#we had room/flat inspections today and i happened to be in the kitchen while she was doing it so i asked her about the card

[nerdie-faerie]

The universe is actively working against me doing laundry at this point

[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

Cry, I wake up, love you, love you

★ Chapter 6 of 15, 4794 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: none

<< 5

29 December, 2018

Matty didn’t rush out in the morning. He flipped the kettle on instead, hoping the loud whistle when it started boiling would draw Este’s attention. Opening and closing all of the cupboards in her kitchen to search for what he needed to actually make up the tea, he eventually had mugs placed on the counter in front of him with bags in each.

When the tell tale sound of the kettle had been a few seconds in the past, the doorknob to her room finally twisted and revealed an exhausted Este. Her hair sat in a tousled bun at the nape of her neck, with the layered pieces loose and swinging next to her jaw. Both of them wore what they were clothed in the night before.

“Ibuprofen?” She posed.

“Yes, please.”

She pulled the medication out of a drawer and thanked Matty for brewing her tea, each of them swallowing one tablet each. They chatted about how Este counted the four times she had to get up to go to the toilet, how Matty didn’t notice even once, and how they both felt far too old to be hungover on a Saturday morning.

It was barely morning anymore, with the clock reading 11:14am. Este used her palms to lift her butt onto the island and sit there to face Matty.

He leaned against the counter, mug in hand. “Don’t you have to be off to work for one o’clock?”

Shaking her head no, Este responded. “Nope, not today. Thank god.” She inspected the boxes sitting next to her, deciding that pizza would be a good enough breakfast. They both began taking bites of the cold food from the night before, talking lazily.

The front door to the flat opened suddenly, Cate appearing behind it. Before looking up and while hanging Este’s car keys on the hooks jutting out of the wall, she called out, “Esteeee! I just picked up my car from the garage and G came with to drive yours back over. It’s in the lot. You’re an angel for letting me take it,”

Turning around to face the kitchen, she finally caught sight of Matty. Not expecting to see him there, a small gasp escaped. Seeing the two of them in the messy kitchen, looking like they’ve only just woken up, forced Cate’s mind to jump to an extreme conclusion. What happened last night? She wondered, secretly hoping they’d hooked up. “Matty.” She sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

“Lovely to see you as well, Cate.” joked Matty. “In Manchester or in your flat?”

“Both.”

He laughed, rubbing his hands together over the now empty box where their breakfast had sat to get the pizza crumbs off of them. “Just hung out last night and had a little too much wine and weed. So Este let me stay over.” Matty explained simply. Cate nodded her head in understanding, the idea of him and Este getting wine drunk together sounding rather sweet.

“Yeah, and my gift for letting you borrow my car was that bottle of red you had in the cabinet, right?” suggested Este. “Because we may or may not have drank it all.”

-

13 January, 2019

matty

Sun, 13 Jan at 9:37 AM

Congrats on the Brits noms xx very deserved!

She sent Matty a message after setting the news on Twitter that Sunday morning. Este and Cate were relaxing at home, sat in front of their laptops at the dining room table. Best Group and Best Album were huge categories, so she felt proud, in a way, to know that they were good people and deserving of the recognition.

“Speaking of Matty,” started Cate after Este read the news out to her from across the table, “I saw that they have a show here, next week. 24th at the AO. We should go, I think there’s still tickets.”

Clicking a few times with her trackpad, Este read her Google calendar to find that she’d be working that evening. “I work that Thursday,” she revealed.

Cate rolled her eyes. “Oliver exists for a reason, you know! Wouldn’t hurt to ask him to cover—especially since you rarely do.” She argued. “Come on, I want to go! Pryzm was so fun and only like 10 songs long, I bet the full set will be even better.”

Este took a bite of her toast and Marmite, eventually being convinced by her flatmate. After a couple of texts were sent over to Sam and Oliver, she deleted the event in her GCal that read ‘work 1-8’, and Cate opened Ticketmaster.

The seat availability was pretty sparse, as it was only a week and a half before the concert. The two of them found a pair of seats near the back of the first bowl for a reasonable price, agreeing that they were close enough and would have adequate dancing space.

When pulling out her credit card to process the payment, Cate said, “Just remembered that this bloke was getting crossed in our flat like two weeks ago. Could’ve just texted and asked for some free ones.”

They both laughed, before Este realised that she was serious. “Are you joking? That would be humiliating,”

The redhead raised her hands in defence. “Hey, I was just saying.” She responded, before following through with purchasing the tickets. Este’s eyes diverted to a notification popping up at the bottom of her laptop screen.

matty

Sun, 13 Jan at 10:11 AM

Thanks E!

Very sweet of you x

She liked that Matty called her E despite her never mentioning the nickname to him before.

-

23 January, 2019

“Yeah, just a few deliveries today. Be prepared to sign for some parcels around half past three,” warned Sam, ready to take off, his work day coming to a close.

Este shot him a thumbs up with her right hand. Unboxing items and processing them into their inventory system was a fun task and made time go by pretty fast, so she was looking forward to it.

Her boss finally made his way out, after saying goodbye, leaving Este to some peace as the store emptied. But, not long after Sam left, she heard the door pushed open by a girl. Young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. She headed straight for Este.

“Afternoon,” started Este. “Looking for anything in particular?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah, actually. I’m in town for The 1975 show tomorrow and I read an article a while back saying that this is Matty Healy’s favourite spot in Manchester—I was just wondering if you’ve met him, or know what books he’s into. I sort of wanted to pick up something I know he’s read.”

Este was surprised at the mention of his name, and quite frankly, shocked that a fan would go out of their way to buy something just because he had read it; let alone admitting it to a stranger in a book shop. Matty never mentioned that he named Greenhouse as his ‘favourite spot’ in Manchester, so Este didn’t know whether to be flattered or confused.

She also considered lying about knowing him, a sudden feeling of dread creeping up her chest. How much information was too much? “How exciting! I’m going to the show as well,��� Este decided to share. “And we have met. But I’m not sure if we have any stock of the couple of books I’m aware that he’s read.”

Telling the girl to follow her to the Philosophy section, she looked under S. Luckily, Este found exactly what she was aiming to suggest, but part of her was slightly annoyed that she may sell their only copy of On Beauty and Being Just before getting to read it herself.

“He’s very into non-fiction, from what I can tell. I remember him mentioning this one, so I think he’s read it.”

Este stopped herself from being too descriptive, as from the small talk she had with the girl progressed, she could sense a lack of interest in the actual content of the novel. It seemed like she was buying it more as a souvenir to remember her trip out for the show with, which was fair to Este. A sale was a sale.

“Thank you for helping me out. I might try and get him to sign it if I manage to catch the tour bus after the show,” The girl said, handing her a note and a couple of coins after Este told her the total.

“Of course,” As she opened the register to put the cash in, a couple of buzzes came from her phone that laid on the counter beside the till. Este saw Matty’s name flash on her screen. Of course he’s texting me now, when my phone is directly in a fan’s view. She thought, immediately pushing on the power button to make it disappear and hoping the girl didn’t catch sight of it.

No change was needed to be given, so as soon as Este shut the register, the girl picked up the thin essay and turned to walk out the door, politely sending another ‘thank you’ back. “Good luck, I hope you get the autograph!” said Este enthusiastically.

Coincidentally, before the door could even shut, the postman caught it and slipped inside. He carried a fairly large box, and a clipboard in hand. They chatted casually before she picked up a pen and scribbled out her signature.

One by one, she removed the books and processed them as usual. A few of them seemed fairly new, catching Este’s attention, so she sat and read the blurbs on the back covers for a couple of minutes. Her ‘to be read’ list was slowly building as more and more novels she pulled out of the box sparked her interest.

Now done with the delivery, she finally decided to open Matty’s text, curious as to what it was about, and worried that his ears were burning. If was sort of spooky that he texted her right as Este was talking about him.

matty

Wed, 23 Jan at 15:09 PM

Apologies for the last minute text but we’re playing at the AO tomorrow & I would love it if u were there :)

No party this time unfortunately since we’re off to Sheffield right after so idk if i’ll be able to see you but I want to know what you think of the new show

Lmk and I can grab some tickets, bring Cate too and her girlfriend if she wants!

Wed, 23 Jan at 15:58 PM

Mate i’m not going to lie to you, me and Cate bought tickets last week… lol

Este wtf

Are you serious

yes

Why would you buy tickets knowing I could just give you some

Idk maybe to just ambiguously support my famous rockstar friend ????

But no don’t worry about it me and Cate will be dancing up in sec 114 with the tickets we bought with our hard earned cash :P

And you didn’t bother texting me? So that I could be prepared and at least wear a good outfit ??

You texted me the day before the concert anyway like ur just late tbh

Should’ve done it sooner

Ugh I know

If you bought tickets to my show tmrw then I should be allowed to buy an invite to your nan’s party

Can that be our deal

Shut up about that already ur being delusional

I’m honestly tired of you not taking this seriously bc I am literally being real Este

Give me the details i’m gonna be there

You realise it’s not like a lowkey thing, there’s going to be probably like 200 people in a big hall

Yea so

201 including me

Just seems like a weird place for Matty Healy of The 1975 to show up

God never call me that again thats heinous

I hope u know I’m not letting down

Este gave in and just accepted the reality that Matty really did want to come to the party. It didn’t make sense to her, now that she didn’t think it was just an in-joke between the two of them where he teased her about knowing her nan; it seemed like he might actually show. She didn’t understand his motive.

You are so annoying

Saturday 9th Feb 6:30pm at Dartmouth House

Dress formal pls. and dont be late

For Lola then duh

Thank you for buying tickets to the show tho really you didn’t have to

I’m glad you’ll be there

Of course x

Wouldn’t miss it

I’ll try and spot you from the stage :)

-

24 January, 2019

They loved playing in Manchester, with plenty of familiar faces in the crowd; so there was a looseness and confidence to their performance. Opening with Give Yourself A Try made Cate and Este’s blood rush with excitement, surrendering their bodies to the persistent beats. Matty jumped around in his blue jumpsuit energetically.

As the band made their way through the setlist and the energy slowed down, with An Encounter twinkling in the background, Matty said a few words to introduce the next song. “We wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t for shit like the reaction to this song we’re about to play. This song is for you guys—we love you so much and this is always going to be your song. I want you to sing it as hard as you can.”

Robbers began playing and the whole arena erupted with awe. The band watched as every lyric of the clearly beloved track was sung back to them with passion. A sea of hands reaching up in the air with a not-so-quiet desperation could be seen across the standing room as Manchester declared their adoration for The 1975. It was indescribably palpable.

While Matty lived that reality every night, and would for the next year—performing live across the world—Este was surprised at how much being in that stadium moved her. Although having been to many concerts before, she didn’t feel like they had the same intense effect that was the spectacle of hearing thousands of people screaming the lyrics to Robbers in unison. She and Cate didn’t have the words memorised, so they silently observed the sweaty bodies beneath them and swayed with their arms wrapped around each other’s sides. Este placed a hand over her heart instinctually, soaking up the radiating emotions.

Track by track, the energy coming up and down and back up again, the night came to a close with Sex. What a show, thought Este. She’d jokingly called him a rockstar before, with little genuineness behind it, but now she felt like it could be true. After a last bow and thanks, the stage emptied and the house lights came on. They didn’t waste any time before making their way out of the AO, the thousands of fans flooding out at the same time. Imagining the traffic they’d catch when trying to leave the arena car park gave Este a headache, but their downtown flat wasn’t far enough for it to be an issue.

Their unspoken elation encouraged Este to thank Cate for convincing them to buy tickets. Sure, Matty ended up inviting them to come anyway, but she didn’t admit that to her. Este could tell—though denying it internally—that Cate was onto her developing crush on the frontman in blue, especially after that Saturday morning with Matty in the kitchen.

She bombarded Este with questions after he took off, begging for juicy details even though there weren’t any. Describing their bubble tea and pizza date(?) and its surprisingly tender moments left Cate giddy. Este would never hear the end of it if she revealed the fact that Matty reached out to invite them.

His mind wandered a couple times during the show, remembering the number 114 to try and catch Este in the crowd. He didn’t have any luck, considering the massive size of the AO and sporadic stage lighting coming from the huge screens behind him.

That night was their second-to-last show before they began travelling non stop, so he was disappointed that the bus would be taking off pretty much immediately after it ended. Matty wished they could stay for a night out before driving over to Sheffield, but something logistical about their stopping schedule prevented that from being possible. Instead, he sat in the common area on the bus and smoked alongside George as they drove off. A joint was gripped between Matty’s fingertips, with George sat beside him, and a window cracked above them.

Typing away on his phone, he began thanking all of the people he knew were there for coming out to see them. The usual, generic messages were sent to most, and responses came in quickly. Matty hadn’t gotten to Este yet, but saw a message come in from her first. Ditching the rest of replies he received, he opened hers right away.

Este

Thur, 24 Jan at 23:47 PM

You lads put on a showwwwww x

Worth the 45 quid???

No actually bc why was I Couldn’t Be More In Love not on the setlist

Actually quite mad about it

Attachment: 1 Image

He rolled his eyes reading her critique and decided against sending words back. Posing with his middle finger up and a frown on his face to swear at her, Matty sent a selfie back in lieu of a message.

Este laughed at the nature of the attachment as it popped up in her notifications. It was funny, but she also found herself thinking of how fit he looked. He had clearly just showered with a couple of wet curls lying against his forehead. Or was it sweat? She couldn’t tell.

His phone was held up high, allowing it to capture his leg bent up by his chest. The bottom of his t-shirt crumpled up and exposed a tiny gap of tattooed skin above the waistband of his trousers. Instinctively, she took a screenshot.

After their brief conversation about everything Este loved about the show and what Matty loved about performing it, she scrolled through the photos she took during the set and found the few good ones to post on Instagram. Cate had used the back camera on her phone, turned on themselves and with the flash on, to take a blurry photo of her and Este dancing with smiles on their faces and messy hair. It embodied the spirit of the night well, so she chose it as her cover.

Following it were a few shots of the stage, and with his permission, she ended the post with the screenshot of her and Matty’s conversation that included her comment about I Couldn’t Be More In Love and his moody selfie. Este tagged him and the rest of the band in it (who had followed her and Cate after meeting them in Kingston), pressing the ‘Post’ button, her caption reading:

este.manansala: do NOT go to a @the1975 show. all they’ll do is play a really fantastic set but then not play your favourite song and the frontman will swear at you via selfie when u complain about it

She was apprehensive to be so bold about knowing Matty, but she didn’t think her couple of hundred followers on the social media site would care too much. It made her feel better that he encouraged her to post it, claiming that the photo was ‘sexy’ (Matty’s words, not hers), so she went for it despite her fears. Este figured it wouldn’t reach very many people.

But, followed with a stream of notifications, she saw that he reposted it to his story, the last slide specifically. Matty typed “Can’t please em all” in the bottom right corner with a couple of sarcastically sad emojis next to it. He followed it by commenting “Must be mistaken, I would never flip off a woman” beneath her post, too. Random follows and likes started to pour in slowly.

I guess it was right to feel apprehensive, thought Este.

-

3 February, 2019

matty

Sun, 3 Feb at 18:29 PM

Hey are you free rn????

Or working :(

No work today! Just at home

You in town ?

No i’m at home too

But can I call you ? I’m just trying to pick out an outfit for Saturday and I need ur opinion lol

Ooooo sure

ring me x

Este was in the middle of making dinner for herself, so she propped her phone up on a loaf of bread sitting on the counter to prepare for his call. To her surprise, a FaceTime came through; so she checked her appearance in the front camera before pressing the green button to answer it.

He had his phone propped up just like her, but was in his bedroom. At least, that’s what it looked like to Este. A smile lit up Matty’s face as the connection functioned and the call started. “Heyyyy! You alright?”

She returned the grin, watching Matty crouch in front of his camera to be eye-level with it. “I’m well, thanks! You’re up to no good, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, I’m going through a wardrobe crisis. In need of some help.” He admitted. “Feel like I’m watching Masterchef or something, with this view of your kitchen.”

Este had turned her phone towards the stove so that she could stir the sizzling food in her pan while still in view on his screen—before he pointed it out. “A girl has got to make dinner, okay? I’m multitasking here,”

Matty stayed crouching near the camera as they caught up quickly, and then eventually, he explained his dilemma to her. “Alright, so my first issue—how formal are we talking? Like I have a suit jacket and tie that might be good but is that too much?”

Holding up a few blazer and tie options up to the camera, Este could see the growing pile of clothes on his bed. It really did seem like a crisis. Fuck. He’s actually coming.

“Might blend in with the servers if you show up in a tie and suit jacket, to be quite honest.” she said.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered to himself. Going back through the pile, they continued weeding out his options. “Okay, so these are a no. No, definitely no, too blue, no, no. This is ugly,” listed Matty as he held them up and observed Este’s reactions as she threw out her rapid-fire opinions.

“What colour are you thinking?” wondered Este, turning off her stove and plating up her dinner. She carried her dish over to the table, taking her phone with her, and standing it up using a vase that usually sat as a centrepiece.

He shrugged off the white button up he’d been wearing underneath all of the jackets he had been trying on, revealing his bare upper body. Este broke the focus she had on the meal in front of her to gaze at him—but he began giving her a response—so she snapped out of it quickly.

“Depends. What will you be wearing?” Matty started, bringing his attention back to her and coming closer in frame. “I want to make sure that we’d look good together, you know?”

Este blushed at his comment. He wanted to match. Hiding her emotions, she tried to explain her outfit for Saturday. “Well, the colour for a 50th anniversary is gold. So my dress is all black, with like, gold chain-ish style straps. Kind of? That was a rubbish way to describe it to be honest, but black and gold, basically.”

“Should I do black and gold as well, then?” Pacing around his space some more, as he watched Este shovel more of her dinner into her mouth, Matty collected another couple of garments to show her. “I have this black shirt that sort of sparkles gold in the light. Could be a look, maybe.”

He slipped it on, only buttoning the bottom few buttons and leaving the top ones undone. The tattoo in the centre of his chest peaked between the gap of cloth. Not bothering to tuck it into his trousers properly, the outfit barely felt proper; but Este understood his vision. And it looked good on him.

“That top looks great.” she said bluntly, scared of gushing too hard about his appearance.

Matty thanked her, a pair of trousers lighting up in his mind to pair with it. He bent down to grab them off his bedroom floor, shifting the camera so he could get them on without being rude. “I think the top may be a bit see-through, though. Is that too risqué for this type of thing?”

When he was finished getting the bottoms on and tucking the shirt into it, he set up his phone to allow him to back away and fully be in frame. A full body shot. Before backing up, Matty flicked on the lamp behind his phone, helping light up the outfit and letting Este have a look.

The shirt sat loosely on his pale skin, especially near the few buttons he had left open. With the improved lighting, Este could see all of the ink on his torso, but not very clearly, and saw the thin stripes of gold speckles illuminate when caught in the light correctly. It was still tasteful, in her opinion; going well with the high-waisted, straight trousers hanging from his hips. “I’m into the all black. Looks chic, not too risqué.”

“But can you see my nipples through the shirt? I’m nervous that you can and that I’ll have to meet your family while actively knowing that my nipples are visible. Which sounds like a nightmare,”

They laughed together as Matty came close to the camera and shifted his upper body back and forth to analyse the sheerness of his top at all angles. “Babe, I think you’re fine.” Este giggled. “It looks really good on you, honestly. You should wear it. You look fit.”

He continued posing playfully for her before they worked out shoe options. Settling on a boring pair of black dress shoes (after Este vetoed a pair of flashy snake-skin boots), she ended up convincing Matty to add a gold chain to the ensemble, claiming that accessorising was necessary. He agreed.

After spouting some more nonsense back and forth, Matty eventually asked to see her dress. Este hid behind wanting it to stay a surprise, but was really just too nervous to show him. She assured him that the gold shining from his top and hanging around his neck would complement the straps on her dress and hardware on her heels; satisfying Matty enough for him to drop his original request.

It neared eight in the evening. “Alright. Thank you for your help, it is much appreciated. If I didn’t call you I probably would’ve shown up in a full on tuxedo to try and make a good first impression.”

“Well, I’m glad you did, then.” replied Este. “I still can’t believe you’re actually coming. Wanker.”

They bickered for a few more minutes before saying a final farewell. “Ok, I’ll let you go now. Text me please.” instructed Matty.

“Will do. Goodnight, Matty.”

Este hung up and cleaned up her mess from dinner. As her dishes clanged in the sink, Cate emerged from her room. “Was that Matty? On FaceTime?” she asked.

“Yeah, sorry if I was being loud. Was just helping him pick out an outfit for Saturday.” Este explained.

Cate exhaled and gave an understanding nod. “Is it any good?”

A smile crept up onto her face. “Yeah, actually. Really good.”

Discussing the details of what Este helped Matty put together, Cate was impressed by what her flatmate described. They were both excited to see what might emerge from the party—with him mixed into a sea of normal and slightly obnoxious Filipinos.

The two of them tidied up their common space before saying a quick ‘goodnight’ to one another and breaking off into their rooms to wind down on their own. When Este opened up her phone to do her usual scrolling before bed, she saw a text that she had missed from Matty.

matty

Sun, 3 Feb at 20:11 PM

Lmk if u need a place to stay this weekend x

7 >>

[oneshot-wxnderland]

Lab Partners With Benefits Pt. 2 | Percy Jackson

Summary: A week has gone by and Y/n hasn’t stopped thinking about her encounter with Percy. Now it’s time for her lab and she can’t tell if she’s yearning or dreading seeing him again.

Category: smut

Part 1 | Part 3

__________________

          One week later and you walked into your lab again. This time however, your table was empty. Disappointment curbed your mix of nerves, excitement, and dread at seeing Percy again as you sat down. 

          Good, you thought. Gives me a chance to calm the hell down and stop acting so childish.

          But as the minutes ticked down to the start of class and Percy had yet to make an appearance, your eyebrows creased in thought. 

          Where was he? Was it normal for him to roll in at the last second?

          Before last week you hadn’t paid any attention to him, but since last week he had rarely left your mind. Shamefully, you admit it. Those few hours with Percy had played on repeat since they ended. And not even just when he was kissing you, although that part was frequently visited. No, you were hung up on the most mundane things about him, like how he ran his hand through his hair whenever he got stuck on a question. Or the way he always had a beat going in his fingers or legs. Or the way actually opened a door for you. Do people even still do that? 

          Mack started the class with a greeting and you snapped out of your head. 

          Percy still wasn’t here.

          Is he avoiding me? No, he’s just a college student that’s running late or skipping class. Well, he better not be skipping class because you have a tough assignment to do today. Speaking of which, you forced yourself to listen to your TA explain it. 

          “What did I miss?” A familiar voice whispered in your ear and you jumped, whipping your head to see Percy in the seat next to you, failing to suppress a grin.

          Your frazzled nerves made you want to respond with a few choice words, but the mischievous gleam in his green eyes made it hard to stay mad at him.

          “Where were you?” you asked him, passing over his copy of the work. 

          “I had to take care of something.” 

          The cryptic answer gave you cause to look over him as he turned his attention to the front of the room. His hair was messy, his cheeks slightly flushed, and you couldn’t be sure since he caught you staring, but you think you saw a cut in his shirt. It looked like he was just in a fight. 

          “Is your shirt cut?” you asked and reached out to inspect it, fingers meeting his side through the hole and making him jump. Percy took your wrist and brought it back up to the table.

          “Hey, wait till after class,” he slyly reprimanded you, drawing a scoff out of you. Which drew the attention of the people sitting closest to you, so you both lowered your voices further.

          “Seriously though,” you nodded your head to his side. “How’d that happen?”

          “I snagged it,” he started. “On a tree.”

          “Right.”

          You were about to ask him what he did to make the tree mad when the feeling of something on your hand drew your attention. He was absentmindedly rubbing circles on your skin with his thumb, and it wasn’t until then that you realized he was still holding your hand. This made him also notice that you were holding hands and you awkwardly pulled away first. An uncomfortable silence fell over you both that lasted the rest of the lab.

          It was weird how natural it felt to hold his hand and to talk with him like that. You had barely spoken since you met and while you had been moderately physically intimate with him before, you hadn’t been this kind of intimate. This whole relationship with Percy is unlike one you’ve never experienced before. You’re not quite strangers, not quite friends, not quite together. The massive grey area surrounding Percy made red flags pop up in your head. And yet, when he casually invited you back to his place once the lab had ended, your mouth accepted before your mind could stop you. 

          This time you actually made it into the living room before you started making out. Even going so far as to make a show of setting up your lab books on the coffee table as if you were actually going to get work done before you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him to you by his collar.

          This time, you set a slower pace than your frenzied kisses against the door, allowing you to savor every move he made. Percy relinquished control of the kiss to you and tugged on your thigh until you were straddling his lap. His hands pressed flat against your lower back until your chest was flush with his and tilted his chin up to catch your lips again. 

          You felt him shiver when your fingertips met the back of his neck, tugging on the hair there. As a result you felt Percy smirk against your lips and in a deep voice that made heat flare up through your core he told you, “Hold on.”

          Percy paused in kissing you and his warning made your eyebrows crease in confusion until you felt his hands hook under your thighs and he shifted his weight until he was slightly standing. Then he twisted and laid you down on the couch and had his mouth back on yours before you could process what had happened. 

          In the new position, Percy took control of the kiss and sped it up a little, but still took his time tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. His thumbs made little circles on your thighs from where he was still gripping them and it brought you back to earlier in the day. In response your own hands moved down his back and to his sides where your finger found the hole in his shirt again.

          “It was a tree,” he said against your lips.

          “Sure it was,” you replied.

          At that Percy pushed up into a kneeling position with your legs still on either side of his hips and you worried for a second that he was actually bugged by your insistence with the hole-thing. Until he pulled his shirt off and your mind short circuited. He balled it up and tossed it across the room with a final, “There. Outta sight, outta mind.”

          Your jaw was still partially dropped from the revelation of his surprisingly toned abdomen and you gave a distracted “Uh-huh” before you all but yanked him back down to you, surprising him with your strength and the newfound urgency in your kiss. He matched the new tempo and your legs hooked around his waist, causing him to groan and rock his hips down into yours. 

          Percy savored the gasp you let out and ground into you again. One of his hands hitched your thigh up higher and the other traveled up your hip and under your shirt to grip your side. He allowed you to catch your breath as he leaned up to your ear.

          “What do you want, princess?” His husky voice blew any and all recollection of red flags and warnings straight out of your mind, in fact everything was emptied from your head except for thoughts pertaining to how good he felt pressed against you and how much more of him you needed.

          “You. All of you.” 

          Percy could’ve died a happy man right then and there. 

          He ducked back down to your mouth, recapturing it with his own and picking up where he left off. This time he felt the heat of the mutual understanding of where the situation was headed and braced his hand above your head on the couch armrest. However, that action did bring up the first smart thought he’d had since he sat next to you earlier.

          “Wait.” He pulled back and eyed your lips, which were red from his kisses.

          “What’s wrong?” You asked and brushed a chunk of hair away from his eyes.

          “If I get to have you, we’re not doing it on the couch my roommate got off Craigslist.” 

          You threw your head back laughing and Percy could only stare and smile dumbly, feeling something new he hadn’t felt in a long time.

          But then he remembered what was to come and hooked his hands underneath your thighs again to lift you up. 

          Percy was conflicted. On the one hand he wanted to get to his bedroom as quickly as possible. But on the other he loved the way your arms were wrapped tight around him and how you had occupied yourself with placing kisses along his neck. So he decided to take a detour through the kitchen to grab some granola bars.

          “Are you kidding me?” 

          “We might be hungry later!” He defended himself and felt you drop your forehead to his shoulder.

          “Just walk.”

          Fortunately the granola-detour didn’t completely kill the mood and Percy kicked his door shut and somehow stumbled to the bed while completely lost in your kiss. His plan was to drop you onto the covers and then take off his jeans, but you had other plans and refused to let go of him so he fell on top of you. The bouncing from the fall made your shirt ride up and Percy took the opportunity to run his hands up the exposed skin, stopping just as his fingertips were in reach of the underside of your bra.

          You broke the kiss for a moment to grant his unspoken request and pulled your shirt off, but when you laid back down his lips didn’t return to yours. Instead his mouth dragged down your neck, conscious of the marks he would leave. When he reached your collar bone, your hands buried themselves in his hair as his hands squeezed your bra and placed hot kisses on the skin that spilled over the top. 

          “Percy,” you moaned as your back arched up into his touch. “Percy, please.” 

          “Please what?” He looked up at you.

          “Please, touch me.”

           “I am touching you.” He responded and proved his point with another tight squeeze to your chest.

          “You know what I mean,” you huffed, knowing you were playing right into his teasing by getting riled up but dammit, you needed him badly. 

          He tilted his head innocently. “Do I?”

          Even though he was looking up at you with those big green eyes, you could tell by the way his thigh pressed between your legs that he knew exactly what you meant. As hot as his teasing was, you had spent all week thinking about him and you just couldn’t wait any longer, so you pulled him up to you by his hair and tried to speak as evenly and clearly as you could. 

          “Percy Jackson if you do not quit teasing me I will-.” Your gasp cut you off when his hand slipped beneath your pants and pressed against your core.

          “Oh, you meant here?” The cocky bastard punctuated his words with a pinch to your clit. “Is this what you wanted?”

          Percy committed the speechless look on your face to memory as you glared back up at him. 

          “I hate you.” you ground out when the initial shock of his touch faded. You hated his infuriating smirk. You hated his disheveled dark hair. You hated how his hands left you to pull down your pants at an achingly slow pace. And you especially hated how he somehow knew exactly how to touch you. 

          “Is that so? Then you’re gonna really hate this.” 

          His warning barely registered with you before two fingers plunged into you. Percy cherished the way you cried out and clenched around his fingers, imagining how it would feel around his dick later on. 

          The achingly slow pace he set as his digits pumped in and out of you turned you to puddy in his hands, eyes screwed shut so that you didn’t notice Percy lean down until you felt his breath against your ear.

          “You like that? You want more?” he asked, but grew unsatisfied by your lack of response. The hand that wasn’t currently brushing your g-spot with every curl came up to your jaw and turned your face to his. “Answer me.”

          “Yes,” you panted as his palm pressed on your clit. “I want more. Please give me more, Percy.”

“Good girl.” He praised and swiped his thumb across your bottom lip. “But I don’t think you deserve it. You’ve been greedy for my touch and ungrateful for what I give you. Distracting me all through class with your leg pressed against mine and your cleavage teasing me every time you leaned into the table.”

          The way his fingers were speeding up made it hard to focus on his voice in your ear but he continued anyway.

          “Barely said a word to me but now here you are,” he took his time pressing a kiss to the spot below your ear. “So desperate for my cock.” 

          Your approaching orgasm made your pride disappear and you readily begged him for release. 

          “Look at you, so pretty when you beg for me.” He watched you intently, taking in every signal your body gave until he knew you were seconds from going over the edge. “I bet you do this all the time.”

          At that he suddenly pulled his hand away from where you needed it. Your whine of frustration had no affect on him as he leisurely brought his fingers to his mouth to clean them of your juices.

          “Huh? I bet you tease any poor guy who happens to sit next to you. You get them so hooked on you that they follow you to bed. Isn’t that right, baby?” Percy’s words and lack of contact made you hurriedly deny them.

          “No,” you insisted and turned your face to his. “Of course not.”

          “No? Are you sure?” His hand caressed your jaw and moved down, tempting you with feather light touches.

          “Yes. There’s only you.” Your assurances earned you a kiss.

          “Good girl. Now roll over and stick that pretty ass up for me.” 

          Doing as he said, your cheek pressed into his pillow and your back arched for him, hoping that your eager compliance will get him to forgo any further teasing and just rail you. 

          Percy brushed the hair from your face and leaned down to place a sweet kiss on the back of your neck and whisper, “You’re so beautiful.”

          The softness of his tone distracted you until his hands found their hold on your hips and he thrusted into you. 

          Percy’s low groan filled your ears while his cock filled your pussy. You don’t think you’ve ever been this stretched before and you weren’t sure you could’ve taken him if you hadn’t already been so wet. The way his hands gripped you tighter made you peek over your shoulder to see his eyes shut and arms strained to keep himself from ramming into you. 

          I mean what can you say it was fucking hot. 

          To put him out of his misery you rolled your hips against his as a signal that you were ready and it apparently caught him off guard since he let out a cute little gasp. Then he caught you looking at him and his cheeks reddened at your smiling to his boyish response. The only way you could describe his following look was “You’re gonna regret that.”

          But when he started off at a brutal pace you honestly could say you didn’t regret a thing. His dick pounded into you and hit deeper than anyone else had before. Your hands desperately tried to find purchase on his sheets and gripped them tightly when one of his hands snaked around and found your clit again. 

          Percy hung on every noise you made and wondered if anything else would ever sound as good as you moaning his name, which made him want to see your face as you did.

          He pulled out of you and turned you onto your back, your eyes meeting as he propped one of your legs against his shoulder and went back to work. He liked this. Being able to watch you come undone around him, your hair a mess and your chest bouncing with his thrusts. But he also saw your hands grappling the sheets for something to hold onto and he thought he would offer his services one again.

          Percy leaned down over you and captured your mouth with his once again, not breaking his rhythm even as your hands tugged on his shoulders and pulled him closer to you still.

          “Y/n,” he groaned into your mouth when your hand gave a particularly hard pull to his hair.

          “Percy, I’m… I-.”

          “I know.” Your climax was moments away and Percy’s was right behind it. “Cum for me, babygirl.”

          This boy was going to be the death of you. Percy leaned back from the kiss to hear all of the pretty sounds you made as you came around his cock, the clenching of your walls sending him over the edge with you.

          You pulled Percy back down to you for one last kiss as you rode out your highs, this one slower than before. His forehead rested against yours as you were catching your breath and he kissed it before rolling over to lay next to you. Time passed as you both lay there for a while coming down from your highs and your eyes remained on the ceiling as your hand tentatively found his. 

          This is probably too weird he’s going to ask me to leave now that it’s over and in what world do you hold hands with somebody you just hooked up with? Your worries were silenced as he confidently took your hand in his and squeezed it. 

          “You want a granola bar?” he asked, causing a tired and satisfied burst of laughter to come from you. 

          “Fuckin… sure,” you replied and he reached over you to the nightstand and on his forearm you saw the “mysterious gang affiliated” tattoo that Lauren had been freaked out about. You admit, it was kind of weird, but it was probably nothing. 

          It could be initials or something, you pondered. The ‘P’ could stand for Percy.

          “Here.” The boy in question offered you a granola bar and you unwrapped them before cheersing. You were kind of hungry, content to just lay there and eat the stupid granola bar and breathe with him.

          “You did clean that couch after you got it off Craigslist, right?” You asked him after it popped into your head.

          “What? Oh… yeah. Yeah.”

          “Liar.”

Part 3

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Sherlock BBC "Moriarty's Games" (x reader)

A/N - Hello everybody. It’s been a while! Here is a very angsty x-reader story to get you all welcomed back! If you like angsty Moriarty and Sherlock problems, then this story is for you!

