sure he’ll be far too much of a gentleman to mention it anyway.  

That’s if he doesn’t ghost you entirely, of course, which is a legitimate possibility.  

Luckily, your day does turn out a whole lot better than the one that came before; a small mercy, given how worked up you've been worrying about where to expect to find Remi once you get home.  Whether it be in your apartment or Yoongi's, you're unsure which option would be preferable.   If she's waiting at Yoongi's you'll have no choice but to go over there and face the consequences of last night's actions - a thought you by no means relish - but if she's at yours… well, you suppose that might just be even worse.    

You’re not too proud to admit that Yoongi's help with Remi has been invaluable over the past weeks, and if you're being honest, his friendship has too.  You can't imagine going back to the way it was before: barely seeing one another, exchanging nothing but awkward smiles in the hallway.  If he were to walk out of your life now you would really, really miss him - to say the least.  And that's… kind of terrifying.  

At heart, though, you’re a positive person, and you want to believe that things will just carry on the way they have before.  And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but your hope is what has you stopping by the same old corner store on the way home and picking up a bottle of wine from a brand you know Yoongi likes, just as you’ve done so many times before.  And maybe it might be considered hedging your bets, but after the grocery store you head across the street to one of the local takeout places, too.  You know Yoongi’s all about meat, meat and more meat when it comes to food, so it’s not hard for you to figure out what to order; lamb skewers, tempura shrimp, spicy pork belly.  Some of it you don’t even like yourself, so you hope to god Remi’s waiting at Yoongi’s and not at yours otherwise there’s a hell of a lot of food about to go to waste.

You order so much, in fact, that your arms are aching by the time you get home - though that does nothing to distract you from the way your heart starts to gallop when it comes time to put your keys in the lock and open up your front door.   You hold your breath as it swings open, eyes closing for a second as you pray not to hear the click-clack of Remi’s claws on the floor, and when nothing comes you sigh with relief, never so glad to be greeted by an empty home.  

“Thank the lord,” you murmur as you place everything down on the kitchen table, figuring you may as well use this chance to quickly get changed and freshen up before heading next door.  Normally you’d just go round in your work clothes, and truthfully there’s nothing actually wrong with what you’re already wearing, but you appreciate just a little bit of extra time to mentally prepare.

Not that it helps, of course.   Whether in a skirt or jeans, you’re crapping your pants just as much as you knock on his door but you plaster a smile on your face nonetheless, holding aloft your wine and takeout bags as the door starts to open.  

“Hi,” you beam as Yoongi appears, “I brought goodies!”  He looks mildly taken aback by the sight of you and how bubbly you sound - even more so when you stride forward to enter without him yet having said a word.  “You’re not cooking yet,” you observe as you enter the kitchen and hear the front door shut behind you, Yoongi’s soft footfalls across the floor following shortly after, “Good.”  

You turn on the spot, grinning inanely as you try not to make it too obvious that you’re checking him out.  Must he really look so effortlessly stylish all the time?   He even has that whole ‘just got out of bed’ ruffled hair thing going on, and god, you hate him for how badly it makes you want to run your fingers through it to see if it’s as soft as it looks.  

“Where’s Rem?” you ask before your thoughts run too far amok, tearing your eyes away from him in favour of peering over his shoulder towards the living room.  

“Think they’re in my room,” he explains, fingers fiddling with the arm of the glasses he’s wearing and then straying into his hair to scratch at his scalp.  He must’ve been in his studio prior to your arrival - it’s the only time you really ever see him wearing his glasses.  “She’s been acting kinda weird today.”  

Frowning, you follow after him as he leads you down the hallway towards his bedroom.  You try not to focus on the fact that this will have been the first time you’ve seen it, or mourn that now that you are it’s in less-than-sexy circumstances.  

“What do you mean ‘weird’?” 

“Just… restless, I guess.  She didn’t wanna walk but I had to stop her scratching up the carpet ‘cus she keeps wanting to dig.”  He pushes open the door and immediately you gasp, freezing in the doorway.  Yoongi sighs heavily, surveying the damage before him.  “And ruin my bedding, apparently.”  

To be fair, it's not really that bad - and you're not just saying that because Remi's your dog and you're a wee bit overprotective, either.  Yes, there's one pillow that's been pulled off the bed and had its stuffing ripped out, but aside from that all that's really moved is his sheets, and whilst they've been pulled into a heap the floor there doesn't appear to be any other damage or… bodily fluids amidst them.  

"Oh Rem, what've you been up to?" you coo, kneeling down beside the heap of blankets that the two dogs are curled up amongst.  Holly comes alive at the sound of your voice, instantly perking up, and within seconds he's on his feet and visiting you and Yoongi in turn for a scratch behind the ears.  Remi, however, is somewhat lazier in her response.  She lifts her head slowly, emitting a pathetic little sound as she gazes up at you, pointed ears pressed back against the top of her head.  

"What's wrong girl?" Concerned, you're cautious in the way you put your hands on her, but you're relieved to find she's just as eager to receive affection as ever.  It's only when you run your hand across her belly that she seems to object, her small body tensing.  

"She's been in here for a couple hours," Yoongi informs you as he comes to kneel beside you on the carpet. "I tried to feed her dinner but she wasn't interested - thought it might've been something to do with her throwing up earlier on." 

"You think we should call the vet?" Yoongi shakes his head as Holly comes to reclaim his spot next to his lady friend.  Snuggling in close, he gives her an affectionate lick.  

"I thought about it," he admits, giving Remi's head a gentle pat, "But I don't think she's sick.  I think she's in labour." 

"Really?" Now that you think about it, the time frame does seem about right.  You just hadn't expected it to happen so soon… 

"Called my brother and he seems to think so." Looking up from Remi your gaze meets Yoongi's, and you figure it must show on your face how overwhelmed you're feeling because the smile that he gives you is a kind one.  

"So, what do we do?" you ask, sinking back from your knees and onto your bottom instead, crossing your legs.  Yoongi copies you, and for a second your eyes dart to the expanse of skin that's revealed to you through the rip in his jeans, right across the thigh.  

"Not much, apparently.  Not unless something goes wrong and Remi needs a hand."  You feel anxiety twist your expression and Yoongi brow furrows in sympathy, his fingers drumming against his knees.  "We've just gotta sit and wait." You chuckle mirthlessly, rolling your eyes.  

"Never really been the patient type." Yoongi smiles, rising to his feet and placing his hand on your shoulder as he goes, giving it a squeeze that makes your stomach go topsy-turvy.  

"I guess I better go get us some supplies to keep us going then, huh?" 

"That'd be good," you smile, blushing as he squeezes it once more before finally letting go.  You turn back to Remi as he leaves the room, worrying your bottom lip until you unexpectedly hear him call your name.  He lingers in the doorway, one hand on the frame.  

"Everything's gonna be fine," he assures you. "Trust me." And somehow, without question, you do.  

  It's a little odd, really, how effortlessly things have gone back to normal considering what went on between you last night.  Perhaps it's the pressure of the unfamiliar situation you've been thrust into that's redirected your attention elsewhere and thereby alleviated the tension. Or maybe it was just never as big of a deal as you'd made it out to be in your head.  Either way, you're grateful.  

That's not to say there's no tension at all, mind, but rather than making things feel uncomfortable it's more like… like there's a charge between you.  A spark.  You can feel it all the while you're sat eating dinner together cross-legged on his bedroom floor, lips tingling from how spicy (albeit delicious) the food is.  Coy smiles and stolen glances are made amongst idle chit-chat, distracting you from the waves of worry that rise and then recede with each little sound that Remi makes which turn out to be nothing.  

You've no idea how long labour usually tends to last for dogs, but you can only hope that if or when you ever decide to have children, that you handle it just as quietly and calmly as Remi.  You hope whoever you’re with is attentive as Holly, too, and you know that’s an odd thing to think but you can’t help but admire the way he is with her; laying patiently just a few feet away, his attention unwavering.  

Technically you know it isn’t the norm for the ‘daddy dog’ to be around while his bitch is giving birth (or at least so Yoongi had said), just in case his presence made Remi nervous or agitated, but these pair seem to be a bit an anomaly in that respect.  When Yoongi had tried to extract Holly from the room prior to eating dinner, Remi had gotten more restless than ever and so you’d been forced to let him back in despite all the guidance advising the contrary.  You’ll just have to keep an extra close eye on him when the puppies actually arrive, you suppose, though you know you can rely on Yoongi to keep him in line.  

And to be fair, it seems as though you’re able to rely on Yoongi an awful lot in general these days.  Having been so preoccupied with your new job you’ve done shamefully little research as to what to expect and how to prepare for Remi to give birth, naively believing that you still had plenty of time to spare. 

Lucky for you, Yoongi seems to have everything handled; the ‘supplies’ he’d previously mentioned turning out to be a heap of freshly washed towels, shiny surgical scissors and some sort of sucker device - the likes you imagine to be used for clearing snotty babies noses.  You eye it nervously as you finish your last mouthful of shrimp, silently hoping you won’t need anything other than the towels and a little bit of luck.  

“Thanks for dinner.”  You drag your eyes away from the scissors, Yoongi’s voice having interrupted your thoughts.  

“No worries,” you reply, smiling gratefully as Yoongi takes your empty plate from your hands to stack it on top of his own.  He puts them aside for a moment as he dutifully tidies everything away, putting the empty food cartons back into the plastic bag from whence they came.  “About time I returned the favour.”  Yoongi smiles wryly, no doubt too polite to point out that buying takeout and preparing a home-cooked meal isn’t quite the same thing.  

“To be honest,” he says, using his preoccupation as a good excuse to avoid your gaze, “I wasn’t sure whether you were even going to come over tonight.”  

Well, there goes the hope that you’d get through the evening without last night’s faux pas being mentioned.  

“Well, it’s not like I could just leave Remi here…” you mumble, glancing away as Yoongi sits back down beside you having finished clearing up.  You don’t want him to think that that’s the only reason you came but you’re not sure what else to say, fidgeting nervously with the hem of your sleeves.  

There’s a moment of silence - a pause long enough that it prompts you to look up, and when you do you see that Yoongi looks just as nervous as you feel, picking at his cuticles.  

“I…” He hesitates, huffing as though he’s almost frustrated with himself before forcing himself to look at you.  His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I’m glad you did, though.  I wanted a chance to say I’m sorry for last night, for-” 

“Don’t,” you interrupt, surprising yourself.  His eyes widen behind his glasses, his mouth hanging open having been caught off guard, and god damn it, he looks adorable.  “We’re friends, right?  I don’t want us to have to keep apologising to each other all the time for every little thing.”  Yoongi nods, shutting his mouth. 

Was that… disappointment you saw in his eyes when you referred to him as your friend?  Yoongi smiles weakly but it looks forced - unnatural - and it disappears too fast for it to have been real.  In its wake a frown appears, one that deepens as his attention returns to Remi, and it makes you ache in your chest to see it.  Since you’ve become closer, you’ve gotten so used to seeing his smile and hearing him laugh that this just feels wrong.  

All of this - you hiding the way you feel, pretending like last night’s kiss wasn’t the best thing to happen to you in… in forever;  acting like Yoongi isn’t the best thing to happen to you in forever - it’s all wrong.  You should tell him what he means to you.  You need to.  

“Yoongi,” you say gently, calling back his attention, and when he looks at you your stomach churns so fiercely with nerves you fear you might lose your dinner.  You swallow, trying to get a hold of yourself, and bravely reach out to snatch his hand up from where it rested on his knee, threading your fingers between his.  He looks down dumbly at your conjoined hands, eyes even wider than they were before.  “I… I didn’t mind it.  When you kissed me.”  You feel your cheeks burning with heat but force yourself to continue, reassured that Yoongi hasn’t immediately pulled his hand away.  “Or when I kissed you. However it happened.”  You titter a nervous laugh, acutely aware of how clammy your palms are, and you’re glad to see that Yoongi looks just as affected by your confession as you are; every inch of his skin flushed a pretty blush pink under his normal skin tone.  “There was never anything to apologise for.”  

You flash him a nervous smile once you’ve finally done talking, giving his hand a squeeze of encouragement in hopes that he won’t leave you hanging too long before voicing some sort of reply.  A confession of undying love is preferable, obviously, but short of that just knowing he’s not totally repulsed would be enough. 

You can’t say you expect the sudden laugh he lets out - nor know what to make of it - and you’re just about to start freaking out and pull your hand away when Yoongi shifts closer to you and places his other hand over the two of yours.  The rubbing of his thumb back and forth across your skin helps to calm you, and he’s no longer laughing as he looks into your eyes, taking a breath.  He quietly calls your name, leaning closer.  

And then suddenly, Remi whines, and the two of you instantly break apart.  

“You ok Rem?” Quickly, you rise to your knees and shuffle towards her, frowning with concern.  You don’t mean to panic, but this is the first sound of obvious distress you’ve heard from her and you can’t stand the thought of your sweet girl being in pain.  

She looks up at you from where she’s nestled amongst Yoongi’s covers, panting hard, and you have to force yourself not to reach out to give her the fussing that you’re longing to.  Beside you, Yoongi watches her closely; observes the way she stops panting just for a second or two and seems to stiffen slightly before beginning to pant all over again. 

“Is she ok?” you ask, though you’re not sure why you’re presuming that Yoongi will know any more about what’s going on than you do.  

Tentatively, Yoong reaches out and lays both hands on Remi’s stomach, waiting for the next pause in her panting.  His eyes narrow, fingers twitching atop her fur.  

“Her tummy feels hard,” he says, “I think she’s starting to push.”  

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath, blushing when Yoongi chuckles in response.  He removes his hands from her, placing them back on his lap just in time for Remi to decide she wants to move, and she rises from where’s lain in the duvet all this time and begins to circle and paw at the covers, panting ceaselessly.  

“You can do it, girl.”  Following Yoongi’s lead, you reach out and gently stroke her back in reassurance, very nearly bursting into tears when Remi chases after your hand when you pull it back, nuzzling into your palm.  “We’ve got this.”  

  The next two hours pass by in something of a blur.  You all maintain a careful distance (Holly included), giving affection when it seems like she's in need of it and holding back whenever she seems agitated or restless.  She must get up and down to rearrange the sheets underneath her at least a hundred times before the first puppy is born, and you watch on with a mixture of horror and wonderment as it slowly emerges from inside her, trying your best not to cry at the sudden squeal she releases as her baby starts to crown, bottom first.  

You won't lie, it's probably one of the most disgusting sights you've ever seen, and yet you can't help but feel overcome with emotion as you watch this puppy arrive into the world, still cocooned in its amniotic sac until Remi instinctively begins to lick it clean.  She brings it to life with firm laps of her tongue, not stopping till its little body starts to wriggle and it releases the tiniest of squeaks.  Frankly, it's a good job the puppy is so cute, as it gives you something to focus on as Remi decides to chow down on the placenta, thereby separating it from her offspring.  

