#which means next week i will have 4 extra free hours to fuck around

[giantkillerjack]

What up everyone Jack's talking about the croissant thing again:

In 2019, I was very mentally and physically ill, and I was recommended to an IOP program, or, as I often called it, Suicide Prevention Daycamp For Grown-Ups.

It was technically a 4-6 week program, but I was not in a place where the counselors and I agreed that I was safe to graduate the program until about week #22 or so. So I was going to intensive group trauma therapy (to say nothing of all the other doctors I had to see), for 15+ hours a week for 5 months.

And one of the things that helped me regain and strengthen my will to live more than anything was going to the nice little bakery beside the hospital in the mornings before session started; buying 3-4 pastries, a banana, and a Lara bar (a gluten-free vegan* snack bar); taking one pastry for myself; and then walking around the morning meeting room at IOP giving away everything else.

* I'm not vegan or gluten-intolerant, but at least one person in my program was.

I did this once on a whim after about a month at IOP, and I liked doing it so much that I then continued to do it every single day I was there for the next 4 months. (I didn't have a lot of extra money, but it was some of the best spending I've ever chosen to do in my life, and I have never regretted it.)

There were about 12-20 of us there in the mornings, depending on the day, and the interactions generally went like this:

Me: Good morning! Have you eaten?

Them: Uhh no.

Me: Okay cool! *I open up my white paper bakery bag like I'm a semi-suicidal Santa* So I've got a chocolate croissant, an almond croissant, and a banana left! Which one would you like?

Them: Ohh, you don't have to do that, I don't need anything...

Me: I didn't ask if you need anything, I asked which one you'd like!!

Them: Someone else might need it more...

Me: I have bought these items for the purpose of giving them away, and if no one takes them, I will have to throw them out.

Them *with the most grateful look I've ever seen on a person, knowing they haven't been completely forgotten and that it IS easy for at least one person on this fucking planet to be goddamn kind to them*: ...the chocolate croissant. :)

Me *realizing that I want to spend the rest of my life chasing this feeling and showing people I care that they are okay and then realizing that I've suddenly started thinking of "the rest of my life" in the long-term again*: Awesome, here you go! :,)

---

And I like this post because it made me remember how grateful I am that those folks let me be kind to them because just by taking a banana from me and saying thank you, they literally helped me build up the will to live and to decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

It was also a great way to remind a lot of thoroughly abused, invalidated, and neglected people [read: generally, most of us that end up at mental hospitals] that someone gives a fuck about them in a tangible way, and that at least SOMETIMES people offer help without secretly expecting guilt or repayment.

More than once, someone told me that when they came in on their first day, terrified and not knowing what to expect, they felt instantly more at ease after seeing me bustling about giving people high-quality snacks! And in a suicide-prevention program, feeling safe to stay in and be vulnerable in a space means a LOT.

- Comments like that one changed my entire self image tbh. The "croissant thing" gave me a tiny sense of control over my own life when I was close to death, and it showed me how just the tiniest amount of kindness and consideration can mean SO MUCH to people.

And none of that would have happened for me if all those folks hadn't believed me when I said I really wanted to make sure they had something to eat! What a kindness it is to be allowed to do a kindness!!

some of y'all need to learn how to accept hospitality. stop assuming people are only offering to look after you out of twisted obligation that they don't actually want to do. when you assume that, you are often denying someone the opportunity to genuinely show a friend or stranger love. even if you don't really care about what they're offering, it's respectful of their desire to be kind to accept it anyways.

i had a bunch of girls i've never met over for a women's group. every single one of them denied my offer to make them tea (despite already making myself a mug anyways), get them water, a scone, etc.

i can tell when people refuse to let me be a good host because they "don't want to be a bother". like no!! please be a bother!!! i want to serve you and make you comfortable in my home!

not to be like "we live in a society" but really do live in a modern culture than emphasizes individualism to the point where people will reflexively deny any help or kindness from others for fear of treading on their independence. newsflash: dependence on each other is what makes a community. next time someone offers you kindness, accept it instead of making excuses for why you don't need it. otherwise you've robbed both yourself of being loved and someone else from showing love.