Summary - Being Sherlock's sister doesn't usually cost you deathly problems. But one day, when you receive a suspicious text, your whole life changes. Will your brother notice its hints? Or will you fall prey to his worst enemy?

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

You tossed in your bed, relishing the last moments of peaceful slumber. Before your alarm even rang, you had silenced it. On the lock screen of your phone was a message. You squinted your eyes a few times, readjusting to the bright day.

Unknown number

Shrugging it off for later, you walked yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. As you brushed your teeth you swirled the loose strands of your hair into a messy ponytail - multitasking at its finest. After you washed up, you grazed through the closet. A row of plain and simple colored clothes stared back at you. You decided on a loose mini black skirt paired with a tighter cream colored shirt that had sleeves up to your elbow. It was spring and you would certainly not be seen with pants everyday.

Ring

Your phone let out a text notification. You sighed, already knowing it was from the unknown number. After you dressed yourself and put on a pair of canvas shoes, you finally unlocked your phone to view the message.

Unknown number

Today’s going to be a good day, isn’t it?

Your stomach dropped. The words. The length. The question. It wasn’t just any unknown number. You quickly gathered your purse and walked out of your apartment. Stepping to the edge of the curb, you frantically waved for a taxi. One came veering off the road and you hopped inside.

“Baker Street, please.”

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

You threw the driver a five and ran up to the apartment door, swiftly unlocking it. You skipped up the steps and knocked on Sherlock’s flat door. A few moments later, someone came and opened it.

John, seeing that it was you, gratefully smiled. “(Y/N)! How are you? You look lovely.”

You nodded at him with a small smile. “Is Sherlock here?”

John noticed your urgency and led you inside. Sitting on the couch reading a newspaper was your brother. Without looking up he said, “Good morning, (Y/N).”

You walked besides him and said, “We have a problem.”

His eyes shot to you. He read everything about you and said, “Show me your phone.”

You handed Sherlock the phone and showed him the text. “I’m certain it’s Moriarty. The words and everything about it. It fits his tone. He’s up to no good.”

John sat in front of Sherlock, a worried look plagued on his face. “Why don’t we text back?”

“No,” Sherlock said, “That’s what he wants. I’ll tell Mycroft. I know he’s not afraid of anything. This text means certain things.”

You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and looked down at the floor. Your mind raced through possible scenarios and situations. Moriarty had a plan. He was just watching it fall into action.

“Sherlock, don’t call Mycroft yet. Moriarty knows you would do that. I think we should text back.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “(Y/N), you know better than this. That’s a bad decision you’re making.”

You walked over and grabbed your phone out of his hands. “We have a couple of options. Call Mycroft and he’ll do something stupid and panic or just text him back and play it out. There's no harm in doing that. This doesn’t require much thinking, yes?”

He shook his head. Your brother was angry. On more complex issues, you two would thrive. But on a simpler decision, all hell breaks loose.

“Fine. You-,” Sherlock started saying, but was interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Mycroft,” he said.

You and John looked at each other. You knew what this meant. Sherlock picked up the phone, silent. You could hear Mycroft’s voice booming through it.

“As did we,” Sherlock said, hanging up the phone.

You pondered on the situation quickly. Your brothers were known to quarrel over small things. You couldn’t risk them doing something stupid.

“I’ll be back later,” you said, walking to the door.

“(Y/N)? Where are you-?” John started asking.

“Let her,” Sherlock interrupted, angrily.

You walked out of the flat without even bothering to wave for a taxi. You needed time to think. You walked a few blocks and sat down on a concrete railing, overlooking the pier. You held the phone arms length from your face, inspecting the text.

It has to be Moriarty

You texted back with shaky hands.

You’ve got the wrong number

You swallowed, not believing that was the right thing to say. Did you act on impulse? All you could think about was how annoying your brothers got during a situation like this.

Beep

You caught your breath. They texted back. You unlocked your phone and stared at the text.

See you soon

Immediately, without having time to process the text, a pair of arms forcefully wrapped around you and pulled you back. You fell from your seat and strongly picked up by someone. Having no chance to scream, someone placed tape over your mouth, rolling it three times around your face. A large dark mask was placed over your head, blocking you from any sight. Another pair of hands grabbed you, manhandling you, as you were roughly thrown into a car. You could feel the leather seats and hear the men’s rushed words. A fury rose deep inside you. How couldn’t you see Moriarty’s plan? All the time you’ve spent against him and you couldn’t forsee his tricks? You fell right into his trap.

Your arms were tightly bound together. You started to move your legs around, but quickly stopped. Having them tied together would inhibit any plans you would need to escape. You were surprised they didn’t tie them, but decided to act calmly instead. You breathed calmly as the car drove off. Sherlock would notice in a few hours at most, you hoped.

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

Sherlock

“No. John I’ve just told you this! Moriarty’s waiting for us,” Sherlock said. He ran his hands through his curly hair in distress. He didn’t know what to do or how to act.

John stood up and paced around the living room. “We need to get Mycroft. It’s better if we stay together. I know you don’t know Moriarty’s specific ideas.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. John was right. He didn’t know his plans, and he didn't like that. “Fine, we’ll go to Mycroft," he said, giving up.

John stopped walking and asked, “Where’s (Y/N)?” His eyebrows furrowed inwards and an expression of concern glazed over his face.

Sherlock looked up at him, suddenly remembering your absence. 

“She said she’ll be back later.”

“Why don’t you call her. I don’t think it’s best she’s alone now,” John said.

Sherlock pulled out his phone. As he clicked on your number, a cold iciness ran through his body. How did he just let you leave? He held the phone against his ear, intensely waiting for you to pick up, but you didn't. Sherlock’s heart slightly dropped. He knew something was off and started to feel guilty.

“She didn’t pick up?” John asked, concerned.

Sherlock shook his head as he stared at John. He abruptly stood up and walked to the kitchen. He paced to and from and opened a cabinet just to slam it shut. Anger filled throughout him as guilt clouded his mind. John put an arm on his back, offering comfort, but Sherlock moved him out of the way.

He knew what they had to do next.

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

Your POV

You tried to stay calm, but you couldn’t help the tears coming from your eyes. Who knew what could happen to you? Moriarty was ruthless. The car slowed to a stop and the doors immediately opened. The man sitting next to you grabbed you and dragged you out of the car. You couldn’t regain your balance and fell on rugged hard concrete since you were subjected to an entirely black vision. You winced in pain, already feeling the blood oozing from your knee. The man stood you up and aggressively walked you inside somewhere. You were terrified. You couldn’t see and you were restrained.

“Over here,” a man said in the distance. His voice was strong but monotone. It wasn’t Moriarty’s.

You were walked another way and violently thrown on the ground. You tried getting up, but were forcefully shoved back down again. The floor was cold and you can already feel the bruises appearing on your hands. There was no luck.

“Don’t move!” A loud voice boomed.

You shuddered and stayed still. Someone removed the mask from your head. Your eyes darted everywhere, inspecting your surroundings. You were in a warehouse, but you couldn’t locate which one. A man stood in front of you to your right, looking you down. Another man stood by the door. His arms crossed on top of his chest. You didn’t recognize them.

“Well, look who we have here!” A voice defiantly said.

Suddenly, Moriarty appeared from the corner. He wore a dark suit paired with a large smile - a sadistic smile. Your heart dropped. You knew it was Moriarty but actually seeing him scared you even more. Part of you was hoping you were wrong.

Moriarty walked closer to you. He bent down to your level.

"I didn't think you would be this easy. You believe you're so smart, don't you?"

You tried hard not to spit in his face. Making a move on him would only dig you in a deeper hole.

"You think you're smart? You had to get me because you can't even get Sherlock. That definitely sounds like a smart person to me."

Moriarty's face turned angry and he slapped your neck, not hard enough to inflict pure pain. His smile returned and your heart sank even deeper. Suddenly, he grabbed you and forced you to stand up, his hands painfully clenching your arms. You struggled and tried to stand away from him, but he was too strong.

"Bring the chair," Moriarty said.

His guards brought a chair and placed it in the corner of the room. Tears escaped your eyes and you were absolutely out of luck. All of the men here outnumbered you. If it wasn't Moriarty, you could outsmart them and escape, but that wasn't the case.

Moriarty sat you down on the chair and stepped away. You tried kicking him, but to no avail. His guards tightly wrapped your hands and legs together and to the chair.

"I plan on leaving Sherlock a little surprise when I'm done," he said, laughing.

Moriarty signaled to the guards. They walked out of the room. As soon as the door shut, he focused his glare on you.

"We're going to have a lot of fun."

He walked up to you and ripped your necklace, that Sherlock gifted you, off. You tried to keep an expressionless face. You didn't want to show any sign of weakness. Moriarty softly ran his hand along your collarbones only to tear your blouse off. You were terrified and saw a completely different side of him. Your skin felt cold and you couldn't help but feel vulnerable. Searching the room for an escape, you focused your eyes away from him. You couldn't concentrate.

"Such perfect skin......it would be a shame if something happened," Moriarty said.

He pulled out a gun from his pocket and threw it on the floor. He held a sharp knife and stared down at you.

"Just tell me what you want," you sobbed, pleading.

Moriarty chuckled.

"It's you."

The blade pierced your skin and you winced and shrieked in pain. You could feel the blood drip from your chest to your lap. Your eyes focused on your legs which were decorated with bruises and scratches. You wondered if this was it for you. It very well might be.

You forcefully spit on Moriarty. You didn't care anymore. He angrily slapped your face.

"You're going to regret doing that!"

Moriarty went in to kiss you, but as he got closer to your face, you bit his neck. He yelped and stabbed the knife in your skin. All you felt was pain, but you were satisfied with inflicting pain on him. Your perception of time began to distort. Your vision changed and your heart beat slower. You knew what was happening. Part of you wanted to hold on, a moment you never knew you would be experiencing so soon. The other part of you wanted to let go - become released from all this pain. Your eyes closed and you felt yourself on the ground, in and out of consciousness.

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

A door was suddenly shot down and you opened your eyes. You were conscious, but asleep, and the noise awoke you. The pain was constant, but you felt it even more now. Your vision adjusted to the sight in front of you. It was a wall. You wanted to speak, but you couldn't. A chill ran up through your body, and you felt your skirt folded up lifted higher than it was before. You whimpered and felt as if your heart was crying.

"(Y/N)!" A voice cried.

You couldn't move, but someone ran up to you and turned your shoulder slightly over. It was Sherlock. His eyes were full of tears and he wrapped his arm around you tight. He looked at you with pleading eyes. You sensed his guilt and pure sadness. But, he masked another emotion. Sherlock saw your skirt and unfolded it. Suddenly, time moved at a different pace. Sherlock carried you off the ground and quickly ran out. You tried to keep your eyes open. You noticed Moriarty on the ground and a load of policemen and paramedics nearby. Commotion and noise filled the room. You felt a hand caress your head and you knew it was John's. Lestrade spoke to you and squeezed your hand. You couldn't talk. You felt your body being transferred to someone else. They walked away quickly, your head bobbed slightly.

You heard an incredibly loud thud and scream.

"How could you do this to my sister?" Sherlock screamed. His voice faded away as you were rushed out. You didn't know what was happening, but you maintained a certain calamity that you didn't know you possessed. Nonetheless, you were scared. You tried to navigate the possibilities of your situation. All of a sudden, someone gripped your hand.

"(Y/N), I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry. How could I?" Sherlock cried. He buried his head on your side. John's voice echoed around you. He demanded the paramedics to work quickly and for everyone to move. You felt something on your chest and knew it was John, trying to stop your bleeding.

You used all the effort you had left in you to stroke Sherlock's head.

He didn't know that he had saved you.

Until next time..............

[gumnut-logic]

What do you think the greatest brotrayal of all time would be?

What?

Somewhat of a challenge, not sure I pulled it off, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

Thanks to @janetm74 @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment for various read throughs and cheerleading :D

Sorry, Scott :D

-o-o-o-

Scott glared at his brothers.

Virgil, John and Gordon stood in a line on the comms room hardwood floor all looking straight ahead as if they were in a military inspection. Which was particularly odd since only one of them had ever been in said military.

Hell, even his grandmother was ramrod straight beside them.

Scott was absolutely beside himself. Still dressed in his uniform, complete with its coating of mud, he had no doubt that his appearance was anything but reassuring to the brothers standing in front of him.

Not that he cared. This was beyond it all.

This was so ludicrous that it was hard to even suspect Gordon as the culprit.

Though he was still the most likely despite his arm being in a sling.

Scott eyed his fish brother. He had a scratch above one eyebrow that hadn’t been there when Scott left this morning.

But then a lot was different on Tracy Island since he left this morning.

The most obvious difference was the Thunderbird stuck at an angle where the pool was supposed to be.

His ‘bird was shining in the late afternoon light, her silver hull gleaming as she sat at a sixty-degree angle just beyond the balcony, her wings gouged into the concrete of the patio.

Virgil shifted where he stood on his crutches and Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at making him stand there. His engineer brother had been grounded for the last week with a broken ankle, along with Gordon and his broken arm. Which is why Scott had been in Two today with the currently guilt free Alan.

His youngest brother stood off to one side, apparently caught between shock and relief that he wasn’t to blame.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.” For several things.

The room still reeked of burnt furnishings. Whatever had happened in the kitchen had left it black and under a haze of smoke that had infiltrated the villa.

As if to comment, John sneezed suddenly. His space brother sniffed and screwed up his face before he realised Scott was eyeing him. He, too, was standing on crutches, something he wasn’t doing this morning.

And still no-one said anything.

Not even Grandma, and honestly that was a kicker.

“Gordon-“

“What are you looking at me for?”

Scott shot him a flat stare. “History.”

“Hey, the last time I borrowed One, I brought her back in one piece.”

“Complete with Eau de Polecat!”

“That does not automatically put me at fault. Besides this was an emergency.”

Scott blinked. A little progress. “And?”

But Gordon clammed up and went back to staring at the portraits on the far side of the room, every bit the WASP Lieutenant Tracy he actually was.

Scott turned to John, his ever-faithful source of relevant information.

“J-“

“I’m sitting down.” John turned and crutched his way past Scott and into the sunken lounge without another word.

Scott stared after him.

“Honey, are you feeling okay?” His grandmother followed his space brother and began fussing over him and his leg, both completely ignoring Scott.

What the-? “How. Did. This. Happen?!” Okay, so he might be yelling just a little, but the cause was sufficient. He turned to his trusted first. His best friend. His brother. His Virgil.

Said brother was looking rather pale. “Virgil?”

Sad, dark eyes looked up at him. “I wanted to make you popcorn.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was frustrated. Virgil was always frustrated when he was grounded and today sported no reason to change that attitude.

Worse, he had had to watch Scott take his ‘bird out to a mudslide. His big brother was not a fan of flying Two, but since Virgil had a busted ankle and Gordon an equally busted arm, that was the deal today.

To top it all off, mudslides sucked big time and Scott and Alan would likely come home exhausted, especially since two of their brothers were currently unavailable to assist.

So, to help just that little bit he had spent the last couple of hours hobbling around the kitchen slapping together something that could be considered a relaxing meal for that evening, vetoing any chance of Grandma getting into the kitchen and destroying stomach linings.

It helped that Grandma was in Wellington with Kayo.

To top it off, Virgil had put together an apple pie, Scott’s favourite. He had also made sure there was a bucket of triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer for Alan – one that he had stashed away for emergencies just like this.

The last thing on his list was to make some candy popcorn for the squirt and put some kernels aside ready for popping later so they would be nice and warm for the movie.

He was in the process of heating the oil when Gordon burst into the room as if out of nowhere.

Virgil to dropped a spoon.

Damn sandshoes were silent.

“Hubert’s dying!”

“What?” His back creaked as he picked up the piece of cutlery.

“Hubert, the albatross that collided with the window and broke his wing.”

“What albatross?” The oil began to smoke a little so he turned the heat off. His Gordon radar was at full alert – this would likely take a while.

“Yesterday? Upstairs? How did you not hear that?” A blink. “Okay, it was five am. You don’t exist before ten, I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was dripping and a little caustic. “Regardless, Hubert has gone limp and I think he’s dying, Virg. Help me please.” The accompanying clasped hands reminiscent of either prayers or vigorous begging, complete with a sling that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, were a little over the top.

“Okay. Fine. Show me the patient.” He reached over and nudged the broken arm back into its sling while Gordon glared him.

“Hurry up.”

Virgil grabbed his crutches and followed Gordon to the stairs before darting sideways and thumbing the elevator doors open.

“Okay, fine, hop-a-long.” Gordon jumped down the last few steps and hurried into the elevator with Virgil.

He bounced on his heels the entire way to the infirmary level.

Virgil watched his agitation and realised that whatever was wrong with this bird, Gordon had invested himself in it, much like every other injured animal he had dragged home since he had learnt to walk.

Gordon ushered Virgil into the infirmary and to his horror,  he found the limp sea bird strapped secure in one of the beds. “Gordon, have you heard of hygiene?”

“It’s fine. The sheets are clean. He’s safe.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

But Gordon’s whine drew him into examining the bird, which, considering it was avian, did not comply with the human knowledge Virgil possessed.

“I don’t really know, Gords.” Virgil stabbed at the infirmary’s computer interface, interrogating the net for baseline vitals for an albatross. Hell, he didn’t even know which species.

“It’s a Gibson’s Albatross.” Gordon was stroking the unconscious bird gently with his fingers.

This was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last time Virgil found himself in this situation, though the species did vary. As always, his answer was. “I’m sorry, Gordon. You need a qualified vet.”

“But I set his wing. He should be getting better.” Gordon’s age regressed around animals and tended to break Virgil’s heart in the process.

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“For goodness sake, we’re International Rescue!” The plea in his brother’s eyes stabbed right where it hurt.

But then those eyes widened and a light bulb went off above Gordon’s head.

Or it could have been a pre-emptive precursor for the migraine Virgil suddenly knew he was going to end up with.

“No, Gordon.”

“But he’s dying!” Gordon grabbed Virgil by the arm. “It’s our job to save lives.”

“How exactly are we going to get him to the mainland? Neither of us can fly.” Virgil wasn’t going to admit it, but the bird didn’t look like it was going to last long enough for another family member to make it home. “I’m sorry, Gordon.” He was already calculating how to cheer up his little brother.

“No!”

He sighed. It wasn’t as if he wanted the bird to die. Hell, if he was hail and healthy, he would have already put it on Tracy Two and be halfway to Auckland by now. But there was no way he was risking himself or his brother in a plane with a broken limb. Maybe Kayo might get back in time?

But then the inevitable happened. He should have seen it coming.

“We can take Thunderbird One!”

Virgil blinked. “What? No!” God, no, Scott would kill him.

“This is a life, Virgil! What makes a bird’s any less important than a human’s? It’s his life, our house has endangered it, and now we aren’t doing anything to help save it? How is that fair?” Gordon’s fists were now clenched at his sides, the sling yet again ignored. Fiery carnelian glared at Virgil. “I can’t do it with my arm, but Thunderbird One doesn’t require feet to operate.” A flicker of his eyelids. “This is on you.”

Virgil stared at his little brother.

A glance at the limp bird on the bed.

Back to Gordon, ever so fiery and passionate.

Virgil reached down, unfolded Gordon’s fist and pulled the sling back into place.

Ten minutes later he found himself doing what he did every time this kind of situation happened.

Thunderbird One launched with Virgil at the helm and Gordon clutching a desperately ill albatross in the back seat.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at his second eldest brother, the man with whom he trusted so much. Virgil had literally held Scott’s life in his hands on several occasions.

“You borrowed One to take an injured bird to the vet.”

Virgil shifted where he stood. “It was to save a life.”

Scott turned to the lounge and glared at John. “And you let him fly with a broken ankle?”

John returned the glare with equal strength. “Are you kidding me? This is Virgil we’re talking about. I thought One was safer in his hands than yours.”

“What?!”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything stupid with your ‘bird, is he?”

There were no words, so Scott just gestured in the direction of the pool.

With both hands.

“Yeah, well, probabilities can’t predict everything.”

The flippant, non-answer went straight to Scott’s head and rattled around in there for a moment or two before he chose to file it for later or risk implosion. John was rubbing at his foot and Scott latched onto it to save his sanity. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen caught fire. Kayo had already been called out again and I was worried about Grandma.”

“And?”

“I tripped.”

“Over what?”

“My own feet! It’s not every day you see Thunderbird One get stuck in the pool!” John glared at Scott. “Cahelium on concrete is very loud.”

Scott stared at him, not willing to face the image those words inflicted on him.

“Why was the kitchen on fire?”

But then something Virgil had said popped into his mind. He couldn’t help it, he rubbed his face with his hand. “Grandma, why didn’t you wait for Virgil to get home?”

“He left the popcorn on the counter, dear, I was trying to help.” Grandma wasn’t looking at him. John’s leg appeared to need a good rub right at this very moment.

John was wincing.

But with that explained, Scott had no choice but to turn back to Virgil, who was still standing clinging to his crutches.

Why hadn’t he sat down? He was ever so very sorry looking and Scott’s heart melted at the edges.

“Virgil, what happened?”

Brown eyes slowly peered up at him.

God, did he really have to deploy that little brother expression. Thunderbird One was down for the count, stuck in the damned pool and the brother responsible wasn’t even letting him stay angry. Goddamnit! How does a thirty-year-old man regress to six-year-old like that? Those eyes were the same eyes Virgil deployed that time he crashed Scott’s bicycle.

As if in answer, something whacked Scott’s thigh.

Ow! “What the hell?”

Looking down he found an extremely large seagull with a bandaged wing glaring up at him. Their eyes met and it squawked.

Very loudly.

“Hubert! What are you doing down here?” And suddenly, there was a race on around the comms room, Gordon chasing the waddling bird as it methodically thumped everyone with its wings, took out a pot plant and to Scott’s horror, one of Dad’s souvenirs. Both toppled with a crash as Gordon continued to chase Hubert around the room.

Alan joined him a moment later.

Part of Scott wanted to yell the building down, but most of him just wanted to know how the hell his ‘bird had ended up stuck halfway into her launch bay.

So, he turned back to Virgil and asked again, perhaps a little louder over the ruckus as the stupid bird scrambled over John in its eagerness to torture everyone.

He approached his brother carefully and placed a hand on each arm. “Virg, What happened?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry, Scott.”

“That much is obvious. What malfunctioned?”

Brown eyes were suddenly not looking at him.

“Virgil?”

His brother straightened a little. “You have too many damned levers.”

“What?”

He seemed to be saying that a lot today.

“I pushed the wrong lever, okay? It’s on the left on Two and One has it on the right and I yanked on it to slow and the wings deployed. Wrong lever, sorry, okay?”

Scott stared at Virgil, his jaw slowly dropping as his hands lost their grip on his brother and just hovered mid-air beside him. “You used the wrong lever?”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad.” Virgil was looking at his feet. “Can I sit down now?”

Scott’s mouth was still open and he had to force himself to close it. “Sure.” So his voice was a little bit higher than normal…

Virgil didn’t hesitate, clutching his crutches and hurriedly tapping his way over to the lounge.

Behind Scott there was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass as both Alan and a bird squawked at the same time.

Scott didn’t turn to look. He just stood staring at his ‘bird, still gleaming in the late afternoon sun, still sticking out of the pool.

His jaw may have dropped just a little again.

But nothing more was said.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[bubblesuga]

off the table.

Summary: Fate has an odd way of playing with your mind. When you leave Min Yoongi on his door step nearly a decade ago, you became positive that you would never find love again. Settling for a man you thought you could learn to love, you had given up on fully moving on. But again, fate likes to play.

W/C: 11,680

Genre: Idol!AU, smut, fluff

Warnings: cussing, smut, mentions of exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, Jimin is curious about Yoongi’s (non-existent) sex life, 

A/N: Based loosely off of Off The Table by Ariana Grande if you want a song to listen to as you read :) x

“So, this is it then?” 

“Yeah.” 

The near migraine-inducing memory always happens to flash in your mind at the worst times possible. Eight years ago, you found yourself standing at the front door of your ex boyfriend’s dorm with a solemn heart as he softly explained what his life was going to turn into. It was a short conversation, one the both of you had seen coming but neither of you wanted to admit it. 

As his new friends and new life began to form behind him in the small one bedroom apartment, you nodded, and you left with one last kiss to his rosy lips. His deep brown eyes bore into yours with just as much sadness that you felt before you dragged yourself away helplessly. 

Of course, now that you were 3 months into a new relationship, the memory decides to pop it’s way back into your brain as if it had just happened. A soft whisper in your mind gently coaxed you away from your latest fling and disassociated you from the moment entirely. He’s a nice guy, as well. Good head on his shoulders, smart with money, and loves to cook for you. So the sense of guilt you felt was tremendous because despite having this gorgeous man in front of you, your mind always flew back to him. 

It has become more and more difficult not to think of him considering the fact that his face is now everywhere. The news, the internet, your fucking cold brew... He was there, the same bright features and adorable nose. You wondered if he thought of you from time to time, how you’re doing or what you could be up to since you graduated university. With as hectic of a schedule that you’re sure he held, you highly doubted that you have been on his mind since the end. Knowing him, he threw himself into his work and hasn’t looked back. It shows in his music, though. You always knew that he would be successful. 

“...are you even listening to me?” 

The words dragged you out of your trance and you immediately set down your coffee, “What? Of course I am.” 

Junwoo couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “What was I talking about then?” 

Fuck. 

You push your hair back, a habit you developed recently as your desire to try and forget about your ex boyfriend has grown stronger, “I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” 

Maybe it hasn’t just been lately. Maybe every single time you feel Junwoo’s lips against yours, you can’t help but compare him to Yoongi. He didn’t need to know that, though. 

“Yeah, you use that a lot as your excuse. I’ll try not to bore you with tales from my clients anymore.” Junwoo slides the plate in front of you, a heart shaped kimchi pancake lay flat in the middle of it, and you feel your guilt grow stronger. 

“No! I love hearing about them, I- I think I need to see someone about what’s going on in my head.” You explain. You had yet to mention to anyone that you dated Suga of BTS before he was known as such. In fact, you’re pretty sure if you even hinted at it, you’d become the laughing stock of Seoul. It made it impossibly difficult to talk about your feelings with Junwoo. He always tries to pry, but you shut him down completely. 

“What’s going on? Is it serious?” concern laces his features and he sits carefully beside you at the table. 

“No, I just need someone to talk to.” you try to shake the feeling of discontent when his arm wraps around your shoulder. 

He leans his head on yours- “you can always talk to me.” -you shutter. 

“A professional, just to help me get back on my game. Regain control of...” you let out a soft sigh and feel Junwoo’s lips brush against your temple, “...myself.” 

“_____, I am a literal therapist.” 

“A literal therapist who is emotionally involved with me. Isn’t it inappropriate to make out with your patients?” You quirk, raising an eyebrow. 

He rolls his eyes again, “Okay. Let me know if you need recommendations. Us in the brain community are pretty tight-knit.” He stands up and runs a hand through your hair before trotting back to the kitchen to begin his own breakfast. 

You nibble on the inside of your cheek as you stare down at your pancake, picking up the butter knife beside your plate and dragging it down the center with a grimace on your face. 

~*~*~

Even though you spent many years studying medicine, you didn’t think it would involve this much typing. Staring at patient charts has become a normal during your regular work day, especially since you’re boss decided that he didn’t need to look at the charts, he just wanted to hear from you. 

You’re a nurse, not a secretary. 

Today you were assigned to the emergency room, which was one of your favorite places to be. Everything was much faster than if you happened to be in post-op or general medicine, but the moment you enter the doors, you were piled with paperwork that you were sure a medical assistant could be doing. 

The drowning sounds of chatter and machine’s melodic beeping blended with your fingers as they typed name after name, number after number for an hour straight. Just as you thought your soul had completely drained from your body, you hear a tap on the desk. 

“H- hi, uh- my friend’s foot got cut open and we think he needs stitches. Is there any way that we could get seen quickly?” You glance up and your eyes immediately go wide. 

You remember meeting Namjoon a few times in passing when you were still seeing Yoongi, but he’s much taller than you remember. Instantly you feel your face go red, and you were frozen in place. Why the hell was Namjoon here? How did he manage to choose this hospital of all the ones in Seoul?

You happen to tear your eyes away from him for a second, glancing over and seeing Jungkook being held up by Jimin as his foot stays elevated in the air. The minute you see a t-shirt wrapped tightly around Jungkook’s foot, you move to action. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that! Let me get you a wheelchair,” you swing around the desk and grab one of the folded up wheelchairs and roll it towards Jungkook. He grimaces as he sits down, his foot crossed onto the opposite knee. Jimin seems relieved not to have his friend leaning on him anymore, and you pause for a second to assess the situation. 

“Jenni! Do we have an open bed anywhere?” You grab your co worker who walks passed you with her hands filled with bandages. 

“Back corner, we just cleaned it.” She calls back, walking without glancing at the people you’re trying to help. 

You nod, immediately walking Jungkook towards the back and gesturing for Namjoon and Jimin to follow. You grab an empty chart as you walk, before opening the curtain for the bed and allowing the three men to slide into the area. 

“I hate to be pushy but this really hurts.” Jungkook hisses as wrap your arm beneath his and slowly lift him towards the bed. Immediately, you slip gloves onto your hands and begin to unwrap the t-shirt. There’s quite a bit of blood, but not enough to have you worried that he hit an artery. 

Namjoon bites his lip before speaking, “I should have watched the stage better. I’m sorry.” 

Jungkook shrugs, wincing while he attempts to pull himself up higher, “It was hard to see. Not your fault, or anyone else’s.” 

“Except for the person who broke the stage.” Namjoon quips, rubbing his hands over his face, frustrated. 

“It’s fine, hyung. The pretty nurse is going to fix Kookie right up.” Jimin is quick to comfort both of his friends while simultaneously causing you to blush. 

It’s then that you notice the three of them in clothes similar to their rehearsal getup from all those years ago. Sweat lines each of their foreheads and you wonder just how this whole thing happened. 

After inspecting the wound, you whip towards the suture kit, “It is deep enough to require stitches. I’m going to call the doctor down and have her suture you up. Until then would you like me to numb the pain?” Even though you’re well aware who these men are, and how close you potentially are to your ex boyfriend, you can’t help but let your professional prowess overpower your incessant need to think of Yoongi.

Jungkook nods, “At this point I’ll take a shot of whiskey and something to knock me out.” 

You smile, “Unfortunately there isn’t any whiskey here. Believe me, I’ve been searching since I got here.” 

Namjoon chuckles from beside you as you put your finger up to let them know you’ll be right back. Pulling open the curtain, you meander over to the nurse’s station and pick up the phone to call the ER doctor down. As you wait for him, you grab all the supplies to clean Jungkook’s foot, including a Lidocaine injection. Before you get the chance to turn back around, you hear the ER doors burst open and see four sweaty men tearing their way into the hospital. 

Four sweaty men, including Min Yoongi. 

An uncharacteristic whimper leaves your lips as you spot the rest of the members, all rushing passed you when they see Namjoon stick his head out of the curtains. 

You feel all the blood drain from your face when the familiarity of Yoongi’s presence passes by you. Jenni notices your panic from the other side of the nurse’s station and lets out a little giggle, “Come on, you can’t get all shy just because they’re BTS. You have a job to do.” 

“I can’t go in there now, Jenni. You have to take over.” You turn back to her with wild eyes, desperately trying to hand her all the supplies you gathered. Your eyes continuously glance backwards, watching them pile in. Yoongi can’t see you, you won’t be able to look the man in the eyes. You can’t even begin to think about the embarrassment you will feel if Yoongi sees you. 

Jenni only laughs, “You’re a professional. Dr. Gwan will be down soon so you only have to be with them for a few moments.” 

In a last ditch effort, you call out to her as she walks towards another patient.

Okay. You’re panicking now. 

The universe has to be playing some sort of sick game on you right about now. You have not been able to get that stupid man off your mind lately and now here he was in your emergency room. First he’s worried about his brother but now he’s going to see you and want to chat and catch up. Knowing him, he’ll ask you for coffee and you’ll probably learn of his girlfriend or possible wife. He’ll wonder why you’re not married yet, and you’ll have to hide the fact that you haven’t been able to properly move on because of him. 

That’s only to say if he even remembers you. 

Taking a deep breath, you swallow your anxiety and enter the curtain. 

“Alright, Jungkook. Do you have any allergies that I should know about before I inject you with my magic numbing liquid?” It’s much more cramped in the room than it was before. The 6 members crowd to one side of the bed while you stand on the other. You refuse to look up for fear that Yoongi is going to recognize you.

“No allergies.” Jungkook shakes his head. 

“Good, good,” you lean forward, elevating Jungkook’s foot and removing the make shift bandage, “you’re gonna feel a slight pinch.” 

“He’s not going to lose his foot or anything, right?” A voice asks. You recognize it as Taehyung’s. 

“No,” you’re sure they can sense how rigid you are, “he’s not going to be able to dance for a little bit, but he’ll be back and better than ever in no time.” No one responds, and you finally make eye contact with Jungkook, “Are you ready?” 

Again, he nods, and you slowly push the needle into his foot. He cringes enough to jerk his upper body slightly, but Jimin is at his side just as quickly as it started. 

You dispose of the needle immediately afterwards, wrapping his foot up to keep pressure applied to the wound, “Okay, Dr. Gwan will be here soon. She’ll get you sutured up and I’ll be back later to check on you.” 

“Thank you, miss. It already feels better.” He sighs happily, relaxing backwards onto the pillow. 

You grin, momentarily forgetting that your ex boyfriend is 3 feet away, “Of course, Jungkook. That’s my job.” 

It’s then that you catch Yoongi’s eye for the first time that night. It’s not to say he didn’t recognize you before, but he wasn’t able to say anything once he saw you working. He was deathly still, the rest of the day leaving his mind when your shiny eyes met his. He sees you swallow, and you walk out without saying anything else. 

“That was _____.” Yoongi murmurs after a moment, staring at the swaying curtains where you once exited. 

The chatter stops instantly, and everyone turns to Yoongi. 

“The _____?” Hoseok questions, his eyes wide while he also turns to watch the curtains. 

Yoongi nods, his throat going dry as memories of you sleeping beside him at night when he had nothing to his name wash over him. You, with the exception of his brother, were the only person supporting him when he said he wanted a career in music. You applied to universities in Seoul so you could be closer to his dream, you were always so excited to hear his new music and you always told him that he was going to make it big. 

It’s not like Yoongi hadn’t thought of you since you broke up. He was a complete mess for months afterwards. His schedule solely consisted of working and rehearsing because he couldn’t bare to have a moment to himself. 

Yoongi repeatedly beat himself up for the way he ended things and more specifically, the reason he ended things. After getting into BigHit, Yoongi realized he was seeing less and less of you. You were so busy with med school and he was so busy with rehearsals that you were lucky to see each other once a week. He knew you’d be better off finding someone who could be there for you, and that it was best for him to focus on his career. 