By the time the second puppy is born the first has already started to feed, it's head almost completely hidden by Remi's fur as it latches on.  That birth is just as straightforward, too, though Yoongi does have to shorten its umbilical cord slightly when Remi leaves it dangling just a little too long.  You're in awe of how confident and competent he seems as he does it, not a hint of hesitation evident on his face from the moment he realises what's needed to the moment it's done.  

Ah, if only you could ever be so cool. 

It’s only as the third and final puppy is being born that you start to encounter some trouble.  You almost start to believe the scan had been wrong and you were only ever expecting two puppies, figuring that Remi must be done having not pushed in almost an hour and a half.  But then all of a sudden she’s restless again and after a few minutes more another puppy begins to emerge.  The sac of waters around this one looks different - so green and dark that you almost can’t make out what’s inside at all.  

“Yoongi.”  You say his name out of sheer nervousness, already knowing he’s right there beside you seeing the same very thing.  Just like before, the puppy slides out in the amniotic sac onto the towel placed underneath Remi’s back end, but this time she doesn’t seem to pay nearly so much attention to it as she did the others - sparing it just enough licks to break the sac and then turning away, closing her eyes.  

All of Remi’s puppies so far have been just as white in colour as Remi herself, and so would this puppy be if its fur weren’t stained an unpleasant shade of green.  By Remi’s hind legs it lies limply on the towel; unmoving, unbreathing.  

“Yoongi,” you choke out, your eyes spilling over with tears, “Yoongi, it’s not breathing.  Yoongi, it-” Stifling a sob, you slap your hands over your mouth as Yoongi springs into action next to you.

Brow furrowed in concentration, he snatches up the scissors and deftly separates the puppy from its placenta just like he did for the one that came before.  He scoops it up in both hands and tilts its head down in order to help any fluids that might remain to drain out, murmuring urgently under his breath.  

“Pass me the sucker,” he suddenly demands, outstretching his hand, and you rush to obey, your own hands shaking as you place it in his palm and watch on as he precedes to suction each of the puppy’s tiny nostrils and mouth.  You pray that that will do the job.  To see some sort of response, the tiniest wiggle or smallest of sounds.  Anything!  But nothing happens - nothing at all - and you can tell even Yoongi’s starting to get desperate.  

“C’mon little guy,” he mumbles, wrapping the puppy in the towel and starting to vigorously rub its back, its stomach, its head - up and down all over, over and over again.  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”  Even Yoongi’s eyes are looking glassy now, the tip of his nose turning red as he holds back the tears that you’ve long since succumbed to.  

And then, just as your face falls into your hands and a sob shakes your shoulders, you hear the tiniest, most fragile of sounds.   A squeak followed by a sharp inhale of breath, and when you sharply look up you see that the tiniest puppy of the litter so far has finally begun to squirm, its mouth opening up wide to display the tiny pink tongue within.  

“Oh my god!”  You’re half laughing half crying as Yoongi stares down at the new life down within his hands, his eyes wide with wonderment.  There are tears trickling down his cheeks but he’s smiling more brightly than you’ve ever seen before, and he’s so heart-breakingly gentle as he lowers the puppy back down to Remi’s level and presents him to her.  

“You did so good, girl,” he praises, voice thick with emotion as Remi begins to lick the puppy with renewed enthusiasm.  She only stops once Yoongi slowly moves him away to nestle him in between his siblings, encouraging him to feed with softly whispered words of encouragement, and he waits until the puppy is eagerly suckling to finally let go and back off, exhaling a sigh of relief.  

"Well, that was-" Yoongi doesn't get the chance to finish what he's saying, abruptly silenced apart from the one lone 'oomph' he grunts out as your bodies collide, dropping the towel with which he'd just been wiping his hands.  

"You-" you mumble against his lips between each frantic, urgent kiss. "You - are - amazing." He's blindsided and you can't blame him; unresponsive and unyielding.  But Yoongi soon gets with the program, his arms looping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.  

His face is wet when you take it in your hands - just like yours - but those tears are long forgotten as the two of you quickly become lost in one another.  It feels so exhilarating to have Yoongi kiss you back so enthusiastically; makes you believe that maybe he's been thinking about this just as much as you.  To hear him sigh your name has you melting against him, your whole body aflame with molten fire, and when you gently bite his lip it delights you even more to hear the way his breath hitches. 

"You really weren't kidding, were you?" Yoongi asks as he attempts to catch his breath, your attention now focused on trailing kisses along the angle of his jaw. 

"About what?" you murmur in reply, grinning against his skin as his hands grab at your clothes when you softly nip at his earlobe.  

"About not minding about the kiss."

"Oh no, not at all," you admit, tone playful, and you're just about to begin tracing kisses down his neck when one of Yoongi's hands finds your chin and tilts your head up, bringing your gaze back to his. His lips are curved in a gentle smile as he brushes them against yours, chuckling when you attempt to chase after them as he pulls away. 

"Good to know." His eyes follow the movement of his thumb as he drags it across your bottom lip, moistening his own with a flick of his tongue.  His touch lingers at the corner of your mouth for just a second longer, and in that moment you can feel your heart racing at the thought of what he might do next.  "As much as I'd like to explore this further-" 

Beside you, you hear the sound of Remi's puppies softly squeaking, and when you look down to where Remi's lay, you see that Holly has used your momentary distraction as an opportunity to start sneaking over, sniffing at the air.  You look back to Yoongi and are met with a regretful smile as he takes his hands off of you in favour of straightening the glasses that had been knocked askew by your passion.  

"Right," you sigh, looking around at all of the surrounding mess, "We're grandparents now, huh?  Have to be responsible.  Mature."  ie. not go carrying on like a pair of horny teenagers while there are still pieces of placenta strewn about the place.

Yoongi looks up at you from where he's already knelt down gathering up some of the dirty towels.  He smirks in a way you've never seen from him before - a way that makes your insides clench with excitement.  

"For now, sure.”

  You're infinitely grateful that Yoongi doesn't put you in charge of any of the messy stuff when it comes to clearing up.  All he tasks you with is watching over the puppies and keeping a very curious Holly at bay from his new offspring whilst Remi recovers and he deals with the carnage that's been left behind.  It's not a difficult job by any means. Holly is more than happy to be waylaid by tickles under the chin and tummy rubs, and you're thankful for that given how preoccupied you are with the images of what’s just happened as they replay over and over in your head.  

You still can't believe that you kissed him.  That you kissed Yoongi and he kissed you back - kissed you back and, unless you're horribly mistaken, wanted more .   And what did he mean 'for now'?  Does he want to pick up where you left off tonight?  Tomorrow?  Maybe he's just saying that to give himself an out in the future?  Just in case he changes his mind… 

No, no, he wouldn't do that.  No one could kiss like that if they weren't really into it, and god , what a kiss.  It may have been a while, but you can't even remember the last time locking lips had you feeling so hot and heavy.  Have you ever had a kiss quite like that before?  You’re sure you’d remember it if you had.  

“How’re they doing?”  You automatically smile at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, hoping that the flush of your cheeks won’t give away the explicit nature of the daydreaming he’s just interrupted.  Stood in the doorway, you notice he’s no longer wearing his glasses, though the evidence of them remains in the pink indentations on either side of his nose.  Now that his glasses are gone the dark circles under his eyes are more evident, and you feel your brow creasing with worry as he enters the room and bends down next to you, stifling a yawn as he gives Holly a little love behind the ears.  

Whilst not being the most physically strenuous of evenings, tonight has been emotionally demanding for you both, and it’s only now as you realise that that you come to appreciate how utterly drained you feel.  You can only assume Yoongi feels similarly, given by the slightly glazed look in his eyes as he checks in on the puppies, one by one.  

“They’re doing pretty good, I think.”  Or at least, you think they are.  One by one the puppies had stopped nursing and fallen asleep next to one another, each with a full round belly.  That can only be a good thing, right?  “Remi’s pooped.”  She hasn’t moved since giving birth, as fast asleep as the puppies laid at her side.  

“She’s earned her rest,” Yoongi admires fondly, giving her a very brief pad on the head so as not to wake her.  You ‘mm’ your agreement, swallowing back the emotion that rises once more in your chest.  You’re so proud it almost makes you ache.  “I was thinking,” he continues, turning his attention to you, “Seems a shame to move her.  You want to sleep here tonight so you can still keep an eye?”  

You feel your lips part at his question, your mind automatically falling straight into the gutter.  So he does mean to continue things tonight, then…  

Seeing your expression, Yoongi grins wolfishly as he stands, letting out a chuckle.   

“The couch pulls out into a futon, so you can take the bed, if you do want to stay.  

Oh.  So, maybe not then… 

You desperately try not to let the disappointment show in your face but you figure it must at least a little seeing as Yoongi begins to laugh again, eyes full of mirth.  He extends his hand to you to help you stand and you marvel once more at how long his fingers are as they thread between yours; how delicate yet so strong.  The last thing you expect is to be pulled into his arms again so soon and so suddenly, near losing your balance as Yoongi draws you near.

“You’re cute when you pout,” he teases, taking your bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger and giving it a gentle pinch.  The smirk he’s wearing is as infuriating as it is sexy and you’re powerless to resist as Yoongi leans in to brush his lips ever so sweetly against yours, ever so fleeting.  

He’s enjoying this too much, damn it.  You should’ve never given yourself away!  Can he feel how hard your heart is beating, you wonder?  Can he feel how much you want him from how needily you grab at his belt loops?

“Let’s not rush anything,” he mumbles as you insist on kissing him once more, leaning forward onto your tippy-toes.  Sighing, you eventually pull away, eyes opening to see Yoongi looking down at you with thinly veiled amusement.  His smile is fond rather than teasing, though, so you let it slide.  He’s right, anyway, you suppose.  The two of you have only just revealed your mutual affection for one another; no need to go jumping into bed straight away.  

Ugh, being mature sucks.  

Reluctantly, you part ways for the time being and head back to your own apartment to ready yourself for bed.  You fill the small wash bag you usually take on vacation with all the toiletries you might need before embarking on the arduous task of deciding what to change into.  Do you go for ultimate comfort and opt for a baggy t-shirt and sweats, or do you dress to impress and slip on a silky camisole?  

It takes you a shameful amount of time to decide but in the end you settle on a compromise; one of your cuter, cotton t-shirts and a pair of shorts of a slightly more modest length.  After all, Yoongi’s made it perfectly clear that getting laid isn’t on the cards tonight.  No point in making too much of an effort - he might start to think you’re not coming back if you take the time to go shave your legs.  You cast them a cursory glance as you slip on your sliders ready to go back next door; they’re not obviously fuzzy from a distance, at least.  

When you get back to Yoongi’s apartment, he’s nowhere to be seen.  You figure he must be in the spare bedroom changing (and boy are you envious he has one of those) because he’s not in his own, and wherever he is he must’ve taken Holly with him as Remi and her puppies continue to sleep just as soundly as when you left.  He’s clearly been busy, though; there are fresh sheets on the bed, the corner of the duvet pulled back as though inviting you in.  Considerate as always.  

You figure you may as well carry on getting ready for bed in Yoongi’s absence, and with a yawn and a rub of your eyes, you dig out your toothbrush and head toward the bathroom, sliders slapping against the floor.  

“Oh!”  You almost drop your brush when you push open the bathroom door and find Yoongi inside, Holly sitting obediently at his feet.  You thank God he’s merely brushing his teeth and not in the shower - or worse, on the toilet - though you still stutter apologies and start to leave until Yoongi waves a hand to beckon you in, unbothered.  He smiles at you in the mirror, lips lined with foam, and you shyly smile in return as he hands you the very same toothpaste.  

Together, the two of you stand and brush your teeth; the room silent other than the rustling of bristles against enamel.  Your eyes keep meeting in the mirror and oh, how you wish you were able to ignore the way your face begins to blush and how Yoongi’s smile just grows and grows the more embarrassed you get.  It’s just so domestic, the two of you, stood side by side like this.  Like you’re husband and wife just going about your normal nightly routine; you’ll spit and rinse and then dab your mouths with matching ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels.  

Hey, a girl can dream, right?  

“Thanks for getting the bed all sorted,” you say once you’re all done and Yoongi follows you out into the hallway with a nod and a ‘no problem’.  

“Just come wake me up if you need anything, alright?”  This time it’s your turn to nod, and you’re about to head back to Yoongi’s room when he suddenly reaches out and brushes his thumb against your cheek, smiling softly.  It grows when you lean into his touch, sighing, and you see his chest rise and fall with a heavy inhale before he reluctantly pulls away.  His hand falls back to his side and you have to resist the urge to reach out and take it in your own.

“Goodnight, Yoongi,” you bid him, his name heavy on your tongue.  

“Goodnight,” he replies, and just the timbre of Yoongi’s voice alone is enough to make your stomach flip with excitement.  It makes it hard to drag yourself away, and even harder to force yourself to relax once you finally slip between Yoongi’s sheets, knowing that he’s just down the hall.  It doesn’t help that they smell just like him, too, despite being clean, and maybe it makes you a bit of a creeper but you won’t deny that you take great pleasure in snuggling your face into Yoongi’s pillow, wishing you lying on his chest instead.   

  You don’t know exactly how long it takes you to fall asleep, nor how long you’re asleep before the sound of Yoongi’s voice awakens you.  Bleary-eyed, you look towards the door and see a slip of light shining beneath from the light in the hallway, disturbed by the movement of shadow.  

“Sorry, Hol. you can’t go in there.” you hear Yoongi whispering on the other side of the door.  “The ladies need their rest.”  Listening to them, you can’t help but internally ‘aww’.  Apparently, Holly must miss Remi as much as she does when they’re parted, and oh how you wish she could actually understand a word you say so you could prod her awake and tell her so.  “You don’t think I wish I was in there as well?”  

Wide-eyed, you stare out into the darkness on hearing what Yoongi had said, hands clasped atop your chest.  Is that true?  Does he really want to be in here with you, sharing this bed?  You can’t imagine any reason for it to be a lie; you know all your whispered confessions to Remi are always true enough.   

What should you do?  Would he be embarrassed if he knew you’d heard?  Should you - 

“C’mon, let’s go,” you hear him say, the shadows beneath the door disappearing, and it’s that sudden loss that forces you into the split decision you make that has you leaping up out of bed and flinging open Yoongi’s door before he can get too far away.  