[glacierfront]

so sleepy

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo jack and ranboo - how y/n made friends with everyone

this is an extra to the great adventures series

requested: yes/no

warnings: cursing

tommy

you were actually friends with tommy when he was streaming to a few viewers, and you even watched as his channel grew. eventually he asked you to mod for him, as he knew he could trust you and because had experience being a twitch mod. he was also the reason you began streaming. as for how you met, you were in the same classes as him in highschool, and since you were the ‘quiet’ person in the class, they sat tommy next to you. honestly, you hated him when you first met him and the feeling was mutual. you didn’t want to sit next to the rather loud teenager and he had no one to talk to anymore as his friends were on the other side of the room.

“do you ever talk?”

“heh?”

“i said do you ever talk...do you always do that”

“do what”

“that fucking HeH.”

“are you mocking me simons?”

“noooo why would i do that...”

“it’s y/n.”

“right, yeah, yeah, i totally knew that.”

“great now please leave me alone i’m trying to work.”

“loser.”

“the fuck did you just say?”

“nothing.”

it was that moment tommy decided he was going to make you just like him, and a few years later that’s exactly what he did. by year 11 you and tommy had grown extremely close. the last day of school arrived a lot earlier than expected, everyone was extremely stressed, no one knew what to expect or what was going to happen. you found yourself hanging around with tommy a lot more as you had no idea if you would both be going to the same college, in september you received a text message that made your night:

tommy: college sent out emails telling you if you were accepted go check

*2 minutes later*

tommy: well?

y/n: i got accepted

tommy: me too

y/n: call me right now

tommy: i’m about to stream..have you ever considered streaming?

y/n: absolutely not

tommy: make an account and stream after me i’ll raid you..make me mod you know how people can be

once college started up, you were slightly nervous the two of you would drift away from each other. however this was far from the case, although you both did different subjects and he was only in on wednesdays, the pair of you would hang out together a lot more. he would be in your streams and vice versa, you would either be in his tiktoks, or you would be the one filming them.

“y/n make a tiktok we can be mutuals.”

“please god no.”

you spent so much time at his house either talking about random things, playing whatever game you could find, or streaming. he dragged you to every meet up he went on, allowing you to meet people such as niki, phil, and, wilbur. you didn’t know this, but he would constantly bring you up in conversations with dream, which eventually lead to you joining the smp in october where you would later be able to meet the likes of jack, technoblade and jschlatt. the only person you didn’t seem to see on the server was his other friend tubbo.

ranboo

you had become friends with scott after being his first twitch mod and when he noticed you started streaming, he was extremely supportive, always raiding your stream once he ended his. today you found yourself bickering with scott because he wouldn’t let you in mcc despite the fact you were ‘the best minecraft player.’

“y/n, i watched you die in minecraft 7 times last night within 5 minutes.”

“oh i’m sorry mr perfect, let me in mcc.”

“no.”

“fine i’ll make my own.”

and that’s exactly what you did..well you tried your best.

you started your stream as soon as scott ended and had him call you on discord after explaining to your chat what you were about to do.

“scott final chance let me in mcc, i’ll settle for access to the practice server.”

“fine.”

“REALLY?!”

“absolutely not!”

“fuck you, ill be in it one day!”

you left the call telling chat you didn’t need that negative energy in your life.

you really have scott to thank for you making friends with ranboo, scott made a tweet explaining what you were doing on stream which caught ranboos eye.

Smajor1995: after not making it into mcc again my good friend @y/n has decided to take it upon themselves to make their own on stream!! ill also be in the stream (if they answer my calls) *twitch link*

ranboo joined your stream and was instantly met with you yelling at scott (again) to let you in mcc.

“IM YOUR TWITCH MOD!”

“i will ban you from mcc!”

“you don’t have the nerve... so he left the call this is bullshit watch me land this water bucket clutch down this ravine so we can find axolotls and build an army.”

*you died*

you pulled your hood over your face before sinking down your chair taking a deep breath.

“FUCK!”

you calmly got back up and looked into your camera.

“i was so close, so very close.. HEY CHAT SCOTT SENT ME A LINK TO THE SERVER!”

a few minutes later you were able to get onto the server, only to be kicked less than a minute later. the reason you were banned being ‘i watched you fail the water bucket clutch down a ravine.’

you continued your build on your server and just spent the rest of the stream talking about anything that crossed your mind, that was until you decided to copy ace race. once finished, you looked into your camera and pulled your microphone closer to you.