He just wasn’t aware of how much that would kill him inside. 

“Well what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to go talk to her?” Seokjin pushes. There are times when Yoongi has to remind himself that he isn’t the oldest in the group, and that usually comes when Seokjin takes his role as older brother very seriously. 

Yoongi scoffs at the taller man, “What do you want me to say? ‘Hey I know it’s been 8 years but lets meet up for coffee and pretend like we didn’t break each other’s hearts’?” he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, “Besides, Jungkook needs us here while he gets his foot stabbed.” 

“Oh no, hyung,” Jungkook laughs, “I’m doing juuuust fine. You go talk to the pretty nurse.” 

Yoongi swallows, “What should I say?” 

Namjoon shrugs, “Whatever comes to mind.” 

Yoongi’s feet carry him out of the curtained off area, his eyes searching across the emergency room in an attempt to find you. He spots you at the desk by the front door, and with a nervous head tilt, he’s dragging himself towards you. 

The moment you left Jungkook, you threw yourself back into paperwork and became so immersed that you didn’t hear anything going on around you. Except for the soft footsteps pattering up to your station, which causes you to tear your eyes away from the chicken scratch handwriting on the chart in front of you. 

It’s silent for a beat, you can feel the heat rising to your ears as you look up at him. His hair is longer, different from the short style he’d gel up every morning before the break up. There’s more piercings on his ears, but at the core of the new flashy clothes and dyed hair, he’s still the same man who professed his love for you at 17 years old. 

“Hi.” he whispers. 

“...hi.” you respond, your hands still frozen over the keyboard as Yoongi fiddles with his fingers on top of the desk. 

“Thank you for helping-” Yoongi is cut off by another Nurse calling you over from a different bed in the emergency room. 

You give him a quick glance, “I’m sorry, duty calls.” 

Yoongi couldn’t help but feel his heartbeat quicken when you stand. He had a better look at the pink scrubs donned on your body, and the smile on his face was nearly uncontrollable when he realizes that you made it exactly where you wanted to be. Your dreams of helping people has now become a reality. 

You’re truly in your element, and Yoongi can tell. The concern on your face as you help a little girl sat in the center of a bed way too big for her was a sure fire way to know that you were in the right place.  

So, Yoongi doesn’t push a conversation. Instead, he walks back to his band mates and watches in awe as Dr. Gwan stitches up Jungkook’s foot. 

~*~*~

“He walked away.” 

“He walked away?!” 

“He. Walked. Away.” You emphasize to Jenni, holding your hands to your face while you let out a groan. 

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” she sets down her iced americano, the chatter of the hospital cafeteria drowned out by your conversation, “you dated Suga from BTS before he was famous, and he broke up with you because you were both leading different lives?” 

You nod. 

She continues, “and you see him in person for the first time in 8 years, and you don’t talk to him?!” 

“Wait why are you yelling at me?!” 

“Because, dummy,” she leans over the table and flicks your forehead, “he’s been on your mind a lot lately and suddenly he’s at your job! It’s not a coincidence.” 

It’s only been about a week since you saw Yoongi, and of course your attempts to get him out of your mind has been fruitless. 

“What am I meant to do? Drop everything and run to him?” You ask incredulously, angrily digging your spoon in your yogurt. 

Jenni waves her hand haphazardly, “No, no. You catch up with him, see how he’s doing now that he’s a world famous rapper- oh my god, _____ you let go of him?! You didn’t fight for him?!” 

“You said you weren’t going to judge me!” 

“That was before I learned exactly what you did! Dumb girl,” Jenni shakes her head disapprovingly, “and you’ve settled for Mr. Brainiac instead.” 

Jenni isn’t the biggest fan of Junwoo. 

“Mr. Brainiac is nice and sweet and knows how to treat me right,” You explain quietly, the fruit in your yogurt seemingly tasteless on your tongue, “but...”

“But he’s not Yoongi?” Jenni tilts her head. 

“I don’t think anyone can ever compare to Yoongi. I’m sure it’s unrequited at this point.” As much as you hate to admit it, that’s the part that broke your heart the most about seeing Yoongi. The fact that you couldn’t bare to look at him for more than a second, because it just wasn’t the same as before. It will never been the same as before. 

Jenni shrugs, “you won’t know until you find out.” 

“And I’m supposed to... what? Show up at his house?” 

Jenni’s eyes seem to trail behind you, and a grin on her face, “When is Jungkook supposed to get his sutures removed?”

Confused, you raise an eyebrow and turn around in your chair to see none other than the man of the hour, Min Yoongi. Instead of being dressed in rehearsal clothes like the other day, Yoongi wears all black with a silver bag wrapped around his torso. 

You whip back around and glare at Jenni, “I swear to god if you call him-” 

“Suga!” Jenni calls out before you can finish your sentence. Your head falls into your hands with another frustrated moan. Jenni waves her hand to him, Yoongi watching warily before he spots that you’re sat right across from her. 

He hesitates for a moment, noticing the way you drag knees to your chest which is a nervous tick you have had since before Yoongi had met you. However, he realizes that if he ever wants to talk to you, now would be the best time. Having followed Jungkook to the hospital for the sole purpose of possibly bumping into you, he had to make due with any interaction he could get. 

Jenni gets up and leaves as Yoongi walks his way over to you. Your head is now buried in your knees, but you hear the chair screech across from you. 

“Hi again.” 

You lift your head up, “Hi, Suga. How is life?” 

You can see hurt flash through Yoongi’s face at your use of his stage name, but he shakes it off, “Life is going pretty well. How about yours?” 

“It’s going well.” 

You still haven’t made direct eye contact with him. Despite having not seen you in person in so many years, his heart ached in his chest at the thought that you may still be hurt. Who is he kidding, though? He’s still hurt by the decision himself. 

With a sigh, he scoots his chair forward, “Are we going to pretend that there isn’t a history behind us?” 

You laugh bitterly, “Haven’t you been doing a pretty good job of that for the passed eight years?” 

Yoongi’s jaw drops. You don’t remember Yoongi ever showing his emotions so freely on his face. That was one of the good things from the interviews you have seen, those 6 boys have opened up Yoongi more and more to his emotions. You feel bad for your response, but you’re unsure how to apologize. 

“I didn’t want to end things just much as you didn’t,” He bites, ignoring the tinge in his heart, “I want to catch up. It’s nice seeing you again.” 

“I have a boyfriend.” You say, your yogurt seeming much more interesting than it was moments before. 

He clears his throat, “That’s okay.” 

“Because I had to move on.” 

“That’s okay.” He repeats, his fingertips drumming along the table top. He hasn’t been chewing his nails lately. That’s good for him. Though, the nervous habit has developed into something different, the drumming of his finger tips echoing more and more in your head as the awkward silence mulls on. Even in a loud cafeteria, your mind only focused on him.

With out thinking much of it, you reach your hand forward and place it on top of his to get the drumming to stop. Yoongi looks up at you while you hold your hand atop of his. For a moment, the silence continues as you stare into his deep brown eyes. You’re transported back to your late teens, where you felt as though you were on top of the world with Min Yoongi by your side. He stared at you as if you were his entire universe, spending night after night cuddled up together, talking about your dreams and aspirations while simultaneously chasing them together. 

Well, it used to be together, but instead you had to push yourself through your dreams alone.

Yoongi’s the first to break the silence, letting a dry chuckle fall effortlessly from his lips while he stares down at your touching hands, “You used to do the same thing if you saw me biting my nails.”

Even though you want to be mad, you wand to walk away and never speak to him again, you can’t. Instead, you nibble on your lip in an attempt to stifle your giggle. Yoongi notices and realizes he’s making good headway into conversation. 

“You told me to help you stop, the only thing that seemed to get you to stop was-” 

“Your touch?” Yoongi suggests, a teasing gummy grin on his face. 

“Yeah,” you finally let out a laugh, “my touch distracted you from a lot of things.” 

The people in the cafeteria didn’t seem to be bothered by the two of you in the center of the room. Busy doctors and nurses trying to get their lunch in, loved ones of patients desperately waiting to hear if their surgeries went well, all is forgotten as you fall into the same pit you found yourself in many years ago. Bottomless, but bright. Visions of the future dancing along you as you fall deeper and deeper. Although now, it seems to be visions of what could have been. 

“Of course it did, how could I focus when I had your pretty face in front of me?” Yoongi’s tone is still teasing, but melancholy wades through his words. 

You slip your hand away hesitantly, and Yoongi’s wrist twitches at the sudden loss of contact. “That’s the reason it ended, isn’t it?” 

This is a conversation that Yoongi is not ready for, but at this point he’ll take anything he can get with you, “What do you mean?” 

“You broke up with me because you knew I’d distract you from your dream.” 

He brings the hand you once held upward, scorching skin touching the back of his neck nervously as he takes a deep breath, “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t play a part.” 

You inhale and drop your legs from the edge of your chair before leaning forward. After years of questioning whether or not you would ever move on, you finally have the chance to get some closure. “What was the final straw?” 

He bites his lip, “I was able to fall asleep without you.” 

You didn’t think you’d be able to feel your heart sink as deep as it has. Even after all these years, your emotions are bubbling to the surface. How can something so simple break your heart so badly? 

“You were in school during the day and I was training at night,” he continues, “we never saw each other and I struggled for so long to fall asleep without you next to me. Then... one day my head hit the pillow and I fell asleep immediately.” 

Another knife to your chest. 

“Did you struggle at all? After the break up, I mean.” You try to search for some sense of regret in his eyes but he’s always been very good at putting up a wall and having people fight for a way in. 

He laughs bitterly, “Of course I struggled. Are you kidding me? I thought I was going to marry you, have kids with you. I was nearly inconsolable once it really set in that you weren’t going to be with me anymore.” 

You swallow anxiously, “But it was really for the best, yeah? You’ve got your career and I’ve got mine. We’re both successful. Given, you’re entirely more successful than I am but I’m happy with where I’m at.” 

“Don’t say that,” Yoongi breaths, “you worked your ass off to get to where you are, you’re just as successful as I am.” 

“You think we wouldn’t have got to where we are if we stayed together.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Yoongi seems to ponder on his answer. 

“I think we were young and didn’t know much about life. It was a shitty time for both of us, but I did and still do think that in some aspect of the word, you are my soulmate.” 

Your breath hitches at the word. 

Beyond already having thought this yourself, the realization that Yoongi thinks it as well causes your chest to flush with heat. The adoration you felt years ago when Yoongi’s hair was always styled neatly in a mohawk and you had no clue how to use eyeliner still rests itself neatly at the bottom of your heart. Hearing Yoongi even say the word ‘soulmate’ nearly reduced you to a puddle of tears. 

Yoongi notices that you haven’t let out a breath, “Fuck,” he’s panicking, running his hand anxiously through his hair, “fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to freak you out, I- I-” He cuts himself off and allows his head to fall into his hands. 

A moment passes, and he seems to gather himself once he hears you exhale, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you last. I dreamed about what I wanted to say to you and insisted on being the one to drive Jungkook to the hospital today with just the hope and slightest chance that I might run into you.” 

“What’s your plan here, then?” 

“I want to be friends.” He proposes. 

You scoff, “Do you have time for friends now?” 

He sighs, expecting the reply but still feeling his chest tighten, “Let’s hang out on a day where the two of us have nothing going on. When are you off next?” 

“I have a boyfriend.” You reiterate, raising an eyebrow. 

“Not a date,” he dismisses you, “just as friends. When are you off next?” 

Crossing your arms, you eye him suspiciously as he widens his eyes in an attempt to push you towards an answer. 

“Saturday.” 

“Great,” he breathes, “I’ll make sure I’m free that day too.” 

~*~*~

Maybe you are taking a bit too much time getting ready for a man who has already seen you at your worst. Maybe you purposely wore purple lipstick in an attempt to show that you have been paying attention to his career and maybe, just maybe, you are way too happy to be hanging out with Min Yoongi once again. 

That doesn’t take away from your nervousness, though. Your hand shakes as you finish applying your mascara. You don’t live in a nice mansion like Yoongi does, and you’re terrified that someone will spot him picking you up from your apartment and all hell will break loose. You’ve read some of the tabloids involving anyone close to the group, so your anxiety is nearly palpable. 

“Get a grip,” you whisper to yourself, “you’ve seen this man naked before. There’s no need to be nervous.” 

As you finish your make up, you move on to your hair but stop once you hear a knock on your door. 

Yoongi isn’t supposed to be here for another half hour. 

“Fuck.” you whisper, standing quickly from your vanity mirror and rushing towards the front door in a panic. You peep through the lens in the door, confusion striking you when you spot Junwoo. 

The lock turns loudly and you slide open the door, “Hi?”

His eyes raise from the ground until he meets yours, “You’re awfully dressed up just to be hanging at home.” 

“I have plans.” You state, slipping your undone hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but notice the instant meekness you felt take over your body the moment you saw Junwoo. 

“With me?” He questions, stepping into your apartment. His black hair is pushed back with way too much gel to be comfortable, the honey brown eyes that usually comforted you suddenly made you feel uneasy. 

You shake your head in response, “An old friend. He and I are-” 

“He?” Junwoo cuts you off, much louder than he was moments before. You take a step back at the sudden change of tone, your jaw nearly dropping at his audacity. 

“Yes, he. Is that a problem?” It was probably in your best interest not to challenge Junwoo. If there is anything you learned in your short time together it’s that he was very good at manipulating your words. He claims it’s his way of reading deeper into the situation but you think your intentions are pretty surface-level. 

Junwoo didn’t seem to expect your attitude, backing down immediately with a nervous scratch to the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t know how I feel about you hanging out with another guy.” 

A scoff leaves your mouth as you scan Junwoo’s posture change, “Are you one of those people who assumes men and women can’t be platonic friends?” 

“Yes.” 

Well, at least he’s honest. 

You roll your eyes, “I can assure you that he’s just a friend.” 

A friend who you have a long, egregious history with. A friend who’s lips have touched every inch of your body, has seen you break down over text books and has kissed away your tears when you were beginning to reach adulthood. 

But yeah, a friend nonetheless. 

“Are you still going to hang out with him if I tell you I’m uncomfortable with it?” Junwoo presses, puffing out his chest. 

“I don’t feel like you have the right to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with,” you furrow your brows, “why are you even here?” 

“I wanted to take you to the park, but that’s not important. Were you going to tell me that you were going out with a guy?” Man, Junwoo’s ability to annoy the fuck out of you has seemingly grown beyond a point of retribution in the short 10 minutes he’s been in front of you. 

As you open your mouth to respond, another knock sounds on the door. You let out a small groan, reaching towards the doorknob and turning it swiftly. On the other side is Yoongi, a striped black and white button down unbuttoned on his torso with a white t-shirt underneath. He’s certainly gotten a better fashion sense. 

“Hi, Yoongi. I’m almost ready,” you send a glare in Junwoo’s direction, “I have to finish my hair and I’ll be ready.” 

Junwoo is staring wide-eyed at Yoongi with his jaw dropped. Yoongi looks back at him and subtly crinkles his nose, just enough for you to spot it. 

After a moment, you break the silence, “Yoongi, this is Junwoo. Junwoo,” you gesture to Yoongi, “Suga of BTS.” 

Yoongi lets out a laugh, “Stop introducing me like that to people.” 

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You tease, spinning the black hat on his head backwards. “Anyway, are you heading out, Junwoo?” 

“You didn’t tell me that it was Suga you were hanging out with.” Junwoo speaks accusingly, making you realize that you truly didn’t make any progress throughout your entire conversation. 

“He’s an old friend,” you explain, “I’ll call you later.” 

Junwoo opens his mouth but closes it again. You know it’s more than likely because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of someone so influential. Junwoo cared too much about his image to do anything to disrupt it. One bad word from Yoongi and he was done for. 

Silently, he steps out of your apartment but doesn’t hesitate on slamming the door shut. 

Yoongi glances at you and points to the door, “Him?” 

“I never claimed to make good decisions.” You sigh, causing Yoongi to giggle. “Anyway, let me finish my hair. Help yourself to anything here.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

You hesitate for a moment before deciding that you didn’t have anything in particular that Yoongi could accidentally get his hands on that would be embarrassing. 

As you walk out of the room, Yoongi runs his fingers along the picture frames on your wall. He remembers these pictures previously sitting on your desk in your parents’ house. Now they were lined perfectly across the off-white painted wall in your living room, images of your family and close friends filling the black painted frames. 

He smiles at the picture of your mother, you’re an exact replica of her. One of the first things he struggled with beyond not seeing you anymore was the fact that he wouldn’t see your family. Despite your relationship being short lived in the beginning, he had grown very close to your family in the process. After the break up, your mother called Yoongi repeatedly asking if he needed food and clothes. He knows that you gained your big heart from her, and he wishes that he can speak with her again. 

Moving on, he spots the familiar picture of you leaning against a bookshelf with Le Fleurs Du Mal by Charles Baudelaire gripped loosely in your hands. He remembers that picture from the end of high school, you insisted on stopping by the local Daegu city library one last time before you both moved to Seoul. Yoongi snapped the picture as an opportunity to remember your hometown, because he was sure the two of you would never be back there again. You would stay together and conquer the world, but unfortunately that never happened. 

Yoongi can’t help but run his fingers along the side of your face, your smile hiding behind the book. Yoongi’s reflection can be seen in the window behind you, his grin just as wide as yours. 

You were in love, and Yoongi misses that.

Of course now it’s not like he can do anything about that. You have a boyfriend who is clearly very loving and trusting in you. 

Yoongi wasn’t necessarily sure what his plan was when he was searching for you in the hospital, nor was he sure what his plan is now that he has you within arms reach of him. Namjoon was sure to tell him how stupid he was for even attempting to get involved with you again even though you have a boyfriend but Yoongi didn’t care. So long as you were in his life somehow, he was willing to make it work. Friends, maybe more. He wasn’t sure, but he wanted whatever he could get. 

He did...okay for a few years without you. He dated on and off but never really developed a connection with anyone the way he had you. He couldn’t help but compare everyone who came into his life to you no matter how hard he tried not to. It’s laughable at best, because deep down in his mind he’s well aware that nobody will ever compare to you. 

“Okay, I’m ready.” 

Yoongi tears his eyes away from the picture and instantaneously rakes his eyes up and down your body, “Whoa.” 

Dressed in a simple leggings and plaid button down combination, it accentuates your curves and causes Yoongi’s mouth to water. 

You let out an embarrassed giggle, “I, uh- I wasn’t sure what we were doing to I tried to dress casually.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stop his eyes from staring at your hips, “It works. Everything about you, works.” 

“Careful now.” You warn jokingly, putting a hand out in an attempt to pause his thoughts. 

Yoongi shakes his head, “Okay, I have a reservation ready for us.” 

You lead him out your door and to the car park, “You better not be taking me to some expensive restaurant because I won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, opening the passenger side door for you, “but if you still love chicken then I may have found the greatest restaurant in existence.” 

Slipping into his car, you wait to respond until he moves over to the drivers side and turns the car on. “You remember that I love chicken?” 

He smiles, gummy and bright just like before, “I remember everything about you.” 

You ignore the flutter in your heart at his words, and sit silently beside him while the radio plays softly from his speakers. The car is far nicer than the one he used to have, and the seats have a warmer that Yoongi seemed to know the perfect temperature of. As he continues to drive on, you try not to watch the way his left hand grips the steering wheel and his right sits idly on his thigh. 

8 years ago, that hand would have been resting on your thigh, fingertips brushing the inner part of your softest flesh while you leaned your head back listened to the melodic tunes of whatever song he made most recently. A few of those tunes have been turned into BTS songs, and you still felt beyond proud of him. 

“Okay, we have to go around the back and through the kitchen. I just don’t want to risk-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you cut him off, waving your hand dismissively, “you’re hot shot famous guy now. Don’t want to risk getting seen with a lady.” 

Yoongi chuckles, “I may be some hot shot famous guy but I’m still the same person I was a decade ago.” 

You watch as he turns the car off, “Prove it.” 

“What?” He laughs in disbelief. 

“Prove that you’re the same person you were all those years ago.” You push, tongue in cheek while you smirk at the man beside you. He seems to ponder for a moment, puckering his lips in thought before he exits the car and runs over to your side of the car. 

“Come on,” he gestures for you to get up, “hurry up.” 

“Hold your horses, Mister.” you adjust the bag around your torso as you stand and let your eyes fall back to Yoongi. His back is to you and his knees are bent. Hands reach backwards for you and he turns to look at you expectantly. 

Tilting your head, you smile as you hop onto Yoongi’s back. A move he’d do regularly when you’d spend hours on your feet interning at various hospitals around the city. His large hands gripped the back of your thighs and you let out a squeal as he hikes you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist. 

It takes a moment for him to steady his walk as he leads you carefully up to the back door. You lean upward and knock on the back door labeled “staff only” and wait patiently as you feel Yoongi adjust you again. 

“You used to carry me around like this all the time.” You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. It didn’t feel weird hugging him like this. Natural instincts kicked in and the whiff of his cologne had you reeling. It’s exactly the same as he wore before, and his hair smelled of coconut conditioner. Before you would turn his head and kiss his lips every time you caught his scent, and it’s taking everything in you right now not to do exactly that. 

“I did,” you can hear the smile in Yoongi’s voice, “and you never reciprocated.”

“I’ll give you a piggy back on the way out, how about that?” You pat the top of his head as the door opens to reveal a very confused looking employee. 

A sheepish smile is held on Yoongi’s face while the employee realizes who he is. “Mr. Min,” he bows his head, “lovely to have you again. We have your usual table set up in the back.”

“Awesome,” Yoongi drawls sweetly, “lead the way!” 

Heat fills your face as the kitchen staff of the unnamed restaurant watch curiously while Yoongi walks you to the table. 

He doesn’t allow you to get off, instead he turns around and drops you onto the booth seat as you try to silence the squeal that leaves your mouth. Yoongi only laughs as he flips back around to see the top half of your body slip between the table and the seat. He’s quick to help you up but his arms grow weak from laughing so he takes a few moments to pull you back up. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, the ridiculousness of the situation bringing back memories.

“I’m sorry,” he says, inhaling another laugh as he slips into the seat opposite of you, “I didn’t think you would fall.” 

You adjust the hat on your head, “It’s fine, I didn’t need my equilibrium to work properly anyway.” 

Yoongi can’t help but watch you carefully as you open the menu. Your nose still crinkled when you came across a dish you may not particularly like, and your eyes widened whenever you saw something that you thought looked good. 

Both of you decided on a beer to drink and various flavors of dry rub wings to enjoy. As you waited on your food to be cooked, you sip your beer and suck your teeth while you decide whether or not you want to ask him all your dying questions. 

Deciding to start small, you took a deep breath as Yoongi met your eyes, “How much did they have to fight you to get you to start dancing?” 

He let out a sigh of relief, half expecting the awkwardness of your history together to take over, “I almost quit like four times, I won’t lie.” 

You giggle, “I figured. You do well, though. I was amazed by your Seesaw performance when you started dancing on your own up there. Genuinely was the last thing I expected. 

Yoongi doesn’t respond, he only smiles widely with his head rested gently on his hand. You tilt your head as his eyes scan yours, “What?” You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, wanting the world to swallow you up at the thought that you could have come across as weird or creepy by knowing so much about Yoongi’s career. 

“You watch my performances?” He questions, his smile not dropping. A hint of pink brushes the tip of his nose. 

“Of course,” you say almost incredulously, “you’re everywhere. It’s hard not to.” 

“What’s your favorite song?” Yoongi presses, leaning forward to show you’ve piqued his interest. 

Okay, there’s no way you’re going to let him think he has some sort of head over you.

“Cypher part 3.” you say confidently. 

“Oh?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, nibbling on the bottom of your lip for a moment before deciding to say why it was your favorite, “specifically the part where you say you’re a starfish feeding off the envy of others.” 

“Ah, yes. Truly a fan favorite. You should hear the cheers when I explain what my tongue can do.” Yoongi whispers the latter half of his sentence, causing your throat to go dry. His tongue is skillful in many ways, not just rapping, and you were well aware of that. Decadence rested on the tip of his tongue, and you’d like to think that you contributed to his *ahem* practice. 

He pulls away with a cheeky grin just as the waiter comes by with steaming plates of food. 

The affect that his words had on you still amazes you to this day. Maybe he does have a head above you, and maybe you’re okay with that. 

The rest of the dinner goes by with a breeze, the two of you laughing over drinks and trying each other’s food. It didn’t take long for you to fall into a comfortable fit with Yoongi, even though so much time had passed. It was like he never left, and he truly is still the same person he was before. He laughs the same, his shoulders shakes and his grin is always huge. Although his hair style changes and his fashion sense has gotten better, you still see the old Yoongi poking out whenever he laughed particularly hard. 

Being face to face with him has allowed you to compare to the younger him, though. His face has slimmed and his voice has gotten deeper, the adam’s apple you kiss at night was larger than before and his neck was longer. Despite all that, he was still the same. Fame hadn’t changed him a bit. 

The moment the check comes you snatch it up quickly. 

“_____.” the way Yoongi says your name shoots a chill down your spine, but you ignore it when you slip your cash into the designated sleeve. 

“Yoongi.” You mock, handing the sleeve back to the waitress who seems scared of Yoongi’s deep tone. 

“I was supposed to pay.” He pouts, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Be faster then.” You grin, standing up and crouching in front of Yoongi’s side. 

He laughs, remembering your promise from earlier and slipping onto your back. The path you to through the kitchen is a bit less crowded now, but you felt the same amount of eyes on you the entire time. You felt much less embarrassed about it now, though, because Yoongi had a way of calming you down even at your worst points. 

“The night is still young,” Yoongi speaks as he slips off of your back and unlocks his car, “would you like to revisit Yongsan Park?” 

“Always.” 

It wasn’t a far drive from the restaurant, and it was spent mostly talking about music and the new album that Yoongi was extremely proud of. Of course you had already listened to it but you didn’t want to take away from his excitement of showing you some of the songs. 

When you made it to the park, the lights lining the jogging path were already on. You hadn’t expected it to be so dark yet but fall time always had a habit of sneaking up on you. 

There was an intense rush of nostalgia associated with this park for the both of you. Nights where the two of you huddled close under the stars were spent here, right beneath the biggest tree in the park. It was unspoken that that was your spot, and you hadn’t been to it since you broke up. 

Yet, muscle memory kicks in and both of your legs carry you right to the tree. 

“Isn’t it funny how we spent so many nights here?” You bring up as you sit at the base of the tree. 

Yoongi nods, “So many nights in this exact spot.” 

“I love it here, it was our spot.” 

Yoongi’s proximity to you is much closer than it should be but neither of you are making any move to change it. His shoulder brushes against yours and you resist the urge to rest your head on his shoulder. 

“It still is.” He corrects, tapping your knee gently with his hand and resting in there. 

You freeze for a moment, not knowing how to process his touch anymore but you can’t push him away. In fact, you’re relishing in the heat burning on your skin beneath his hand. It’s one of the best feelings in the world. 

“Do you remember when you tried to scare me by climbing a tree and the branch broke?” Yoongi looks up, and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at the memory. 

“Yeah but that was because I was trying to get you back for pouring ice water on me when I fell asleep on my text book.” You roll your eyes at the memory, distinctly remembering the chill on your back while Yoongi cackled in your small one bedroom apartment. 

That same cackle leaves Yoongi’s lips from beside you. You snap your head towards him, “Oh you think it’s funny still?” 

“Yeah,” his laugh turns into a giggle, “you can still see the broken branch.” 

“What?” You glance up, and sure enough the branch is still gone. Your jaw drops and you use your hands to push Yoongi over. He doesn’t fight you on it and falls with ease even though you didn’t use very much pressure at all, and you’re quick to try and wrestle him down. “It must be so funny,” you groan as you try to pin him down, straddling your legs on either side of his waist, “to still be pinned by- holy shit you’ve gotten strong.” 

Yoongi takes his opportunity to flip the two of you over, switching positions and easily pinning your hands on either side of your head. Vaguely, you wonder how much time it took for him to gain so much strength, but your mind quickly shifts once you realize the precarious position that Yoongi has put you in. 

Glancing down, you see his hips rest just above your navel, and images of the many nights you shared together flash through your mind. Rushed breathing and sweaty skin sticking together as you explored each other’s bodies and always found new ways to please each other. Briefly, a rush of heat flashes through your lower abdomen at the way your imagination flushes with possibilities of Yoongi’s touch. 

You inhale, your chest heaving and Yoongi’s eyes fly to the way your cleavage displays itself for him. You’ve gotten fuller than before, and it suits you. He’s enjoying every second of it. 

Before he can stop himself, he leans down and smashes his lips onto yours. The grip on your wrists loosen just enough for you to slip out and have your hands flying to his cheeks. He tastes the same as he did before, his smell intoxicating as it fills your nose. Your senses are overwhelmed with him, his tastes, his scent, the way his lips feel against yours. The familiarity is there, but they feel new and exciting at the same time, like you were pushed back to your youth. 

He exhales against you as if he’s been waiting all night to do just this. Slipping his legs out from beneath him, he presses his chest against yours as your hands slide to the back of his neck to hold him against you. The rest of the world falls, dissolving into nothing. You keen helplessly as you feel him grind against you, and that noise seems to push Yoongi over the edge. He growls into your mouth, pulling away to start his descent onto your neck with bites and licks in all the places you loved before. 

Arching into him, your hands loop through his black locks with a gasp as his tongue licks at your wine kissed collarbones. 

This is everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything feels so right. 

Yet, it’s wrong. You need to stop him. You need to ask him to pull away. But you can’t. He feels too fucking good. It’s not until he reaches the stop of your chest, his fingers hesitantly reaching at your collar does he look into your eyes for permission. 

And you stop him. 

“I- I think I need to go have a very uncomfortable conversation with Junwoo.” You state, and Yoongi’s face drops. 

“I can’t believe you still managed to think about him when I was kissing you.” He says nearly incredulously, crawling off of you and leaning his back against the tree again. His chest is rising and falling faster than before, showing that your affect on him was much stronger than you previously had thought. 

Your heart twinged at Yoongi’s cold tone. You swallow, “If you think there’s a possibility of us continuing this, I have to end things with Junwoo.” 

Yoongi whines, “Why now?” 

You let out a little giggle, sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder like you wanted to before. “Even if I didn’t do it right now, I don’t think we could go any further in the middle of a park.” 

“I thought you liked exhibitionism.” Yoongi leans to the side, kissing you once again. It’s much breathier than before, and he prays that you don’t feel his heart pounding wildly in his rib cage at the mere thought of someone catching the two of you outside. 

You gasp into the kiss and force yourself to pull away even though you didn’t want to at all. Giving him a look, Yoongi sighs. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll drive you home so you can have that uncomfortable conversation.” He mutters, standing up and pulling you with him. He’s much more touchy than before, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders while he guides you back to his car. 

The conversation you’re about to have with Junwoo will truly be one of the most anxiety inducing things you’ve ever done. 

~*~*~

The dorms are dark when Yoongi arrives back. The living room in which everyone has a tendency to congregate after a particularly grueling practice day holds no one, a small reminder that everyone finally got some well deserved rest. 

He hums softly to the tune of ‘People’, one of his favorite songs from his recent mixtape and opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water. When he closes it, Jimin is standing on the other side. 

Yoongi jumps, “Jesus fucking christ, Park Jimin!” 

“Didja get back together with her?” 

“What?” Yoongi takes a second to assess Jimin’s pajama clad body, “N- no. We just hung out.” 

“It’s a shame,” Jimin reaches forward and grabs the water bottle from Yoongi’s hand, “I heard you humming so I figured you finally got laid.” Yoongi opens his mouth to protest but Jimin continues before he can, “You know, I’ve known you for so long and I don’t think you’ve ever had a woman sign an NDA? Have you even had sex since you broke up with the pretty nurse?” 

“I feel like that’s none of your business.” Yoongi yanks the water bottle back, opening it and praying that Jimin didn’t backwash. 

“But it is my business because I have no clue how you did it. I’m sure she was fucking other guys regularly. I hear it’s bad for women to go without sex because they turn into-” Yoongi attempts to drown out the sounds of his roommate, his hand gripping the counter top tightly with unwanted images of you in another man’s bed ripping through his brain, “-and I’ve always wondered what it was like to only ever have your hand to get yourself off. Is it lonely? How much porn do you-” 

“Jimin!” Yoongi shouts. 

“Cutting me off is awfully rude, don’t you think?” 

“Shut. the. fuck. up.” Yoongi grits his teeth, moving to walk away as Jimin laughs. 

“Called it! I knew you were a born again virgi-” 

“Goodnight!” Yoongi calls back, walking up to his room and locking the door behind him. He plops down onto his bed, the TV situated perfectly level with his bed. It’s a stark contrast to the small black and white TV he could afford all those years ago, so the familiar sound of his TV sounding on brings a smile to his face as he realizes yet again how fortunate he’s become. 

Now he’s determined to make sure you feel the same sense of fortune that he has. Because he has you back in his life. Was it a twist of fate or the inevitability of soulmates, Yoongi isn’t sure. However, he’s immensely grateful to have you back, even if you’re not truly his yet. 

~*~*~

"I’m breaking up with you.” 

“What?!” 

You cover your mouth as the unexpected sentence leaves your mouth. Junwoo sits in his office with his fists clenched tightly on top of his desk. He’s never been particularly good at hearing bad news, and even though it’s only been a few months you feel as though you’re signing divorce papers judging my his reaction. 

It’s been two days since you last saw Yoongi. You put off speaking to Junwoo for a little bit to try and figure out exactly what you were going to say to him. You had a whole speech ready, talking about how he deserves better and that he’ll find his soulmate eventually. 

But when the moment came, your speech was practically thrown to the ceiling fan and torn into a million pieces.

“W- why? What did I do?” Junwoo asks, he seems more angry than anything which you didn’t expect. 

“You didn’t do anything,” you sigh, plopping in the seat on the other side of his desk, “I just don’t think it’s going to work out.” 

“Everything was going so well!” Oh god, he’s yelling. “It’s that fucker Suga’s fault, isn’t it? He’s putting you up to this!” 

“Fucking hell, Junwoo! How old are you, honestly? Immediately assuming that it was Yoongi is the most childish thing you could have done.” It is Yoongi, though. You know that, and unfortunately Junwoo knows that as well. It isn’t in good conscience to deny his allegations but you can’t help but do so. 

Though, the inevitability of your relationship ending would have happened with out without Yoongi’s push. 

“Well excuse me for thinking you would fuck a member of the biggest band on the planet! For God’s sake, any whore would drop their pants for one of them.” 

Your jaw drops, “I didn’t fuck him.” 

Junwoo rolls his eyes, “Are you sure? Because it’s almost like I could smell the stench coming off of you.” 

You place your tongue in your cheek, biting back a response. Should have figured the man wouldn’t know how to take a break up. 

Then, you laugh, “Okay. You got me, I fucked him.” 

“I knew it.” Junwoo’s nostrils flare. 