“You can sleep in here, if you want,” you declare, ever so slightly out of breath.  You wish you’d spared a thought as to whether your hair might be a mess but fuck it, Yoongi’s already turned around and seen you now.  “If it’s easier.”  A hesitant smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he looks you up and down but there’s no such uncertainty from Holly; he happily runs right by you the moment there’s an opening, tail wagging up a storm.  

“You sure?” he checks, taking a step forward and oh jesus, of course you’re sure when he’s stood there looking - sounding - like he does; voice rough with sleep, hair tousled and half-dressed.  You can only be grateful that he doesn’t sleep topless or else you might just combust on the spot, so deliciously tight are the boxers he’s wearing.  

“He’s just gonna keep you up all night otherwise.”  You try to sound casual, you really do, but the nervous little giggle that escapes you as Yoongi enters your personal space gives you away.  He grins as he passes you in the doorway to head towards the bed, and just before you shut the door to plunge you both back into darkness you see him reach out and pull back the covers from the right-hand side of the bed.  

“You sleep on the left,” he says as he climbs in, sheets rustling, “Good.”  He must sleep on the right then, you’re guessing, and it makes you more happy than it should do to learn this, smiling to yourself in the dark.  You can hear the puppies snuffling around as you tentatively make your way over to the bed, but you're sure Remi will alert you if there's a problem.   Right now, you're too busy mustering up the courage to climb back into bed next to a man you've been fantasising about for so long.  

“Don't stand there getting cold.”  After such a long night, Yoongi’s probably too eager for sleep to have much patience for you dithering around at the bedside.  Now that your eyes have started to adjust to the lack of light, you can just about make out his face turned towards you, watching as you finally climb into bed, and it does nothing to lessen the nervous fluttering of your heart. 

You’re so tense; uncertain of how to lie or how close you ought to get.  You end up lying flat on your back for lack of a better idea, trying not to fidget as you stare up at the ceiling, and even though you’re not touching, you’re acutely aware of Yoongi’s body just a few inches away.  His breaths are slow and steady - nothing like your subtle, shallow inhales - and you lie there wishing that you had any hope of remaining as cool and calm as he always seems to be.

Eventually, though, your panic begins to wane, enough that you trust yourself to speak without giving yourself away.  

“Night Yoongi,” you whisper, not sure if he’s even still awake.  You hear a soft sigh and the rustling of sheets from what you presume must be him turning over to make himself more comfortable.  Soothed by his lack of reply, you, too, roll over in hopes of finally falling back to sleep, but when you’re met by the sight of Yoongi’s dark eyes looking back at you, you’re nothing but wide awake.  

“Hi,” he murmurs quietly, and even in the dark you can make out the subtle curve of his mouth as he smiles.  Your heart thuds in your chest, your throat suddenly dry, and even though you open your mouth to reply no sound has the chance to come out because faster than you can realise what’s happening, Yoongi’s closed the space between you and stolen your voice with a kiss.  

This isn’t a kiss like the last one you shared.  He was holding back last time - careful, gentle kisses that never lingered, never deepened - but this time is different.  This time, Yoongi kisses like he means to consume you, with a hunger so fierce that it sparks a yearning just as voracious within you.  It burns through you as Yoongi leans over your body, the weight of his own forcing you to roll onto your back as his fingers weave their way into your hair.  

Willingly, you submit to him in each way in which he asks, one by one; when he coaxes his way into your mouth with the press of his tongue, when you hook your leg over his hip when the hand that was in your hair slides down onto your ass, pulling your pelvis towards him.  

“Wha-” You gasp as he rocks his hips against you, only breaking your kiss out of the necessity to breathe, and the moment you do Yoongi simply finds another target for his lips, trailing them along the length of your jaw.  “What happened to- to not rushing anything?” 

“Fuck what I said,” he mumbles in reply, voice laden with desire.  Yoongi doesn’t curse very often but there’s something so hot about him doing it now between teasing your throat with his teeth and rubbing himself up against you.  “I’ve wanted you for months.”  

Well, that makes two of you then.  And he’s not lying, either; you can feel him growing steadily harder against your leg each time your bodies move, seeking out one another’s body heat.  

“Can I take these off?”  You feel his fingers lingering at the waistband of your shorts and eagerly you nod, pulling down one side as he handles the other till you’re able to kick them off somewhere beneath the covers.  

“Please.”  Rolling onto your back, you take Yoongi with you, seeking out his lips with your own.  While his hand reaches between your legs, you’re busy tugging at his t-shirt, baring his torso just in time for your fingernails to dig into his shoulders at the first touch of his fingers, gasping as he brushes the tips featherlight against you.  

“Baby,” he groans, and you preen at his use of the pet name, “You’re so wet.”  And you can feel that it’s true - can feel how sinfully his digits are able to slip and slide about your cunt, teasing their way between your lips.  

“Please Yoongi,” you plead, reaching between your bodies to grasp his wrist and tugging, tilting your pelvis up.  You’ve been dreaming about having his fingers inside you for so long that you’ve no shame in showing him just how much you want it.  You bite your bottom lip as he gazes down at you; watching, waiting to see your reaction as he presses one finger inside.  

“Haa!” you cry out, head tipping back into the pillow, and your eyes are too tightly pressed shut to see the way Yoongi smiles in satisfaction.  Craving more from you, one finger quickly becomes two, and you can’t help but grab at his shoulders for purchase as he so deftly stretches you open.  Each motion - each thrust and curl of Yoongi’s fingers - makes the most obscene of noises, so gratuitous is your want for him.  

Suddenly, Yoongi ceases your kissing, an urgent look in his eyes.

“Can I get a taste?”  His request has your pelvic muscles clenching around his fingers with excitement - a response you presume Yoongi rightly perceives as your consent, given the cocky smile that appears on his face.  

“Only if you’re as good as your tongue as you are with those fingers,” you tease, breathless.  You’re pleased by the way he chuckles - even more so by his reply.  

“Even better,” he promises, and though you mourn the loss of his fingers as they withdraw, you’re filled with too much anticipation to really care.  His eyes fixed on yours, Yoongi kisses his way down your body, making sure to spare time for each of your breasts along the way.  Through the material of your t-shirt he suckles and licks till the material has turned see-through, and only then does he hitch it up under your chin to reveal your chest and repeat the whole process again.  He lingers long enough to leave no doubt that he’s as talented with his tongue as he’s said, your nipples tingling long after he’s done drawing them out, stiffened into tight little peaks.  

Your hips are squirming by the time Yoong’s head is between your legs.  He holds them steady with firm hands as he kisses at your inner thighs, twice suckling hard enough for you to know he’ll have left a mark - evidence of his desire.  Your want to see him clearly is at odds with how comforting you find the dark, less self-conscious in knowing that even as Yoongi’s parts your lips with his thumb and forefinger, you’re not quite so brazenly exposed.  

“Tell me what you like,” Yoongi instructs as he makes himself comfortable on his stomach.  You mumble your agreement, heart hammering with a mixture of nerves and excitement because, in all honesty, this has never really been your favourite thing before.  You don’t want him to be disappointed if this doesn’t get you there, hoping he’ll realise that it’s more about the journey than the destination.  

He starts slow; long, luxurious laps up and down, ascending from your perineum and back again to gather your essence on his tongue.  He moans as he does it, and just hearing how much he seems to be enjoying the taste of you makes it feel all the better as he does it once more.  

“I like that,” you sigh, hips shifting to get more comfortable as you close your eyes and focus on the sensation of his tongue.  His hands are on your thighs as your own make their way down into his hair, and it’s just as soft as you imagine it to be - Yoongi near purring with pleasure into your heat every time you dig your fingers in whenever something feels particularly good.  

“Mm, o-ooh, I like that too.”  Your moans become more frequent as Yoongi focuses his attention on your clitoris, the tip of his tongue gradually gaining in speed now that Yoongi’s found his purpose.  For someone who has such a small mouth and such a dainty, kittenish tongue, you had no idea he could be so skilled with it - so deft as it wriggles beneath your clitoral hood in delicious figures of eight.  “Fuck, that feels good…”  

With each second longer that he continues, you can feel a heat gradually rising within you.  It starts right there between your legs, burning in your core, but soon you can feel the flush all the way up to your chest and your back is beginning to sweat, your mouth open so each breath is a pant - a gasping moan.  

In search of relief you tug off your t-shirt, but it does little to cool you down.  Not when Yoongi seems determined to have you falling apart on the end of his tongue, not giving you a moment's reprieve even when your hips grow restless, toes curling into the blankets.  

“Oh, oh, Yoongi,” you pant, one hand fisted in his hair whilst your other is grabbing at your own.  Your fingers wind in so tight that Yoongi responds in kind by sucking your on your clit so hard it makes you cry out, but the throb of pain it leaves behind on serves to push you even closer to the edge, begging for your release.  

“Please, please, please,” you babble, and your prayers are answered when Yoongi fills you with his fingers whilst simultaneously torturing you with his tongue.  With artful precision, his fingers crook and curl inside you to stimulate your g-spot, and though he’s gentle to start with, Yoongi is an expert at interpreting the sounds you make to know exactly how rough or fast you want it - not stopping till arousal is gushing from you with every stroke.  

“Mm, Yoongi, I’m gonna- oh, oh shit!”  Yoongi doesn’t stop as your orgasm takes a hold of you,  working you through it and savouring every drop of ecstasy he manages to coax out.   It’s only when your body begins to twitch from overstimulation that he finally begins to slow his ministrations, eventually emerging from between your legs when you weakly call his name, tapping on his shoulder.  

“Can I turn on the light?” he asks whilst you’re still basking in your post-orgasmic haze, too blissed out to do anything but nod your consent and watch as he reaches over you to turn on the lamp that rests on the bedside table over on your side of the bed.  “Wanna see you.”   

You have to throw your arm across your eyes when he first switches the light on.  When you eventually start to pull it back, Yoongi is still leaning over you, an adoring look in his eyes as he gazes down. 

“Would you look at that,” he says wistfully, cupping your cheek in his palm before leaning down to kiss you.  You can taste yourself on his tongue as it rolls into your mouth but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he stops kissing you just to softly whisper ‘you’re gorgeous’ right against your lips.  

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t gotten yours yet,” you tease, trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest.  Yoongi chuckles, his laughter interrupted by a groan when you cup his balls through his boxer shorts and press your palm against his length.  

“Am not,” he insists, even as his hips rock forward into your hard and he nips at your bottom lip, groaning again as you squeeze.  

“Still, I think it’s about time for your turn, don't you?”  Whispered into his ear, your purr causes a shiver to run through Yoongi’s body before he abruptly pulls away and sits back on his heels.   Seeming to take a moment to collect himself, he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but take advantage of this opportunity to take a good long look at your lover - to admire his slight waist and unblemished skin.  His face is flushed with desire and his eyes dark as they similarly trace your form, and you feel the very same blush fill your cheeks when your gaze is inevitably drawn to the ill-concealed erection within his boxers.  

Even hidden away beneath black material, its outline is unmistakable - as is the wet patch of material at its tip.  Yoongi catches you looking and you bite your lip at the smirk that curls his as he reaches inside his boxers and pulls his cock free, tugging them down just enough for you to make out the dark curls of pubic hair at its base.  

“There are condoms in the drawer,” he tells you with a pointed look at the bedside table, but frankly you’re too entranced with the sight of his vascular hand as it strokes the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen up and down to want to look away.  

You extend your arms towards him with a coy smile, opening them up in welcome, and Yoongi cocks a curious eyebrow as he shuffles out of his boxers before settling down on top of you, his cock laying heavy on your stomach.  

“I’m clean, and I’m on birth control.”  You hear Yoongi’s breath hitch with excitement as you place lingering kisses against his jaw, his cheek, his lips.  

“You sure?” he checks, and you can’t help but giggle because even as he’s double-checking Yoongi is already lifting his hips and reaching down to take his cock in hand, guiding it towards your cunt.  “We don’t need any more little accidents around here.”  Your insides flutter in anticipation as you feel him run the tip of it between your folds till it’s slick with your arousal, one nod away from slipping inside with blissful ease.  

“I’m sure,” you grin before kissing him again, and this time they don’t stop.  Yoongi swallows up the moan you make as he slides his cock inside you in one smooth motion, right to the hilt.  He smothers the gasp that comes thereafter when he pulls back and does it again, this time harder than the last.  With his tongue between your teeth, the two of you soon find a rhythm that has you both perspiring with effort - the sounds of your heavy breathing mingling with the slap of flesh on flesh and the slick sounds of your cunt.  

“Oh god, Yoongi!” you cry out when he alters the angle of his hips, pressing in harder, faster than before.  

“I know baby.”  He finds your hand where it lays upon the pillow and threads his fingers between yours, clasping it tight as he groans, forehead pressed to yours, and grits out, “I know, I know.”  

You pick your feet up off the bed and wrap them tightly around his waist, urging him deeper, and Yoongi doesn’t disappoint.  With renewed vigour, his hips surge forward, so deep that from this angle the tip of his cock not only kisses your cervix but grazes your g-spot on the way out as well, and even without any clitoral stimulation you can feel yourself getting close all over again.  

“Say my name,” Yoongi urges between kisses, squeezing your hand in his, “Let me hear you say it.”   You do as he asks - one time, two times, three times - and every time you do you swear your orgasm looms just that little bit closer.  

“Again, baby,” he chokes out, and you can tell he’s getting close too from the tension in his voice and how his cock has begun to twitch, his thrusts frantic now.  “Say it again for me.”   Yoongi throws his head back, lifting his chest from yours to drive his cock into you even deeper.  “Fuck, I love the way you say it.”  

There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes as his name tumbles from your lips, so close that it near steals the breath from your lungs.  Every one of your senses is filled with him - with the excruciating bliss that’s sizzling through your veins - and you can’t get enough.  Gripping tighter, pulling closer.  Kissing, touching, feeling.   It’s so much.  So much, and yet somehow you want more. 

“Please,” you choke out against the press of his lips, and you don’t even know what you’re begging for with both your hands held in his, gripping them tight atop the pillow.  You never want this to stop - never want it to end - and yet you’re both rapidly reaching the climax, tumbling into oblivion together.  

You try to hold back, you really do, but when Yoongi groans your name, pressing in deep, you’ve not a shred of willpower left.  You want to give in. 

“I’m close,” he tells you, the words gritted out through his teeth, “Feel so good around me, baby.” He nips at your jawline - nuzzles so sweetly into the crook of your neck and smatters it with kisses.  “Gonna cum with me?  So pretty when you cum.” 

“Yes,” you gasp, and you’re so close, so very, very close. “Cum in me, Yoongi, please - please .”  