“Hundreds of times, eight years ago,” You spit, standing up quick enough for the chair behind you to tip over. “it wasn’t working out anyway and clearly that’s for the best. The last thing I need is a chauvinist asshole who refuses to see what was right in front of him.” 

“I-” 

“No,” you put your hand up, “I’m done.” 

You turn around swiftly, walking out of his office and ignoring the stares from his receptionists. Surely they heard the yelling and the last thing you needed was to feel judged. 

Except you weren’t being judged. Just before you reached the elevator, one of the girls spoke out. “You’re the second break up he’s had this week, don’t feel bad.” 

You turn around, watching her flick vivaciously through a magazine. “What was that?” You speak slowly, turning around walking up to the desk. 

“Another woman came by earlier this week, she said he’s been fucking some nurse behind her back and threw a ring at him.” She shrugs, then leans forward with a whisper, “You’re better off without him.” 

You scoff, “and I had the decency to break up with him before I fucked someone else. Thanks for the tip, darling.” 

As soon as the elevator doors close, you whip out your phone and text Yoongi. 

To: Suga Delivered: 13:52

Deed is done if you still want me to come by 

You make it to your car and hear your phone ding. 

From: Suga Received: 13:57

I’ll meet you outside

Your heart flutters, so you start your car and drive as quickly as you can towards the directions of the dorm. It’s not hard, everyone in Seoul is keenly aware of where BTS stay, but there’s an unspoken rule that nobody is to bother them. One of the things you enjoyed most about this whole situation is the amount of respect they boys have earned, and you couldn’t feel more proud of Yoongi. 

The gated group of buildings is intimidating to say the least, but you’re unable to contain your excitement as you pull up. Yoongi is a few feet away, waving from the other side of the gate as he presses a few buttons before you hear the gate click and begin to side open. 

Your excitement over simply seeing him is nearly too much to contain. A week ago you struggled to not get nauseous at the thought of him seeing you but now you didn’t know how you ever made it without him. Inching your car forward became an arduous task because it took precious seconds away from you being able to kiss Yoongi once again. 

So, you throw your car into park as the gates slip closed behind you and run out of your car to jump towards Yoongi. 

He catches you, immediately slamming your lips onto his. It’s soft this time, the urgency isn’t there but he doesn’t mind the feeling of your hands gently tugging at his hair and scratching his scalp. 

“Mm,” he hums against your lips, “does this mean you’re mine again?” 

“With some adjustments to both of our lives,” you smile, “and making time for each other, then I’m willing to try again.” 

“Good,” he grins, “let me take you inside and show you how much I’m gonna try.” 

He slides you down his torso and grabs your hand, yanking you closely behind him. You let out a quiet yelp as he does so, following him into the building and welcoming the warmth that greets you. You’re lead through a long hallway but are stopped abruptly once Yoongi spots Hoseok walking through the living room. 

“Hey pretty nurse, and Yoongi.” Hoseok says without looking up, and Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief. 

You give him a questioning look but shake it off when Yoongi leads you up a lot of stairs and straight to his bedroom. 

“Okay, there’s two ways this can go-” Yoongi slips his shirt over his head and you try to process everything as it’s happening because holy shit you’re going to fuck Yoongi for the first time in years and might actually be able to have an orgasm “-slow and steady or hard and fast.” 

“Save the romance for next time,” you giggle, slipping your dress over your head and falling backwards onto his bed, “I haven’t had you inside me in years. Hard and fast.” 

He chuckles, “You got it baby.” 

He jumps on top of you, his hand flying to your thigh to steady your leg as he grinds his still clothed cock into your core. He’s already hard, and you’re already dripping. The last two days you spent not being near him was the most difficult thing you had experienced because you knew what was coming and how he was going to do it. 

And you’re loving every second of it. 

Spreading your legs wide, you reach between the two of you and play with the hem of his boxers. He groans into your mouth, inching upward so your hand slips further in, “No teasing, baby girl. Hard and fast.” 

“Right, yes. I’m sorry.” you bite his bottom lip before lifting your hips and feeling his hands loop on either side of your panties to slip them down your legs. He drops between your legs immediately and inhales your scent, tossing his head back in pleasure. 

“Fuck, just like I remember.” Yoongi dives back, his nose brushing against your aching clit while his tongue darts out and licks your quivering hole. You let out a quiet moan but are quick to cover your mouth as you remember there are six other men on the other side of these thin walls. 

The pleasure of knowing that he remembers your scent is enough to send you feral, your back arching off the bed as his lips finally wrap around your clit and sucks hard. The obscene sound of him drinking in your juices fills the room, his groans against your core sending chills up your spine. If there was anything you knew about Min Yoongi, it’s that he knew how to use his tongue. 

You fill your core begin to heat up as your orgasm builds and before you know it, you’re uncovering your mouth and letting out a moan loud enough to be heard for miles. 

Yoongi can’t help but smirk against you as he drinks in your release, moving to trail kisses up your abdomen as you come down from the pleasure. 

“You ready for more?” He kisses your lips, and it’s then that you notice his cock his gloriously hard against his stomach, boxers long discarded. 

“Please, yes. Please please plea-” 

“Alright, hold your horses.” Yoongi jokes, brushing the head of his cock against your slit a few times teasingly. 

You pout, “You said no teasing.” 

He nods, “I can’t help it. Your face is so cute when you’re begging for my cock.” 

As you’re thinking of a rebuttal, Yoongi finally slips inside. Both of you moan in pleasure at the clenching of your core. He remembers exactly how to move to get you to gasp, how deep to move to get you to clench, and he remembers what each of your movements mean. Your nails currently dig into his back harshly but he doesn’t complain, because that means his thrusts are going at just the right speed. 

He wishes you can scream like you used to, but he realizes how weird that could be for his bandmates to hear. However, he can’t say that he necesarily minds all things considered. He’d love for Jimin to hear what he’s doing to you after the way his smart mouth moved the other night. He could imagine his face as he listens, but then Yoongi is dragged back to the moment when he feels you clench particularly hard. 

You feel him tensing more and more, struggling to hold on as your vice grip on him tightens even further. The soft sponge of your warm cunt is nearly too much for him to bare, and as you feel your second orgasm approach, you grip Yoongi’s face in your hands, “Cum for me. Please.” His eyes flutter closed and he begins to thrust faster, lips on yours and sweat building on both of your foreheads. Then, your second orgasm washes over you deliciously, Yoongi’s hips stuttering before he follows with his own release, his cum coating your walls white. He’s still for a moment, gasping above you. When you reach up and brush the hair from his forehead, he collapses on top of you, “Fuck, that’s even better than I remembered.” 

“Good,” you giggle, kissing his nose, “because there’s so much more I want to try with you.”

His heart flutters irrevocably, knocking the wind out of him when he realizes that you’re in this for the long run just as he is. This time he swears he’s going to make it work, and he plans on spending the rest of his life with you. 

His lips brush against you once again, then he speaks. 

“Write me a list, baby girl.” 

[bokukawas]

Drunken Mess

pairing; Kuroo Tetsuro  x Reader

warnings; alcohol, suggestive in the end, some grabbing from some random stranger

a/n; ok guys, enjoy, this took me forever to write and idk, i just hope someone here likes it ♥

summary; when you have a shitty day and then your boyfriend presses all the wrong buttons upon his return , you just need a little alcohol to keep your sanity… and maybe have a drink too much

word count; 6k, I actually planned to keep this short. WELL HUH jokes on me, right? 

The only thing that got you through the day was the thought, that when you came home later, your boyfriend would be back from his training camp with his team. Because, seriously, today had sucked. You had to take a double shift at work, because a colleague had called in sick and all the customers had just been annoying and rude. You had expected working in retail to suck, but compared to the reality your imagination was a fucking dream come true. Retail was the worst. The absolute fucking worst. And no one could truly understand it if they haven’t worked in retail at least once in their life.

By the time you could clock out, you were nearly crying from frustration. You were so eager to see Kuroo and leave your work; you nearly ran the whole way home.

When you finally arrived home, you could already see light seep out from under the door, which meant he actually was home already. Your heart made an involuntarily somersault as you pushed the door open and yelled “I’m home!” with a huge smile plastered on your face. You had missed him terribly. Yet instead of your boyfriends loving arms around you, you just found the mess he somehow managed to produce in less than a day. Your smile slipped just as fast as it had appeared. “Kuroo, what the actual fuck!?” No answer to that.

You could see him, lying on the couch, one leg slung over the back of it, controller in one hand, a piece of pizza in the other, headset on his head, while he cackled. He didn’t even seem to hear you. And damn it stung. You waited the whole day with dinner so you could eat together with your boyfriend. And not only that, you had cleaned the whole house before he returned, so you could just relax together once he was back, hell, you even dumped your friends who wanted to go out and have a girls night, and this was how it turns out?

With watering eyes, you inspected the spectacular mess in front of you. Eyes flicking from the kitchen, where he obviously already made ramen before he ordered pizza, to the living room where the whole content of his sports bag seems to just have been dumped on the floor. Then to the bathroom, where the door was open and showed the still wet tiles and a towel carelessly thrown in the middle of it, fog still clinging to the mirror, because he once again had not opened the goddamn window.

In that moment all you could feel inside of you, was burning anger and huge disappointment. It was not the first time you had asked him to just please be a little bit more considerate of you. Why didn’t he fucking get it? The damn flat didn’t magically clean itself; it was all you who did it. The mess he made in literally only a few hours felt like a punch in the face.

Clenching your fist, you angrily throw your bag into the mess he already made, which seemed to finally get his attention. Head popping up from the couch, he pulled down his headset a bit and looks over to you: “Oh hey kitten, didn’t hear you come home.”

“Yeah never mind”, you spit, “continue your thing there, I’m gonna be gone soon anyways.”

You slip out of your sneakers, phone already in your hand to call one of your friends.

“S’ something wrong, kitten?” Kuroo sets down his headset, mustering you with concern in his eyes. Obviously something was wrong, but his brain still felt foggy with exhaustion from all the training he had pushed himself and his team through this week.

The answer came in the slamming of the bedroom door, where you had disappeared.

He sighs and briefly puts his headset back on to give his friends a heads up: “Guys, I’ll be back later, seems like somethings wrong with Y/N”, then he left the game and stood up, slowly walking to your shared bedroom, before he tentatively knocks on the door.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Did something happen at work? Are you alright?” Upon not getting an answer, he pushed down the latch, only to find that you had locked the door. He silently swears. It had to be bad when you actually locked him out. “C’mon hun, don’t be like that. Talk to me.” Door rattling followed, which you blatantly ignore.

You were sitting on the bed, which was, of fucking course, not made any more and stripped out of your work clothes, throwing them carelessly on the floor. The damage was already done, what bad could your few clothes be then, right?

It was then, that Miwa finally picked up. “Oh hey, Y/n, whats up? I thought you were having some quality time with Kuroo?” You could hear loud voices talking in the back; she must have gone outside to answer your call.

“Yeah you know what? I thought so, too. Plan has changed, though. Where are you? Mind if I join you? I need a drink.”

“Are you alright, Y/n? You sound a little upset?”

“Miwa, for god’s sake, just tell me where you are so I can join you. I’m going to explode if I stay here any minute longer.”

You could hear Miwa sigh into the phone. “That bad, huh? We’re at our usual place.”

“Good, I’ll be there in twenty.” You hang up and throw your phone into the pillow and start rummaging through your closet, finding one of the dresses you like very much, but never actually wear, because it is actually very short. Well, fuck it, you think to yourself and put it on, together with your new high heels. Quickly freshening up your smudged make-up, you grab your keys and your clutch and brace yourself for your escape. Because that was exactly what you were doing: escaping from this whole mess.

Then, you unlock the door and push it open, marching straight for the door, which was, of course, blocked by your boyfriend, who was leaning against it and now eyeing you from head to toe. He probably had heard you talk to Miwa and taken his position at the door right away. He did not comment on your outfit though, having the good sense to know he was walking on very thin ice.

“Going somewhere?”

“I’m going out with my friends. At least I would like to, but someone is standing in the way. Do you mind?” You look up at him and give him one of your perfect angelic smiles as you try to squeeze through. Even though you were wearing your heels, your boyfriend was a goddamn giant and he somehow managed to still be taller, which was mildly frustrating at the moment.

He does not budge; not even an inch.

“Are we not going to talk about what is going on? Because something clearly is going on.”

“I’d actually rather go right now.”

Kuroo could basically feel the passive aggressive energy radiating from you, but still, he didn’t budge. He didn’t even have the chance to talk to you yet, what could he possibly have done to upset you so much that you could not even stand to be in the same room as him? It was a mystery to him.

“Y/n, please.” He reaches out a hand to brush a thumb against your cheek, because he knows how much you always enjoy these little affectionate gestures, but he stops right in his tracks, when he found you staring at him with barely withhold anger. He was surprised that you did not swat at his still outstretched hand.

“Move Kuroo, I mean it.” And when you try to squeeze through this time, he lets you.

You were rarely in such a bad mood and he knew when he needed to let you cool off, first. As you walk by him, he catches your wrist in the last second, holding you still for a moment. “At least send me a text when you get there, alright?” he whispers while brushing his thumb once over your veins and then lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against the palm of it.

The urge to just turn around and press your head into your boyfriends’ chest right then was overwhelming, but you were still so mad that you stubbornly continued on your way, leaving Kuroo standing there, watching you go.

When he turns around to go back into the flat, he feels like a train hit him as he takes in the mess he made. “Oh fuck.” He groans as he ruffles his spiky hair, because how could he be so stupid. Of course you would be mad if you came home to such a mess. The worst part was, that he didn’t even contain his chaos in one room, no, he seriously fucked up the whole flat, which by second thought, you had probably cleaned just hours before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your foul mood suddenly made sense to him. Groaning again, he closes the door behind him and goes to the kitchen. He better gets rid of this whole mess before you come home later. But first, he wants to apologize. Fishing out his phone out of his joggers, he opens the chat with you and freezes all over again. There it was, black on white. Dinner later, Tetsu? We can order from your fav restaurant if you like ♥

Oh sweet fucking hell, he was the biggest douche in the whole wide world. How could he forget that you two wanted to eat together? “Ah shit.”

He types out a quick message to you. Y/n I’m so sorry. I’m the biggest idiot in the world. You can punch me later if you still feel like it. I sure as hell deserve it. Pls text me when you get there safely. I love you.

Kuroo really wants to kick his own ass in that moment. You were always so good to him, going out of your way to make the time you got to spend together as pleasurable as possible, taking time where you actually had none to spare and just simply spoiling him in any way possible and this was how he treated you? He didn’t even kiss you when you got home, which was funny, because it was one of the only thoughts in his head, besides volleyball this whole past week. The feeling of your soft lips against his.

He was not surprised that he didn’t get a message back, but he still unmuted his phone, just in case you called him when you had enough and wanted to go home.

Then he starts cleaning up his mess.

You on the other hand nearly arrived at the bar where you and your friends usually met up once a month to keep in touch. You already regretted wearing your new heels. As you turned the next corner, you could already spot the bar and with it, a whole lot of people standing outside at high tables. Your friends amongst one of them.

“Hey ladies”, you call out as you get closer. “Long time no see.”

Fighting a smile to your face, you found your place right next to Miwa, who gently nudges you in the side.

“Stop that grimace and tell us what happened.”

Alisa, who was standing in front of you, just reaches over the table, takes your hand in hers and squeezes it softly.

“Actually, I think I’d rather have a drink first”, you moan.

One drink followed the next and your friends realized later, that they probably should have stopped you after your 5th cocktail or so. Which they didn’t, because you spilled your heart out to them, nearly crying a few times, which was rare to see, because usually you managed to keep your cool in front of others, even your own friends. Moreover, the drink in your hand seemed to be the only thing holding you together. They were a little taken aback, too, because you usually were a very good drinker, and could handle alcohol very well; but by the time you went inside to dance and just bumped into stranger after stranger while trying to walk a straight line, they figured you probably had not eaten anything before coming here.

Miwa squinched up her face. “She’s gonna feel even worse tomorrow. We should probably get her home.”

Alisa just nods, before sprinting in your direction as she witnessed you tumbling into a group of men, of which one luckily caught you in his arms, before you hit the floor, but then couldn’t keep his hands to himself. You just laughed, not realizing what was going on and not feeling the hand, currently sneaking up your leg. Everything looked dizzy and swayed and you felt a little funny in the head. Vaguely you realize that Alisa was arguing with the man who stopped your fall and then her face popped up in front of you, asking you were your phone was.

You look at her irritated, not quite understanding what she wanted.

“C’mon y/n, where is your goddamn phone.”

“My clutch?”

Miwa suddenly popped up next to you, steadying you and gently guiding you to an abandoned empty chair. “Sit.”

Alisa rummaged through your clutch, only to find your purse and your house keys…but no phone.

“Your phone is not in here y/n. Are you sure it was in your clutch?” she looks at you questioningly, with her big green eyes, which were all you could focus on. She always looks so pretty.

„Focus y/n!“

You thought back to when you left the flat… “I think I …left it on the bed”, you mumble, eyes suddenly growing very heavy. Leaning heavily against Miwa, your head lolls against her shoulder. You inhale deeply. Miwa always managed to smell so good; you wonder how she does it. The girls just shared a concerned look. You couldn’t even sit upright on that damn chair, how were they supposed to get you home.

“We need to call Kuroo”, Miwa states, while brushing some strands of hair out of your face. You didn’t seem to notice.

“That was my plan. But I don’t have his number… do you?” Miwas face was answer enough. That’s when Saeko popped up next to them. “Hey girls, I made it after all.” She grinned happily at all of you. “What’s wrong with this one here, though?” She nudges you in the side, which was rewarded with a lazy grunt from you and a silent curse from Miwa as you tipped dangerously to the side.

“Is she drunk!? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drunk. What happened?” Saeko seemed mildly concerned, which leads to Miwa and Alisa freaking out a little. Saeko usually doesn’t show concern, so it must be just as bad as they imagined.

“Do you have Kuroos number?” Alisa asked her without answering her question in return, not letting her eyes stray from your face, as you looked ghostly white at the moment and started mumbling random things under your breath.

“No? But you have? Right?”

They both shake their heads. Saeko sighs and mumbles something under her breath, which rather sounded, like ‘I should’ve just gone straight home’, before facing Alisa.

“Call your brother then. He must have his number.”

“Oh my god, Saeko you are a genius.”

“Thanks, I know.”

With another concerned look your way, Alisa left your side to go outside and call her brother. She just hoped he would pick up, since it was already the middle of the night.

Meanwhile Kuroo was sitting on the couch, worriedly glancing at the clock all few seconds and constantly brushing his fingers through his hair. No wonder you hadn’t texted him back, he had found your phone lying on his pillow as he had made the bed again. This meant, you were out, with no phone and no means to contact him if something was wrong. He didn’t like that one bit. The worst part was that he couldn’t even blame someone for it, besides himself. This was his fault and he knew it all too well. Scratching at his scalp, he tried to calm down a bit. He knew you could take care of yourself; your small figure belied the strength you actually had, but still. There was always a chance that something happened. So when his phone started ringing he answered it in seconds, without even looking who was calling first. It just had to be you, right?

“Y/n?” he nearly yelped in the phone.

“No, this is Lev.”

Kuroo nearly lost it then, breathing heavily and punching the pillow right next to him, he thought he was going to combust any second.

“What is it Lev? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, I know, I was sleeping until my sister called me.” Now that he mentioned it, Kuroo could hear the slight strain in Levs voice, as if he had just gotten up.

“It’s about y/n, though. They are worried and would like you to come and pick her up. Apparently she didn’t have her phone with her and got stupidly drunk.” He paused. “…did you have a fight? Are you alright?”

Kuroo swallowed.

“Just tell me where they are, please.” And so Lev does.

“Tell your sister I’ll be there soon… and thank you, Lev. Sorry that you got involved in this.”

“Yeah, yeah. G’night.” with that, he just hung up on Kuroo, probably eager to get into bed again. Kuroo couldn’t even blame him for that, he was tired, too, but he swore he wouldn’t go to bed before you got home safely.

He gets up, just grabs his wallet, keys and his sweater and was out the door in seconds, running all the way to the bar. Never before had it been so bad, that your friends were concerned about you. You had always gotten home on your own, or were sober enough to just give him a call, or get a taxi. Your alcohol tolerance was quite high, too, but alas, you hadn’t eaten today. That was probably the problem.

Alisa spotted him from afar and just starts waving. She was impressed at how fast he was, it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since the call. When she saw him up close though, she realized that he was sweating and breathing hard. He must have run the whole way here.

“Jeez, Kuroo you look like you might pass out any second.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to see you, too Alisa. Now, where is she?”

He didn’t even look Alisa in the face, his eyes scanning the crowd around them, searching for your face.

“Inside. C’mon.”

He follows her tall blonde form through the masses, until she stops in front of a chair. An empty chair. He could barely hear her curse under her breath.

Kuroos head snaps up, when he could hear a commotion start on the dance floor.

There you were, the hands of some random stranger draped across you, while you danced as if you didn’t even notice. Which of course, you didn’t. Not really. You just enjoyed the lights and the music and silently swayed to the rhythm of it, being a little surprised that the world suddenly didn’t seem so shaky anymore. Your back felt warm, too, which was at the same time pleasant and very unpleasant at once. Something somehow felt wrong, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. You were just happy that you somehow managed to get yourself drunken enough, to stop thinking about how little your boyfriend seemed to care about you.

Kuroos eyes wander to the two females next to you, desperately trying to pry the hands off that damn stranger of your dancing form, but they were both so small compared to the guy, it was useless.

He lost it the moment said stranger seemed to thrust his hips into your back. Miwa and Saeko spotted him just the second he lunged at the person, shoving him away.

“Get your filthy hands off of my girlfriend!”

The guy of course didn’t like being handled that way and was in Kuroos face the very next instance. “What’s your problem man? It didn’t seem to me that she didn’t like it.”

Miwa winced. She had seen Kuroo lose his cool once before, and it hadn’t ended very well for the other dude. He had him up by his collar at once, sneering in his face “she’s so drunk she probably doesn’t even remember her own name and you want to tell me she liked it?” He shook the stranger, muscles flexing under his T-Shirt.  “Get the fuck out of my eyes.”

With that, he shoves him so hard that the guy loses his balance and falls face down onto the dance floor.

Your world had become very wobbly again, as soon as the somewhat steadying hands had left your hips. Tumbling to the side, you were caught in strong arms again. Your boyfriend’s arms.

“C’mon kitten, we’re going.”

“Wha-? Kuroo?” Were you hallucinating now? “No I don’t want to go. I want to dance.” You wind your way out of his arms, only to stagger once again.

Kuroo exhales once again and tries to pull himself together, looking at your friends who all watch you with deep worry in their eyes. “How much exactly did she drink?”

Alisa nervously twirls her hair around her finger, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Your boyfriend could be scary, especially if he was worried about you. “Don’t know… I kinda lost count after her 5th cocktail or so… she might have had some drinks on the dance floor, too.”

Kuroo breathes in deeply, watching you as you tried to dance, which was actually just staggering from one side to the other, trying not to fall on your face. He was low key impressed that you had not already broken your ankles in those heels. Trying to remain calm and reminding himself that in fact, this was his fault and he couldn’t get angry with anybody else, he sighs again, starts fumbling in his pocket to get his wallet out and pushes some money in Alisas hand.

“Here, for her drinks. I’m pretty sure she didn’t pay for them herself, did she? Well, never mind. We are going now. Thanks for reaching out to me.”

And with that, he appears next to you again, draping his sweater around your hips to keep your very short dress from flashing anyone, before crouching down and just throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell!? KUROO! Put me down, I don’t want to go!” you slur, as he starts to push his way through the crowd.

“Good thing I’m not asking then.”

Your friends watch as your boyfriend singlehandedly maneuvers you two outside, sighing in unison as you leave the club.

“Wow. That was intense”, Saeko deadpans.

Miwa nods. “He was so calm, though? The last time I saw someone touch y/n with Kuroo around, the guy had a broken nose afterwards. I was a little scared for a second there.”

“He must have been really worried. Lev told me he seemed really agitated, which is rare for him. He’s usually very composed.”

They sigh in unison again. “We better call her tomorrow and ask if she’s alright”, Miwa states, to which the others all nod. Saeko starts grinning a moment later. “I’m pretty sure Kuroo is gonna take good care of her now, so let’s not worry. The night is still young.” She throws her arms around the waists of her friends and pulls them all in direction of the dance floor.

 Meanwhile your world shakes violently with every step your boyfriend makes and your hair was jumping in tact with it. His shoulder blade pressed very uncomfortably into your stomach. You could feel the warmth radiating from his hand at the back of your knee, where he gripped you softly to keep you steady.

You hadn’t spoken to him since he had thrown you over his shoulder and just marched out of the bar. In fact, you felt a little ashamed. It had been years since you had gotten so drunk you could barely stand. It was a mystery to you, how he even knew where you were.

Another step, another bounce, another uncomfortable press against your roaring stomach. You clutch your hands into the hem of Kuroos shirt, trying to steady yourself a bit, inhaling his familiar smell and focusing on that, instead of the turmoil in your stomach and your head.

Kuroo of course feels you clench fistfuls of his shirt and slows down a bit, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Kitten, you alright there?”

The fresh air had sobered you up quite a bit and you were fully aware of the gentle grip your boyfriend had on you, same as the every so often brush of his thumb across your thigh.

Since you didn’t answer, he just presses a quick kiss to your leg and then continues on his way, a little more slowly, but still persistent. You groan, as the nauseous feeling in your stomach got overwhelming. Not only that, but you could also feel your feet burning and hurting. Those heels were really not the best choice for tonight.

“Y/n?” he stops once more and tries to look over his shoulder again.

“First of all Kuroo, I’m still mad at you, secondly I feel like I might puke any minute if your shoulder is gonna press in my stomach again and last of all, my feet hurt.”

It occurred to you that you were whining, but how could you not? Today has been hell and now everything hurts and you couldn’t even just press your head into your boyfriends’ chest because you were supposed to be mad at him.

“Hold on a sec, hun.”

“I mean it Tetsu, I’m gonna puke.”

Kuroo smiles at that, not because it was fun to him that you had so much to drink that you felt like puking, but because you used his first name…which in conclusion meant you weren’t in fact as mad as you tried to be.

He could already see his target at the end of the street, so he just ignored you and walks on a few minutes longer.

“Ok, I’m going to put you down now, be ready.”

He slowly lets you slide down on his front, so that you were now standing in front of him. His hands were on your hips, steadying you slightly in case you still needed it. You wince as your feet hit the ground, your heels pressing against every sore spot on them. Kuroo could tell you were avoiding looking in his face, even though he stood right in front of you.

Sighing, he puts his slender index finger under your chin and lifts your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. “I’m sorry Y/n, I was a total dick earlier and I didn’t even realize it. But for now, can we ignore that so that I can take care of you properly? Please?”

Damn it, it wasn’t fair. As you look into his catlike, earnest eyes, so full of love and concern for you, you could already feel your anger melt away. “You’re the worst, Tetsu.” Your words significance was betrayed by the fact that you leaned your head against his shoulder the exact same instance and inhaled deeply. He chuckles deeply at that and presses a soft kiss against your neck, holding you a little while longer.

“Sit down here for a bit kitten, I will be right back.” He guides you to a bench right in front of the 24/7 he had aimed for, noticing you were still very unsteady on your feet and actually limping now. After you sat down, he squats down in front of you and takes your foot in his hands. “Let me see.” He slowly peels off your shoes and inhales sharply through his teeth. “Damn hun, you really butchered your feet.” You decided you didn’t even want to see it and just wriggled your toes at the new found freedom.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back”, and with that he rushes into the store behind you.

After a few minutes, you feel something cold against your cheek. “Here, drink.”

You take the bottle of water out of his hands, suddenly feeling very thirsty and drink a few mouthfuls, as he squats down in front of you again, inspecting your feet once more, before applying patches at the worst spots. When he was finished, he just looks up at your exhausted form in front of him, bracing his hands on your knees, his thumbs already drawing gentle patterns across your skin. It seemed cold to you suddenly and you shiver, which leads to Kuroo taking off the sweater he had put around your waist and pulling it over your head.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He grabs your shoes, and turns around, squatting again in front of you, his back muscles flexing under the shirt as he motions for you to get on. With a sigh you did exactly that. No way in hell would you walk the next 10 minutes home on your own two feet. You put your arms around his neck and try a weak little jump to get on his back, which was rewarded with an amused chuckle by your boyfriend. Luckily, he caught your legs just fine and adjusted you on his back with a little wiggle, so that he now could give you a proper piggyback ride home.

“Y/n?” he asks as you got closer and closer to your home, already walking up the stairs to your shared flat.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”                            

Ah damn that bastard really knew how to play you. Even though you could feel your insides warm up at that, you thought he could feel bad a little more, so you didn’t comment on it, as he puts the key in the locker and opens the door.

The moment he switched the light on, though, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Ah fuck Tetsu, I love you, too. Asshole.” That made him laugh in return. It seems like he had cleaned the whole flat after you rushed out to drink yourself stupid.

“I realized why you were so mad the moment I turned around to go back in here”, he confesses and slowly lets you down from his back. “And as I said before, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a total douchebag.” He comes to stand in front of you and puts your face into his hands. “Can you forgive this asshole?”

You punch his chest in return. “Stop being cute!”

“Can you forgive me? Pleaseee?”

He actually pouts as he squishes your cheeks, already knowing he had won. You tried to fight the smile that wanted to spread on your face at the ridiculous show of your huge boyfriend pouting in front of you, but you fail miserably.

“Just kiss me already, idiot.”

So he did, his one hand sliding from your cheek to your neck, as his lips press against yours in a feather light touch. Your own hand finds its way into his hair at once, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, as the other steadies you against his hips. He sighs contentedly in the kiss, brushing his lips against yours as he mumbles “I missed you so much”, before kissing you again, this time a little more hungrily. Your lips move eagerly against each other and after a little while, you feel his tongue grace against your lips, which makes you shudder. Your knees started feeling dangerously wobbly again. Luckily, he had already pulled you flush against him and now lifted you up by putting his hands under your ass to carry you to the bedroom, where he gently lays you down on the bed, before slowly climbing on top of you.

You smile fondly at his expression as he kisses you repeatedly, every kiss getting a little rougher than the last one, moving your lips in time with his and then there was his tongue, finally in your mouth. He could still taste the alcohol on your lips.

When he finally breaks away from you, you were both panting. Your hands were gripping his shirt greedily and you were already pulling him down on you again, wanting more. God his kisses gave you life.

“I’m not sure we should go there today, kitten, as much as I’d like to. You’re still very much drunk, and I’d like you to feel and remember all of what I plan to do to you.”

He smirks and plants another kiss on your lips, teeth grazing teasingly against them as he did so, then snorting at the bewildered and somewhat outraged look you gave him when he pulled away. You were clawing at his biceps the moment he starts to get up from you, trying to pull him down again and groaning when you realized you were going to lose against his strength.

“Tetsuro”, you moaned in a last attempt to get him back to you, which made him freeze on the spot. “Wow you’re mean, kitten, but still no.”

And with that, he simply helps you get out of his sweater and your dress, always swatting your grabbing hands away, before he manhandles you into the bathroom to get you ready for bed.

You were getting pissed at him again, because first, he got you hot and bothered and then he didn’t want to do something about it. How rude. That would get him payback, you swore to yourself.

Still, not even your naked form had him thinking twice about his choice, he simply wrangles one of his tees over your head and pulls you flush against him in your shared bed, having a death grip on you, so you couldn’t even move around, as much as you tried.

“Sleep now kitten, and then maybe tomorrow I’ll give you what you want so desperately right now.”

He runs a hand down your side teasingly and you could feel his smile against your forehead at the way your body quivers against him.

“On second thought, I think I’m not able to forgive you yet, you are actually the worst”, you mumble against his chest. He only acknowledges this with another kiss against your forehead. Still, somehow your boyfriend had made the right call, because it only took you seconds to fall asleep in his warm embrace. 

He watches your sleeping form on his chest fondly, pressing little kisses to your face from time to time and thinking to himself, that he deserves a price for self-control, because he seriously had not wanted to restrain himself at all.

Groaning, he presses another kiss to your face as he sleepily mumbles, “I love you, Y/n.” before squishing you even more against his chest. This was what he had longed for all week after all, he thought to himself, as he tried to ignore the bulge in his pants. This was going to be an extremely long and very torturous night for him… he just hopes he would fall asleep just as fast as you did. Morning could not come fast enough…

[septicace-writes]

Hi, how are you? How’s uni? Could I make another request please? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to write it or are too busy 😊. A request where Henry and reader are supposed to have dinner at her place and she made it very special because she wanted him to spend the night with her in her bed. She wanted to cook him something for a change and even made a special plate for Kal. He arrives but grows worried when she doesn’t open the door when he’s at her door, so he lets himself in and he finds her on the floor unconscious. Turns out fate doesn’t seem to be in her site that night because she got her period and that why she passed out. Henry being the seeet man he is takes care of her and helps her bath, change, and gets her all that she needs, and she gets happily overwhelmed because no one ever took care of her whenever she had her period and she’s also sad that the night got ruined because if that? Gosh, I really should stop making such freaking long requests but I’ve never been able to express myself in short sentences, sorry 🥺.

Hey! Uni’s going...slow. But being miserable about that motivated me to get writing on this, so that’s a plus :D It’s not 100% on the dot with your request, as the reader just kind of accepts Henry taking care of them. I didn’t have anything more angsty in me today, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Taking care of you

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none. Maybe excessive use of petnames

1.5k words

Henry is due to finally come home after being away for weeks on a shoot that you sadly couldn’t accompany him on. He’d taken Kal with him, so you took the chance to give the house a proper deep clean, without the dog hair immediately getting everywhere again. For the celebration of your lovers’ return, you had the perfect evening planned. You’d cooked Henry’s favourite cheat meal, dressed up a little and even whipped up a special treat for Kal. Your period had started earlier today, but even that couldn’t stop your excitement.

Now you’re waiting to hear the door, the food being kept warm on the stove and your heart beating with anticipation. You get up and start pacing a little, keeping your eyes on the clock to try and determine how much longer the wait would be. He should be here in about 5 minutes. You turn on some smooth background music and double check everything is ready.

Suddenly you give out a yelp of pain, your knees buckling, and you barely hold yourself standing, leaning on the dinner table. Fuck. You’d been fine all day, but now the cramps hit you with a vengeance, your insides feeling like they’re being ripped apart.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck you think as you try and stumble your way into the bathroom, where you have some painkillers stored. You really could’ve seen this coming but looking forward to Henry coming home had you distracted.

…..

*knock knock*

…..

*knock knock knock*

“She must have fallen asleep or something.” Henry mumbles to himself as he’s waiting outside the door, trying to find his keys.

*click*

Kal immediately pushes himself through the half open door and tries to find you, Henry following and letting the door fall closed behind him.

“Y/N, I’m home!” his deep voice half yells into the house so as not to startle you. In response, he hears a whine from Kal, followed by a concerned bark. Dropping his luggage in the hallway, he quickly follows the noise to see you passed out in front of the bathroom door, Kal already hovering over you and licking your face in an attempt to wake you.