With the sounds of your pleading, Yoongi, too, loses all semblance of self-control.  Driving his hips forward into you, he groans at the gradual tightening of your insides, and as his cock hardens even further, twitching in anticipation, you finally reach your end.  It’s so intense you aren’t even able to speak through your climax - unable to vocalise how incredible it feels except for the raggedly drawn breaths you take once it finally begins to fade.  

You’re disappointed to realise that Yoongi has already cum by the time you’ve returned to your senses, though from how hard he’s breathing you figure he must not have been too far behind.  His face is flushed with heat, chest perspiring, and you can feel the warmth he’s filled you with trickling out from where his pelvis sits flush with yours.   

He’s still holding your hands, you realise, and when Yoongi leans down to sweetly kiss you as he squeezes them in his own, you feel yourself blush even more fiercely than before, filled with girlish glee.  Ridiculous, really, given all that you’ve just done.  

“That was amazing,” you whisper against his lips, and his smile is just as coy as yours as he pulls away to look down into your eyes.  He doesn’t say anything but his tender expression tells you all you need to know, as does the way he can’t help but kiss you over and over again before he finally withdraws.  

“One second,” he tells you as he swings his legs out of bed and you roll onto your side to watch him go, laughing as he’s forced to shoo Holly out of the way from where’s sat waiting for attention, chin resting on the edge of the mattress. 

“I hope he hasn’t been sitting there the whole time!”  You watch fondly as Yoongi shimmies his boxers back on with a hop and a wiggle.  Gosh, he really does have the cutest little butt… “We’ll have scarred him for life.” 

“His own fault,” Yoongi dismisses, unconcerned. “I’ll just go grab some tissue.”  He leaves the room for a moment or two, and in that time you have to try very hard to resist the urge to shimmy a little dance atop his mattress - the threat of accidentally making a mess on his newly changed bedsheets looming in your mind.  At the foot of the bed, you can hear the puppies snuffling around, probably looking for their next feed, and you have to stop yourself from crawling to the other end of the bed to go look at them, too.  

As it happens, Yoongi checks on them when he gets back in your stead.  He passes you the tissues and then pre-occupies himself with Remi and the puppies whilst you clean yourself up, waiting until you climb back under the covers to finally rejoin you.  He sighs in contentment as he gets comfortable, gazing up at the ceiling with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and all you can do is stare at him in wonderment as you lay on your side, hardly daring to believe that the last half an hour or so was even real.  

“I really like you,” you whisper after a minute or two has passed, still unable to wipe the goofy love-sick grin you’re wearing off of your face.  Yoongi turns his head to the side to look at you, a cocky gleam in his eyes as he takes in your expression.  

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrow lifting.  Effortlessly cool, he extends his left arm out across the pillow to invite you to curl against his side.  You do so immediately, kissing the spot on which you then lay your head, snuggling close.  You feel his lips press against the top of your head in turn, and through his chest you hear his heart begin to gallop as he squeezes you tightly in his arms, curling them around you.  “I think I really kind of like you too.”  

****

You never intended to keep them all.  

One, maybe.  You and Yoongi had talked about it; how it’d be a shame to sell them all and not get to see how the pups would eventually turn out.  But the more time that went on - the longer the two of you spent with them and got to know and love all their little personalities - the more you couldn’t bear the idea of parting with even a single one.  

And maybe you would’ve come around to the idea of them leaving if Yoongi hadn’t been just as smitten with them as you were.  You were bad influences on each other, sending each other picture updates whenever either of you were out of the apartment ( your apartment, with both your names on the lease now, not just Yoongi’s).  As if you could’ve really brought yourself to use any of those adorable photos to place an ad that would eventually take them away from you.  You should’ve known from the moment they first opened up those beady little eyes and gazed into yours that you were done for.  

Though five dogs is undeniably a handful, you can’t bring yourself to regret the decision.   Not even now, as you hold a double lead in one hand and Yoongi holds a triple in the other, somehow still managing to keep yours conjoined as your pack pulls you along.  God help you should the whole lot of them ever spot a squirrel and decide to run, or make a mad dash for a half-eaten pack of crisps strewn across the ground.  

“Hey, hey, hey!” Yoongi warns, keeping a good grip on the puppies as they surge towards the greying spaniel that comes trotting along off-lead, his elderly owner just a little way down the path.  “Nicely, nicely.”  

You hope one day your dogs might be well enough behaved - or at least old and lazy enough - to walk so nicely off lead.  The spaniel is adorably patient despite being mobbed by three white, fluffy clouds; their noses searching out every available orifice to sniff.  You’re grateful that at least Remi and Holly have the manners to stay out of it, easily distracted by the sound of the treat packet you’re rustling inside your coat pocket.  

“Oh, what a lovely little family you’ve got there!” the elderly woman coos as she comes closer, and you thank the lord Yoongi has the good sense to hold the puppies back.  Even though they’re almost a year old they haven’t quite yet learned their strength, and you’ve no doubt they’d end up knocking her over if their overenthusiasm isn’t adequately reigned in.  “You’re so blessed!”  

Beside you Yoongi nods, his chin lifting in pride as the dogs wait to be petted one by one, tails wagging furiously along the ground.  He’s too busy watching them to notice the instinctive way your hand reaches for your stomach at the kind old lady’s words, fingers splaying wide over your lower abdomen where a little life inside you grows.  

You haven’t told him yet, but oh, you can’t help but start to grin as you imagine how shocked he’s going to be - how happy and excited.  If you closed your eyes now, you’re sure you’d be able to imagine the exact smile he’ll wear, all teeth and gums and sparkling eyes.  

Yoongi squeezes your hand in his, bringing you back to the present, and you give your tummy one last gentle rub as you return the woman’s smile, heart so full it feels fit to burst.  

“Yeah," you smile, catching Yoongi's gaze and beaming all the more, "We really are.”   

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

Your feedback is always appreciated, dear readers!  Please let me know what you think ^^ 

Also, I’m sure we all already know what Holly looks like, but just in case you were wondering about Remi’s breed, she is a Japanese Spitz who would like an awful lot like this -

And their puppies would end up look a little something like this -

Freakin’ adorable, right?  

Also, those of you who’ve followed my blog for a while might’ve now realised that I modelled Remi after my own little Japanese Spitz, Shiro.  Is that awfuly self indulgent of me?  Oh yes.  Do I care?  Not even a little bit *grin* 

[morganaspendragonss]

Can I ask for fingore square? As someone who broke their finger during the pandemic....can I request that with some hurt TK?

holly's august extravaganza day 28: ignoring every warning

thanks for the prompt brit! the fingore square had been requested by the time i saw this message but here's the fic anyway! hope you like it 😊

thanks to @silvarafael for the beta!

ao3 | 1.3k | minor injuries, hurt tk, big brother judd, mostly just tk being a dumbass

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he hurts.

He mostly just wants to put the shame of it all behind him. After all, it’s not like the entire firehouse saw him get so distracted talking to Carlos on the phone that he slammed the ambulance doors shut on his hand—

Oh, wait.

It had been weeks of teasing and jokes that TK wasn’t sure were all good-natured. Even Carlos, the traitor, had joined in once or twice (or three, or four, or five times…), and it was only Carlos’s frustratingly effective cow eyes and TK’s own displeasure at the thought of sleeping alone that had kept him from the couch.

Technically, the doctor had said that he should stick to light duty and keep the hand brace on for another few weeks, which he kinda, sorta isn’t doing.

But he’s fine.

He makes a point of saying so to Nancy when she sends him the third exasperated look of the day—and they’re only two hours into shift.

“Whatever you say, dude,” she replies drily. “Just don’t come crying when you re-break that hand because you’re a dumbass who won’t admit when he’s in pain.”

The slight smirk on her lips is enough for TK to gather that she’s referring to the first time he broke it, and...maybe she has a point.

(“I’m okay, I just need to shake it out for a minute.”

“TK, none of your fingers look the way they should. I bet you anything you can’t even move that hand right now, but, by all means, go ahead and shake it.”)

(He did. It did not go well.)

“I’m fine,” he repeats, scowling, which gets him a totally unwarranted head shake and eye roll. Well… Whatever. Nancy can think what she wants; TK is going to finish his shift and he’s going to manage it perfectly well, thanks very much.

And he does. Admittedly, his hand is aching more than it probably should be, but he just needs to rest it when he gets home, which—ah.

Problem #1: He and Carlos still haven’t finished setting up the new house.

Problem #2: Today is their only joint night off for the rest of the week, which leads to,

Problem #3: They’d agreed to spend the night sorting some furniture and unpacking a few important boxes.

Logically, TK knows he should tell Carlos that he doesn’t feel up to doing any heavy lifting tonight. He’d understand, there’s no question of that; Carlos would likely spend the entire night fussing instead, probably mixed with a bit of loving exasperation at TK for having pushed himself too much. But he doesn’t want to let him down, not again. Not after the months spent fighting with the insurance companies and struggling to find a house, and especially not after Carlos had supported TK while the firehouse was closed down.

He flexes his hand experimentally. It’s a little stiff and the soreness brings a grimace to his face, but it works.

He’s got this.

*

TK is, maybe, just a little less than fine.

Like, 85% fine. 70% absolute minimum.

But it’s okay, because now he has a day off to ice his hands without Carlos hovering like a mother hen. Normally, he’d hate the idea of spending the day without his boyfriend, but the less Carlos knows about this situation, the better for both of them.

The ice helps, and the dull throbbing that’s become his normal for the past couple of days almost disappears. TK knows he shouldn’t push it, but his need to be busy always wins over training and common sense, so.

So.

*

The next shift is a little easier, and TK figures he’s probably healed enough to head to the gym for a while. Get his strength back up, and all that.

He’s very, very wrong.

Ten minutes in, and TK hits the punching bag in a way that elicits a crack from his knuckles that not even he can write it off as fine. His hand hurts and his fingers are starting to look horribly swollen, and shit, Carlos is going to fucking kill him later.

Maybe…

Maybe he can fix this. He’s a paramedic; he can strap up his own fingers. Sure, it’s his left hand that’s injured, but he can handle it. He just needs to get out of the gym, through the firehouse, loot the ambulance, and bandage himself up without running into anyone who will ask questions.

Simple.

Except, because the universe hates him, TK quite literally runs into Judd on his way out of the gym. The knock sends an unpleasant jolt through his injured hand, and TK doesn’t manage to contain his wince in time to hide it.

Judd doesn’t even bother asking what happened; he simply sighs heavily and gets out his phone, tapping away at the screen.

TK cranes his neck to try and see what he’s doing, but Judd holds his phone close to his chest, blocking his view. “What are you doing?”

“You obviously got your dumb ass in a mess again so I’m texting your boy to come get you.” Judd shoots him an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes at TK’s horrified stare. “What, you’d rather he find out about this later or something?”

“No, it’s just—I was gonna tell him!”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, so TK doesn’t bother trying to defend himself. He huffs and folds his good arm across his chest, scowling at Judd.

“You can stop looking like that,” Judd remarks, gaze fixed back on his phone as it pings with a new message. “Carlos is on his way.”

“I hate you.”

“Shockingly, I can live with that.” He pockets his phone and takes TK’s shoulder, almost pushing him down the stairs. “Come on, kid. Let’s get some ice on that.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” TK says, though he knows Judd isn’t going to let him out of his sight until Carlos arrives.

“Yeah, that broken hand says otherwise.”

There’s a barely contained laugh in Judd’s voice, and TK has the sudden urge to punch his smirk away. Which would only really prove the point, so he has to resort to glaring at his back and ignoring the warmth at the thought of Judd taking care of him like the brother TK never had.

When Carlos shows up ten minutes later, the concern in his eyes betrays the deep exasperation painted all over his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” TK protests anyway. “It’s not like I asked for this to happen.”

Judd snorts—rude—and Carlos grins over at him, sharing a head shake—even ruder—and TK lets out what even he can admit is a pathetic whine.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Carlos says, not sounding sorry in the least, “but you have literally ignored every single recommendation from the doctor. The only thing you haven’t done is actually ask for it.”

“They’re recommendations, Carlos.”

“And you’re a paramedic, so you should know that ‘recommendation’ is a kind way of saying ‘order’.”

For the second time, TK has no defense. He huffs and looks down at his shoes, hoping that he paints a miserable enough picture to get his boyfriend to take at least some pity on him.

Somehow, it works, as Carlos takes him in a careful side hug. “Sorry,” he repeats, more earnest this time. “Let’s get you to the ER, huh?”

TK nods reluctantly, allowing Carlos to steer him out of the firehouse. “Can’t believe I’m going to have to take even more time off,” he grumbles.

“Well, think about it this way.” Carlos rubs his arm in a soothing gesture, though his next words are anything but. “At least you’ll have more time to finish up with the house.”

TK groans. His day did not need to get any more painful.

[justawhoreforsteveharrington]

The Red Dawn

Chapter Three

"Holly Jolly"

Steve Harrington x OC

Returning home was not what I particularly wanted to do. The air outside cooled my heated body, heaving in gulps of air trying to calm myself down. The realization dawned on me that if someone drove by at this hour I would look like a crazy person. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk by my house in a baggy t-shirt and shorts. Shaking my head I made my way cautiously back to my house. Tensing my body as I reached for my front door with my left hand, listening for any growls or flickering lights. Hearing nothing I pushed the door open and lit up my right hand with the red wisps.

Failing to hear a bike skid to a complete stop from behind me, only to realize someone said: “Holy Shit”.

Whipping around to face whoever said that, I am met face to face with Dustin Henderson, the kid I occasionally babysit.  My hand was still engulfed in red hanging loosely at my side. Snapping out of my shock, I look at Dustin and then down to my hand, then back at Dustin before marching over to him and grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt, dragging him into my house. Quickly shoving him inside and closing the door behind me, I whip around to face him.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I asked him  “Dustin what did you see?”

Looking at his face, all I can see is awe. He is pointing at my hand, opening and closing his mouth, like a fish out of water. 

“Dustin spit it out!!” I just about scream at him.

“Your hand was lit up in red!!! YOU HAVE POWERS!!!” He screeches back at me.

Rubbing my hands down my face, I look back at him and say “Dustin, whatever you do, you can not say anything to anyone. Do you hear me? No one, absolutely no one.” 

Nodding his head up and down enthusiastically, he says “Okay!! Holy shit!! Can I see it again?!”

Sighing I nod before raising my hands halfway up, I let the red wisps engulf my fingers again letting them twirl in the spaces between them. Glancing back at him I drop one of my hands and flex my fingers a bit to make his hat fall off his head. He lets out a sound that mimics a dying cat before completely freaking out. Letting the wisps die out and glancing at the clock on the wall I see the time says 10 pm.  