“Babe, can you hear me?�� Henry drops to his knees, inspecting to see if there’s any blood to be seen before gently reaching for your shoulder to turn you around. You let out a whimper at the movement, your uterus stinging again.

“Hey puppy, what happened?” You’re lying flat on your back now, slowly coming back to your senses, seeing the blurry but familiar face in front over you. Concerned blue eyes trying to get a read on how bad a state you’re in.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Henry asks. You shake your head weakly.

“It’s just” a heavy breath is released form your lungs before you can finish your sentence and you wince again at the pain. “Cramps” you manage to get out with a strained voice.

Of course Henry thinks, cursing himself for forgetting that you were due this week. He gets up, leaving you in Kal’s care for a moment. The bear has nestled his snout into your hand and is licking it. A moment later, Henry returns with a glass of water and some painkillers. He puts them down next to you and helps you sit up, holding your frame against his strong body.

“Take these, love, and then we’ll get you comfortable, yeah?” He passes you the pills, which you accept gratefully and swallow them down in one go, chasing with the water.

“Can you get up?” Henry asks, still holding you against him and putting the glass back on the floor. You wince at another contraction, but nod.

“With your help.” You let out in a whisper. With support from the strong man beside you, you make it to the sofa in the kitchen, letting yourself fall on it and immediately curling into a ball. Henry strokes your back for a moment, wanting to give you time for the painkillers to kick in. Suddenly, you shoot up, almost colliding with him.

“The stove.” You say, remembering that the food was still being kept warm. Luckily, Henry understands and gets up to turn it off. You hear him put on the kettle and rummage around in one of the cupboards. You peek out from your position to see him fill up a hot water bottle and also pour a cup of tea.

“Thank you.” You murmur when he passes you the bottle, which you immediately press against your abdomen, almost instantly feeling a little relief.

“Of course, darling.” Henry says, stroking a strand of hair from your face and placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let me run you a bath, puppy, that’ll make you feel better.” You whimper as his warm hand leaves you, but Kal replaces him instantly, pressing his face to yours and providing additional comfort while Henry is gone to prepare your bath.

By the time he gets back the painkillers have started to do their job and you feel a little better, though still taxed from passing out earlier. Henry helps you up, making sure you don’t lose contact with the hot water bottle and letting you lean on him. He sits you down on the toilet, which he covered with a towel to stop it being cold. He’d lit some candles as well which give the bathroom a comfortable glow.

“You look beautiful today.” He remarks as he starts to undress you. You try to help, but only manage the bare minimum without the pain getting worse again. But Henry doesn’t seem to mind. He takes his time, relishing in every bit of skin he uncovers and paying you compliments all the way through.

“I’ve seen what you’ve cooked, and it smells delicious.”

“You’re always so brave for me, puppy.”

“I’ve missed you every day while I was gone.”

Once you’re completely naked, he picks you up and gently lowers you down into the warm-bordering-on-hot water. The perfect temperature to relax your tightened muscles. Once Henry is certain that you’re okay sitting in the tub he gets up to get your tea and a plate of food.

“I made some for Kal as well.” You mention when you see what he’s brought. You’re beginning to feel like a coherent person again.

“He’s enjoying it in the kitchen as we speak. I figured it would give us a moment without him.” He smiles at you, setting down the plat and handing you the cup. Grateful, you take a sip and relish the warm liquid. He’d made it just the way you like, just sweet enough and at the perfect temperature.

Sitting down on the edge of the tub, Henry can’t take his eyes of you, admiring your features. You give him a smile when you notice, before nodding your head towards the plate of food.

“That’s getting cold, darling.” You remark, your wits seemingly making their return. He lets out a chuckle, then turns his attention to the plate of food and starts eating. Now it’s your turn to stare and admire. He must be so tired from the journey and yet he didn’t hesitate even a moment to drop it all and take care of you. You’re glad he at least still gets to enjoy the food, albeit not in the setting you had imagined.

After Henry finished eating, you finish your tea and the bathwater starts cooling off a little, he helps you out of the tub and wraps you in a soft towel, preheated by the radiator. You feel much better now and sink into the warmth, almost feeling like you could fall asleep right then and there. You lean into Henry’s embrace, feeling his lips in your hair.

“Bed or sofa?” you decide on the sofa for now, as it isn’t that late yet so you both cuddle up on the big sofa in the living room, with dimmed lights and the music you put on earlier still playing. Henry had refilled the hot water bottle for you and made some more tea. Kal joins as well once he finished eating, laying down at your feet.

“This isn’t how imagined the night to go.” You say once you’re settled in under some covers. “It was meant to be me taking care of you for a change.” You turn your head to look up at his face but see no trace of regret.

“The food was delicious.” He replies, seeing that you’re expecting an answer. “And you can make it up to me another time when you’re feeling better. But taking care of you is my job and I won’t let anyone stop me from doing it. Not even you.” You smile, too exhausted to argue.

“I love you.” You whisper, cuddling deeper into his arms.

Henry hums in response, you can tell he’s almost asleep. The adrenaline from the shock of seeing you on the floor leaving his body and the tiredness of weeks of shooting and a full day of travel catching up with him. He pulls you tight, content to hold you in his arms, safe and sound and with that, you let your own eyes close as well.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Sophideon Christmas fluff

A/N: I was going to post this for Christmas, but I (accidentally) finished writing it today :| Anyways, this takes place after “A Lightwood Christmas Carol” BTW Sophie’s brother and cousin are not canon!!

Also, I’m taking requests from this prompt list! I may not get to them until the middle of December bc school is evil and I have a bunch of other fics to finish, but I’d love to hear what you guys want me to write about!

Gideon stepped into the house and was instantly surrounded by warmth. There was a wonderful smell in the air and he could hear the soft exclamations from the other room. Thomas squirmed at the sound of the voice of his mother’s soothing voice. They had been in London for the past couple of days, and they had finally come home. Gideon took off the layers of coats Thomas had on and set him down. Though Thomas was clearly anxious to get to his mother, he waited by his father. Gideon hung his coat and held out his hand for Thomas to grab. 

They walked into the kitchen but Gideon couldn’t decipher what was occurring. Sophie seemed to be teaching the girls how to make… A house? Gideon was confused, but he couldn’t help but stare at Sophie as she laughed and smiled widely at what she was doing.  

Then, she looked up, her eyes bright. 

“Look who’s back!”

The girls looked up excitedly and came running. They hugged Gideon’s legs. He saw Thomas waddling over to Sophie as she held her hands out to him out of the corner of his eye. He lifted his daughters and embraced them tightly. There was laughter and happiness at being reunited once more. 

“Does anybody want to tell me what that is?” Gideon said, motioning to the structure.

“It’s a gingerbread house!” Eugenia said cheerfully.

Gideon must have looked even more confused because Sophie laughed.

“Why don’t you girls show Thomas the gingerbread house?” Sophie said, putting Thomas down. Barbara took his hand and Gideon and Sophie watched as they eagerly showed the house to Thomas.

Gideon put a hand on Sophie’s waist. “Is this a new tradition?” 

Sophie put her arms around Gideon. “More of an old one. Around Christmas time, my gram used to make gingerbread and my cousin and I would assemble and decorate a house.” 

“What about your brother?” Gideon asked.

“Lawrence? Aunt Josephine was too busy getting him to fix something in her house.”

“Like what?”

“Bookshelves, chairs, ha! Once she made him fix the roof. His arms were so sore, he could barely lift a glass of water.” 

“Meanwhile, you and your cousin built a bread house?”

“No, we made the greatest gingerbread house in the entire village! Everybody would come to visit, just so that they could see it.” Sophie chuckled. “We used to bicker so much about the house decoration, we had to pick a side of the house and decorate it accordingly.”

Gideon smiled. “That sounds like two other girls I know.”

“Goodness, I think I got a few grey hairs trying to teach them to work together,” Sophie said, pointing her chin at Barbara and Eugenia.

Gideon kissed her head, “Grey hairs or not, you are still beautiful.”

Sophie shook her head, smiling.

“I have a question,” Gideon said.

Sophie looked up at him.

“How is that a bread made out of ginger?” It was quite flat and sturdy looking; it didn’t resemble bread at all. 

“Oh, it’s not actual bread.”

Gideon furrowed his eyebrows, “Then why is it called—”

“I have no idea; it’s better not to ask any questions.”

Gideon laughed. “Now I’m intrigued, maybe we should ask Will and Tessa if they have a book on bread-ginger.”

“Gingerbread,” Sophie corrected with a smile. “What would it be called? A Study in Gingerbread?”

“Gingerbread: A Brief History.”

“Oh no. If we’re going to do this, we cannot settle for simplicity. We must read ‘Gingerbread: An Absolute History’.”

“Nothing left behind.”

“Precisely.”

Gideon ended the discussion with a soft kiss on her lips. She tasted sweet and warm. 

“Your lips are cold.” Sophie said, frowning and kissing them again. “Now I have to warm them up.” 

“How I missed having my lip warmer.” Gideon said with a smile.

They kissed again. Sophie put a hand in his hair and stroked softly. It felt so nice, Gideon didn’t even think as he leaned into it. 

“Are they warm yet?”

“Almost. Just one more.”

Sophie kissed him twice more (for good measure) and put a head on his head shoulder with a sigh.

“How did it go?”

“I didn’t find anything in Benedict’s journals.”

“Maybe we should be glad.”

Gideon shrugged. “I guess so. It means there’s most likely nothing wrong with Thomas.”

“Which is a blessing.”

“Yes,” Gideon smiled as he looked at the children decorating the gingerbread house. “It truly is.”

For a while, the only sound that could be heard was the mumbling of the children.

“They are utterly destroying that poor house.” said Gideon, astounded. 

“Yes, I had no idea how tacky our children were.”

“They get it from their mother.”

Sophie snorted. “I’m pretty sure they get from their father.”

“Is that so?” Gideon said leaning in.

“Very much so.” Sophie closed the gap between their lips. 

They pulled away and rested their foreheads together. Gideon looked at Sophie and saw that she had her eyes closed. He kissed her eyelids and she dazzled him by opening her beautiful hazel eyes. 

“I missed you,” he said.

Sophie buried her head in the crook of his neck. “I missed you too.”

They breathing mingled into the same; they both inhaled and exhaled together, unintentionally. Gideon hated having been away for Sophie. He had missed her sleeping beside him so much, he felt like he could no longer sleep alone. He missed kissing her goodnight and good morning. He found it hard to be happy without hearing her voice everyday. 

“Mama! Help!” Barbara called.

“Your father is coming,” Sophie called back.

“I am?”

“Yes.” Sophie said, pushing him towards the children. “Since you are all tacky, you’ll agree artistically! I, on the other hand, have good taste which will cause a clash and perhaps a brawl in which nobody will be able to speak to each other for years to come!”

“What?” asked Gideon.

Thomas giggled, probably at his parents’ silly tones of voices.

“It’s your turn, I’ve had to deal with them while you were in London with the best behaved of our children.” Sophie whispered, furiously. 

Gideon shot her a betrayed facial expression.

They loved Barbara and Eugenia more than life, but there’s no denying that they were little monsters. 

“Fine,” Gideon said, “but only because I love you.”

Gideon walked over to the girls. Barbara had frosting dripping down her hands. Eugenia was spinning in a circle, probably because of stress. Thomas was looking at them with a face that conveyed wariness mixed with extreme confusion. 

Gideon pulled a chair and sat down next to Barbara.

“Papa, papa, papa! Help! The roof is sliding off.”

“It’s alright. We just need to stick it back—” Gideon squinted his eyes. “Are you keeping this up with icing?!”

“Of course!”

“Well no wonder it’s falling! This is a horrible idea. There is no way this measly sugar paste can hold this up.”

“Mama got the walls to stay.”

Indeed she did. Gideon inspected the walls with amazement and then shook his head.

“That’s because your mother is secretly an evil sorceress that is using her magic to keep them together.”

“I am not! I built that house with my bare hands. You just have to wait for it to set.” Sophie said.

Gideon put the roof back on the house. He pressed down and icing splattered and dripped down the house. He looked at Sophie, who looked away, pretending not to see.

“Papa! Do you like my gingerbread man?” Eugenia said while he held the roof in place.

“Where is he?” Gideon said. 

“Right there.” Eugenia pointed at something that Gideon had thought was a yard. It was completely covered in white frosting.

“By the Angel, he’s the palest man I’ve ever seen! He should go outside more often.”

Eugenia and Barbara giggled. 

“Papa, he’s going to melt.”

“A man that melts in the sun? Eugenia, how could you not tell me this fine gentleman is a vampire? He must be utterly offended.” Gideon turned to the cookie, “I’m very sorry, good sir. Do you forgive me?”

The children looked at the cookie expectantly.

“Must be a quiet fellow.” Gideon said, shrugging. “This should be done,” Gideon lifted his hands.

The house stayed for a while, but just as they were about to rejoice, the roof came tumbling down.

“I’m afraid they are going to want a refund,” Sophie said.

“Papa, what happened? Didn’t mama tell you how to do it?”

“It’s your mother’s strange accent. I don’t even know what she is saying half of the time, I just nod along.”

“What accent?” Sophie said, outraged.

“Your funny accent, mama,” said Eugenia.

“I do not have a funny accent.” 

“I do not have a funny accent.” Barbara mimicked in exaggerated cockney. 

“Barbara!” 

Barbara giggled.

“How could you betray me this way?” Sophie said, pretending to be offended. She turned to Gideon. “See what you have done? Now my daughter is insulting me.”

Gideon kneeled in front of Sophie, “Forgive me, beautiful sorceress.”

“I will not,” Sophie said, unable to contain her smile. 

A timer ringed. 

“Oh, I must take the Gingerbread men out of the oven before they burn.” Sophie turned away toward the oven. 

Gideon got up and looked at the house, sighing. 

“Let’s see what we can do about that roof.”

…

Gideon lifted his hands. Thomas, who was sitting on his father’s lap, mimicked the same gesture.

“We did it!”

“But papa, what do we do with this extra piece?”

“Mama cannot know it came off, she will be heartbroken we destroyed her hard work.”

They all looked at Sophie warily and then back at the piece. Gideon picked it up, put a finger to his lips and put the extra piece of cookie in his mouth. The girls squealed which then turned to laughter as they saw Gideon’s face of disgust. 

“What is this made out of? It tastes horrible.”

“You ate it?!” Sophie said, turning around from the cooling rack

“Yes and it’s harder than cement and tastes horrid.”

“That’s because it’s not meant to be eaten.”

“You said it was a cookie!”

“Yes, but it needs to be sturdy so that it can last until Christmas.”

Gideon eyed the gingerbread house warily. “It doesn’t look like it will last another minute.”

Sophie came over and leaned over his shoulder. She smelled like cinnamon and honey and Gideon fought the urge to close his eyes and breathe it in.

Sophie piped a little bit more frosting and held the roof up a little bit higher. They all watched attentively as she filled in the top and wiped off the excess with her finger. 

“All done,” she said, plopping the frosting in her mouth.

The house now looked like it could stay up for centuries. 

“What did I tell you? Sorceress.” Gideon whispered at the children.

“Not sorcery; just practice.”

Sophie reached over and lifted Thomas from Gideon’s lap and kissed the top of his head. “Did you have a good time with Cousin Jamie?” she asked.

Thomas nodded. 

“Oh, darling. Your hands are freezing.” Sophie mumbled. 

Gideon looked up, worried, exchanging a look with his wife. Sophie grabbed a pair of socks (which she had, Gideon observed, begun keeping on hand during the cold, for Thomas) and put them on Thomas’ fists, since mittens don’t fit his impossibly tiny hands. 

“There we go,” Sophie said. “All warmed up.” 

She hugged Thomas tightly and looked over at the table.

“That gingerbread house looks very pretty.” She said, smiling.

Eugenia and Barbara grinned widely.

“Can we put it on the fireplace?”

“Of course!”

Their daughters cheered and went to put it up. Gideon stood up and Sophie put Thomas down on the floor. 

“Go with your sisters, darling. It’ll be fun,” Sophie told him.

Thomas hesitated but after Sophie put a hand on his back, he started walking forward. He looked behind his back at his parents, who both nodded encouragingly at him. He turned and joined his sisters.

Gideon hugged Sophie from behind and they both smiled with overjoy.

…

Sophie stood by the fireplace and ran her fingers over the empty spot on the fireplace. Dust came up. She rubbed her fingers together softly, as though she were caressing the dust. She looked up at a photograph of her children; Barbara, Eugenia and Thomas. It was a long time ago, back when Thomas was still small, when Eugenia was happy and when Barbara was still… 

Sophie closed her eyes tightly and turned away from the mantle. She looked around the living room. She had taught her daughters how to sew on that couch. Around Christmastime, she hugged Thomas—

“Oh, Thomas,” She choked on a sob. 

Where was he? Would she ever see him again? No, that’s not her most pending question. Would she ever see him again alive? Sophie put her back against the wall and slid down it. She hid her face in her hands because all she wanted to do was go back in time and hug her children when she still could. She wanted to go back to when her only problem was a stupid rumor.

If only she had known what was to come. She wouldn’t have shed a tear over those words.

Sophie looked around the parlor. It was the same as it was a couple of months ago, but it felt a million times emptier. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth. She missed her children. She wanted to see them together, happy and alive. She couldn’t breathe beneath the weight of her despair.  

“Mama, why are you crying?”

Sophie looked away. 

“Mama, why are you sad?”

“Because I lost you.” She said, closing her eyes and feeling hot tears roll down her face.

“You didn’t lose me; I’ve always been here.” 

Sophie shook her head, tears coming down hard. There was something heavy in her throat that made it ache. 

“Sophie,”

Sophie turned towards her daughter. Except Barbara was not there.

Gideon was looking at her, though she’d never hear him come in.

“Sophie, we have to go.”

She sat up. “Why?”

“Thomas. They found him, he’s at the institute.”

Sophie looked up at the fireplace mantle where her daughter had placed the gingerbread house every year. 

“Sophie?”

She looked into Gideon’s green eyes. In them, she saw her past and she saw her future. Gideon was the first and only man she’d opened her heart entirely to. He taught her how to love again and the one she shared her best memories with. She saw a faint whisper of Barbara in those eyes, but most of all she saw the one who she bears the weight of her pain with. 

“Let’s get our son.” she said.

Gideon kissed her forehead.

Tagging: @celias @livvyheronstairs @tsccreatorsnet @livia-dovehallow @hitheresomeoneusingthus 

[mysteira6]

FukaFlower - (Mother) Flower’s Day

Summary:

She stared at the object in her hands, eyes glued on the two red lines smeared onto the white strip of paper.

Right. She has to tell him. Or rather, she has to surprise him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In other words, wow, we’re going there for Flower’s birthday AND Mother’s Day, aren’t we? :D

… Sorry for being so late. Let’s just pretend that it’s still 9th May, okay? ><;;;

You guys get a heaping amount of fluff at the beginning as my apology for not writing in forever. :’D

Also, fair warning: Flower is notably more feminine here than many people would perceive her. As is Fukase being more mature than most interpretations. Don’t get me wrong; I love tomboy Flower and child-like Fukase, but I also like perceiving them this way too ;3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was just an hour after dawn when she woke up.

Thin rays of gold peaked from the horizon as the indigo hues from the wide expanse of the sky slowly faded away. In the passing minute, the scenery from their window transformed into shades of red, pink and orange while the sun rose, enveloping their neighborhood with its warmth.

Somewhere in that row of quaint houses was where the waking woman lived in. A humble two-floored home consisting of everything she could ever ask for. A kitchen to cook in, a living room to relax, recording rooms for musical expeditions, amenities… And the shared bedroom where she would spend all her spare time with her beloved husband.

The white-haired figure shuffled restlessly, even while lying down on her bed. She took care to not wake the still sleeping figure next to her, but the temptation to just shake him awake was unbearable. After all, how could she stay still? From the moment she fell asleep the night before to the early hours of the morning, she was well aware of how special today was going to be.

And also of how much her heart was pounding as she relayed her plan over her head once more.

Just stick to the plan, Flower. She firmly reminded herself, fearful of the one-in-a-million chance that she would forget about it at the last minute. Leave it in the box, get him to reach in and let the conversation flow from there. Not too hard for you to handle, right?

A minute of silence later and all she could do was sigh in frustration. It was not unjustifiable, however; it was already a known secret between all of their friends that between the couple, she was anything but the fun type. Even after she had spent so much time with the red-haired joker, it was impossible for her to really pull off a fun-filled trick to anyone else, much less to do so at the man who was able to see through her every stoic façade. It would be no surprise at all if he managed to see through her plan too, she realized. And for that to happen would be… 

Under the sheets, Flower slowly raised her left hand to her face, slowly sweeping her right fingers across the silver band on her ring finger, as if her subconscious was reminding her of exactly who she was thinking about. Ah, how could she forget? That the man she was about to try and trick was none other than her husband? The one person in the whole world that she had dedicated her life to her secrets, her weaknesses, and even her moments of joy?

As she pondered, she was filled with renewed vigor. This occasion was certainly a joyous one, and whether or not he saw through her procedure to unveil it, she was going to share it with him regardless.

Shuffling a little more on her bed, Flower reached over to the closet-door compartment of her bedside table, occasionally glancing back at the sleeping man on the other side of the bed in case he suddenly woke up. It certainly didn’t help that he had his back facing her, giving her no hints on whether his eyes were wide open and awake or closed in soundly slumber. The young woman eventually gave in to her taking the risk and assuming the latter.

Gradually rotating her body to the side, her hand stretched out to pick up the mostly-empty, cardboard box laying behind the wooden door, taking extreme care to not shake it around even a little bit, knowing that the small object within was sure to rattle if she did.

A quick visual and kinesthetic inspection of the apparatus managed to calm her heart slightly, seeing that everything was still in there (and not damaged in any bit, thank goodness). She spared no second in setting it up properly, placing the box upright and relocating the white, flat item in its proper place. With the preparations complete, it was finally time for phase two.

That is, waking him up and convincing him to play a game.

While she was still a little nervous, to boot.

Flower tried to take in a deep breath to calm herself, though much to her dismay, it could only help her so little. Was this how Fukase felt when he proposed to her? Feeling a deeply rooted sense of anticipation and excitement flowing through his entire body, almost ready to burst out of him while carrying the weight of nervousness on his back like rocks? Was he worried if she’d say no to him? Of course, he would, wouldn’t he? Who could really tell him that his girlfriend of so many years would still say yes to his proposal to be his wife?

Suck it up, Flower. You’re better than this. A last-minute attempt to push herself to go for it; pep-talk. This is Fukase, we’re talking about. Your husband, no less. He’s been with you through everything; singing together, chatting together, spending time together… He devoted his very existence to be with you and do everything with you. Have more faith in-

“Mmrph…”

Speak of the devil. His muffled groans were so sudden that she nearly dropped the box in her hands. Setting it aside on the floor next to the bed, Flower stared at the digital clock on the table again, its digits reading ‘08 30’, the time when they would emerge from their bed and prepared for the day ahead. She heaved a last breath of air for encouragement. Show time.

Quietly, she spun around to face the back of the snoozing redhead, though it was clear that he had moved slightly, as if ready to wake up. The young woman bit back the urge to just glomp on her beloved and beg for his attention on her special day, instead skimming her fingers through his soft, fluffy scarlet curls. A fitting payback for the countless times that he would wake her up by ruffling her own hair.

A smile that rivaled the cheekiness of a little trickster slithered to her lips. “Fukase…” She murmured in the quietest tone she could muster, keeping one hand buried in his hair while another gently held his left shoulder sticking out in the air, shaking it slightly. “Fukase, wake up.”

“Mmm? Fi… Five more minutes…” The groggy young man tried to inch deeper into the covers as if evading her attempts to pull him from the depths of his slumber. Despite the audible beating of her heart, Flower was certainly having none of that, and only advanced in swinging his body back and forth with a little more force. “I don’t have five more minutes, sleepyhead.” She uttered in mild impatience, saying each word bit by bit as if she was hesitating. It was only natural since the usually quieter, shyer Flower was a complete stranger to putting on a cheeky front, but since today was so special, she decided to give it a shot anyway.

“Can you get up? Please?” She pleaded after seeing that Fukase hadn’t moved for a few seconds, thinking that he might have actually gone back to sleep unknowingly. “I won’t stop messing with your hair if you don’t.”

“Go ahead and… mess it up anyways…” He grumbled, though his tone sounded more affectionate than annoyed. “I’ll just comb it back to normal when I wake up-”

“Then… I won’t stop shaking you back and forth. Like this-!” As if to emphasize her point, she propped herself on her right elbow, giving herself more leverage to rock Fukase’s figure even more. Though she managed to sway his body to lie flat on his back, it did nothing to tug his eyelids open, his sleepy chuckles indicating that he was still not waking up.

“Gonna have to…” He paused to yawn before mumbling again. “Try harder… than that… Flowie…”

The mention of his loving nickname for her sent a wave of warmth coursing through her. It was almost enough to distract her from her original objective and coax her to snooze by her lover’s side for the whole morning. Perhaps for the whole day, too, seeing that neither of them had any work to do for a good 24 hours.

Fortunately for her, it was only almost enough. And if she really had to ‘try harder’ to wake him up…

A knowing smirk and a bit of maneuvering later, plus a light pat on the redhead’s temple, and Fukase soon opened his eyes to the most flustered position he could ever be in. Straddling on top of his lying figure was his gorgeous wife, her shimmering violet eyes gazing at him with her loving adoration and a glint of mischief. In the now ivory rays of sunlight, Flower’s snow-white hair seemed to be sparkling, even the black streak sitting atop her scalp and the ebony highlights peeking from her neck. While she remained there, clothed in nothing else but one of Fukase’s shirts and her underwear, a playful grin was written all over her face, fully aware of the growing red blush spreading across Fukase’s cheeks.

No doubt was he wide awake at this point, though it was a struggle to keep his voice from trembling in excitement. After all, Flower just seemed to know exactly how to push his buttons and Fukase considered himself lucky and unlucky to fall victim to her knowing touch. “G-good morning, Flower…” His words came out in an unsure whisper that made Flower’s heart swell with pride. “Um, why are you uh…”

“Hm?” The young lady in question only fluttered her eyes innocently as she leaned her face close to his while gently caressing the intricate scars embedded on his left cheek, a remnant of a fire accident in his youth that caused the entirety of his left side to be riddled with darkened skin. For a long time, Fukase refused to let anyone see his full body disfigured and cursed to look hideous forever, let alone allow anyone to lay a finger on his skin and trigger a flashback of the trauma that was cruelly bestowed on him on the day of the accident. It was one of his defining features when they first met; him being the boy who would pat the shoulders of his friends to comfort them and ruffle the younger singers’ hair as a sign of affection, but would refuse to be hugged or touched by anyone else.

Though as they had seen through the past few years, Fukase’s fated meeting with his wife was the exact cure he needed to fully overcome his past, the exact remedy he needed to allow the love of his life to see beyond his appearance and love him just like any other human being.

As soon as Flower’s fingers left his face, he found himself sighing at the loss of her warmth, aching for it to return. “Fukase…” She cooed flirtatiously, her intense gaze on his ruby eyes making his heart skip a beat. “Is it working?”

“Wh-what’s working?” An uncharacteristic stutter from the usually confident man gave Flower the courage she needed to position her elbows squarely by his head, bringing her face even closer to his and making him anticipate a passionate kiss.

“Are you… wide awake now?”

“Yeah, I am.” He answered quickly, hoping that his voice did not sound shaky anymore. It had only been a few minutes and granted that he wasn’t wearing anything to cover his chest, but having Flower lay on top of him like this was getting him way too excited in the wrong place. “I’m uh, wide awake now, princess.” He hurriedly declared, trying to prop himself on both of his arms as a way to get out of bed fast. His efforts, however, were only foiled by Flower’s asserting hold on both of his wrists, pinning him back to the bed and certainly not helping out in keeping his inner passion in check.

Instead, the redhead was forced to keep watching his angel lean in close, close, closer to his face once more, not breaking eye contact for one single second as her lips barely brushed over his. No doubt it was her way of teasing him so early in the morning, all because he just wouldn’t wake up to the strangely provocative-in-the-morning Flower.

Hm. Something was up, wasn’t it?

Before he could confirm such a thought, and thankfully before he was about to give in to the fire that had been burning within him for a while now, Flower gave him a simple smooch on the cheek and rose from her straddling position, resuming her original spot next to Fukase on the bed, the latter who still hadn’t sat up properly after bearing witness to his lover’s inner seductive nature.

When he finally regained control over his limbs, the young man gradually raised his upper body off the bed, turning slightly to converse with the cross-legged lady next to him. “What, not gonna give me a proper good morning kiss?” He quipped, trying to reclaim his lost confidence.

Flower only giggled in response. “I just did, didn’t I?”

“Felt more like a nip than an actual kiss.” He casually commented, a hand lightly rubbing the spot where she had landed her soft lips on, a milder yet still present redness on his face. “Seems unlikely for you, my dear ice-queen-who-never-seduces-me.”

“Hey! It’s my special day.” The aforementioned ‘ice queen’ protested childishly, shifting her body away from the quipping man. “You have to spare me for being a bit cheeky for once.”

“A ‘bit’ cheeky?” A combination of doubt, suspicion and a dash of jest rose in his tone as he crossed his legs and his arms, facing the now beaming woman. “Flower, do you know how much of a tease you were back there?”

Her answer was in the form of a question, though it sounded as if she was replying in certainty as well. “Yes…?”

“And do you know what I could’ve done if you kept doing it?” Fukase continued, narrowing his eyes at her as if to intimidate her.

A sly wink was his answer. “I know~”

“ … You would be totally fine with me doing it, wouldn’t you?”

He could hear the smile on her face, even if she hadn’t whipped her head around and flashed a cheeky smirk at him. “Maybe~” She cooed before turning around again.

That look on her face, burned into his memory, was both alluring and annoying to him. The former, since it was so rare to see her emit such a daring and downright enticing persona, and the latter since her being such a tease was an even rarer sight for him that he would never get used to. Instead of acting on either of those urges, Fukase opted to crawl towards his wife, wrapping his arms around her petite waist in a tight hug from behind. The sensation of him nesting his chin on her right shoulder, effectively leaning against her face, cued a startled gasp from the unsuspecting woman, though it was soon followed by a melodious chuckle. He loved hearing her laugh.

“You are absolutely insatiable, you know that?” He remarked lovingly, letting out a relaxed sigh.

“So are you.” Came as her spunky reply, though that didn’t stop her from relishing in his warm embrace, placing her palms against those pressed against her waist.

All was still for a while as they sat there, sharing each other’s presence in the silence of the morning. Between their busy recording sessions and composing their songs, such peaceful moments between them seemed scarce, which was exactly why they both had come to treasure them so much.

“By the way,” Fukase suddenly spoke, breaking the momentary silence. “Happy birthday, dear.” He continued, brushing one of her stray hairs behind her ears with his right hand, as if to unveil her beauty to himself.

“Thank you.” Despite her calm composure, the blissful, congratulatory phrase had set a reminder ringing in Flower’s head. Right, how could she forget? A morning of fun-filled quips between the couple had nearly swept her plan under the rug. Her eyes darted to the ground next to the bed once more. The box was still there. And from the looks of it, so did her earlier trepidation and nervousness return to her senses.

The longer she held it off, the more likely she was going to forget about it for the rest of the day. Now or never.

“Ahem,” She slowly began, gradually moving herself away from Fukase’s arms as she approached the edge of the bed. “Before we get today started, because I know you definitely have a plan for today-”

“Only natural if you want to celebrate your lover’s birthday in the best way you can~” He joked, winking at the girl in question while he crossed his arms again, as if recalling his own schedule in his head.

“I figured you would.” She nodded, hands reaching down to finally grab the nearly forgotten box lying on the carpeted floor. “But before that… I need a favour from you.”

“What is it?”

Seeing him willing to comply sent a wave of excitement coursing through her, boosting her confidence in picking up the cardboard box and placing it right in front of her, keeping the opened side of it facing her while the side with a circular hole was facing Fukase. In her usual, straight-to-the-point tone, she spoke. “Just stick your hand in this box.”

“ … What?”

To say that the redhead was confused was a huge understatement, seeing that one, his wife might be seductive or cheeky, but in no way would she ever pull a trick like this, and two, what in the world was even in there?

“Are you trying to copy those reality TV shows or something?” He laughed whole-heartedly, shifting a little closer to the box. “Like when they put a fake cockroach or a live toad in the box?”

When the white-haired girl didn’t reply, only stifling her giggles under her breath, the light in his eyes slightly faded. “Y-you didn’t actually put something absurd in there, did you??”

“Nooo…” If only he could see what was really in the box…! Instead of holding it off any longer, Flower simply held the upright box and nudged him again. “There’s only one way to find out what’s in there so…”

Though he continued his skeptical gaze at her, Fukase went ahead and raised his hand anyway. “I guess  it is your birthday, so I’ll comply. But if I get my hand chopped off by a baby alligator-”

“Fukase, do you think I could fit a baby alligator in a small shoebox like this?”

“So it’s something small?” He narrowed down verbally, about to reach in until he retracted his hand at a terrifying thought. “Is it a spider?”

She couldn’t hold back her giggle. “No, it’s not.”

“Is it…  slime?”

“You know how I hate touching those things, let alone expect me to leave one in there for you to hold it.”

He held up his spare hand as if surrendering. “Just making sure that you weren’t pulling my leg. Or arm, I guess.” He reasoned, seeming to eventually give in and squeeze his hand through the hole while Flower tried her hardest to restrain her eagerness. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would respond to all this, let alone sit still as she watched him.

From the back of the box, Flower could see a rough coarse left hand swinging around cautiously, as if Fukase had already forgotten how he deduced that the mystery object in the box was likely smaller than he thought. The sight of his fingers skittering across the cardboard walls made her snicker so much that the redhead took the hint and just went straight for the bottom of the hollow space.

Only to come in contact with a flat, rod-like item that rattled every time it moved. Something that was made out of plastic and was quite long. A quick grab-and-drop of the object proved that its weight was nothing to scoff at; for a rod small enough to fit a shoebox, it was rather… heavy… Wait… 

“So…?” Flower’s voice shivered a little, likely due to both her nervousness and her anticipation of his answer. “What is it?”

He didn’t respond for a few minutes, the initial cheerful aura that was always present on his face gradually ebbing away, the reality of what he was holding sinking into his head. The young woman’s heart was threatening to sink to the depths of her chest too if it weren’t for his free right hand springing out and latching on hers, conviction dripping from his unusually low tone. “Flower, please tell me if I got this wrong.”

Half-letting go of the box and interlocking her fingers with her lover’s, she spoke softly. “What is it?”

“This… This is a…” As if for further confirmation, his left hand held the object inside once more before dropping it again. “This is a pregnancy test, isn’t it.”

It didn’t sound like he was asking a question but she decided to answer him anyway. “Yes, it is.”

“And today… Today’s also Mother’s Day, isn’t it?”

So the ultimate trickster managed to see through why she decided to tell her today of all days? To that end, Flower giggled again. “Yeap…”

“And this…” The atmosphere in the room felt as if a huge revelation was about to drop on the floor. “This is actually… yours…?”

There was no stopping the brightest expression that was spreading all over her face, through her wide, sparkling smile and radiant eyes, and even to the rapid nodding of her head as her other hand reached into the box in front of her, holding the test kit before the both of them while gently shoving the now forgotten box to the side. The natural lighting of the room was more than enough to illuminate the two very visible red lines contrasting against their pale white background. He didn’t have to look at the guide written next to the small window to understand exactly what was going on.

The fingers clenched around her left hand tightened. For a long, nearly unbearable silence, Fukase stared at the test kit, then at Flower, then back at the test kit over and over again. It was only when his other hand reached for her face that he ultimately spoke in the shakiest voice she had ever heard. “Th-this isn’t a joke… right?”

The overwhelming emotions bubbling inside her rendered her unable to speak, leading her to shake her head enthusiastically enough times for her husband to get the hint that she wasn’t joking. At all. “Y-you’re… You’re really gonna… holy shit-”

What happened next went by way too fast; both of his hands flying to her wrists, exerting enough force for him to pounce on top of her as she laid on her back on the bed once again; his body being propped up on his elbows while his fingers searched for hers, his face dipping low to land a long, very well-deserved smooch on her soft lips as both of them closed their eyes, enjoying the bliss of their intimacy; one lasting kiss following another as he smothered her with physical blessings of his undying adoration of her; his forehead naturally perching itself on top of hers as his eyes shuttered open again, greeting his lover, his wife, his everything with the most tender gaze any woman would envy for.

“Oh my god.” It was a barely audible whisper, but the still flabbergasted look on his face spoke volumes of what he was feeling. So did the small beads of saline water slowly dripping down his eyes. “Oh my god, Flower.”

“I know.” An almost voiceless reply came from the usually sharp voiced singer as a hand shot up to rub his tears away. She couldn’t tell if she herself had started crying too. “I just… I can’t believe it either.”

“You’re going to be a mom,” The sheer joy in his heart bleeded through those words. “And I… I’m gonna be… a dad.”

“Are you nervous, Mr Mad Hatter?”

Though he was still sniffling, Fukase sulked at the childish nickname. “That was from ages ago, darling.” He commented with a single choked up laugh. Even though it was a fitting name for the still humorous and top-hat wearing Fukase, it felt like way too long ago when she would call him that. “Besides, aren’t you speaking too highly for someone who’s been trembling all morning?”

“I wasn’t trembling that much.” She protested, raising a small finger to sweetly boop his nose, musing at how odd it felt seeing that his usual red cross was missing (normally, he wouldn’t have it on until they were out of bed). The red-haired man chuckled at the gesture, returning it by caressing her face as if it was a precious jewel, seeming to wipe her cheeks clean of any remaining tears streaking her face. “I beg to differ. After all, you were trying to pull a trick on me, weren’t you?”

“Like I said before, it is my birthday.” As if mimicking him when he successfully pulled a prank on her, Flower stuck out a tongue like a child would. “And I’m so happy that I got to spend it with you, dear.”

Hearing that cued him to slowly rise from his hovering position, allowing Flower to sit up a second time as he continued. “And speaking of which, now that you’ve completed your plan, it’s time for me to execute mine.”

She laughed amusingly. “Oh?”

“I did have a plan of how to spend your birthday with you, you know.” He winked knowingly as he stretched across the bed to reclaim the nearly forgotten pregnancy test kit and fateful shoe box. “Of course, I’ll need to make some minor tweaks here and there, but I intend to still follow it through, you know.”

Flower could only beam at her husband’s ever-present devotion to make her special day even more special for her. It was one of the thousand of things she loved about him. “I can’t wait.” She gleefully declared as she too approached the edge of the bed, ready to doll herself up for the day ahead.

While Fukase slipped on a spare tee and made his way to the bathroom, a quiet mutter slipped out of his mouth. “Looks like the night plan’s gonna need a replacement…”

“What night plan?”

“N-nothing!!”

The young lady only raised a palm to her mouth as she laughed once more, watching her lover duck behind the door and fully aware of what he meant by those words. Indeed, how in the world did she gain the affections of such an amazing man?

One thing was for certain; it was going to be her best birthday yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

by the way, I kinda want to have an idea of how much my one-shots have impacted the fukaflower army, so I would appreciate it if you would answer this poll really quickly, thank you!!

https://www.strawpoll.me/45273276

[weasleydream]

The freaking worst working day of my life

AYAAAA I’m finally back! I’m just so freaking happy! 

Despite my long absence I still don’t know what to write here so I’ll just warn you: mention of sexual tension but nothing big really. Oh, and writing this gave me the idea to try something only based on this game between George and Y/N with the tension, would you guys like it? 

Anyway, enjoy! 

Masterlist 

(gif not mine) 

George was a very serious guy when it came to his work. He was as passionate as his twin, Fred, and could stay entire nights developing new products. No, his seriousness wasn’t in doubt. But, it’s true that when I was in the shop with him, he could be a bit...distracted. The fact that I worked in there didn’t really help. Result? Some days, we spent more time in the back shop snogging than helping Fred. These days, the poor guy couldn’t do anything and had to resign himself, but the guilt always pushed us to offer Fred a day off the the next day. Yeah, we weren’t monsters. 

However, this time, we would have to offer him a week off, because I was unable to take my hands off my boyfriend. In my own defense, he didn’t ask me to. We were currently in our shared room, in the flat, because Fred had had enough of our “disturbing noises”. Let’s say things were… Well, there was an undeniable sexual tension between us, since we had had the wonderful idea to bet we would be able not to do anything in bed for a week. Stupid. But the worse wasn’t that, no. The worse was the teasing. And Merlin knew George was excellent when it came to the teasing. I had to be at least as good as him, and I was pretty sure I had succeeded because earlier this morning, he had pushed me against the wall in the back shop and had kissed me passionately, groaning he couldn’t wait anymore. We had joined our room and let’s just say the bet was far from us. 

“Maybe we should go and help Fred.”

I was feeling guilty because he was once more alone. George didn’t seem to share my compassion for his twin because he groaned.

“He’s fine…”

He tightened his grip around my waist while sticking his nose in my hair. I installed myself more comfortably against his chest and closed my eyes, ready for a nap. 

My plans fell through as soon as Fred called for us. I was ready to yell him to shut up when he called a second time, with a serious tone that alarmed us. George and I rushed downstairs, joining Fred and a man who couldn’t be anyone else than the Minister for Magic. 

I had seen his face in the Daily Prophet. He was Fudge’s successor, Rufus Scrimgeour. He was looking down on the shop, raising his eyebrows when he saw the muggle products. He continued his inspection a few seconds after our arrival and eventually consented to look at us. 

“Let me introduce myself: Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic.”

“I’m Fred, this is my brother, George, and Y/N, his girlfriend.”

He shook Fred’s hand, then George’s but didn’t even look at me.

“I am here because you might know the situation we are facing. Our employees need protections. They are afraid, but we need them at the Ministry.”

George and I exchanged a look. What the hell did it have to do with us? Fred seemed to think exactly the same because he interrupted the Minister.

“We are perfectly aware of the situation. Why are you here, sir?”

“I’m here to ask you to provide us 500 Shield Hats as soon as possible. I expect a first delivery the next week in person. We will discuss the details at that time. Goodbye.”

He shook briefly the boys’ hand, ignored me once more and left. I realized the door was closed, and, deep in thought, went to open it. Some customers entered, asking loudly what just happened. No one answered them, though, because Fred and George were as thoughtful as me. 

“Are we gonna accept?” asked Fred.

“I don’t think you have the choice.” I responded. “He made it pretty clear.”

“I really don’t like his manners.” grumbled George. “But Y/N’s right. We can’t ignore this. Plus, we’re gonna gain a great amount of money.”

The following week was devoted to the fabrication of the Hats. It was a long process, because the Protecting Charm had to be straightened several times. However, the Shield Hats weren’t the only products we had to produce: the shop was still open and had an incredible success. It was full of children all days long and before the opening and after the closure, we had to clean everything, fill the shelves and make some Shield Hats. What a hell of a schedule. 

However, we soon found out it was all worth it. Four days after Scrimgeour’s visit, Molly sent us an owl. In her letter, she was congratulating us for the article in the Daily Prophet… Article that none of us had had the occasion to read. We had received it but it had been immediately put on the counter. George grabbed it, opened it, and a big smile appeared on his lips. 

“Look at this!”

He shoved the newspaper under our noses. Half of the page was occupied with a picture of the boys grinning in front of the shop. It was after its opening, I was still at Hogwarts at this moment. Underneath the picture, an article traced Fred and George’s childhood, telling some pranks they had pulled at school - I didn’t really know how they could know that - and it boasted the quality of the Weasley products. The end of the article described how concerned by the wizarding world’s security they were, and how, in their great kindness, they had offered to supplied the Ministry in defense products.

“That’s great but -” I started. 

“We offered them? Are they kidding? Don’t tell me I’ve ruined my sleep schedule only because I’m kind!” exploded Fred. 

George, who obviously hadn’t read the article yet, frowned. 

“Offered? I guess we’ll have some explanations to ask…” he muttered.

The week was finally over and we had managed to produce a hundred Hats. All three of us were exhausted but, as we had understood, we didn’t have any choice. The day before the delivery, I was making diner in the kitchen while Fred was organizing everything for the next day and George was cleaning the living-room.

“Guess you’ll owe me another day off.” said Fred after a particularly long yawn. 

“Why? We’ve helped you all week long.” replied George. 

“Because I’m the one who’ll go to the Ministry tomorrow.”

“I thought you two would go.” I frowned while making sure the vegetables weren’t burning. 

“I thought all three of us would go.” replied George. 

We burst in laughters, and I couldn’t help but notice it seemed a bit hysterical. I guess we were really tired, that’s probably why calming down was so difficult. We eventually managed to do it and a heavy silence took place. 

“Seriously, you both should go.” I said. “It’s pretty clear Scrimgeour wants to see you two, and he doesn’t give a damn about me. Plus we can’t let Verity alone here and it would be stupid to close the shop on a friday.”

“You’re not wrong,” sighed Fred. “George, what do you think?”

“I don’t like the idea of letting you here alone.” replied George. “Not because I don’t trust you, you know I do!” He added quickly when he saw my frown. “Just because… I don’t know, with everything happening out there…”

“You’re not wrong too.”

“By Merlin’s pants Fred, you’re so useful!” I groaned. “Don’t worry love, you’ll be gone for a day and Verity will help me. Nothing will happen.”

We finally decided that Fred and George would both go to the Ministry. The next morning, the noise made by the boys in the kitchen woke me up. Knowing I could sleep a bit more than them, I snuggled closer to George with a sigh of satisfaction. Wait a minute...

“What are you doing here?”

George groaned and pulled me closer to him. I shook him but he didn’t move, only muttering something that sounded like I’m too comfortable, you won’t make me move. 

“George, love, you’ve got to wake up. You go to the Ministry today!”

He turned a deaf ear. Understanding I had to do this the hard way, I took the only rational decision when George refused to get out of bed: I pushed him. He fell on the floor with a groan. 

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“You’ve got to go…” 

I was on the verge of falling asleep again when he lifted me and threw me on his shoulder. My scream came higher than usual, and George chuckled softly. 

“If I can’t sleep, you can’t either, love.” 

He arrived in the kitchen, and Fred, who was drinking a large cup of coffee, didn’t even lift an eyebrow when he saw us. I realized this wasn’t uncommon and he had to be used to such situations with us. George threw me on the couch, almost sending me crash on the floor, and literally jumped on me. He approached his face in order to kiss me. 

“George,” I whispered. “You stink.”

“You too. Shut up and kiss me.” 

I gladly obliged, and I swore we would have made out right here if Fred hadn’t cough very loudly. 

“You’re really adorable, but I want to stay innocent, thank you very much.”

“Innocent?” George stifled a laugh. “Mate, you’re no longer innocent. Remember when you brought Angelina in our dorm and then I came in with Lee and you were -”

“It was your fault. You should have knocked.”

With that, he looked at us with a false horrified expression, and left, mumbling we had a lot to learn in terms of decency. George rolled his eyes and put his head on my chest, making himself comfortable while being careful I was too. My hands found their way to his soft hair. We stayed like this a few minutes, enjoying each other’s warmth, listening to each other’s breath, until Fred came out of the bathroom. 

“You know, I really feel like I’m always interrupting.” He said with a cheerful tone. 

“Because you are.” grumbled George. 

He got up, keeping my hand in his the longer he could before heading in the bathroom. I glanced at Fred: he was wearing a green suit and ruffled a bit his hair. 

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?” He asked. 

I looked up to see his worry eyes.

“You know, George is right, with everything happening -”

“Don’t worry Fred, it’s your big moment!” I said. 

He grinned but I knew better than this: these two idiots would stop worrying about me when they would be back, not a second before. George came out of the bathroom and we went in the shop. It was still closed, so I didn’t mind wearing my pajamas. Fred went in the back shop probably to take the boxes that contained the hats. 

I felt George’s hands on my hips and his lips sweetly kissing each part of my skin they could reach. His mouth moved in my neck and he lightly nibbled the soft spot under my jaw before attacking my lips. Our tongues found each other for a sensual dance, and our hands started travelling across the other’s body. We had to pull apart way too soon for our liking, but I couldn’t resist the urge to press my forehead against his. His eyes were closed and his lips were curled up in a peaceful smile. I heard the door of the shop and assumed Fred was waiting outside for his brother. He knew his brother was worried and didn’t want to interrupt, that was really sweet of him. As much as I hated it, they had to leave. 

“Love, you have to go.” I whispered.  

“I don’t want to… I want to stay with you.”

His breath tickled me.

“You don’t want to make your fanclub waiting in front of the Ministry, do you?”

He opened his eyes and threw me a playful look. 

“I had almost forgotten them!” he exclaimed. “I have to join them right away then!”

But he pressed me against his chest once more, obviously unable to let me go and, to be honest, I didn’t want him to do so. 

“The later you leave, the later you’ll come back.” I pecked his lips. “Besides, Fred is going to barge in soon and he’ll drag you outside whether you like it or not.”

“I understand, you want me to go.” He faked a hurt expression. “Keep the galleon with you, love, okay? If anything happens -”

“I will warn you, I promise.” One last kiss. “Move your ass, love.”

George smiled at me and left the shop. I watched him as he joined Fred, probably receiving a sarcastic comment because he hit lightly his shoulder, and they disappeared with a pop I would have heard if I had been outside. Without realizing it, I had shoved my hand in the pocket of the jacket I had put on. My fingers were holding firmly the galleon Hermione had given me back at our last year at Hogwarts. It was originally used for the Dumbledore’s Army communication, but we had slightly transformed the charm so that Fred, George and I could send short messages if needed. It was quicker and more discreet than owls. I promised myself to keep it with me all day long before joining the flat above the shop. I got dressed with the traditional magenta robe and came in the kitchen to find a little black owl perched on the table. I recognized it; it was Verity’s. I quickly unfolded the piece of parchment it had brought me and read the message. 

I’m sorry, I’m terribly sick, I won’t be able to work today. Verity

I quickly scribbled some words to wish her a good healing and sent back the owl. I sighed when I realized I would be alone all day long and summoned up courage. If I was alone, I should head downstairs and start my day the sooner possible. 

Despite me being alone, the day went at the speed of light. It was a very busy friday, and the little shop was always crowded with customers, both delighted children and amazed parents. It was also really loud in there, but I was now used to it. I had been there everyday since the beginning of the holidays, but I still could see why this place was so magical. Of course, the shelves covered in potions of all types and the fluffy Pygmy Puffs helped, but it wasn’t what I prefered here. It was like another world where everyone would be a child again, and even the stricter parents would melt in front of their children eyes when they were full of stars. 

The stream of customers slowly decreased and I eventually found myself alone in the shop without knowing when the boys would come back. I had kept the galleon with me without needing to use it, and I was kinda relieved the day was almost over. They owe me a free day, it’s too difficult to be alone here, and I haven’t even eaten. Indeed, the last thing I had swallowed was a piece of bread before heading downstairs with George and my stomach was seriously rumbling. However, I still had some things to do before being free. I checked the hour and saw the shop would officially close twenty minutes later. Even if I didn’t think any customer would come that late, I let the door open. With a wave of my wand, the less fragile products came from the back shop and landed on the shelves. However, I preferred storing the potions myself, it would prevent the accidents. I was filling the pink tray of love potions when I heard the door opening. I quickly looked up, hoping the boys were back, but it was a man who entered the shop. He nodded to say hello, and I smiled politely at him. 

“I’m going to put the Pygmy Puffs in their cage, will you buy one?”

The man shook quickly his head and glared at the furballs. I summoned the cage and carefully placed them all in it. I brought back the cage in the back shop and put it on its shelf. I fed them and gave them water. 

When I had left him, the man seemed absorbed by the Edible Dark Marks, but when I turned the heels to go back in the shop, he was blocking the way. His large silhouette stood in the door frame. Unconsciously, I slipped a hand in my pocket and reached the galleon. This gesture seemed to worry him and I didn’t realize he had cast a spell until the red flash of light hit me. I flew backward, abruptly landing on the shelves behind me. I vaguely heard a concert of high-pitched screams. I froze in fear when the man stood in front of me, dominating me with his full height. He grabbed the collar of my robe and lift me as if I weighed nothing.

“I won’t hurt you if you give me the money.”

His voice was hoarse and his eyes sent me a burning glare. I wanted to answer but the fabric was strangling me and I vainly tried to get rid of his hand. Seeing I couldn’t make him release me, I tried to kick him as hard as I could, but I was getting weaker and weaker because of the lack of air. 

“You’re asking for it.”

He violently dropped me on the floor and my head hit a wooden box left here. 

“Give me the money, now!”

I was sure he was pointing his wand on me but the dizziness took over me and my sight was blurry. I tried to get up. The only coherent thought my poor brain could produce was that I needed to get rid of him. Until now, I had forgotten about the galleon, but my wand was nowhere to be seen and I would have been unable to cast the appropriate spell. I limped to get out of the back shop and the man pushed me toward the counter. I barely stayed up, the only thing preventing me from falling down being a shelf covered with candies. I looked at the counter, unable to process how to give him the galleons. I was roughly aware of the radiating pain in my head and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I didn’t hear the man’s repeated shouts, nor did I hear the door of the shop opening. All of sudden, the atmosphere went black and, if I hadn’t fainted at this very moment, and if my brain wasn’t so slow, I would have understood the man had used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to disappear. 

I didn’t open my eyes right away. I heard whispering next to me, but it took me a few seconds to recognize who was talking and what they were saying. According to what I understood - which maybe wasn’t really reliable - Fred and George were debating whether they should bring me to St-Mungo’s or not. 

“It won’t be necessary…” I whispered. 

I wasn’t sure it had come out as I wanted, but they probably had understood because all of sudden, I felt them dangerously close to me. I finally opened my eyes to see George’s face a few inches away from mine. When my eyes met his, he sighed in relief and laid in to kiss me. 

“You scared me, love…” he murmured. 

Even if he didn’t say it, I knew perfectly he was feeling guilty. I knew at some point he would tell me it was his fault, he shouldn’t have left me alone, it would never happen again. I was pretty sure it was Fred’s case too. George helped me sitting and I realized I was on the couch of the small living-room. A few vials of potions were on the floor, some empty and some still unopened. I also felt something tightening my head, and by touching it, I recognized bandages. 

“How do you feel?” Fred had been careful to keep his voice low in case my head was hurting. 

“Okay, I guess.” I replied. I didn’t wait for them to ask me what had happened, because I knew they would soon, and I summarized the situation. “This man entered about twenty minutes before the closure. He wanted me to give him all the money we had and he threw me against the wall. I couldn’t react, I didn’t know where my wand was and I couldn’t cast a spell to warn you.”

“It’s okay, Y/N, don’t worry. He’s gone, but I swear we’ll warn everyone in the Diagon Alley and Dad will know too. We’ll find him.” said George while stroking my hair.

A sigh of contentment escaped my mouth and I snuggled closer to my boyfriend. With a relieved smile, Fred lightly ruffled my hair and announced he would make diner. A delicious smell hit my nostrils, but all curled up in George’s arms and tired of my long day, I had fallen asleep too deeply. The diner would have to wait.

[justkending]

Just Roommates. Chapter 24.

Series Summary: These two college friends have had years to grow together. Each being the others support system, adventure buddy, movie night partner, and dorky roommates. That is until things start coming to a new light in their relationship. At least for him… Is there something else there? Is it possible? Were these feelings always there?

Pairing: (Modern) Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Fluff, Adulting, sexy-times mentions, language.

Word Count: 2000+

A/N: A little short and fluffy chapter for you all as I bring together the future of this series:) Hope you enjoy my dream world!

Chapter 24:

Sure enough... It wasn't much of a quicky. Bucky and Y/N ended up at their friends house a good 30 minutes later than everyone else, and it did NOT go unnoticed.

After coming out to the crowd at the gala about their relationship, they figured it was time to confess to their friend group as well.

But after Nat said, "Good God, it took you long enough. I've been waiting close to a month for you guys to finally say something." They realized that their little secret wasn't much of a secret at all.

Bucky had moaned and groaned as the boys hassled him for waiting so damn long, and Y/N and the girls immediately started talking details as they sat around the fire in Wanda and Visions back yard. The night was simple, intimate, and a great memory compared to the annoyance that happened at the ball.

All of that was quickly left in the back of their minds after they had their sweet friend group gathering. Time together like that always gave them a little reboot when the world seemed to be going too fast. Who better to slow down with than your best friends?

3 Months later.

"Babe?" Y/N shouted from the front door as she came home from work.

"In my room!" he shouted back.

Bucky had been working at home more often because things had calmed down in the business. He never REALLY had to go in as much as he had to before, but being the good boss he was, he made sure to be present. Now, he was trying to find things to help with the No Soldier Left Behind center more, so it was easier to just set up shop in his room where he had a mini office to the side, and not have to worry about people distracting him.

"Hey," Y/N smiled as she leaned her head into the room.

Bucky looked up from his computer and sent her the same grin she was giving him.

"Hey gorgeous," he chuckled when she didn't come in fully. "You just going to hang out by the door, or are you going to come in and give me a 'Honey, I'm home' kiss?" he teased.

"I actually have a surprise for you," she said with a wider grin, but one that showed she was up to something. Bucky knew that smile a little too well.

"What did you do?" he questioned slowly pushing his chair back going to stand.

"Wait! Stay right there!" she shook her head, but her hands were behind her showing whatever the surprise was was behind her back. "First, I got flowers for the week," she said, bringing a bouquet of her weekly flowers out. "One of your favorites. Baby breath, lavender, and daisies."

"Thanks sweetheart. That's sweet, but why do I feel like another boot is about to drop?" he probed, tilting his head as he put his hands on the arms rest and leaned back. He wanted to stand and go to her, but she told him to not move, so here he was.

"Well, that's the second part of the surprise..." she said tilting her head more and scrunching her nose.

Damn that nose scrunch! She knew what that did to him.

"Y/N..." he drug out.

"Just close your eyes real quick-"

"Y/N."

"Please! Please! I promise it's a good thing!"

"You said that last time and I ended up with a face mask on and my hair in two french braids."

"Don't act like you didn't like it," she scoffed with a small rolling of her eyes. "You love spa night."

"Sam found out and said I lost a piece of my man card," he crossed his arms.

"No, you gained a piece because you're secure in your masculinity unlike 99% of men out there," she countered. "Forget that for now though! Close your eyes."

"I don't know what I'm getting myself into-"

"That's the best part!" she shouted with a loud sigh, "Close your eyes or else Buck." The last part was said with a hint of a threatening tone was all it took Bucky to surrender. He put his hands up before crossing them again and doing as she asked.

He wanted to peak and he was so close to doing it, but right when he was about to break she giggled.

"Ok, open 'em!"

Bucky wouldn't have even come close to guessing what was sitting in front of him. Outstretched in her arms was a white cat with even bluer eyes than him. His hair wasn't long, but it wasn't short, and he had a big bushy tail. He looked as if he was kinda small for a cat given he wasn't a kitten.

"You got a c-"

"A cat!" she jumped pulling the white furball back into her arms and cradling it as he purred to her.

Bucky didn't know how to react. He never had a pet growing up, and even if he were to, he imagined it would've been a dog. Not a cat. Cats always seemed so temperamental and angsty. But the way this one was looking at him made him second guess his quick judgement.

"Don't be mad. There was a girl trying to get rid of him by the shop where I usually get my flowers. She said it was either someone buy him from her, or she would have to take him to the shelter," Y/N was quick to explain. "I knew we would treat him right compared to another stranger on the street, and if someone didn't get him at the shelter they would probably put him down." The small pout on her lips and the longing look of the cat was all it took Bucky to let out his breath he was holding in and lean back in his chair.

"Ok."

"Wait... You're not mad?" she asked, turning her head to the side.

"No. You were just being you," he chuckled standing up and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said furrowing her eyebrows.

"All good things Sassy. I mean you being you because you constantly are trying to help people, and apparently," he looked down at the cat who gave a loud purr where she was rubbing his tummy. "Animals too."

"Awe, Buck!" she smiled putting the cat down and jumping to hug him around the neck. "You're the best!"

"I know, I know," he laughed as he pulled her into him. "Hey, how about pasta for dinner tonight? I already have the meatballs ready to go."

"Oh, yeah. I've been craving Italian all day. It's like you know me really well or something."

"I know it's crazy, right?" he said looking down at her with a joking grin. "Come on you loon," he said, giving her a quick squeeze to the hip before walking toward the kitchen.

"I'm not a loon," she mumbled following him. "Wait!" she said jumping and bouncing on his back. He was quick to catch her and let out a laugh as he piggy backed her to the kitchen.

"A loon," he chuckled squeezing her calves.

______

Halfway through their meal, Bucky caught Y/N looking around as if inspecting the apartment.

The cat had curled up in the chair next to him having already taken a liking to the man of the house. Bucky every once in a while giving him a scratch on his ear, but still not really sure about the pet just yet.

"Ok, what in the world are you doing?" he finally asked as she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration for the 100th time in the past 15 minutes.

"Nothing, nothing," she shook her head with a light chuckle before snagging a piece of garlic bread.

"That's not nothing. You've been in one of your dream worlds for the past 5 minutes. I can see it in your eyes," he jestered, filling their wine glasses again. "Are you redecorating the house in your head again?"

"Well..."

"Y/N you literally changed the entire layout of the living room just 2 days ago." He couldn't hold back that laugh.

"Ok, but hear me out!" she shouted forgetting her meal and leaning forward with her leg propped up next to her. "How long do you plan on living here?"

"You mean the flat?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Uh, I mean I don't know. I haven't really thought about it," he shrugged, grabbing his wine and relaxing in his chair. "I own it now, so I could sell it anytime."

"Have you ever wanted to live somewhere else?" she questioned propping her chin in her hand as she watched him intently.

"Uh," he paused really thinking about it. I guess if he had a choice he did have a place he always imagined. "Upstate New York actually. I always imagined still being close to friends, but far enough out of the city it would be quite at night. No city lights making the night sky disappear, but instead being able to point out constellations and star gaze. I would have some land, a nice big house, and hell, maybe even a place I can build on and landscape some. I've always wanted to look into that stuff."

He hadn't even realized he was rambling about his dream world, until he finally looked up at Y/N who had a soft smile painted on her lips and admiration in her eyes.

"That sounds beautiful B," was all she said.

Bucky smiled before taking a big sip of his wine. "It's all a dream though. That would be a lot of work to get there, and I'm not sure something like what I want even exist."

"Who says you can't make it exist?"

He looked up at the comment and Y/N was gingerly taking a sip of her own wine as she kept eye contact with him.

"What else do you have up your sleeve today, doll?" he said with a challenging look.

"Oh Buck. It's funny you think it's just today," she stood grabbing her finished plate and his. "I always have something up my sleeve. Every. Day." With that, she sashayed her hips to the sink with a smirk on her lips.

But Bucky was two steps behind, and as soon as the dishes were no longer in her hands, he was already picking her up.

"Tell me what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours Y/N!" he said fake biting at her shoulder, neck, and ear getting a laughing fit out of her.

"B, put me down!" she shouted as she tried to stop laughing, but his hands were already working their way under her shirt and tickling her stomach too. "Bucky!"

"Tell me!"

"Ok, ok! Put me down!'

He relented, sorta. He placed her to sit on the island, and then put his hands on either side of her thighs as he trapped her in. She wasn't leaving anytime soon if he had a say. Gently and ever so lovingly she leaned forward placing her forehead on his and smiled. Bucky loved when she did this cause it was intimate in a whole other way. It was like she was opening that mind of hers and letting him peak inside it.

"How do you feel about moving in together?" she whispered.

Bucky chuckled a little, but didn't move. "I'd say we seem to have already've done that."

"What about into your dream home? Our dream home?"

"What are you getting at Y/N/N?" he said, finally pulling back enough to see her face. He sweetly pulled some stray hair behind her ears as he kept eye contact with her.

"I mean... What if we moved in with each other for REAL, and got our dream house together? How would you feel about that?" Her big doe eyes were captivating and practically asking Bucky to give them the world.

All he could do was let that lopsided grin he only gave to her, grow on his face.

"I would say that sounds like an even better dream than I could imagine."

Just Roommates:

@starfirerules @buckys-blunders @alexxcorona113 @tcc-gizmachine @vrgelivvvv @nighttwingg @firefly-in-darkness @mizzzpink @poppunkdork @nerdygirlwithacrush @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @ellaenchanted91​ @sebbbystaaan​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @zeilenkrieg​ @lizzymacy555​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @srrymydood​ @xa-dia​ @redhairedfeistynerd​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravic​ @traceyaudette​ @kakakatey​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @snffbeebee​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @marvelfansworld​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​ @naomi02hook​ @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @carls1022​​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @carls1022​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​

[kumeko]

A/N: For BNHA Apocalypse zine! I couldn’t resist doing some Big Three after an eco disaster. This was one of my favourite zines to be in, the mods were amazing with editing and helped polish this piece up so much.

…

…

…

…

Hesitantly, Tamaki stepped through the doorway. It was stupid, really, that he couldn’t just walk right in. The house had been abandoned for years. In fact, he could hardly call it a house at this point. Vines creeped up the brick front, tendrils curling into the stone and through it to the house. Above him, the roof was a patchwork of holes and rotten wood. The plaster and insulation were long gone by now, leaving a skeleton of trusses. With the entire right wall collapsed, letting in light and wildlife, Tamaki wasn’t certain of the structural stability of the building. It wouldn’t be long now till it collapsed, like many of the houses in this neighbourhood.

 Still, at some point it had been someone’s home. People used to live, laugh, and cry in here. It had been a long time, but Tamaki still remembered what that meant. He might have been a child when the world ended, but his parents had raised him with manners. Even now, he wanted to ask Hello? Anyone home?

 That was dangerous, though. A wild animal might hear him and while most were content to leave him alone, you could never be too careful. When the zoo had been forgotten, the animals in it found their chance to escape. Bears, lions, tigers—Japan now had a strange assortment of unnatural animals. Or, at least, Iida had claimed. The younger boy read any books he could get his hands on and his knowledge was second to none.

Forcing down his worries, Tamaki scanned the first room. There was an overturned couch, holes in it from animals trying to find a home. Glass crunched underfoot from a blown-in window. This was a living room, most likely. A stuffed doll lay nearby, button eyes falling out and covered in soot. He wondered if its owner had managed to get away. He wondered if they’d survived.

 He tried not to think about it anymore. This room was clear of any food or tools and he moved on toward the kitchen. It was just as much of a mess as the first. Cupboards had been torn off their hinges and there was a gaping hole where their fridge must have been. This place had most likely been picked clean, scavenged entirely at the beginning of this disaster. Moss and dandelions sprouted on the water-logged wood and the floor was a carpet of grass. Half-heartedly, he pulled open a drawer. Inside, he saw several dusty spoons and a battered flat spoon.

 Utterly useless. Tamaki closed it before yanking it open again. Staring at the flat spoon, he brushed it gently.  This was familiar. His fingers curled around the wooden handle and he’d done that before. Vaguely, he remembered dragging a stool to the kitchen counter, standing on his tippy-toes as he watched his mother spread icing on a cake.

 It’s tasty, isn’t it? She’d offered him the flat spoon, white icing covering the edges. Clean the spatula after.

 A spatula. He smiled, holding it up. It was a spatula. There was no point to a spatula here, there weren’t bakery shops or cakes anymore. Making a cake was a waste of resources and even if they could scrape one together, icing was next to impossible to make. It was a waste of space to take it.

 Yet, despite himself, he took it. As he tucked it into his knapsack, he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled around, unsheathing his dagger from his belt for defense.

 “Tamaki!” chirped a familiar voice. “You here?”

 It was just Mirio. Relaxing, Tamaki sighed and sheathing his dagger. “Yeah.”

 “There you are!” Mirio beamed as he poked his head in the kitchen. “Find anything?”

 “No.” Tamaki shook his head sadly. More and more often, that was the case—entire scavenger missions went without gathering a single thing. It was a good thing they’d finally figured out farming, otherwise, he wasn’t sure what they’d do. “You?”

 “Nope.” Mirio shrugged, still smiling brightly. “Buuutttt,” he dragged out, a twinkle in his eye, “Nejire found something.”

 Tamaki stared at him. Rubbing his forehead, he muttered, “How does she do that?”

 “I’m pretty sure she’s part hound,” Mirio whispered conspiratorially. “She also found some mushrooms. Could you check?”

 Tamaki grimaced before nodding. Once, he hadn’t inspected Nejire’s finds and everyone had food poisoning for two days. Once, and never again.

 -x-

 “Mushrooms!” Nejire shouted energetically, waving her hands above her. Her voice echoed between the skyscrapers, drowning out the birds and other wildlife as they travelled through the city.

 Tamaki shushed her, glancing around worriedly. While the journey back to their home base was safer than their trek away from it, that didn’t make it absolutely safe. Wild animals could be around any corner, jaws and claws ready to tear them into two. A building might collapse, crushing them. Their path might be blocked, forcing them to take a longer route across rotting roof tiles that were one wrong step away from a bad fall.

 Honestly, he didn’t know how Mirio and Nejire did this on a daily basis. Tamaki only joined them once a week. He spent most of his time helping at the base. It would take him days to calm down from each mission. And yet here was Nejire, arms clasped behind her back, softly humming as they walked.

 If there was one good thing about scavenging, he had to admit there was something pretty about the city. Pretty and sad. The looming towers around him were filled with broken windows, destroyed by the elements and animals. No matter where he looked, there was a plant. Trees poked their branches through buildings, their growth accelerated by the chemicals that triggered this whole apocalypse. Even though he couldn’t see them, Tamaki could hear animals moving underbrush. While he could barely remember what a city used to look like, he was certain this was the exact opposite of it.