Cursing softly, I say to Dustin “Okay kid, you have to get home and it’s late your mom is probably gonna have a cow if she finds out you were out this late okay. Remember it’s a secret no one can know. Your ass will be grass if I find out you told someone. Trust me I will find out. ” 

Opening the front door again I step aside so he can get past, just as he was making it by me he said “Your secret is safe with me Adeline. You have nothing to worry about.” Before hugging me. 

Sighing softly I grip the little shit up and hug him back. What an absolute mess this night has been. Releasing him so he can leave, I softly close the door and lock it. Looking at the living room light, something catches my eye: Dustin's hat. Picking it up, and making a mental note to give it back to him tomorrow, I slowly make my way upstairs to my bedroom. All the adrenaline wearing off and leaving me completely exhausted. Walking into my room I flop on my bed and instantly fall into a dreamless sleep.

Peeling my eyes open to the sound of my alarm, I let out a sound that mimicked a dying animal. Flipping the covers off of me, I lazily got out of bed. Picking out my outfit for the day, which consisted of dark blue bell-bottom jeans accompanied by a black belt. With a tight-fitting maroon long sleeve shirt, I completed the outfit with black sneakers. Something tells me I will be running later. Curling my hair softly gives a blown-out look, which complements the outfit nicely. Coating my lips in a cherry lip balm and my eyelashes in mascara I lean down grabbing Dustin’s hat that I dropped onto my bag last night. Tucking it safely away in my bag before making my way out of the house.  

The air in the hallways in school feels like I’m being suffocated, the feeling of being watched is everywhere I go. It’s so irritating and my patience is wearing thin. Finally getting to my destination, chemistry, I see Nancy looking around for whom I’m guessing was Barb. 

Nancy makes eye contact with me, her face covered in worry “Have you seen Barb at all?” She asked me softly. 

Furrowing my brows, I replied to her “No, you’re her best friend. Shouldn’t you know where she is?” Walking past her to sit at my desk, taking note of her visibly slouching down in her seat. 

I don’t want to be mean to her, I just can’t help it. Whenever I speak to her now, it’s like she is just judging me. It is a little weird that Barb isn’t here though. If there is anyone more about school than Nancy Wheeler, it’s Barbara Holland. Getting my notebook out I open it to a blank page. Hastily writing on it ‘Meet me outside after school. -A.’ I tear the note out, folding it up and passing it to the girl in front of me while nodding my head towards Nancy, the girl gets the gist and passes it to her. Watching her receive the note and read it, all I can hope for is Nancy meeting me. 

Waiting patiently outside for Nancy, the breeze picks up rustling my hair and making me shiver. Glancing around I notice she is nowhere to be seen. 

Grumbling to myself, about to make my way to the middle school, I hear Nancy yell “Wait Adeline!! I’m coming, wait up for me!”

Turning around I purse my lips, with an annoyed look, “Ya know Nance if you’re gonna make a girl wait at least give her a heads up.” 

She grimaces slightly, saying “Sorry, I got caught up in something. Come on, I have to check something out and you’re coming with me.” 

Not particularly enthused about this I nod and walk with her to wherever the hell she’s taking me. Glancing over at her I say “Where exactly are we going?” 

She doesn’t look at me while saying “Steve Harrington’s house.” The finality of her statement sent a shiver down my spine. 

Letting out a hmm in response, I replied confused “Why exactly are we going there?” 

Without missing a beat she says “Barb is missing and we were both there last night.” 

With that statement, my blood runs cold and everything makes sense. The scream I heard last night must have come from his house. Snapping back to reality I realize I have fallen behind her a bit and jog to catch up. 

On our trek to Steve’s, the silence between us is comfortable. It's like she and I are falling back into the same dynamic duo we used to be. A couple of blocks from his house, we pass Barb’s car, Nancy coming to a complete stop to look inside. With a purse of her lips, she looks up and starts calling out to Barb, shaking my head. I grip the strap of my bag a little tighter before calling out to Barb as well. Following Nancy up the sidewalk to Steve’s house, she goes to the gate that leads to his backyard. Pushing the gate open, she calls out again and again. Seeing she is going to make her way to the woods, I can’t help the sinking feeling in my stomach. As we make our way slowly into the woods, Nancy starts looking around causing me to do the same. All of a sudden this black mass shoots past both of us. Letting out a yelp, scrambling to run after Nancy, We book it out of there. 

Making our way out of his backyard out onto the street, gasping for air I question her “You saw that too right?” 

She shoots me a look of pure terror before replying “Yeah I saw that too.”

Nodding while pointing my thumb behind me I say “My house is close by we can go there to calm down for a bit. My mom won't be home till the end of the week.” 

Making our way to my house, Nancy finally remembers that I had asked her to meet after school, “Adeline, what did you want to meet me about after school today?” 

Without looking at her I hesitantly say “When you asked me if I had seen Barb at school and I hadn’t, it got me thinking. The only other person who is so about school besides you is Barb. She would never miss a day of school. It’s weird and with everything going on in Hawkins right now, I can’t help but have a really funny feeling about this whole thing.” Finishing my sentence, I look over at her. She has a look of concentration on her face. Finally reaching my house and walking up the driveway with her, I unlocked the front door ushering her inside. 

With the both of us inside, I close the door and signal for her to follow me up the steps to my room. Once in my room, all of the stress and anxiety of the day seems to roll off of me, shoulders slouching, and dropping my bag onto the floor by my door. Making my way over to my bed and lazily flop down. Watching Nancy inspecting my room like she’s never been in here before, I mean granted it was a pastel pink now it’s a creamy white with dark wood shelves littering the walls. All of my books and vinyls are stacked in alphabetical order. There are a few pictures in frames on the shelves as well, some of me when I was little with my family, some of me and Nancy hanging out at her house. Seeing the one of her and I in matching pjs is the one she picks up. 

Chuckling softly to herself she looks back at me before saying “I remember this. We were having a sleepover for your birthday. My mom insisted she take a picture because your mom had gotten us matching sets and you accidentally wore yours the same night I wore mine.” Placing the picture back in its original spot, she continues “What happened to us, we used to be so close..” trailing off she makes her way over to me sitting at the end of the bed. 

Grabbing a pillow and holding it to my chest, staring a hole in the floor beside my bed, I replied to her softly “You moved on from me. You left me in the dust when we got to high school Nance. I don’t know what I did to you Nancy, but that shit hurt me..you were my only friend.”

 Finishing my speech and finally looked at her. She visibly looks uncomfortable, good she should be. For her to feel a fraction of the way I felt should make me feel better, but doesn’t.

“I never meant for that to happen, Addy, you have to know that. I just- I’m so sorry.” She says to me looking at her hands. 

Her poor apology is irritating, letting out a sigh, I say “Look it’s whatever, it’s in the past. Right now we have to figure out what that thing was and where the hell Barb went.” 

With an awkward silence, she starts shuffling around in her back pulling out what looks like a ripped-up photograph. 

“Uhh, Nance what the hell is that?” I question her, shuffling closer to her on my bed. 

Ignoring my question she asks “Do you have any tape?” Getting up from the bed to head over to my desk I retrieve it, handing it to her. My brows furrow watching her tape it together, she continues “The night Barb and I were at Steve's, he was having a little get-together. Barb didn’t want to drink but I was so stupid and pressured her into trying to shotgun a beer. She cut her hand and when she went inside Tommy threw Carol into the pool. Steve then pushed me into the pool. She hadn’t come back out yet, so we all went inside after getting out of the pool. I told her to just go home because I was going to get changed up in Steve’s room-“

Cutting her off, I question “What does you going into Steves’s room to have sex with him have anything to do with Barb disappearing? Also, what are you taping together”

She shoots me an annoyed look, before saying “If you didn’t cut me off I was getting there. Again I told her to leave and when I went upstairs I assumed she left. I didn’t see her when I left which just solidified my assumption. Today the reason I was late meeting you was because I was meeting Steve at his car to let him know I wasn’t going to go to the game with him tonight. Johnathan Byers was there and they were going through his pictures. Johnathan was there that night, he took pictures of everyone. Steve broke his camera..” she trails off-putting the last piece of the picture back together. 

Finally glancing down at the picture, I whisper ‘Holy Shit’. “Nancy, that's the thing we saw!!” I yelled at her while pointing. 

She looks back up at me with an unreadable expression. “We have to talk to Johnathan, we have to see if he can blow this picture up.” She says with a hardened look in her eye. 

Nodding back at her I say “Yeah okay. All right, well it’s too late now. You still need to get home. We can do it tomorrow after school. Yeah?” 

She nods her head gathering her belongings, I walk with her to the front door. “Hey Nance, just because we’re no longer bestfriends and I’m still hurt by what you did, that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. We can be friends again okay? Maybe not in the aspect we used to be, but nevertheless friends. I’ll meet you at your locker in the morning and talk to you about meeting with Johnathan.” 

Nodding her head and giving me a small smile, she whispers “Okay” and heads out for the night. 

I guess being friends with Nancy Wheeler was always in my cards, who would have thought.

Word Count 2481

Previous Chapter

[love-bokumono-fics]

WIP Wednesday - Trio of Towns

Trio of Towns has no shortage of wonderful works that are in progress. Some of them I know are years in the making and I always look forward to an update.

So here's hoping you find a new story to love!

If you're reading or writing a Trio of Towns WIP that didn't get featured today, please feel more than welcome to drop it in the Submission box and share with the rest of us! (When I only share 10 fics at a time, there's always something that's bound to be missed.)

Two in One - by PineconeTheKitten; WIP, 1/?, 1.3k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Ford/Wayne, Female Farmer/Ford, Female Farmer/Wayne; Characters: Female Farmer, Ford, Wayne, Dessie, Inari, Witchie

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Magic Revealed, Gods, Goddesses, Spirits

Summary: Ford and Wayne were once two people. Now they aren't. Holly doesn't know what to do. As it turns out, Ward is pretty into Holly, and she into him.

Two Individuals in Love can be Asexual, a Case Study - by chickadeequill; WIP, 1/?, <1k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Farmer/Ford; Characters: Ford, Female Farmer, Wayne

Additional Tags: Asexual Relationship, Romantic Fluff

Summary: After years of painstakingly avoiding romance, the town's eligible and single doctor Ford finds himself facing a simple question: is there room in his life for love? It seems the hardworking farmer just past the crossroads is still single as well, and Ford just can't figure out why she keeps declining advances from the other eligible singles in all three towns.

Watered-Down Ideals - by LemWrites; WIP, 3/?, 4k

Rating: Not Rated; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: M/M, Multi

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Farmer/Ludus; Characters: Original Male Character(s), Frank, Megan, Hector, Colin, Noel | Noelle

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Fluff, Self Confidence Issues, ADHD, I gave a farmer adhd and anxiety, this may have more projection then intended

Summary: Join Steve, the newly appointed farmer in the Trio of Towns world, on a journey full of; useless gay pinning, being a disaster, self hatred and more!

Earth and Rebirth - by TheBeckster; WIP, 17/?, 66k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: Multi, Gen

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Characters: Holly | Nanami, Frank, Marlena, Wayne, Ford, Lisette, Brad, Carrie, everyone

Additional Tags: Undecided Relationship(s), Additional Tags to Be Added, lots of headcanons, Minor Character Death, Eventual Friends to Lovers, I'm not going to tag every single character, but they will all have a part in the story, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, New friends and found family, world building, Angst with a Happy Ending, Holly is an extrovert, endgame ship tbd, Cover Art

Summary: Holly considered herself fortunate to be living about as close to the dream as any young twenty-something could. A great family, a loving husband, and well, she'd admit their apartment was awful, but they'd be moving onto bigger and better things soon enough. She truthfully couldn't wish for more. But when an accident rips it all away from her, Holly finds herself seeking a change of scenery. Her Uncle's farm out in the middle of nowhere is the perfect place for her to hide to mourn. A familiar story with a twist or two.

Fire and Dew - by Juliko; WIP, 9/26, 73k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Yuzuki/Original Character(s)

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Yuzuki, Sumomo, Lisette, Colin, Wayne, Brad, Carrie, Shizu, Yaichi, Tatsumi, Omiyo, Umekichi, Lynn, Marlena, Daryl | Darius, Ittetsu, Moriya

Additional Tags: farming, Slice of Life, Drama, Family Drama, Family Issues, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Female Character of Color, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Past Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Humor, Eventual Happy Ending, Comedy, Friends to Lovers, Adoption, Sick Character, Lulukoko characters won't appear in this fic, Falling In Love, Dorks, Ableism, Happy Ending, Romantic Fluff, Break Up, Past Relationship(s), Cows, Chickens, Sheep, Rabbits, Flowers, Stimming, Family Fluff, Bisexual Female Character, Pansexual Character, Lesbian Character, Children, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma

Summary: For as long as she could remember, Harper Leigh Maxwell's dream has always been to become a farmer, but her father's job makes it hard to do so, since it involves lots of moving. After graduating from college, she finally decides to take a chance and get her own farm. She's determined to make the most of this opportunity and do what she's wanted. In the process, she makes new friends, learns many new things, and faces many hardships. One of the friends she makes is Yuzuki Fujiwara, a mellow, sweet natured man from the town of Tsuyukusa who doesn't have the best constitution. The two of them form a strong connection that may even end up blossoming into love. But Harper's past might make things complicated, and when it threatens to catch up with her, she may find herself facing the demons from her pre-adoption early childhood. This is the story of two different people, with different interests, passions, and paths in life, walking the same dirt road every day...

Tiny Steps to Big Leaps - by Distracteddiddlin; WIP, 29/?, 28k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: Other

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Ford/Holly | Nanami; Characters: Ford, Holly | Nanami, Brad, Wayne

Additional Tags: Fluff, Developing Relationship, surprise parenting, rating and tags will update, NB Farmer, Idiots in Love, Wet Dream, Love Confessions, oh it's fucking started now, Mildly Dubious Consent, for like the smallest split second

Summary: Me while writing this months ago: what if I did that that Ford/farmer fic again but with a twist? Basically it's what if Ford accidentally became a single dad after the farmer meets him

Stranded - by TheBeckster; WIP, 2/?, 4k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: Gen

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Ludus & Siluka, Ludus & Iluka, Iluka & Siluka; Characters: Ludus, Iluka, Siluka, Tototara, Zahau, Caolila

Additional Tags: all aboard the childhood trauma boat!, Pre-Canon, Peril, Wilderness Survival, Mild Blood

Summary: Desperate for an adventure to break up the interminable boredom of a long summer, three kids set to the high seas and get way more adventure than they ever hoped for or wanted. AKA: Let's explore the Lulukoko Trio's shared childhood trauma!

Trio Of Towns - Figuring Out Love - by vampireprincess624; WIP, 6/?, 5k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: Multi

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Ford/Pixie; Characters: Ford, Pixie, Wayne, Brad, Lisette, Carrie, Noelle, Colin, Miranda, Frank, Megan, Hector, Other(s)

Summary: Pixie Fawn is left with a mess she has to sort out after leaving Ludus at their wedding because Ford, who had been away for seven months, appeared as a guest. But how is fixing things with the stubborn doctor more difficult than sorting things out with her ex husband-to-be? Are they destined to be friends or will their stronger feelings for each other lead to love? A lot of Ford/Pixie scenes where they figure out their love for each other. This is Part 3 to my series, Life In The Towns, and I strongly advise you read Part 1 (or at least the last few chapters) before this, but it should still make sense anyway. Hope you enjoy :)

The House That We Built - by CherryQDoodles; WIP, 2/?, 8k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Holly | Nanami/Ludus; Characters: Ludus, Original Characters, Lulukoko Villagers, Westown Villagers, Tsuyukusa Villagers

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, story building, Learning from the Past, Tons of fluffy moments, farmlife shenanigans, Festivals, Romance, Dark skinned MC, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Nicola knew as soon as she was able to talk that she was very different from the family she was raised in. From her dark skin to her snow white hair she stuck out as the black sheep, but she loved them like they were her blood, and vice versa. But Nicola always dreamed of wanting more: to become a farmer. Growing crops, raising animals and everything in between! She just had to convince her father that she could handle the hard work within two years time. Follow Nicola's journey to becoming the best farmer she dreams of, and her adventures in the Trio of Towns!

Ford's Roses - by thelighthouse33; WIP, 5/?, 3k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Farmer/Ford; Characters: Ford, Female Farmer, Wayne, Megan, Frank, Miranda, Carrie, Brad, Lisette, Noel | Noelle, Colin

Additional Tags: My First Work in This Fandom, better late than never, Ford x Holly, Story of Seasons Trio of Towns, Harvest Moon - Freeform, Gaming

Summary: This is a story of how the doctor of Westown, in charge of The White Capsule Clinic, falls in love with the new farm girl...

[pagan-stitches]

“Lights appeared at cottage doors and moved through the narrow streets, clustering by the well.  The lights were cressets--small oil lamps shielded from the night wind by lantern frames of iron and horn--and the people who held them were young men, walking in Christmas guise: Their faces were blackened with soot, their bodies were bundled against the cold, and along with their lanterns, they carried poles and cudgels.  Jostling and laughing they left the well and trudged through the snow, past the houses, past the church, past the sheepfolds and cow byres huddled at the edge of the village, onto the path that led to the empty winter fields. 

By the time morning’s first light shone red on the hills, the men were far from their houses.  They could be seen as dark figures moving in the hedgerows, beating at the bare branches of hawthorn and blackthorn with their poles, so that the small birds hidden within the tangle tumbled frantically up in an effort to escape.

It was a small bird that the men hunted.  They were the Wren Boys of Christmas, seeking a wren for the village.  He who managed to flush one from its hiding place and break its fragile back with a blow of his staff became their King for that day.”

--The Enchanted World: The Book of Christmas

Wren day is celebrated on December 26th, the feast of St. Stephen.  In villages across Europe these days a fake wren is hunted and put upon a pole.  Then the crowds of strawboys or wrenboys dress up in masks, straw suits or colorful clothing and parade through towns and villages.  

The wren, the wren, the king of all birds

St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze

Although he was little, his honor was great

Jump up me lads and give us a treat

We followed the wren three miles or more

Three miles of more, three miles or more

Through hedges and ditches and heaps of snow

At six o'clock in the morning

Rolley, Rolley, where is your nest?

It's in the bush that I love best

It's in the bush, the holly tree

Where all the boys do follow me

As I went out to hunt and all

I met a wren upon the wall

Up with me wattle and gave him a fall

And brought him here to show you all

I have a little box under me arm

A tuppence or penny will do it no harm

For we are the boys who came your way

To bring in the wren on St. Stephen's Day

In the past a real wren was killed and put upon a pole or a pitchfork.  Feathers were handed out for luck and for payment in food and drink, or money for a wren ball in January.  These days though the wren is fake, the day is still celebrated in parts of Ireland and the Isle of Man.  In parts of Wales is it is celebrated on Twelfth Day and on the first Sunday in December in parts of France.

My husband I go out into the woods or a nearby bird sanctuary on December 26th, or whichever day I’m off work that is closest to the date, armed only with a camera and do our own wren hunt.  Last year I was lucky enough to find a wren that was probably left behind by a cat  on St. Stephens day and managed to harvest some feathers.  This year we had a lovely walk but weren’t lucky enough to “catch” a wren.  However, when we got home I took my feathers out of the amulet bag that I stitched last year, and made a bower of ivy and red berries to display them alongside a fake bird.  Then we listened to The Cutty Wren  and The Wren, The Wren.  This is one of my favorite traditions, regardless of whether the hunt is succesfull or not!

@graveyarddirt

[angelqueen04]

Hamliza Month, Day 26

@megpeggs @historysalt

Farm Offend Summary: Eliza and Liza have a talk after a difficult visitor. Note: A good deal of this is inspired by Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie’s version of events in their novel, My Dear Hamilton. I added some of my own thoughts and twists to it, but their version lays at its heart. All credit to them.

Eliza stood at the parlor window, her back straight as a board, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. This set of windows had a good view of the road leading away from the Grange, which provided her with an excellent view of the comings and goings of travelers as they sped by, on their way to Albany or New York, depending on their direction. The view it gave her at this particular moment was even more agreeable, however, as it allowed her to watch the gig[1] carrying James Monroe drive away from the house.

Good riddance, she thought with a measure of grim satisfaction. The Virginian had come here hoping that time had softened her, had made her amenable to accepting some well-turned little speech that he’d obviously planned out in his mind beforehand.[2] Well, he’d now learned otherwise.

“Mama?”

Eliza slowly turned from the window. Standing just inside the parlor door was her dear Liza, with good Mr. Holly and Eliza’s fifteen-year-old nephew, Alexander Malcolm. All three were staring at her, their eyes wide and full of shock, which was more than enough to tell her that they had all heard most, if not all, of her interview with the former President.

Eliza met their gazes head on, refusing to be cowed or chagrined by her behavior. Her words and actions toward Mr. Monroe might not have been within the bounds of societal convention – all right, they most certainly weren’t – but they were only the minimum of what he deserved from her. “Yes, dearest?” she asked her daughter.

Liza didn’t say anything else, clearly startled by her mother’s nonchalant attitude. Mr. Holly also seemed to have been astonished into silence. Young Alexander, however, managed to find his tongue.

“My goodness, Aunt!” he exclaimed, shocked enthusiasm filling his voice, “I did not expect to see or hear anything like this when I came to visit! You dressing down a former President of the United States like he was an errant schoolboy!” He glanced at his cousin and asked, “Does this sort of thing happen often, Cousin Liza? Perhaps I should come ‘round more often!”

Eliza saw her daughter and son-in-law exchange a meaningful look and, for a moment, a wave of sadness splashed over her. She had once had someone to exchange such glances with, but not for a long, long time now. She shook her head and held her chin high. Now was not the time for grief.

Off the look from his wife, Mr. Holly dropped a hand on young Alexander’s shoulder and said, “Come, cousin, let me show you the new fishing rods I purchased. I think you’ll enjoy them.” Without waiting for a response, he guided the boy out of the parlor and out the front door, leaving Eliza alone with her daughter.

Eliza turned from Liza’s gaze, intending to settle herself in a chair near the fireplace. Spring had come, but it was still quite chilly, and a fire was still necessary to keep the house warm. With a sigh, she sank into the seat, and waited for Liza to speak. Her daughter was by nature outspoken, a trait she came by honestly. How could she not be, with two such parents? Liza would have her say, no matter what.

She did not speak immediately, however. Instead, Liza crossed the room and took a seat in the other chair just across from the one Eliza had seated herself in. That chair had been Alexander’s once, Eliza thought wistfully. They’d sometimes sit together here in the parlor, late into the evening after the children had gone to bed, and just enjoy the silence and warmth of one another’s company.

She and Alexander had hoped to have many years to do such things, but that wretch, Burr, had had other plans. And so Eliza, more often than not, was left to sit by the fire in the Grange alone. Only rarely did any of her family or other visitors dare to sit in that chair.

“Was that wise, Mama?” Liza asked her, her tone soft. Her dark eyes, mirrors to Eliza’s own, were steady and thoughtful. “Mr. Monroe might no longer be President, but he likely still has influence. Given the positions some of your sons hold, surely it was ill-advised to offend him like that?”

A snort escaped Eliza before she could stop it. “He’ll do nothing to your brothers, you may rest easy on that score,” Eliza told her. “These Virginians pride themselves on their honor, and your brothers have nothing to do with why that man came here today. And besides,” she added in a colder tone, “he offended me first. Perhaps it is childish, but there it is.”

Liza stared at her. “He came here seeking a rapprochement with you, Mama. Is that so very bad?”

Eliza could feel the fire, the rage, rising in her, but she kept it contained. Liza did not deserve her fury. She shook her head. “He could claim he sought peace all he wanted, but what he really wanted was forgiveness. He wanted me to forgive him for making a mockery of my private pain, for humiliating me before all the world in his efforts to wage war on your father.”

Liza blinked, and confusion was soon writ all over her expression. Eliza sighed. “I suppose I never did tell you everything,” she admitted. Only once had she ever spoken to her daughter of that cursed pamphlet and of Alexander’s infidelity. It had not been a conversation that Eliza had relished, and so had kept it short and to the point. She suspected that her sons had likely told their sister more, but she did not know for certain. Even if they did, they did not know all of it.

“When government officials came to investigate your father for improper speculation, your father revealed the truth of the matter to them – that he was paying off the husband of his mistress.” Liza winced at the harsh phrasing, but didn’t interrupt. Eliza, long used to the tale, kept speaking without pause. “He exhorted them to keep quiet about this, as his private failings had no bearing on his public integrity. To this, they agreed, for they all knew that there was no improper conduct in the course of your father’s duties as President Washington’s Treasury Secretary.” That there was more than enough to say about his improper conduct as a private man went unsaid. “Your father also entrusted the proof of all of this to them, but he requested copies.”

Liza shook her head, a pained expression on her face. “Mama, what does this have to do with President Monroe?”

Eliza gave her a chiding look for her impatience. “Everything, dear. Mr. Monroe was the leader of that little delegation of investigators. It was to him that your father gave the papers – Maria Reynolds’ letters, James Reynolds’ blackmail, the record of the payments, all of it. When your father requested copies, he assumed that Mr. Monroe would make the copies himself, in keeping with his promise to keep the knowledge of it as contained as possible.” She could not help the sneer crossing her face. “But Mr. Monroe decided that this was not worth a hand cramp, and so entrusted the task to a clerk within the House of Representatives. Mr. Monroe later claimed that this clerk made copies for himself as well.” She shook her head. “In any case, Mr. Monroe decided that he would ‘entrust’ the papers to a ‘trusted friend in Virginia’, who would theoretically keep them under lock and key, particularly when Mr. Monroe was out of the country.”

Her daughter was not a fool. She stiffened, catching on very quickly. “President Jefferson.”

Eliza nodded, her fingers gripping the armrest in a vicelike grip. “’Tis like trusting a fox to behave himself in a henhouse. Later, when it proved most advantageous to them, the papers were given to a vile newspaperman, who did not hesitate to print them and use them against your father. Of course, the focus of that odious man’s accusations was, again, in leveling the charge of speculation. Your father’s response was to call upon the three men who had cleared him of that charge, asking them to reiterate that they had been satisfied in their investigation. Two of them agreed without hesitation, but the third…” she trailed off. The memory still hurt, even now.

“Mr. Monroe would not,” Liza finished for her, her voice soft.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Eliza confirmed, the bitterness settling in the back of her throat like bile, burning. “He declared that him getting involved would only cause more chaos than there already was.” She sniffed. “He was already involved, as he was the one who handed the papers off to the very man who saw to their release into the public consciousness. But the fact that he himself had not done so was enough for Mr. Monroe to split hairs and to claim and declare that he was not in any way responsible, and that your father should just leave it be.” Of course, Alexander could not leave anything be. That was not his way. He had to meet every accusation, every attack, head on.

“So Papa wrote that pamphlet.”

“Yes.” One terrible word, one terrible truth. “James Monroe knew your father very well, despite them being political opponents. He knew Alexander would react to preserve his political reputation, for the sake of the country’s existence. If the public believed that the founder of the country’s credit, its wealth and prestige, was corrupt, it would shake apart for good. He knew Alexander would fall on his sword, would admit his private sins for the sake of the public’s greater good – and that’s exactly what he and his friends wanted. Alexander Hamilton would preserve the nation from the crisis they had invoked, but at the cost of all his credibility. He would cease to be a threat to their ambitions.” And that was what had happened. Alexander’s reputation suffered for his confessions, and only once after that did he wield any real semblance of power – when he stood at the head of the army he had begun to build, and that had been ripped away when Mr. Adams made peace with France and declared that the United States needed no army. The fool.

“But in getting what he wanted, Mr. Monroe had sullied his honor,” Eliza continued resentfully. “He knew it. I knew it. And Virginians are very prickly about their honor. He had sworn to not reveal those documents to anyone, which Alexander asked him to do for my sake and that of our family. But he broke that promise, and opened the door for his own allies to attack me, someone he considered an innocent party.” Some of those infernal newspaper headlines still stung.

“That is what he wanted, Liza,” she said. “James Monroe wanted me to clear the mud off his honor. His health is in serious decline. His wife has passed, and he’s not long in following her, I think. He wants to die with his conscience clear, and that I will not give him. I will not forgive the man. Not because he humiliated me, mind you. But because he and his friends, most specifically that reptile now mouldering in his grave at Monticello, set out to destroy your father, a man they viewed as unworthy of anything he touched because he was not like them, not born here, not born to inherit some Godforsaken speck of land. Your father earned all he gained, and that they could not abide.”

Liza leaned back in the chair. “And I thought all men were created equal here,” she murmured.

Eliza snorted again. She seemed to be doing that quite often these days. Her mother would be appalled. “Oh no,” she said, “They talk prettily, but in the minds of many people, there is still a hierarchy, where people ought to ‘know their place.’” She paused, her eyes turning from Eliza to the fire. She stared into the flames, could feel its heat seeping under her dress to her feet. “Your papa was a good man, if a very flawed one. He believed in the promise that this country holds, and in those very words that Mr. Jefferson put to paper. Whatever his shortcomings, of which he would have been the first to admit that he had many, he did not deserve the slander they threw upon him.” She looked up again. “So no, I will most emphatically not pat James Monroe on the head and tell him all is well and forgiven. Not when he showed himself as having no remorse for his actions.