 Still, even this sight wasn’t tempting enough for him to do this everyday.

 Mirio clapped his back, an easy smile on his face. They were always so easy for him. “It’s fine. We cleared this path days ago, there’s nothing waiting for us here.”

 Somehow, that didn’t reassure Tamaki. He nodded anyways. Pushing his hair away from his face, he prayed silently to some distant deity for protection. Then again, if anyone out there listened, they wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place.

 “Hey, hey.” Nejire poked his shoulder, her voice muted. It still sounded far too loud, but it was something. “I found a lot today, right?” She started to tick them off with her fingers. “Mushrooms, bird eggs, that squirrel—”

 “We’ll feast tonight!” Mirio rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. “I wonder what Mrs. Midoriya will make with this.”

 Tamaki glanced to his left and right, to where Nejire was still itemizing every piece of food she’d gathered and Mirio was daydreaming about delicacies that no longer existed. He smiled. Sometimes, when it was just the three of them, it was hard not to think the future would get better. “Yeah, you did good today, Nejire.”

 She beamed at the praise. It was always easy to make her happy. Bouncing forward, she asked, “What about you? Find anything?”

 “Uhh…” Tamaki pulled his hoodie up, his shoulders hunched as he shook his head. All those hours of searching and nothing to show for it. It was a waste of energy and supplies to send him out with them. “Nothing.”

 Nejire’s expression softened and she bumped shoulders with him. “Next time, then! I guess I win today.”

 “It’s not a game—” Her touch jostled his bag and from the corner of his eye, he noticed the spatula fall out.

 Before he could pick it up, Mirio grabbed it. “You did find something.”

 Nejire peered down at it, cocking her head. “What is it?”

 “It’s not…” Nejire looked at him with curious eyes and Tamaki looked down, scuffing his shoe on the ground. Quietly, he mumbled, “It’s a spatula.”

 They both had good ears. That, or they were used to him by now. Mirio held it up in the light, grinning brightly. “Ohh, I haven’t seen these in ages.”

 Brow knitted, Nejire scratched her cheek. “Hey, hey, what do you do with it?”

 “You’ve never seen one?” Mirio shot her a baffled look. “Seriously?”

 When Nejire merely pouted in response, puffing her cheeks, Tamaki gingerly plucked the spatula out of Mirio’s hands. Pointing at the wide flat side, he explained, “It’s used to spread things. Like icing on a cake.”

 “Ohh, icing.” Nejire snatched the spatula, running her fingers along the edge. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the plastic top. “Not sharp at all.”

 “It’s not meant for cutting.” Tamaki rubbed his neck when she turned to him.

 “You really do know a lot about food,” she praised, handing back the spatula. “That’s amazing.”

 “Not really.” He felt his ears burn from the compliment. It wasn’t something he deserved. “I just helped my mom a lot when I was younger.”

 “Lucky.” Nejire clasped her arms behind her back as she took the lead now. There was something wistful in her tone. “It must have been fun.”

 At times like this, Tamaki remembered just how little he knew of Nejire. Mirio had been his classmate before this happened. The second Tamaki had stepped into his kindergarten classroom, Mirio had grabbed his hands and declared instant friendship. They’d been together for so many years, they practically knew each other inside and out.

 Nejire, on the other hand, suddenly appeared a few years ago and wiggled her way into their company. It was natural now, to eat, sleep, and spend time with her. Her profile as she sat in front of the fire, keeping watch, was something he was aware of intimately. Yet she’d never spoken of her past and he didn’t know what the Nejire of ‘before’ was like, of what changes she’d gone through to reach the cheerful girl she was now. Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot.

 Had she cooked with her parents? Or did she wish she had? Tamaki almost asked about her family aloud, and barely reined himself in, snapping his mouth shut.

 It didn’t really matter. They were all orphans now.

 -x-

 “Alright, made it!” Mirio cheered, running the last few steps to what had once been a high school gymnasium. At one point, the walls must have echoed with the sounds of dozens of balls, cheering students, and squeaking sneakers. Now, the place was in shambles like the rest of the world. Even worse, as it was an older school and the building had needed repairs even before all this happened.

 Still, it was a large, covered area. Just perfect for the survivors in their area to meet. Some preferred to stay close, sleeping in the nearby school. Others had their own hideouts away from the crowd. All met here once a day, to gather supplies and divvy up meals.

 Nejire ran in after Mirio, chirping eagerly, “Guess what I found today!”

 Tamaki frowned before following them in. This was his least favourite part of the day; there were so many people in here. Unlike the relative solitude of the city, this gymnasium felt like what the world must have been like before: crowded and noisy. Maybe it was a good thing he never would have to deal with it.

 As he stepped through the big, barely-on-their-hinges doors, Tamaki blinked and adjusted to the dim lighting inside. It was gloomy inside, barely lit by a half-dozen. Squinting, he could just make out Mirio and Nejire. Next to them was a plump woman. He didn’t have to hear her voice to recognize Mrs. Midoriya. Her dark green hair had a strange shine to it in the poorly lit room.

 “And you’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, wringing her hands she examined Nejire. She paid no attention to the bag of food at her feet. “Nothing too dangerous today?”

 “Nope!” Nejire giggled as she twirled around, demonstrating her health. She wiggled her fingers and then her legs, and added, “I’m in one piece.”

 Mrs. Midoriya gave her a flat look before sighing. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.” She turned to Mirio. “And you?”

 “In perfect health!” Mirio flashed her a thumbs up and grinned charmingly. As usual, it worked and she relaxed slightly. “It was easy.”

 “That’s what you always say.” Like clockwork, she turned her focus to Tamaki. As she fussed over him, she grumbled, “All of you don’t take it seriously enough out there. It’s dangerous! And Izuku wants to join you in searching.”

 “It’s not that bad,” Mirio consoled, picking up the food bag and carrying it over to the big cooking pots. It was easier if they cooked a big communal meal and it was easiest if it was a stew or soup of some sort. Tamaki could understand—nothing got wasted that way—but he was tired of the taste. “As long as you’re careful.”

 Nejire watched him disappear before chiming in. “We’re always careful.”

 “Always?” Mrs. Midoryia clicked her tongue disapprovingly, not buying a single word. Finally pulling away from Tamaki, she bit her lip.  “I’m trying to keep him away from all of this but…” She gave them a helpless look. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

 “We’ll keep him safe,” Nejire promised, grabbing her hands and squeezing them tightly.

 Tamaki nodded and smiled awkwardly. “He’ll be fine as long as he learns the ropes.”

 “I trust you.” Mrs. Midoriya smiled back sadly. “I…I know this is hard on you all. You’re so young! You should be worried about tests. But…thank you, for everything.” Trembling, she gripped Nejire’s hand back tightly. “I’ll make sure to cook you a tasty dinner, okay? It’s all I can do, I know, but—”

 “Hey, hey, I love your cooking!” Nejire exclaimed. “I want it every day.”

 “You have it every day,” Mrs. Midoriya laughed weakly.

 Nejire smiled. “Then I’m very lucky.”

 -x-

 Home was a small lab, located two blocks from the school. Tamaki couldn’t remember who’d found it, if Nejire had tumbled into it or Mirio had realized what it was or if Tamaki had just opened it accidentally. They’d lived here almost as long as they’d known Nejire and Tamaki couldn’t breathe easily until they were inside once again.

 It was a little bit of a hassle, walking to and from the school. Especially since so many of the classrooms had been converted to individual bedrooms for privacy. Tamaki could probably bear with it, but he liked it better here. It hadn’t weathered all that well, with vines and flowers creeping out of vents and climbing the walls in a desperate attempt to get a little sunlight. There were large glass vats, broken and cracked, their contents long gone. Nejire and Mirio liked to guess what they’d held—giant sewer rats, dinosaurs, and a slime monster were the favourite choices.

 There were several side rooms, filled with dusty computers, thin beds, and tables cluttered with moldy books. With no central heating, they’d pushed together several beds and dumped all the blankets in an effort to keep warm during the winter. Even as they ate now, sitting on the floor, Nejire nestled in between Tamaki and Mirio for heat. “This is cuddly,” she declared happily, her bowl teetering precariously on her lap. She always managed to keep it upright but Tamaki worried it’d fall one day.

 Mirio hummed his agreement, squeezing a little closer. “I’m in the middle next time.”

 “Nope,” Nejire shut him down immediately, taking a spoonful from her stew. “Mmmm, this is great.”

 That, Tamaki had to agree. What they lacked in variety, they didn’t lack in taste. And though he was used to his companions’ cooking (judging by the slight kick in it, Momo must have helped), it wasn’t bad to eat in the least.

 “That reminds me.” Mirio took a spoonful himself, blowing on it to cool his bite. “They found a girl today.”

 “They did?” Tamaki hadn’t thought it was possible to find anyone new at this point.

 “Yeah.” Mirio grinned brightly. “Eri’s six and really cute.”

 No mention of her parents. Tamaki knew better than to ask. “She’s staying at the school?”

 “Yeah, Mrs. Midoriya said she’d take care of her.” Mirio stared thoughtfully at his bowl. “She’s just six.”

 Before he could wonder why Mirio was stuck on that, Nejire asked, “Hey, hey, does that mean she doesn’t know what it’s like before?”

 Oh. Suddenly, he understood. At six, this must have been the only world she’d ever known. This world of ruin would always be her ‘before’. Tamaki wondered if it was better that way, to not have a point of comparison. It had to be easier to adapt, at the very least.

 Sensing the shifting mood, Mirio reached over Nejire and poked Tamaki. “The weather’s getting nice now. Which means it’s your birthday soon!”

 “Ehhhh?” Nejire stared at him, her mouth open. “Hey, hey, you didn’t tell me that!”

 “I…” Tamaki flushed and looked into his stew. “It isn’t that important.”

 “It’s always important, it’s your birthday!” Nejire disagreed, crossing her arms.

 “He was born in March, so it’s got to be March soon.” Mirio scratched his cheek, nose scrunching as he thought. “Maybe Iida knows? He’s keeping a calendar, right?”

 “When’s yours?” Nejire asked, shooting Mirio a suspicious look.

 “July,” Mirio laughed, bumping shoulders with her. “Don’t worry, it hasn’t passed yet.”

 “That gives me just enough time to plan,” Nejire murmured and Tamaki wondered if he should find out what that entailed. For safety’s sake, at least.

 -x-

 Sometimes, when the others were out, Tamaki liked to climb onto one of the platforms in the main lab and think about nothing. There was something beautiful about the room, about the plants forcing their way out of every crevice. A bird flew by overhead, breaking in from one of dozens of gaps in the building.  Broken machines and lab equipment surrounded him—scientific scanners and screens that were too cracked to even show his reflection. At one point, it must have been busy here. Probably.

 Tamaki couldn’t say he knew enough to even pretend to understand this room. No one he knew understood it, and he wondered if the knowledge was lost for good. He and Mirio had snuck into a museum once, looking at the displays of foreign animals and lost civilizations. This room wouldn’t be out of place there. They wouldn’t be out of place there. Maybe in the future, someone would call them a forgotten people.

 A soft glow caught his eye and he looked up as a flock of butterflies soared to the roof, searching for a way out. Tamaki didn’t know science or tech, but he knew nature. He knew the changes that happened to even the most innocuous of creatures. Those butterflies glowed as softly as moonlight, and he wondered if they would have glowed anyways or if the end of the world had changed them irreparably too. There were so many plants and animals that were just different from their usual counterparts. It was the new normal.

 Maybe it was a good thing. He didn’t know much of the world ‘before’, there was only so much you could know as a child, but from what Iida and Izuku learned, it was a world teetering on the brink of disaster. One way or another, they would have ended up here anyways. He only wished they could have been more prepared.

 Opening his knapsack, he searched for the spatula. It was silly, but he wanted to hold it again. He could almost smell his mother’s baking, even though he couldn’t remember what it was. Digging through the bag, he frowned as he came up empty. Had he dropped it somewhere? It was probably for the best, but he couldn’t stop the disappointment welling up inside.

 “Tamaki!”

 A hurried shout snapped Tamaki out of his thoughts and he slipped off his perch. Recognizing Mirio’s voice, he jogged to the entrance. “What’s the matter?”

 A disheveled, wild-looking Mirio grabbed his hand. “Nejire! She’s in trouble.”

 -x-

 Tamaki stared at the behemoth grizzly bear. As they had raced to the city’s center, he had expected something dangerous if only because of how hard Mirio’s hand shook as he dragged him along. It wasn’t a surprise that Nejire was in trouble—she got easily distracted, following one thought and then another without any concern for her surroundings. It was the reason she found things no one else could. It was also the reason that this wouldn’t be the first nor last time Mirio had ran to him in a panic.

 Still, out of all the reasons Nejire could be in danger, Tamaki had not expected this. Crouching behind a dumpster, Tamaki peeked around the corner at the giant bear as it sniffed around an old telephone pole. The beast looked twice as big as any he’d seen before, its claws glowing unnaturally in the sunlight. Whatever had infected the butterflies hadn’t stopped there and Tamaki momentarily wondered if there was some unnoticed change in people too.

 Not that it would help either way. The bear snuffled on the ground, yawning occasionally to reveal a jaw full of sharp fangs. Fortunately, Nejire could climb, and she had hoisted herself high above the bear. This bear was far too big to follow. It also didn’t seem particularly concerned with her. That was good—this must have been an accidental run-in, Nejire crossing paths with a bear barely awake after hibernation. The only problem was that every time its big body bumped into the telephone pole, the thin tower trembled. It wouldn’t be long before it cracked and broke, taking down Nejire with it.

 “What do we do?” Tamaki whispered, leaning against the dumpster. Breathing shallowly, he tugged on his collar.

 “It doesn’t seem hungry, at least.” Mirio crouched and peeked over the dump. “It might not realize Nejire’s there. Maybe if I can lure it away, you can grab her and run.”

 “What?” Tamaki grabbed Mirio’s arm, shaking his head furiously. “That’s too dangerous! You don’t know what it can do.”

 “It’s okay.” Mirio smiled reassuringly, resting his hand on top of Tamaki’s. His grip was firm. “I’ll run along the rooftops—it can’t climb, so I’ll be safe up there.”

 “But—”

 “We can’t leave her,” Mirio pointed out, already moving away. He had always been a hero. Tamaki hoped it wouldn’t kill him this time. “I’ll meet you at the school.”

 Tamaki bit his cheek. Nejire could only hold onto that pole for so long. There weren’t any other options. “The school?” he asked, reluctantly getting into position.

 “She might be injured.” Mirio called over his shoulder, already sprinting away before Tamaki could so much as tell him to be careful.

 Tamaki watched him disappear into a nearby building before turning back to Nejire. His hands were clammy and he wiped the sweat on his pants. This was frightening. After this, they had to keep a leash on Nejire or something. There was no way he could fight a bear on a regular basis.

 As promised, after a few minutes the bear looked up and lumbered away. Tamaki faintly heard Mirio yelling—was he just using noise or also food to lure the predator away? Either way, he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get Nejire. They had to go back. After the bear disappeared, he waited five long seconds before dashing up to the telephone pole.

 “Nejire!” Tamaki glanced around nervously. The bear wasn’t in sight anymore. “Come down!”

 Nejire peeked down. “Tamaki?”

 “You have to hurry!” he urged, scanning around him once more. It was too quiet now. He couldn’t even hear birds chirp. Was there another bear lurking nearby? Or some other, more dangerous creature?

 “Where’s the bear?” Nejire looked around, confused. She started to slowly shuffle down when she realized the coast was clear.

 “Mirio’s distracting it.” He wished they still had radios, but it was too hard to find working batteries.

 Landing on the ground with a thud, Nejire stumbled forward a few steps before regaining her balance. She groaned lightly as she rubbed her arms. “Ouch.”

 “Did it hurt you?” Tamaki focused on her, scanning her body for wounds and blood. Aside from a few scrapes on her knees and hands from climbing the pole, she looked fine.

 “Nothing broken,” Nejire replied, still wincing as she rolled her shoulders. “Just really, really, really sore.”

 “Can you walk?” Tamaki asked. When she nodded, he grabbed her hand and started sprinting back to the school. Mirio would meet them there. He just had to.

 -x-

 “Mirio!” Tamaki leapt to his feet as Mirio stumbled into the school’s hallway. Dashing to his friend, he checked for any injuries and sighed with relief when the only thing he found was a cut on his thigh. “You okay?”

 “Almost perfect!” Mirio grinned weakly and winked. Even if he wasn’t injured, he was clearly very tired, and Tamaki looped an arm around his waist as he guided him to a nearby chair. “That bear can run.”

 “It’s a bear.” Tamaki fretted when Mirio groaned. “Did you break anything?”

 “No, no, I’m good. Just, you know, really sore.” Mirio leaned back and closed his eyes. “How’s Nejire?”

 Tamaki glanced back at the Nurse’s room, where Nejire was getting checked. They might not have a doctor, but they did have bandages and two people who had taken a first aid course. It had to be enough. “Sore. She seemed fine.”

 Mirio sighed. Relaxing, he opened his eyes. “Mission success! Thanks, Tamaki.”

 “I…I didn’t really do anything.” Tamaki shook his head, uncomfortable with the praise. “You both did the hard work.”

 “I could only do that cause I knew you were there.” Mirio winced as he grabbed Tamaki’s hand and squeezed it. “You were great.”

 It still wasn’t something he deserved, but he knew from past experience that Mirio and Nejire refused to listen to that. It was better just to accept and end the conversation there. “You should get your leg checked.”

 “After.” Mirio stared at the door. “Do you think—”

 The door swung open, interrupting him. An exhausted Nejire trudged out, yawning slightly. Noticing them, she perked up and beamed brightly, though her energy was still nothing near her usual levels. “Mirio! You’re back!”

 “You’re safe!” he replied cheerfully, rising to his feet.

 Nejire wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. She nestled her head in his chest. “You okay?”

 “Yeah.” His voice softened as he hugged her back. “You too?”

 “Mmm.” She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

 Mirio shook his head. “It’s fine. What happened?”

 “I was looking for berries and I guess the bear was too.” Nejire fell silent. “I thought it wouldn’t go away.”

 That was a fear Tamaki had shared and suddenly, he was overwhelmed with the urge to touch, to confirm that they were both here. Stepping closer, he brushed his fingers against their arms, feeling sparks run up his hand at their heat. Without another word, Mirio pulled him into the hug and Nejire grabbed his shirt with a hand.

 For once, he didn’t mind. He could hear them breathing, feel their heart beating. They were still alive. They had made it through another day. They were still together and that was all that mattered.

 -x-

 In hindsight, Tamaki should have realized something was up the second Nejire insisted they stay at the school for dinner. They never did that. Then again, they also never had run-ins with bears and he was still calming down, so he hadn’t thought too much of it. Mirio and Nejire could have asked him anything and he would have said yes, if only to stay closer to them.

 For a while, it had been all three of them sitting in one of the teacher’s lounges, huddled on a ratty couch. A mess of arms and legs, all tangled up as they waited for dinner. At some point, Nejire had pulled away, and Tamaki had slipped into an uneasy sleep.

 “Tamaki,” Mirio whispered, poking his shoulder.

 Tamaki stirred, still fatigued. His back felt sore from sitting on the couch for so long. Yawning, he covered his mouth. “Is dinner ready?”

 “Kinda.” Mirio poked his shoulder again. “Look.”

 Opening his eyes, Tamaki slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. While he’d fallen asleep, it had gotten darker. It must be almost night—they’d have to sleep here, it was far too dangerous to go home now. Around him were several candles, giving the room a warm, cozy feeling. And just ahead of him was Nejire, holding a cake. A lit candle sat on it.

 Tamaki sat up immediately. “Is that…?” he trailed off, afraid to utter the word. Maybe he was still dreaming.

 “A cake,” Mirio finished, getting up and standing next to Nejire. “Well, kinda, we don’t really have that much flour. It’s more fruit than cake. A fruitcake,” he joked, looking ridiculously proud.

 Nejire knelt in front of him, holding out the chipped plate. Now that it was closer, Tamaki could make out a jam-like substance spread out all over the cake. “What’s that?”

 “Blackberry sauce.” Nejire smiled softly. “Not icing, but your spatula worked just fine with it.”

 Oh. So that’s where his spatula had gone. And the berries— “Is that why you were out?”

 “Yeah.” Nejire giggled. “Hey, hey, I hope the bear wasn’t making a cake too.”

 Mirio knelt beside her and they sang together, “Happy birthday, Tamaki!”

 Tamaki swallowed, fighting back tears. This was too much, especially on a day like this. He could barely handle the bear, and now this? Nejire laughed, reaching out to wipe his eye. “I’m glad you like it.”

 “Of course I do!” he replied, grabbing her and Mirio’s hands. In all honesty, Tamaki didn’t know what he’d do without them. He was weak with them and even weaker by himself. “Next time, don’t do anything dangerous. Not for something like this.”

 “Something like this is very important,” Nejire retorted, still smiling. “Even I know birthdays are special.”

 “And yours is very special to us,” Mirio added, squeezing his hand. “Now blow out the candle.”

 Tamaki stared at them, then at the flame. He didn’t know what to wish for, honestly. Everything he could think of was a practical matter—fixing the world, finding enough to eat, staying safe. If he had to wish for something, then…his eyes flickered to Nejire. They still didn’t know too much about her. Hell, he didn’t know her birthday. But he could change that. He would change that. They were in it for the long run and maybe it was time they started opening up to one another.

 Leaning forward, he blew out the candle and silently prayed, I wish we could stay together.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 9: A Haircut

The Storybrooke Sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold takes a trip to the past

Read on AO3

She is in bed with her husband and they are having breakfast. Their bed is so large and so blue that it seems to be a tranquil ocean, bathed in morning light. The breakfast tray is a sunny island where they have escaped to be alone together.

Both of them are naked and both of them are laughing. She has long since sated her hunger, and her husband never needs to eat. But they linger over the meal. Neither one of them wants to get out of bed, to dress and start the day in earnest. If they leave the bed, they will spend the day apart. They cannot bear that.

Far too soon, they will be separated for far too long.

She picks up a leftover berry from a bowl on the tray and holds it between two fingers. Dark, sweet juices drip from the tender flesh. 

She presses the berry between her husband’s gray-green lips. He sucks it into his mouth, along with her fingers. He holds her wrist so he can lick purple juices off her hand.

Desire throbs in her belly. When he releases her, she picks up another berry. This time, she waits before she offers it to her husband. Waits until the dark juice pools down into her palm.

He doesn’t take the fruit until she offers it to him. He caresses her arm with both hands and slurps the berry juice with a noise that is obscene and delightful. He kisses and sucks and licks down her hand and across her pulse point. A shiver erupts from her secret places, flowing up her spine and out of her mouth in a moan. 

Her husband’s eyes are as dark as the berry. He never eats, but he looks so hungry. 

She knows that look. She knows him like her own heart.

The last berry, she crushes in her hand. This time, instead of offering it to her husband, she presses the fruit against the nape of her neck so it squishes against her collarbone. Purple juices explode over her chest. A few perfect drops roll down the curve of her breast.

She tosses her hair and lies back on the pillows. Her body is a wordless invitation that her husband is all too eager to accept. He reaches for her and--

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

Both of them groan at the interruption. The kiss her husband gives her is much more chaste than either of them wants. 

“Stay here, sweetheart. I’ll go see who that is, kill them, and be right back.”

She laughs and puts her hands on his shoulders, berries forgotten. “Don’t kill anyone today unless they’re a threat. Please.”

“If you insist, my dear.” His eyes light up. “Do you want to come with me, to see who it is?”

“Will that be safe?”

He takes her hand and kisses her wedding ring. “I will keep you safe.”

They are in the foyer, both of them dressed. She is hidden away behind one of the stone banisters, looking down on the area. Her husband leans against the round table, his long, leather-clad legs stretched out in front of him. With a flick of his fingers, he opens the front doors. 

A man strides in to the castle. He is a prince, or seems to be, all flaxen-hair and noble bearing.  Like most people who come to see her husband, he is angry. The prince blames her husband for changes happening to the woman he loves. The girl took a potion to forget the prince and now she’s on a murderous rampage. 

She shakes her head. From the moment she heard about that memory potion, she knew it was a bad idea. 

The prince haggles with her husband, and eventually they make a deal. Her husband hands the prince a map, and the prince takes off his fur-trimmed cloak and lays it on the table. 

When the prince is gone, she comes out of hiding. She walks down the stone stairs to join her husband.

He wraps his arm around her waist and she burrows into the nape of his neck.

“Do you think there’s hope for them, Rumple?”

“Oh those two have plenty of hope.” He squeezes her. “Hope and true love will be enough to get them through any curse.”

“And us too?”

“We’ll get through it, sweetheart. We’ll be together again before you know it.”

He holds her and he kisses her and in that moment the press of his lips is enough to get her through an eternity.

****

Mrs. Gold opened her eyes and rolled over in the empty bed. Every morning lately, she'd been having the weirdest dreams. Like all dreams, the details faded the more awake she got. But today there was one thing she remembered clearly.

“Rumple,” she whispered.

She rubbed her eyes. Rumple.

What the fuck did that mean?

****

She got dressed and joined Mr. Gold in the dining room. Over the past few days, he had started making breakfast as well as dinner. He didn’t resent her eating anymore. He expected her to eat, and that was weird. Mr. Gold was normally so aware of her caloric intake. He didn’t want her to put on too much weight. But now, with the way he offered her butter and meat and carbs, it almost felt like he was trying to fatten her up. Was that his new thing? Did he want more curves on a woman? Had she been too skinny for him?

Or did he just not care what she looked like anymore?

Breakfast today was oatmeal, with whole milk and slivered almonds and cinnamon-sugar. The china bowl was still steaming when Mrs. Gold walked in. He must have heard her moving around upstairs and gotten everything ready. It was so weird. Why was he serving her instead of her serving him? Why was he anticipating her needs? When did he start caring about her? 

Mr. Gold was seated at his place at the head of the table, fully dressed in a smart suit. At least that was normal. A porcelain cup was halfway between the saucer and his mouth. He liked his tea creamy and way too sweet. If he kept up this new habit, he’d get cavities. Or diabetes. 

Before she sat down, Mrs. Gold stood beside her husband’s chair with her hands behind her back. She was wearing a fuzzy pink mohair sweater, a very short gray skirt that flared out at the hem, and pink thigh-high socks. It was more of an ‘innocent’ look than she normally went for, almost a little girl style. That was never something Mr. Gold had expressed more than a passing interest in, but maybe he would like it now. Maybe he would look at her. 

 He did not.

All week, she’d been switching up her outfits, playing with different looks. Tight, open, leather, lace. She kept trying to find something that would get his approval--or even his attention. Something that would get him to want her again. But nothing had done the job.

She cleared her throat. “It’s, um. It’s Friday, Mr. Gold.”

He set the teacup down, but kept his head turned away. “So it is.”

“I’m prepared, Mr. Gold. Just like every Friday.”

“I’m sure you are, dear.” He reached for the newspaper and unfolded the front page.

It took every bit of courage for Mrs. Gold to ask the question. She knew what the answer was going to be.

“Shall I present myself for inspection, Mr. Gold?”

She moved to the edge of the table. One word from him and she would throw herself against the flat surface. Her fingers flicked against the hem of her skirt. It was Friday. No panties day. 

Every Friday Mr. Gold ordered her to bend over at breakfast so he could check to make sure she had followed the rule. Sometimes his inspections were very thorough. He could finger her with one hand and drink black coffee with the other, perfectly nonchalant as he made her writhe and moan. If he did that this morning, it would be the first time he had put his hands on her in days.

She really wasn’t surprised when he gave her only blank politeness. “No thank you, Mrs. Gold. Won’t you sit down? Your tea is getting cold.”

She wasn’t surprised, just devastated. But she knew better than to throw a tantrum. Mr. Gold hated it when she was hysterical or clingy, when she made demands. He was the one in power, he always reminded her. He decided what happened to her body, and when.

Even when he broke his own rules and upended his own routines, he was in control. He was doing what he wanted. She just had to try to keep up.

Eyes closed, she took a sip of tea. He prepared it so by the time she got to the table it would be hot, but not scalding. Mr. Gold had never asked how she took it. Every day this week, he had given her a cup with a little sugar and no cream. It wasn’t bad like this, but if she’d had a choice she would have done the exact opposite--a splash of skim milk, but no sugar.   

“Would you like to read the newspaper for me?” Mr. Gold slid that morning’s copy of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror across the table. 

 Mrs. Gold took it and nodded. This was a new task. Instead of Mr. Gold reading the paper in silence while she made herself busy in the kitchen, now he had her read the articles out loud while he listened. It was an easy service to do for him, and he seemed to appreciate it. When his tea and meal were finished, Mr. Gold would sit back in his chair with his eyes closed. He had never mentioned enjoying her speaking voice before. But now it seemed to relax him--as long as she only said words that other people had written. 

At least it was something. 

“First article. The headline says: ‘Coma Patient Escapes from Hospital, Found By Toll Bridge.’ That must be what this picture goes to. I--” Mrs. Gold stopped speaking mid-thought as she looked at the picture on the front page.

It was a grainy black-and-white shot of five people standing by the river. Sheriff Graham was at the front of the line. Then there was a kid--was that the mayor’s son? How did he get involved in all this? In the photo, the boy was under the arm of some blonde in a leather jacket. Mrs. Gold had never seen her before. Next was Mary Margaret Blanchard, the schoolteacher.

But what had given her pause was the other man in the picture. Based on the hospital gown, he was obviously the coma patient who had gone for a walk in the woods. But there was something about him. His hair, maybe? His bearing? He looked… familiar…

“Do we know this man?” She showed the picture to Mr. Gold. “The caption says he’s a John Doe, but I swear I’ve seen him somewhere.”

Mr. Gold only glanced at the picture, but he still saw enough to make him grin. “He does look like a charming fellow, though I can’t say I remember seeing him around Storybrooke.” He gave the paper back to her. “Maybe you knew him in another life.”

She scoffed. “Maybe.” 

Between bites of oatmeal she read the article, then the rest of the front page. From there, she read the editorials, the regional news, and the weather. Mr. Gold stopped her before she got to the sports section, but she would have kept going. She would have read the comics and the classifieds and even the fucking sudoku puzzle if it would have made him happy.

But it was time to open up the shop. Lately, that had become the time for her to make herself scarce. Earlier that week, he had sent her to the hardware store to have keys made for the house and the shop. Then she had a day spent alone, reveling in the novelty of being in Mr. Gold’s house when Mr. Gold wasn’t around. That had gotten boring after a few hours. She preferred it when Mr. Gold kept her on a shorter leash.

“What do you think you’ll do today, Mrs. Gold?”

And that was another problem. Storybrooke was not that big. If Mr. Gold didn’t want her in the shop and she had nothing to do in the house, that meant she had to spend a lot more time running errands. Since Monday, she’d already been to every store in town, including going to Granny’s twice. She’d even stalked the aisles of Standard Clocks, the town’s most unnecessary store.

But Mr. Gold hadn’t given her any “special tasks” lately. And he clearly wasn’t going to tie her up in the back of the shop any time soon. If he wasn’t going to use her, what use did she have? Her days had become an endless string of trying to keep herself busy.

“I… um. I guess I could go to the hair salon.” She didn’t have an appointment, but the stylist wasn’t going to turn her away. 

Mr. Gold nodded and pulled her gray trench coat out of the hall closet. He helped her put it on. This outfit was a little chilly. The gaps of skin showing at her midriff and the tops of her thighs were supposed to be part of the appeal. But if he wanted her to cover up, she wasn’t going to argue. 

“Is there anything you’d like me to do with my hair, Mr. Gold?”   

The time he spent considering her updo was the longest he’d looked at her all morning. “No, I don’t think so. You could start wearing it down more, if you’d like to.”

“Really?” Normally the best thing she could do with her wild hair was keep it out of the way.

Mr. Gold shrugged. “Only if you want to. It’s your hair, Mrs. Gold. It’s your decision.”

Of course he would say that. Shoulders slumped, Mrs. Gold followed her husband out the door. 

****

She wasted as much time as she could. Only a few days ago, she had strutted around Storybrooke like a model on a catwalk. Now she felt like an actual cat, some flea-bitten stray no one would let inside. 

Her gray suede booties had clicked up and down Main Street for hours and there were still hours to go before the day was over. 

She could just go to the shop. Mr. Gold had never said that she wasn’t allowed to be there. And even if he had, it might be worth it to break a rule just to get him angry at her. At this point, she’d take the hardest lesson he could give. It was better than having him look at her and say nothing.

If she was a cat, Mr. Gold acted like he’d found her on the side of the road with her legs crushed by a car. He looked at her with pity and horror and dispassionate calculation. Every day this week he’d looked at her like he was wondering if he should break her neck, put her out of her misery. 

Maybe he should. A broken neck was fatal, but at least it would be quick. Better than trying to live with a broken heart.

Mrs. Gold snorted at her own thoughts. “Okay, drama queen,” she said out loud. 

The clock on her cell phone said it was 3 PM. Without realizing it, she had been wandering through the residential areas. Her feet had been taking her along the familiar path from the elementary school to Old Town.

This was the bad side of Old Town, down by the water. Any time there was a storm on the ocean, this neighborhood got the worst of it. Mr. Gold often grumbled that these houses were more trouble than they were worth. He said it’d be more lucrative to demolish the whole area and let the rabble get washed out to sea.

She’d spent more time in this neighborhood than anywhere else in the world.

There was only one house on this block that Mr. Gold didn’t own. All of his properties were whitewashed and repainted every year, so they always looked the same. In an act of bold but pointless defiance, one house on this block had been painted yellow with lilac trim. Both colors had bleached and faded and been covered up with grime. In just a few years, the paint had cracked and peeled so much it almost matched the shaggy bark of the silver maple that hung over the power lines in the front yard. The gutters on that house overflowed with withered leaves--not just one autumn’s worth, but many.  

The only thing that looked even remotely new was a cheap plastic sign that swung from a post by the sidewalk:

Hair Today!

Mrs. Gold had told Janine that was a stupid name for a salon. Anyone with half a brain would think, “Hair today, gone tomorrow.” And the exclamation point looked desperately cheerful.  

But by that time, Janine Woolverton wasn’t listening to her opinions anymore. 

There was a second sign by the house’s side door. This one said “Walk Right In!!!” At least it wasn’t spelled “Rite.”

Instead of going in through the business entrance, Mrs. Gold went to the purple front porch. She could hear the TV blaring from outside. So Terri was home. She had always been home by 3 PM. All these years and she’d never missed an episode of Sands of Crime. 

Every day after school, Janine’s mom used to give them Kool-Aid and peanut butter crackers and they’d watch soap operas together. The girls would joke about the cheesy dialogue and predict the plot twists. Terri would shush them and threaten to change the channel to the preschool shows if they couldn’t watch quietly.

That was all a lifetime ago. 

“Hello!” Mrs. Gold called as she let herself in.