“Perhaps that makes me self-righteous,” Eliza admitted. “Perhaps the good Lord will frown upon my unkindness. But I am no saint, no angel. There are limits to what I can give, my dear, and we just found what those limits are. Justice shall be done to the memory of my dear Hamilton, and that justice will not come in coddling the men who sought to erase every trace of him.”[3]

Liza nodded, and they both fell into silence. They sat together for some time, until Mr. Holly and young Alexander finally returned.

[wonkastarshine]

Soooooo... I wasn’t sure when I was going to share this, but I’m just feeling very emotional towards this event today, so I think this is a good day to talk about it.

I’ve met Tim Burton.

That is me in the all black ensemble in front of him, at the bottom of this very long story. I met him on January 21st this year at his exhibition at the Neon Museum in Las Vegas. The second I found out that Tim was coming to Las Vegas, I cried so hard. This was finally my opportunity to meet the man that has shaped my whole life. But when I went online to secure a ticket for the book signing, they were sold out. I was devastated, and in a desperate plea, I called the museum and asked if they were COMPLETELY sold out. They said ‘yes, we are, but there will be a stand-in line.”

And the clouds lifted.

This was a risky trip. I would be ditching three of my classes to spend a day driving to Las Vegas and then driving back immediately afterwards. I live about 5 hours from Vegas. The stand-in line started at 10am. I planned to leave at exactly 5am and get in line as early as possible. I planned my outfit, my hair, exactly which book I was going to buy for him to sign, and how much I would need to put aside for gas money. It was all put into place.

Now, to convince Mom to let me go...

I wrote out a whole speech (a la Wonka cue card style) and read it out loud to her. I had lost so much sleep over the fear of her rejection, and the agony of knowing that I had a shot and it just slipped from my fingers. My mom’s biggest worry was that I would drive all the way, stand hours in line and have Tim say, “Sorry, I’m not going to sign any more.” But I told her, “I would rather go and be turned away, then to never know whether I would’ve been accepted or not.”

Mom wasn’t happy, but ultimately gave her blessing for me to drive solo(!) to Las Vegas. Gosh, even just writing about it now gives me such butterflies! I woke up at 4:30 and was out of the house by 5:30, as I had to wait for some fog to clear up. I was on my way, with Danny Elfman’s music to be my friend for the long drive. The drive was fairly empty. I went over the Tehachapi mountains just as the sun was rising. It was sooooo beautiful, with all of its purples, pinks and oranges. “Everyday” by Buddy Holly, from Big Fish was playing and it just completely summed up how I was feeling. This was my moment. From the second I laid eyes on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at age 4, Tim Burton forever changed my life. And now it was going to be time to thank him.

I arrived at the museum and to my surprise, the stand-in line was maybe 15 people maximum. The 400 people who got tickets previously were all in attendance. I breathed a sigh of relief and ate a snack while reading a book. The employees of the museum were so nice and always willing to answer our questions. One even said, “Tim loves his fans. He’s very grateful for all of you. I have no doubt he will sign for everyone.” So, the waiting began. I had arrived at about 10:30 or so and the signing would not start until 2pm. It wasn’t until around 2:30 or so that we were informed that those in the stand in line were definitely getting our books signed.

Y’all let me tell you, I almost died right there on the spot.

And I was internally panicking so much because I hadn’t allowed myself to plan what I was going to say to him, in the event I didn’t get to meet him. But it was real now and the gears were turning. I bought The Art of Tim Burton book from the stand and quickly joined the queue, which was moving rapidly. He was a fast signer, apparently. The employees told us we could pick ANY page we wanted him to sign and he would sign it. The gears turned even more. ANY PAGE?? Holy cow, what would I pick? Wonka, Edward, Catwoman, personal sketches of him and Helena?? I was so torn. I loved the concept sketch of Wonka, but there was some text at the bottom of it, and I kinda just wanted his signature to be alone with a drawing. I wanted to pick something that uniquely represented Tim, one drawing that completely encapsulated what his art is, what his art means and expresses.

And the lowly first sketch of Edward Scissorhands that he drew in high school was perfect. 100% Tim Burton.

The queue was getting shorter and shorter, and I realized that I was silly getting to think that Burton would want to really be having conversations with people. A self proclaimed introvert definitely would not want to talk to over 500 people in a day! So, I decided on one line. As soon as I turned the corner and I saw that tangled mess of black hair, those polarized glasses he never goes without, my heart completely dropped and burst with nerves. It was really Tim Burton, Tim Fucking Burton, sitting right there. The man responsible for creating my childhood: Willy Wonka, Edward Scissorhands, Corpse Bride, Nightmare Before Christmas, Batman Returns. It just seemed so surreal. I handed my phone to the nice lady behind me in line, who I casually held small talk with throughout the day. She was more than happy to take pictures of me with Burton.

He was moving fast! I barely got in front of him when he was already done signing it! I had to make my move. I stuck out my hand, waited until he shook it, made eye contact with me and I said, “Thank you so much for coming.” He smiled and I was quickly ushered away by the nice employees. It was perfect. No embarrassing blubbering or confessions. Just a handshake, a word of thanks and some smiles. I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes just typing this. I left the museum, and went to my car. I just stared at his autograph for the longest time. I called my mom and told her I made it and I met him. After I hung up, I sat quietly in car, silent, yet happy tears falling. Everything I’ve ever wanted to be, is because of Burton. My reason for wanting to become a film editor is because of Burton.

It was my honor and privilege to have met the genius. And I’m beyond grateful it happened before the entire world turned into a chaotic mess. Tim Burton has always been my rock in times of chaos. Today is no exception. What a day 🖤

[saitamaandmanakoblog]

OPM: Manako had a talk with Geno

First Meeting.

“Master! watch out there’s a Monster!”

Pull out his freaking Hand Laster Gun!

“Ahhhhh! Saitama Help!”

“Oi Oi! Geno No! that’s my friend and Sidekick!

Manako runs up to Saitama and hide behind his leg

“Holly Cow! Saitama your disciple is Scary!, No wonder why your his teacher!”

Geno put down his arm and apologize quickly for the missunderstanding

“Sorry Master it’s won’t happen again!

“You better be!, because I’m going to give you some ground rules first if you want to stay as my disciple!

Rule 1: If you see monsters living in my impartment or right next to the building they are under my protection.

Rule 2: If you see Monsters with Saitama&Manako Logo on them or have our citizen Card they are safe and be left alone but if they are in danger save them.

Rule 3: If a Monster don’t have our Logo on them in Z-City Ghost Town and said they are not evil make sure they are not lying or just bring them to Manako or me we will know what to do, but most of the Monsters in the Monster Association don’t know we exist or the civilians monsters so it will barely happen since we only have a few of them living here. Also the part that society doesn’t know their existence too.

Rule 3: If you came into our home please clean up your own mess or help us clean up.

Rule 4: If you see a Hero or a Monster who is trying to kill the Monster Civilians go and stop them right away since the Hero doesn’t know any better but if it was a monster kill then since we don’t want the Monsters Association to know their existence

“That’s pretty much it, but we will put more rules later on if something too happen in Z-City.”

“Do you understand these Rules Geno?,Do you have any question?”

“No Master, I understand the rules.”

“Phew that’s good,”

Time Skip Into the future when they have a talk before the Hero Meeting and the Alliances Invasion.

Why would I believe anything you say? You don't understand anything, you're just a Monster!." Geno argued. Manako grab down his street clothes to Manako's eye level.

"Look here; I've seen many worse things than you have. I use to be apart of The Monsters Association, watched my aunt kill herself, worked with my gang who was forced to swallow a bomb so they can laugh at us.

I've lost everything time and again and again. I'm not going around killing people for the sake of destroying humanity and heroes when I thought it was the right thing to do in the past.

Revenge doesn't fucking help!. You know that just as well as I do. You know that if you go any further down the path you've chosen it'll only end up with you dead, in the hands of whatever hidden monster or robot investigation you land up in and they will try to kill you.

Sure you lost your family, but neither do half of the people who live in this new generation of evil monsters and a few ignorant heroes. In a few weeks I might be forced to join the Monsters Association or they just want to murder me for betraying my own kind. Spare Dr. Kuseno and your future. It's not worth it."

Manako look at Geno in pain in her eyes understanding where Geno is coming from with his perspective, Geno didn't say any another words after that incident.

Time Skip when he got a call for the hero meeting

Genos realises how far he's come when he witnesses Sweet Mask dispatch a group of alien prisoners without mercy and remarks how similarly hard-hearted he used to be himself, while Manako was with Saitama. Thank goodness she wasn’t here to see that or Saitama in that matter.

Saitama moderating influence on Genos, helps him to be calmer and take a more measured approach to his pursuit of justice and power.

While Manako caring and loving influence helps Geno to strengthen his relationships and develop meaningful emotional connections with others. And shows how much care to those around him, and he finally allowing himself to live happier and more complete very slowly each day.

Because you know, Genos only fully respects three people Saitama, Dr. Kuseno and Manako also being nice to the Monster Civilians of course.

He extends professional respect to those who demonstrate genuine expertise, like Bang and Bomb, and tolerates people who Saitama willingly spends time with, like King.

He is rather disrespectful to almost anyone else, especially those who attempt to interrupt, or pester Saitama or Manako. Whenever Bang or Fubuki command him/her or attempt to recruit Saitama/Manako, Genos will cut them off and tell them to get to the point. He will defend his position as Saitama's disciple while Manako is his second teacher, actively discouraging Saitama from letting other people get too close while Manako only steps in if needen in certain situations.

This hostile behavior does not only extend to those who offend Saitama and Manako,but Dr. Kuseno as well. Genos has even called out Saitama when he called Dr. Kuseno an old man, but he immediately apologized when his master told him to give it a rest. He also does not respect the authority of the Hero Association very much, telling Sitch that even though he wasn't part of the main task force team to invade the Monster Association that he would have gone anyway, and states that none of his decisions have anything to do with the Hero Association.

Manako makes little secret codes or puzzles for Geno to do for his homework assignments or task for Geno sometimes so he can learn something out of it and grow into a better person and learn important lesson and good advice.

[scotianostra]

And so we come to my last historical post of the day, the month, the year and the decade, and it's a meaty one, I really should have posted it in a few easily digestible segments but I left it too late in the day so here goes.....most of the post has been taken from John Gregorson Campbell’s The Gaelic Otherworld.

Hogmanay high jinks, it's all a matter of tradition in Scotland.

It has been said that Hogmanay is a Godless Christmas celebrated to excess – and Scots have long known how to celebrate the New Year with devotion.

With the old feast of Christmas generally discouraged by the Kirk following the Reformation, special focus was placed on New Year with the period running up to Hogmanay, and its aftermath, always celebrated as a holiday period in Scotland.

With the old feast of Christmas generally discouraged by the Kirk following the Reformation, special focus was placed on New Year with the period running up to Hogmanay, and its aftermath, always celebrated as a holiday period in Scotland.

This period was known in Scotland as the ‘daft days’ – a time given over to celebration, merriment and excess, with licence given for enjoyment during the often bleak midwinter.

Now anyone who follows my post on here might remember the ‘daft days’ from previous posts, it is also the title of a poem by the Edinburgh Poet who inspired Burns, Robert Ferguson.

It covers the period in the year running from Christmas (25 December), through New Year, and into the first Monday of the year, known as Handsel Monday. After the Reformation of 1560, the old feast of Christmas was generally discouraged by the church, but the period running up to New Year’s Eve, and its aftermath, was always celebrated as a holiday period in Scotland. The first Monday of the year was called Handsel Monday because it was the custom on that day for Scots to exchange a handsel, or gift, as a good luck token. The word handsel derives from Old Norse and Anglo-Saxon and means to ‘give into the hand’.

It is still the primary period of national celebration in Scotland, with stage-managed events in Edinburgh on Hogmanay (‘New Year’s Eve’) – a word believed to derive from Old French ‘aguillanneuf’ (and in Northern French ‘hoguinane’) meaning a seasonal gift. Others suggest it was first used by the Celtic Druids and could be derived from terms of the celebration for the turning year used by the Icelandics, Saxons

In the daft Days Fergusson describes the darkening, bleak weather, the stillness of the wildlife, and the shelter that Edinburgh offers. In the city people can take their fill of food and drink while enjoying conversation, dance and music. But he warns the reader not to drink too much aqua vitae (whisky) or else fall prey to the notorious city guard, whom he also mentions in the poem Hallow Fair.

The Daft Days

Now mirk December’s dowie face

Glowrs owr the rigs wi sour grimace,

While, thro’ his minimum of space,

The bleer-ey’d sun,

Wi blinkin light and stealing pace,

His race doth run.From naked groves nae birdie sings,

To shepherd’s pipe nae hillock rings,

The breeze nae od’rous flavour brings

From Borean cave,

And dwyning nature droops her wings,

Wi visage grave.Mankind but scanty pleasure glean

Frae snawy hill or barren plain,

Whan winter, ‘midst his nipping train,

Wi frozen spear,

Sends drift owr a’ his bleak domain,

And guides the weir.Auld Reikie! thou’rt the canty hole,

A bield for many caldrife soul,

Wha snugly at thine ingle loll,

Baith warm and couth,

While round they gar the bicker roll

To weet their mouth.When merry Yule-day comes, I trou,

You’ll scantlins find a hungry mou;

Sma are our cares, our stamacks fou

O’ gusty gear,

And kickshaws, strangers to our view,

Sin fairn-year.Ye browster wives, now busk ye braw,

And fling your sorrows far awa;

Then come and gie’s the tither blaw

Of reaming ale,

Mair precious than the well of Spa,

Our hearts to heal.Then, tho’ at odds wi a’ the warl’,

Amang oursels we’ll never quarrel;

Tho’ Discord gie a canker’d snarl

To spoil our glee,

As lang’s there’s pith into the barrel

We’ll drink and ‘gree.Fidlers, your pins in temper fix,

And roset weel your fiddle-sticks;

But banish vile Italian tricks

Frae out your quorum,

Not fortes wi pianos mix –

Gie’s Tulloch Gorum.For nought can cheer the heart sae weel

As can a canty Highland reel;

It even vivifies the heel

To skip and dance:

Lifeless is he wha canna feel

Its influence.Let mirth abound, let social cheer

Invest the dawning of the year;

Let blithesome innocence appear

To crown our joy;

Nor envy wi sarcastic sneer

Our bliss destroy.And thou, great god of Aqua Vitae!

Wha sways the empire of this city,

When fou we’re sometimes capernoity,

Be thou prepar’d

To hedge us frae that black banditti,

The City Guard.

In the 18th century, it was recorded that children out and about on 31 December in Scotland would shout out: “Hogmanay, Trollolay/Give us your white bread and none of your grey.”

The world ‘trollolay’ from the Scots song may also come from the Icelandic word trolldir which denotes a troll or evil genii who devoured mortals who strayed into their territory.

Fantastic records exist on how Hogmanay was celebrated in Scotland over time.

In the Highlands and Islands, the seven days from Christmas to the New Year were known as Nollaig.

During the “easy-going olden times” no work was done during the period but men gave themselves up “to friendly festivities and expressions of goodwill,” according to John Gregorson Campbell’s The Gaelic Otherworld.

Another wee rhyme that was used in "olden times was ......

Get up, goodwife, and shake your feathers,

And dinna think that we are beggars;

For we are bairns come out to play,

Get up and gie's our hogmanay!'

And another I would suggest was maybe recited by first footers, chapping on the doors of their friends and neighbours to wish them a happy new year.....

My feet's cauld, my shoon's thin;

Gie's my cakes, and let me rin!'

A common saying of the festive period was often shared: “The man whom Christmas does not make cheerful/Easter will leave sad and tearful.”

Hogmanay was referred to as either ‘night of the candle’ or ‘night of blows’ given the popularity of one ritual which involved a man having a dry cow hide placed over his head before being beaten like a drum as he and his friends moved around their village.

Usually led by a bagpiper, the group would move around each house, turning anti-clockwise, striking the walls and reciting rhymes to raise the householders. As doors opened, the group would pile into each home to receive refreshments, such as oatmeal bread, cheese, flesh and of course, a wee dram of whisky.

The leader would then give the man of the house the ‘caisein uchd’ or a shinty stick wrapped in the breast stripe of a sheep or tail of a deer. This was then singed in the fire, put three times anti-clockwise around the family and then held to the noses of all in the room, Campbell said.

“In this style, the villages, men and boys, went from house to house – preceded in many cases by a piper, and drowning the animosities of the past year in hilarity and merriment,” according to Campbell.

Fancy dress and guising was a popular element of Hogmanay in Scotland through time. The rich would dress for fun, while the poor would dress up to entertain and collect food for their last feast of the year.

Holly and cheese were other elements of a traditional Hogmanay. Holly was hung in the belief it would keep the fairies away with boys whipped with a branch of the greenery.

A slice of cheese cut at this feast was considered to have a “special virtue” if the piece contained a hole. A person losing his way during the ensuing year, in a mist of otherwise, has only to look through the hole and he will see his way clearly,” according to Campbell’s account.

Sometimes the owner of the lucky cheese would place it under their pillow for good luck.

Hogmanay night was sometimes referred to as New Year’s Night with the fire in the home playing a central part in the superstitions during the countdown to midnight. It was feared that letting the fire go out would invite bad luck into the home with only householders – or a friend – allowed to tend it. Candles were usually lit as back-up to ensure a flame remained in the house with 31 December often referred to as Candle Night as a result. If the fire went out, no one was allowed to ask a neighbour for kindling to start another.

New Year’s Day, like the first of every quarter of the year, was a great ‘saining’ day across the Highlands and Islands when rituals were at their most intense to protect cattle and houses from evil.

Juniper was burnt in the byre, animals were marked with tar, the houses were decked with mountain ash and the door-posts and walls and even the cattle were sprinkled with wine.

Campbell said: “Nothing was allowed to be put out of the house this day, neither the ashes of the fire nor the sweepings of the house, nor dirty water, nor anything else, however useless or however much in the way.

“It was a very serious matter to give fire out of the house to a neighbour whose hearth had become cold, as the doing so gave power to the evil-minded to take away the produce from the cattle.

The morning of 1 January started with a dram poured by the head of the household with a spoon of half-boiled sowens given for luck. A young man entering with a armful of corn was considered a joyful omen but a “decrepit old woman asking for kindling of her fire was a most deplorable omen,” Campbell’s account said.

It was unlucky for a woman to enter the house, or anyone to come in empty handed, with a form of the superstition evolving into Scotland’s tradition of ‘first footing’.

Of course no post about the Auld Year ending and new one beginning would be complete without mentioning Auld Lang Syne.

Every year, the streets ring with the same lilting song. Sweet, nostalgic, hopeful; “Auld Lang Syne"  it has become an absolute tradition in New Year’s Eve celebrations.It is also the second most song, sung around the world, only Happy Birthday is sung more often.

Burns never intended his work to act as a farewell to the old year; it’s a piece which partially reproduces, partially originally pens an older folk tune.

He originally sent the piece to the Scots Musical Museum with a note: “The following song, an old song, of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript until I took it down from an old man.”

Don't shoot the man for it, the same was true of many of James Hogg and Walter Scott's tales of folklore and verse.

The phrase “for auld lang syne” essentially boils down to “for (the sake of) old times”. It’s a work which essentially calls for the preservation of our oldest, dearest friendships; perhaps observed in the reflective quality of New Year’s Eve itself. A time when people come together to recall past joys and sorrows, specifically those spent in each other’s company.Now, there are several variations of what’s sung on New Year’s Eve; first off, I have posted Burns’ original Scots verse if you want to keep things authentic. Below that, a simplified English translation.

BURNS’ ORIGINAL SCOTS VERSEShould auld acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

and auld lang syne?CHORUS:

For auld lang syne, my jo,

for auld lang syne,

we’lltak‘ a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup!

and surely I’ll be mine!

And we’ll tak' a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.CHORUS

We twa hae run about the braes,

and pou’d the gowans fine;

But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,

sin' auld lang syne.

CHORUSWe twa hae paidl’d in the burn,

frae morning sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roar’d

sin' auld lang syne.

CHORUSAnd there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!

and gie's a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll tak' a right gude-willie waught,

for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

ENGLISH TRANSLATION.Nah dinnae bother wae it, if ye cannae sing the Scottish version ye don't desrve tae ken the English yin. ;)

Happy New Year when it comes to all my followers here on Tumblr. 

John Gregorson Campbell was a Scottish folklorist and Free Church minister at the Tiree and Coll parishes in Argyll, Scotland. An avid collector of traditional stories, in he became Secretary to the Ossianic Society of Glasgow University in the mid-1850s.

[rimmers-swimming-certificate]

Red Dwarf fanfic - Comatose (14/19)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13

“That one,” Lister said. He pointed to one of the cards arranged face down on the table between himself and Cat.

Cat reached across and turned the card over to reveal a crudely drawn cartoon of a woman, naked from the waist up, with long dark hair covering the nipples of her ample breasts.

“Oh, I’ve seen that one before!” Cat told him excitedly. “Now, where was it…?”

Lister sighed. He pointed to another card, to the left of the table. “It’s there,” he said. “You turned it over on your last go.”

Cat looked dubious, but turned over the card. His eyes widened in amazement. “Hey! That’s right! How do you keep doing that?”

“You just have to remember the cards you’ve seen before,” Lister told him.

Cat shrugged, apparently baffled. He picked up the cards with the two identical naked women on them, and placed them in the growing pile of cards in front of Lister.

“Cat, it’s not that hard. It’s a kids game,” Lister told him.

“Seriously? You let kids play a game where all the cards have naked women on them? What’s wrong with you humans?”

Lister rolled his eyes. “No the game, not this particular set of cards. It’s called ‘pairs’, and you can make pairs of anything, these just happen to be the cards I’ve got. I found them in Petersen’s locker. The ones I had as a kid had, like, cows and pigs and things on them. Your turn.”

Cat looked at the remaining cards on the table, then snatched two at random. He turned them over to reveal two completely different half-naked women. He grinned widely. “Hey, I’m so good at this. You keep picking ones that are the same!”

“That’s the whole point of the game,” Lister told him. He looked at his collection of pairs, and then at the empty table in front of Cat. “You do get that, right?”

Cat laughed. “No it isn’t! The point of the game is to see as many beautiful women as possible. You keep losing by matching them up and taking them out of play.”

Lister stared at him. They had been playing for twenty minutes; he couldn’t work out how Cat could have misunderstood.

“Cat…” he began.

“I wouldn’t bother, Lister,” Rimmer told him, from the other side of the room. “Like you said, it’s a children’s game. You can hardly expect him to understand something so sophisticated.”

Cat turned a glare in Rimmer’s direction. “Hey, now you listen to me…”

Whatever he had been able to say was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Kryten bustling into the room. “Mister Lister, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Thank goodness I’ve found you! I have news about your medical condition.”

Lister sucked in a sharp intake of breath as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. He tried to read Kryten’s body language and decide whether it was good or bad news, but he couldn’t.

Rimmer folded his arms. “Er, Kryten, where exactly have you been looking? I mean, I know it’s a large ship, but we don’t very often mount exploratory expeditions through the lower decks, do we? Generally speaking, you’re going to find us in one of maybe three or four places, and if we’re not there, you can always ask Holly.”

“Yes sir, and I did look in three of those four places, this was the fourth.”

“Then you haven’t exactly been looking ‘everywhere’ then, hav…”

“Hey!” Lister got to his feet and placed himself between Rimmer and Kryten. He waved a dismissive hand in Rimmer’s general direction. “Shut up, man. He’s got news. What is it, Kryten? Is he… am I okay?”

“Okay?” Kryten repeated. “No. The thing is, I’ve been monitoring some changes in your condition over the past couple of days, and, well…” he paused.

Lister leaned forward, willing the mechanoid to continue. “And what? Spit it out, Kryten. Am I dying? I’m dying, aren’t I? Smeg!”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Rimmer. “You had a good innings,” he said. “I mean, three million and thirty-odd years, it’s not bad considering how badly you used to treat that body.”

“Not helping, Rimmer,” Lister told him.

“And look on the bright side,” Rimmer continued. “You’re already a hologram. You won’t have to go through any of the trauma I went through, because you’ve already done it. You already had chance to ease yourself into it; get used to it. It’s like taking a test drive.”

Lister slumped. If he’d ever had a test drive like this, he definitely wouldn’t have bought the car. “Yeah,” he said. Rimmer was right. There were worse things. He couldn’t think of any of them right now, but that was because he was in shock. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Come on then Kryten, give it to me straight. How long have I got?”

Flustered, Kryten looked around the room, at the two holograms and one cat staring at him. “No, sirs, you appear to have misunderstood. Mr Lister isn’t dying, he’s showing signs of recovery.”

Lister frowned. “But I asked if I was okay, and you told me I wasn’t.”

Kryten nodded. “Correct. Because you’re doing better than okay. In fact, I believe it may be time for you to return to your body.”

Lister exhaled. “Kryten, you smeghead. I thought… It’s ready? You’re sure? It’s only been five months.”

Kryten frowned. “I’m sorry sir, were you hoping it would be longer?”

“No, of course not. It’s just, you said it’d be longer. You said you didn’t know how long. I’m really not going to die?”

“Well, of course you are sir,” Kryten told him. “Eventually. But not yet.”

Lister took a deep breath and released it as a sigh of relief. “Thank smeg,” he said. “But it is sooner than you thought, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly, no,” Kryten told him. “That is to say yes, I did base my assumption on a longer recovery time, and frankly sir, I was planning for the worst; that was for you not to recover at all. But as it has been pointed out to me numerous times over recent months,” he glanced in Rimmer’s direction as he spoke, “I am simply an automated lavatory attendant, unfit to even administer a plaster on a graze, let alone long-term care.”

Lister turned wordlessly to Rimmer.

“In my defence, I was right,” Rimmer stammered. “Look, he got it totally wrong. Anyway, I was under a lot of stress at the time. We’d just escaped from a rogue simulant, you were unconscious and bleeding from a head wound, possibly dying, and the Cat was only making things worse by whining about a bit of blood on his suit.”

“Hey, don’t remind me,” Cat said. “The pain of that loss is still fresh.”

“It was almost a year ago, get over it.”

“Guys!” Lister yelled. Silence descended over the room. “Thank you. So, Kryten, you’re sure I’m healed?”

Kryten shook his head. “Not 100% certain sir, no. Until we actually give it a go, we’re not going to know for sure.”

“Wait,” Lister said. “So you’re saying that you think I could go down to the medical unit right now, and get back in my body? Right now?”

Kryten hesitated. “Well, technically yes. I would caution you however, after eleven months of inactivity, it will take some work to reach anything like the level of mobility that you’re used to.”

Cat grinned. “Eleven months of inactivity? That’s normal for this guy! He’s not even going to notice the difference.”

“Well then,” Rimmer said. He folded his arms. “It seems congratulations are in order. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have things I need to be doing.” He walked, a little stiffly, out of the room.

Lister watched him go, half of him wanting to call him back, the other unable to think of any feasible excuse to do so.

“So,” said Kryten. “Would you like to transfer back now, or do you need additional time to process the news?”

“It’s really ready?” Lister asked again.

“I think so.”

“As in you’re not sure?”

“As in the medicomp seems to show enough improvement, that’s the best we can do. We’ll put you back and if you don’t wake up after a few hours, we’ll simply put you back into the hologram.”

Lister folded his arms.

“I do need to set your expectations however, sir. You are not going to wake up perfectly fine, leap out of bed and scoff down a vindaloo. There will be a significant period of recuperation and rehabilitation first.”

“So you’re saying start with a bhuna?”

“No sir, I mean...”

“Not a korma?”

“No, sir. I was using ‘consume a vindaloo’ as an example of everyday activity for you. What I mean is that it will take time before you can resume many normal activities. I’ve been following the medicomp’s instructions to the letter, but it warns that there will be significant muscle wastage. You will be very weak, and it will take time and effort to make a full recovery. It’s unlikely that you will be able to eat any curry at all for the first few weeks at least, but your tolerance for spicy food is unlikely to be affected.”

Lister nodded. “No curries,” he said. “Smeg.”

“I know sir,” said Kryten. “It’s a tragedy. On the bright side, you’re likely to be far too incapacitated to worry about it for a while. So, ready?”

Lister tapped his foot and glanced behind him, to the part of the room previously occupied by Rimmer. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t already racing down to the medical unit. He couldn’t believe he was delaying for any amount of time at all.

“Give me a bit of time, Kryten, okay? I need to make sure Rimmer’s okay.”

“Okay?” said Cat. “Of course he isn’t! Have you met the guy?”

Lister rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Still, I want to talk to him. Kryten, I’ll let you know when I’m ready. There’s no time limit on this, right?”

Kryten shook his head. “No, sir. I suppose not.”

“Great.” Lister headed for the door, then turned in the same direction that Rimmer had gone. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

(next)

(Thank you once again to @norwegianpornfaerie for the beta)