It was the same TV show. It was the same living room. But this was now a completely different world. Terri Woolverton sat alone in her dead husband’s recliner with both feet on the floor. A TV tray full of dirty dishes and half-eaten food was in front of her.

When Mrs. Gold came in, Terri’s gaze drifted away from the screen for just a moment. Then she turned back to the show. There was no laughter in her watery eyes, no interest in the convoluted plot. She wasn’t watching TV because she liked it, but just because it was something to do. It was an hour to fill where she didn’t have to think about how to fill that hour. Maybe it distracted her too. Maybe it gave her something to think about besides everything she had lost.

Mrs. Gold opened her mouth but found herself choking. The air smelled terrible in this house. Everything was stale and mildewy. This close to the bay, there was the reek of brackish water and seaweed. The family couldn't afford to deep clean after the last flood. 

Not to mention the dead fish smell that covered everyone who worked at the cannery. Peter Woolverton had worked there for twenty years, his son Andrew for only two. Both of them were gone now, but that smell would linger until the end of time.

But the worst smell for Mrs. Gold was the combination of lilies, lavender, and tuberoses that came from a bouquet on top of the TV. It was an attractive arrangement--orange, purple, and yellow flowers coming together in all their autumn glory. The bouquet was the only part of the room that didn’t look faded and washed-out--including Terri. 

The bouquet was fresh, and there wasn’t a card. It must have come from the florist personally. Mrs. Gold wondered how often that man visited his nieces and sister-in-law. He liked to give people flowers, especially when he couldn’t do anything that was actually helpful.

“Right!” Mrs. Gold said with as much cheer as she could fake. “I’m just here to see Janine. So I’ll… head on downstairs!”

Terri Woolverton didn’t say a word. She kept her eyes on the TV. As Mrs. Gold turned the corner down to the basement, she saw the old woman slowly rub her hand over her heart. 

****

Mrs. Gold remembered pictures hanging on the wall by the stairs leading from the living room to the basement. There used to be evidence that a happy family had once lived in this house. The oldest pictures were in black and white--Peter Woolverton and his sister Linda as kids on a camping trip. Mrs. Gold had always been fascinated by those pictures in particular. You couldn’t tell in the photos, but Peter and Linda had the exact same sky-blue eyes. It was a family trait.

Slowly, the little family had grown. There was a blurry color snapshot of Peter and Linda as young adults at the beach--both of them standing arm in arm with the person they would later marry. All four people in that picture were younger than Mrs. Gold was now. But they looked so happy, so sure of their choices. All of them loved the person they planned to spend the rest of their lives with. And their marriages had been happy, for as long as they had lasted.

Kids had come along and there were pictures of all of them. Andrew had been the first baby in the family. Janine had beat her only cousin out of the womb by a mere eight days. A picture showed Terri and Linda posing belly-to-belly with their unborn daughters. The youngest was Chloe, Janine and Andrew’s little sister. It was never a secret that she had been a surprise, but she had also been a happy one. 

The last picture with everyone together had been when three girls had graduated from high school--the two cousins and their best friend. Mrs. Gold remembered that picture being full of blue eyes and big smiles. It had been a day of hope and possibilities. The future was in front of them, the Valedictorian had said in her speech. They just had to go for it!

The day after that picture had been taken, Linda got her diagnosis.  

Her husband had sold his store on Main Street to pay the medical bills.

A month after Linda died, Peter and Andrew were in their car crash.

And now all the pictures were gone. There was no proof that the happiness had ever been real. It was all just a memory. No better than a dream.

Rumple.

Mrs. Gold blinked. Where had that come from? Weird. 

She took a breath, and moved on. 

****

 A pink shower curtain blocked off the rest of the basement from the salon area. Didn't do much to block the sound of the washer and dryer when they were running. A section of the cement floor was covered in a thin laminate that was meant to look like black and white tiles. Glossy white particle board covered three walls of a space just big enough for about three people to move around comfortably. That section of the room was lit by bright fluorescent lights.

There was a stained white reception desk and a sagging loveseat by the door--along with a pile of decades-old magazines. Further in, there was a sink for washing hair, a domed hairdryer, and one office chair on wheels to go back and forth between the two. The only proper stylist chair was in front of the giant mirror that made up the entire fourth wall. The jail cell in the Storybrooke sheriff’s station was bigger than the whole place. 

This was where Janine Woolverton had decided to spend the rest of her life. At least, she would say, until things got better. But who did she think she was kidding? Nothing ever got better in Storybrooke. 

When Mrs. Gold came in, Janine was hunched over a pile of papers--invoices and bills. She had a cordless phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear. She ran her fingers through her short hair--cleverly dyed to be the same honey-blonde it had been since she was a little girl.

“No, the twenty-five dollar perm is with the senior citizen’s discount.” Janine paused while the person on the other line spoke. “Yes, that is a lot of money, but we do include a free wash.” Another pause. Janine closed her eyes and pressed the heel of her hand between her eyebrows. “Of course, you could just use a curling iron, but wouldn’t you feel better knowing you’re in the hands of a professional?” Her eyes shot open into an icy glare to the unseen client. “Excuse me ma’am, I am a professional. I went to school for this.” The edge was creeping into her voice, despite her obvious efforts to stay professional. “I have bills to pay too. Everybody does.” Finally, Janine saw Mrs. Gold waiting in the doorway. “Well, almost everybody.”

Without another word to the customer, she pressed the button on the phone and docked it in the base.

“Mrs. Gold.” It was hard to tell how much of Janine’s annoyance was left over from her phone call and how much of it was brand-new, just for her. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment today.”

   “I don’t, actually,” Mrs. Gold kept her voice perky. She hung up her purse and coat and picked up a magazine she’d already read three times. “But I thought you might squeeze me in.”

Janine looked at the clock on her desk. “I do have someone coming in at 3:15.” 

“Oh, that’s great, you have plenty of time!” She took a plastic cape for herself and strutted over to the sink. 

Janine sighed, very loudly, but trudged over to Mrs. Gold and wrapped the cape around her shoulders. 

“This is why I keep coming back here,” she said. “The great customer service.” 

She leaned back in the office chair and allowed Janine to wash her hair. The warm water felt amazing, and Janine had just the right technique--firm, but not painful. She felt herself melting into the expert touch. God, when was the last time anyone had played with her hair? 

While Mrs. Gold was being toweled off, Mary Margaret Blanchard came through the business door and down the basement steps. She stopped in her tracks when she passed the pink shower curtain. 

“Am I late? I let my last class go to the buses early so I could make it here on time.”

“No, you’re fine, Mary Margaret.” Janine sighed and began to gather Mrs. Gold’s hair into clips. “I just, y’know, had an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Mrs. Gold smiled brightly. The schoolteacher stepped backwards, like she had come upon a wolf while walking through the woods.  

“Didn’t I see you in the paper today?” Mrs. Gold asked. There was a knack to holding people captive using nothing but small talk and direct eye contact. Sweet little Miss Blanchard was an easy, easy, victim. “You found that man in the woods, didn’t you? He is so handsome! And tall too. Though that doesn’t always mean what you think it might. After all, Mr. Gold is--��

“Tilt your head forward please! I have to get the back here.”

Outwardly, Janine’s words were nothing but professional instructions. But her tone made it very clear that she would rather cut off Mrs. Gold’s tongue than her hair.  

Mary Margaret had not sat down, and now she began to slowly back out of the salon. “You’re busy,” she said. “We can reschedule my appointment. I’ll call you.”

“No, it’ll just be another few minutes!” Janine began.

But Mary Margaret shook her head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll let my hair grow out a little anyway.”

“No, with a cut like yours, you’ve got to keep it trimmed--” Janine kept trying to talk, but Mary Margaret was already up the stairs. The door crashed shut as she left.

Very slowly, Janine put down her scissors. She didn’t look at Mrs. Gold’s herself, but spoke to her reflection in the mirror. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Her voice was soft, a whisper borne of too many emotions happening all at once. “That was a real customer, a paying customer. And you had to scare her off.”

Under the plastic cape, Mrs. Gold crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m a paying customer too! You know I tip a hell of a lot better than Miss Teacher’s Salary there.”

Janine yanked the clips out of Mrs. Gold’s hair. “You don’t even need a haircut today! I told you I was expecting someone! But you think you can make the world sit up and beg just because of who you married.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

With her lips pressed together, under the harsh lighting,  Janine looked twenty years older than she was. Blue eyes, blonde hair, an expression more tired than angry. She really was a dead ringer for her dearly departed Aunt Linda. 

She sounded like her too. “What makes you think you can treat people this way? You were raised better than that.”

Mrs. Gold ripped the cape away from her neck and stood up. Where the fuck was her purse? She needed to put on more lipstick. Maybe she should buy a new shade. One tube of this lipstick cost more than Janine Woolverton’s entire trashy wardrobe.

Breathing deeply, she put the lipstick on by memory. She didn’t look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t want to see Janine sweeping up hair in the background.

By the time she pulled out her wallet, everything was a little calmer. At least she wouldn’t need to reapply her mascara. She was counting out fifty dollar bills when the door upstairs slammed open. 

A little girl’s voice shouted out. “I’m home!” 

Chloe Woolverton thundered down the stairs with the energy of a child who had two full days before she had to think about subtraction again. She appeared in the doorway. Her backpack was bigger than she was. God, was that Andrew’s old backpack? Was she using it as a memorial or could they not afford to buy basic school supplies?

When Chloe saw Mrs. Gold, her mouth fell open in a smile. She ran up to her with her arms spread out. “Are you back?”

Mrs. Gold crouched down with her knees together and hugged the little girl. How could she be so tiny and so huge at the same time? 

“I missed you too, Chloe. How are you doing? How’s school?”

“School is dumb. But we’re gonna have a Halloween party on Monday! Are you gonna spend the night? Do you remember when we did makeovers and I looked like a princess and we had pizza? That was so much fun!”

She couldn’t break away. She couldn’t answer. A thousand years ago, her and Janine and their friend Mara used to have sleepovers at each other’s houses every month.  When it was Jeanine’s turn to host, they would bribe Chloe into good behavior with the promise of makeovers. Janine would curl her blonde hair, and Mara would put makeup on her. She would help Chloe pick out jewelry and dress up clothes and they would improvise a story about whatever kind of heroine she wanted to be. They had always taken a Polaroid of the final result.

Where were those pictures now? Had Janine and Mara gotten rid of them? Had they destroyed any proof that they had ever spent time with her?

 “I can’t stay,” she told Chloe. “I have to go back to my house for dinner.”

“Mrs. Gold has to be available for her husband,” Janine said, with more spite than was even remotely necessary.

Chloe looked at her sister like she had a question she didn’t know how to ask. 

Mrs. Gold squeezed her shoulder. “But what are you going to be for Halloween?”

“A bride!” Chloe perked up. “Mom has an old white dress I can wear! And Mara’s gonna make me a veil! I am gonna look soooo beautiful!”

“A bride?” Mrs. Gold’s voice was strained but she tried not to think about it. “Do you have a groom?”

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think that matters.”

Forcing herself to laugh, Mrs. Gold stood up. The fifties were still in her wallet. She laid six of them on the desk. Janine scowled at the money, but took it. Mrs. Gold gave a last look at two of the people who had once meant so much to her.

But that was all before.

She took her coat and put it on, just like Mr. Gold had done for her this morning.  

“Actually, Chloe, when you grow up, you’re gonna find out that who you marry matters a whole bunch!” 

[baby-grayson]

okay so what happens next with grayson and hailee? does grayson like take a step back bc of his feelings?? or he stays by her side to help her find what she wants to do with her life??

Ethan and Hailee’s engagement party ends with someone’s tooth in a punchbowl, many tears, and Grayson’s heart tied into a tight, tangled knot.

The morning after Grayson and Hailee’s conversation on the porch was the morning before the engagement party. The house was a whirlwind of nervous energy and polite smiles. Grayson rubbed the sleep out of his eyes while he slowly came down the stairs, turning the corner to see Hailee sitting in a carved dining chair  while her mother swirled her hair around the barrel of a hot curling iron. Her hair was pinned around her head in a series of perfect curls, each falling exactly into place. Grayson stood in the doorway, taking in the image while the women’s conversation faded into the background. Hailee caught him from the corner of her eye, she shot him a flat mouth and raised her eyes. Grayson sent her a nod of support and moved from the doorway, not wanting to linger. He stepped into the pantry and opened a cabinet. He was greeted by the usual array of cereal boxes, standing in an erect line of morning salute. He lazily grabbed the box of cheerios and moved into the kitchen.

He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when Ethan came in holding two button up shirts, each a slightly different shade of pale pink. Ethan stopped in his tracks when he spotted his brother at the breakfast nook.

“Hey- which one of these,” he swung the shirts in the air, “which one is salmon? and which one is bubblegum?” Ethan’s eyes were wide as he searched Grayson’s face for a sign of an answer. “C’mon man,” Ethan groaned when Grayson didn’t answer hastily enough, “Helpme outhere.”

“Uh,” Grayson looked from one shirt to the other and back to the first. “The left.”

“The left?” Ethan urged, “The left is salmon?”

“Yeah,” Grayson nodded, “Sure.”

Ethan groaned again and looked back. He nodded his head at the doorway to the dining room, “They in there?”

“Yeah,” Grayson’s voice was garbled through his first spoon of cereal, “Doing hair.”

Ethan stared at the doorway to the dining room and back at the shirts in his hands.

“Why do you even care?” Grayson lifted another spoon to his mouth, “They’re both pink.”

Ethan rolled his eyes softly, Grayson pretended like he couldn’t see it. “Her dress has these little flowers, we got the shirt to match,” Ethan lifted both of them in the air, “but I took it out of the package and now I don’t remember which one is which.”

Grayson filled his mouth with another spoonful of cereal to avoid continuing the conversation. Carol, Hailee’s mother, stepped from the dining room as she wrapped the cord of the curling chord around itself.

“Ethan,” she started over, “did you need something, pumpkin?”

Ethan looked down at the two shirts in his hands, with his mouth hanging open. He looked back at Carol while she added:

“Oh, are you lending one to Grayson? You’re always so sweet Ethan.” Carol touched a finger to the shirt in Ethan’s left hand, “It’s a good color, but I’m afraid your brother is a little wider than you, might not fit.” She scrunched up her nose at the last few words.

Ethan nodded, feeling a wash of relief while his shoulders fell.

“Now Grayson,” Carol moved towards him as he swallowed his latest mouthful of breakfast. She thumbed the edges of his hair, which was now growing past hair ears, “What do you say we do something about this before the little get together this evening? sound good to you honey?”

Carol’s fingers gently brushed his ear in her inspection of his hair. He was immediately reminded of the gentle, whimsical touch of Hailee’s fingers the night before, when she gave him a nearly identical comment.

“I can do it myself,” Carol’s voice woke him from the soothing mental place he was traveling to, “I’ll set up a chair in your bathroom and meet you up there whenever you’re ready.” She shot him a sweet, hospitable smile and waltzed out of the room.

As if on cue, while her mother disappeared from the room Hailee stepped in, standing between the twins. Grayson thought she looked like a bobblehead, the pinned curls adding immense extra volume to her head. Her blonde locks balled up into ringlets and then immediately went back to her head, where her mother fastened them with neon colored clips. Hailee exhaled and slumped into a chair.

“What’s wrong-” “-you okay?” Grayson looked straight at Ethan, feeling his spine straighten in his chair. If Ethan was fazed, he didn’t show it.

“Yeah,” Hailee nodded, “She’s just-,” she shook her head. She placed her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands, “She’s a perfectionist.” Her tone was sharp.

“I’m sorry baby,” Ethan’s tone was nearly a coo. He kissed the top of her head, somehow navigating his lips between the neon colored clips, “You look beautiful, though.”

Grayson filled his mouth with a spoon of cereal. He wanted to speak up. He wanted to say that Hailee looked like a poodle, and that she was a woman who was perfectly capable of choosing her own hairstyle. Trying to find his place in his new family, Grayson shoved as many cheerios in his mouth as he could fit.

He escaped the situation by leaving his cereal bowl in the sink and going up to the attic. Carol was waiting with a barber’s chair in the middle of his bathroom and a set of clippers open on the counter. “Ready dear?” She stood perfectly perched over the chair: a mixture of Martha Stewart and Sweeney Todd.

Grayson made himself comfortable in the chair while Carol swooped a black cape around him and started spraying his head with water.

“Excited for today, Grayson?”

“Yeah.” he answered politely, “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“This must be your first party in quite awhile honey.”

“Yeah,” he answered again, curtly, “I guess it will be.”

“Well don’t worry,” she started combing out locks of his hair. “I won’t tell a soul if you get a little too far into the schnopps tonight- it’ll be our little secret.”

Grayson chuckled softly. He wondered if that’s where Hailee got her sense of humor from.

“Hold your head steady now,” Carol instructed.

Grayson tried to lock his neck into place. “The party’s here?”

“Oh no,” Carol corrected, “The wedding’s here. That’s for certain, four generations have all gotten married in that back barn. But tonight,” some of his hair fell of the floor as she snipped her scissors, “tonight’s we’re going to the old boathouse down by the lake.”

“Oh,” Grayson responded, “Must have missed that.” In truth, Grayson had managed to avoid absorbing any details of Hailee and Ethan’s nuptials. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to be involved in the stresses of everyone else.

Carol nodded, “We’ve been friends with the owner for years, his brother is the mayor. And actually, his son-” Carol snipped her scissors again as her voice heightened, “his son and Hailee Anne used to date in high school. Nice boy, nice nice boy.”

Grayson made a low sound from his throat.

“But oh of course we love Ethan, we love Ethan like one of our own. Trevor could never compare to our Ethan, I’ve never my girl so happy.”

Carol snipped a few more of Grayson’s locks. She put the scissors down to grab a comb. “It must be so odd for you, to be home but not be in your home. Isn’t it honey?”

Grayson sighed softly, “It’s new. But I’m glad to be back.”

“Well just know whatever is ours is yours, this is your home and your family now.” Carol spoke kindly but her words cut through Grayson’s heart. He wondered if she would be as hospitable if she knew the scandalous thoughts he had about her daughter, his brother’s fiance.

Grayson shuddered without thinking. She pulled away from his head, “Just a few more minutes now darlin’, almost done here.”

Grayson offered to sweep the bathroom floor but Carol shooed him away, telling him to find his brother. Grayson thanked her one last time and headed down the stairs.

Grayson left his attic bedroom and headed down the stairs, to stop on the bottom stop. He stared blankly at the front door. Ethan was standing in the doorway, the lilac bushes in the sunshine behind him, with Hailee in his arms. He kissed the top of her head while she beamed. A photographer, a petitely framed girl in a black outfit, snapped pictures of them.

The second camera snap echoed in Grayson’s ears. He stalked out of the room while Hailee twisted her ring to better position it in the frame.

The boathouse was a historic piece of architecture, original to the small Southern town. For the engagement party, the chandeliers were draped with baby pink and cornflower blue swaths of fabric. Each chair was tied with bows that coordinated with its table cloth. Balloons covered each corner of the room, filled with glitter that sparkled and twinkled. The entire venue looked like a pink and blue prom.

Grayson sat at a round table with Ethan, Hailee, and her family. Despite her poodle-esque hairdo (which had the clips removed but still fell in curls that were far too fake to look easy on the eye), Grayson thought she looked like the spirit of springtime.

Her delicate frame was covered in sheets of baby pink tulle. Her dress cinched in at her waist before bouncing out like a ballgown. Her skirt was covered in dozens of tiny light blue flowers. She looked like a ballerina playing a floral princess.

Grayson felt drab compared to the well-dressed party guests. His navy polo and borrowed slacks paled in comparison to the three piece suits, hats, and pocket watches of the men around him.

Ethan wore Hailee on his arm as they greeted party guests at the door: hugging old people and kissing babies. Grayson found his place at the table, listening to Hailee’s father tell stories from his time in the service. Grayson sipped from the mouth of his beer bottle and imagined the memories of his time in the service to slip down and disappear as the liquid slid down his throat and into the abyss.

He was six beers into the night, watching the clock and wondering if he was too tipsy to shower when they got back home. He looked up to watching Hailee and Ethan at the front of the room. Ethan held the microphone in one hand while Hailee draped herself over his opposite elbow,  “We just wanted to thank all of you for being here today-for being so happy for us, with us,” Grayson took another swig of beer while Ethan to continued, “We’re so happy that all of you showed up tonight-”

“SHE SHOULD BE MINE AND YOU KNOW IT ASS HAT!”

Necks craned throughout the room to follow the shout. Grayson nearly dropped his beer on the table. From the fire exit door, the drunk, red eyed and sloppy stood a young man with a trim haircut and a red face.

“FUCK YOU E-CREEP! SHE WAS MINE FIRST YOU KNOW-”

Ethan started scampering off the stage, leaving Hailee, who had gone pale, to stand there by herself. From across Grayson’s table, Carol tapped her husband’s shoulder vigorously, “Devlin,” she was frantic, “Devlin do something!” In turn, Hailee’s father shook Grayson’s arm and said, “Go Son! Go!”

Grayson shot up. The air felt thick as he rushed to the other side of the room. He pulled the guy by the arm, trying to coax him out of the room.

SMACK.

In a fraction of a second, Grayson turned his head to see where the noise was coming from. A single tooth shot out of the guy’s mouth and flew threw the air as Ethan’s fist collided with his face. Grayson’s eyes went wide as he searched his brother’s face for answers.

From across the room, Hailee started to cry. Her legs had abandoned her and she had wilted on the floor, her curls bobbing around her head as she took in hasty breaths.

Somewhere in the room, her mother whispered to her father, “And I always thought Trevor was such a nice boy.”

Her father whispered back, “And I thought Ethan was such a nice boy.”

Grayson looked at the streams of blood coming from Trevor’s mouth and felt himself go sick. His mind flashed with the images of blood and injuries from the past few years: of infirmaries with stained walls and not enough beds. He felt a second sickness hit when he realized that for a moment, he had considered saying something to Hailee about his feelings. The night before, he considered divulging all of his emotions for her: committing to honesty and telling her what he felt. Not just about his growing affection for her, but his belief that her life was holding her back, not letting her by the woman she was aiming to be and live up to her potential.

Grayson took another look at the blood streaming from Trevor’s gums, caused by Ethan’s fists, and wondered if Ethan would have hit weaker or harder if it had been Grayson who spoke up.

[ubernoxa]

The Token: A Guns N’ Roses Fanfiction

Chapter 9: Get Out

Story Summary: Fanfic inspired by the movie She’s the Man. A female Duff is tired of dealing with the bullshit of trying to make it on the strip as a female bassist. In a desperate attempt to make it big doing what she does, she cuts her hair and mascardes as Duff. What’s the wors that could happen?

Chapter Summary: Betsie’s wrath cuases several aftershocks, and Duff gets too drunk for her own good.

Masterlist

Taglist: @viralwolf02 @littlemisscare-all @smokeandmirrorz @aratbaby @slashscowboyboots @achiweyow @queen-crue

“What is going on?” My uncle bellowed through the shop.

“Your barista or whatever the fucking hell you call her is a damn traitor who dresses up as a guy and plays in a rock n’ roll band on the strip” Betsie shouted at my uncle. I felt every customer in the shot starting at me. Fuck.

He then quickly turned towards me, as if I had a logical straight forward answer.

What was I supposed to say? Yes uncle, I dress up as a guy and perform in a rock band on the other side of town? He was rather clear only a couple minutes ago that he wasn’t a huge fan of me being in a band, and Betsie storming in looking to start a fight wasn’t helping the cause. I call bullshit on anyone who says the truth will set you free. The truth would only burry me deeper in the grave I already dug for myself.

“I don’t know what she is talking about. She must be high on coke or some shit. She...is crazy!” I shouted at my uncle as I walked out in front of him.

“Lying bitch! You and your band think that you can just bring strippers on stage, and no one would miss my band? You know what you’re fucking saying right? What message you’re sending to the strip? By replacing us with strippers? That that’s all we Pixie was! That people only came to our shows for our looks. Do you think that people only came to see my band, may I remind you that is was also your former band that you were apart of, because we are a bunch of chicks? Is that what you think all female musicians are? Just something nice to look at? Well say something your treacherous bitch!” She howled across the counter. I remained frozen, not only motionless, but speechless. Strippers? We were going to have stripper on the stage?

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I shouted back losing all composure I had before.

“Ohh really Michelle? Then explain to me why the bar manager told Cindy that we weren’t playing because Guns N’ Roses, apparently a ‘far better band’ according to the manager, would be bringing strippers, so the clientele wouldn’t care. Our. Fans. Wouldn’t. Care. As long as there were chicks dancing on stage our fans wouldn’t mind,” she snarled making sure to put air quotes when she said far better band. I didn’t notice how quiet the shop was until she stopped talking. I took a quick look around, the shop when I noticed it was quickly empty. My uncle must have escorted the customers out.

“Have you ever thought that maybe Guns N’ Roses got the gig because we are better than Pixie? You guys flat lined. You were playing the same songs and going nowhere! I tried to save Pixie before you kicked me out. Looks like I avoided being apart of the shipwreck,” I shot back. Big fucking mistake.

Before I could blink, she pushed past Derek and launched herself at me. I didn’t have time to process what was going on. I felt like a rag doll as everything blurred in front of me. It wasn’t until she slammed me against the counter that every thing came back into focus. I tried pushing Betsie off, but she was too strong. I had absolutely no leverage from my position. I was fucked.

As I continued to flail like a fish trying to get her off of me while she screamed profanities, Derek swooped in pulled her off of me. I remained frozen on the counter watching as Betsie tried to kick Derker in hopes of escaping his grip.

The doors to the coffee shop flew open. I was glued to the counter when I turned to see a police officer burst through the doors. The room went quiet, the only sound that filled the room was Betsie panting.

Fuck.

I let one last scream escape me as I felt Betsi throw me against the ground. My mind was too busy trying to comprehend how she escaped Derek’s grip to even take in the chaos that had erupted around me.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as I looked over towards Betsie. I tried to listen to what the cop was saying, but his worlds sounded distorted like a bowl of alphabet soup. I took another deep breath feeling a sharp pain in my chest. Fuck, she must have bruised something when she threw me to the ground.

I looked down at my white apron that was painted red. Fuck..was that...was that my blood. Subconsciously I felt my hand cover my mouth to hide a gasp when I felt something trickling onto it. The liquid felt like a waterfall as i watched the liquid paint my hand red.

I looked over towards my cousin Kendal to only receive a disapproving glare. I froze as I saw a piece of blond hair out of the corner of my eye. Where the fuck was my wig? My question was quickly answered when I looked up at my uncle. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the brown wig he had gripped in his hands.

I squinted as I tried to understand what he was shouting, but I couldn’t read his lips.

I felt someone place their hand on the small of my back and squat down next to me. I turned to see Izzy as he tried saying something, but just like everyone else, I couldn’t hear him. I could feel him pulling at my arm, and I turned towards Derek who remained frozen. Fear plastered across his features. I felt a ringing return to my ears and turned towards where I heard the sound come from.

“Get out, you’re done,” I nodded at him and turned towards Kendal who wore an expression that mirrored the one on Derek’s face.

“Uh...yeah...I’ll umm..I should..go,” I felt Izzy catch me as my right leg gave out below me.

I would like to say that I walked out of the coffee shop, but I knew Izzy held most of my weight.

“My wig Izzy, I need to go get my wig,” I muttered as I rested my head on his shoulder as we walked.

“We can get the wig another time,” I nodded, but deep down I knew I was’t getting my wig back.

“Was I....was I fired?” I felt useless as we continued to walk towards....actually I had no idea where we were heading.

“Yes,” I nodded at his response as I tried to process what had happened.

“Michelle, we have to keep walking. The sooner we get to my truck the better. I don’t want to have to deal with more cops today,” Izzy grunted as he helped me get into his truck.

“At least Your truck is red, so I can’t bleed all over it,” I giggled once I was inside his truck.

I jumped when Izzy’s laugh filled the car when he got it.

“Shelly, the exterior of my car is red, not the interior,” I looked around the car, and I felt my eyes practically shoot out of my head. Fuck he was right.

“Here, tilt your head forward, and place this underneath it to catch the blood. If my car every gets searched, I don’t want them thinking a murdered some chick in the front seat,” he offered me a kind smile and handed me his shirt. Which begged the question of when did he even take his shirt off.

“How hard did she even hit you?”

“By the fact that I confused the colors of the interior and exterior of your truck I’ll go very hard,” I kept my head down buried in his shirt, but I could still hear him chuckle at my response.

“WAIT...who is Shelly?” I lightly tilted my head up to see a rather confused Izzy looking at me as we sat at the red light. I knew that I went by Michelle and Duff, but FUCK I had a third name? Was Shelly some kind of stripper? I could barely handle being two people, how the fuck could I be three???

I heard a sigh escape Izzy, “it’s called a nickname. Michelle....Shell...Shelly” His tone remained lifeless as he explained my new nickname.

We sat in silence for the rest of the ride towards wherever the fuck we were going. He focused on what I assumed to be the road, and I focused on keeping my nose leaned forward in his sweaty shirt. I looked up once so felt the truck stop.

“Take off the apron, and put on this sweatshirt,” I sent him a confused look as he spoke.

“Duff doesn’t have boobs. Hopefully the sweatshirt is baggy enough to conceal them,” I felt Izzy’s eyes linger on my chest before her tossed me a random sweatshirt.

It took me a couple seconds, but I was able to throw it on and toss my apron under the seat.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered under his breath as I followed him into his crammed place.

“Ohh sorry, took me a couple extra seconds because I was trying not to bleed to death,” I sassed back.

“Jesus Christ, I already have one drama queen in my band, I don’t need both you and Axl acting like drama queens,” I laughed as I followed him into inside.

“Luckily for us, looks like no one is home,” I headed towards the bathroom to wash off my face while Izzy went to the kitchen to get what I could only assume to be supplied.

Yeah Izzy, so lucky for us.

I stared in the mirror looking at my reflection that was painted black and blue. I smiled at the fact that my nose was no longer bleading and immediately began to run Izzy’s shirt under cold water trying to get the blood out.

“Here,” I turned towards Izzy who handed me a bag of frozen peas.

“Did she hit you in the stomach or chest?” I nodded while moving the bag of frozen pees from my face to my ribcage.

“Alright take your shirt off.”

I froze once Izzy’s monotone words filled the bathroom.

“Izzy if you wanted to see my boobs, you could have just asked,” I teased taking off his hoodie I was currently wearing and my shirt from work.

I watched as he tried to hide a smirk before he inspected the bruises that littered around my stomach and the rib cage. Betsie definitely got me good. I focused on my breathing as I sat on the grimy bathroom counter dressed in only my braw and work pants. My eyes remained focused on the shower curtain as if I was cramming for an exam about shower curtains. I was doing everything I could in order to avoid any eye contact with Izzy. I didn’t want to make anything more awkward.

“What were you doing back at the coffee shop? I kindled you out, why did you come back?” I asked in hopes to break the awkward silence that filled the bathroom.

“I saw a police car race towards the coffee shop” his response was short and plain, but I didn’t want to press any further. Something about the way he responded, I felt like he was lying. I could put my finger on it, but he wasn’t telling me the whole story.

“You should be fine, just take it slow the next couple of days,” the moment I nodded, voices filled the apartment.

“Will you be able to play?” I nodded again and Izzy’s question before I through on the hoodie following him to the main room for and practice. We had a gig in three days, and there was nothing that was going to keep me from playing.

The next couple of days were filled with practicing, and they flew by. I sat backstage at the Troubadour fidgeting with my bass. I was pulled from my thoughts at the faint sound of someone yelling.

“What the actual fuck?” I perked up at the sound of Steven’s voice.

“Sounds like Axl is pissed about something,” I replied earning a nod from the drummer.

“Im going to make sure he doesn’t kill anyone,” he said before leaving the backstage area.

I sat alone in the small white room littered with graffiti alone for a couple minutes as I tried to mentally prepare myself for the gig. The bar was packed, and I could already feel the nerves growing in my stomach.

One shot.

Two shots.

Three shots.

And like magic, I felt the nerves slowly flush from my system as the vodka took its place.

I took a deep breath, and looked up as I saw the rest of the band enter the white room.

“Pixie is batshit crazy!” I laughed at Slash’s words.

“What happened?”

“They started shit, bitching how we replaced them or some shit like that. The best part was their drummer, Betsie, wasn’t even there. Apparently, she’s in jail!” Slash laughed as he sat down next to me.

Holy shit Betsie was in jail. I remained frozen for a moment or two before taking my fourth shot.

Why didn’t anyone from her band bail her out? Did they not have the money or did they just got give a shit?

The crowd was packed, loud, and hungry for some rock n’ roll. Even with the dancers, as Axl put it, on stage I was able to enjoy the gig. I felt the adrenalin take over the more I played. I felt alive

After spending god knows how long at the bar after the gig, Izzy, Slash, and I all crammed into the his truck filled with our equipment. Axl and Steven ‘ended up scoring’ as Slash put it, but I didn’t mind, more vodka and beer for me. Slash handed me a bottle of nightrain once we finished unloading all of our gear in the apartment, and he toasted towards an amazing gig.

“Killer ass show!” Izzy said plopping on the ratty couch.

“We just keep getting better and better,” I took my first sip from the bottle, and continued to feel the calmness flow through my veins.

Time quickly flew by as we talked about random shit that came out of our mouths. Slash would continue to ramble about his snake, trying to get me to meet her. I didn’t know it was possible for Slash to get more talkative, but here we were. Slash’s voice filled the room once again as I looked over to Izzy who had grown more and more quiet through the night. He rolled his eyes as Slash continued to ramble. I returned a smiled and took another sip of my drink.

“You thirsty tonight?” I looked up to Izzy as he motion my half empty bottle.

“Just got something to celebrate,” I smiled back before continuing to drink. Not giving a care in the world.

“Now what’s that?” I melted as he flashed his signature smile. God he was fuckin hot.

“Kick as gig, and Pixie is practically finished. Did you see the look on their faces as the crowd chanted Guns N’ Roses? It was fucking priceless. I’ve been waiting to get revenge at those bitches for months!” I cheered.

The room went silent and Slash sent me a confused look.

“What the fuck did they ever do to you? Did they fuck you or something?” Slash’s face was painted with confusion.

“They kicked me out of the fucking band, stole my songs, and fucking dragged my name through dirt!” I shot back in a matter of fact tone.

“ I thought they were a girls only band?” I was met with only more confusion from Slash. Yeah they were, that’s why they were called Pixie. I froze for a couple seconds trying to understand his confusion.

“So Slash, how old is your snake again? How did you first get her?”

I completely ignored Izzy’s attempt to change the subject, and replied “Well I’m not a guy, I’m a fucking chick.”

Without thinking I ripped off my shirt and the wrapping I used to hide my boobs. I looked over towards Izzy who remained frozen as confusion swept his face as well. I looked down at my exposed chest, and quickly sobered up to what I had done.

I looked up to slash who only managed to mutter, “What the actual fuck....you’re a girl?”