“so this is race ace, so scott doesn’t sue me, and basically it’s going to be this course, but i’m going to change a random section practice it every day, not tell anyone it changed. of course i’m going to tell my team we have to win, oh fuck i forgot scott was watching my stream..it’s okay he didn’t hear me he’s too busy planning how he can rig the next mcc.”

ranboo found himself enjoying your content and even noticed you in his chat multiple times.

“just a minute chat i’m just sending an important dm to my mods.”

that’s when you noticed chat paused for a minute after you sent a message, it confused you for a minute before realising ranboo made you a vip on his channel and you decided to do the same for him on your channel, from there you added each other on discord. the pair of you made friends extremely quickly, you were constantly part of his streams as you would call him on discord not realising that he was streaming.

“hi y/n, by the way i’m streaming”

“i just wanted to ask if you knew how to break into a house?”

“....why”

“i locked myself out by accident and my parents are asleep come help me.”

“you are in the uk.”

“okay? catch a flight.”

chat honestly loved you and your friendship with ranboo. the pair of you only met a few weeks ago and you were already acting as though you had known each other for years.

jack

you and jack met for the first time on the smp, which would have been fine, however you met during lore and your characters weren’t exactly the best of friends. once lore had ended, everyone said their goodbyes and left the call. a few moments later you received a discord message from jack asking if you were available to call any time soon. since you were back in lockdown, you had plenty of free time. you arranged a time and date a few days later you called jack, where you had your first proper interaction out of character.

“hello jack!!”

“oh hi y/n i just thought it may be a good idea to get to know each other, well you know considering we’re both on the dream smp.”

“yeah, yeah, i understand what you mean.”

the pair of you ended up getting along with each other, it was slightly awkward for the first 5 minutes of the call, but that was expected since you hadn’t really met jack before and were anxious to call him. however, after that the conversation started to flow and you found out the pair of you had a lot in common making it easy to come up with things to talk about. it ended up feeling as though you were catching up with a friend you hadn’t spoken to for a while.

“has anyone told you your accent is really strong.”

“so is yours, y/n, what the fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“it means your accent is strong, duh.”

jack asked if you’d like to stay in call and join him on the smp whilst he streamed, and you gladly accepted the offer as you really didn’t want to do your college work, and you were enjoying your time with him. a few minutes into the stream jack had killed you several times.

“JACK STOP KILLING ME!”

rather than answering you he just sat laughing. he then went on to attempt to mute him microphone, he failed. however he didn’t realise this, so you sat listening to his plan on how he was going to kill you again. this time you were prepared, you sent a message to tommy telling him to log on along with your location. few minutes later tommy was by your side and helped you kill jack several times for revenge.

“Y/N...TOMMY!!”

“you didn’t mute your mic, so i told tommy you were bullying me.”

“im gonna go...BYE JACK, BYE Y/N, ILL SEE YOU SOON!”

“i can’t believe you.”

“hey you’re the one who didn’t turn your mic off.”

“how did you know?”

“i had your stream on my other monitor.”

“ayeee you watch my streams?”

“...i’ve been a sub for 4 months.”

the two of you stayed chatting and playing for another hour. the pair of you were already so close and you had only met each other the other day. this was just the start of your friendship, soon enough you were in a laugh and the stream ends challenge on his stream, however due to lockdown rules this was done over discord leading to you accidentally leaving the call several times.

“and they’re gone again!”

*4 minutes later*

“SORRY JACK IM BACK!”

“stop leaving y/n!”

“oh i’m sorry, let me just go yell at my wifi to stop cutting out!”

a few seconds later you could be heard faintly in the background screaming at your wifi as it would continue to buffer. as soon as restrictions were over one of the first things you decided to do was go to jacks and stream a laugh you lose where there was a punishment if you were responsible for losing the last heart. however everything was apparently hilarious in person as you would constantly laugh, meaning you were responsible for losing the last heart.

“y/n give me your phone.”

“no.”

“you lost let me tweet from your account”

“fine..”

soon enough your fans and friends with your notifications on received this twitter notification

“y/n: jack is so cool and funny he is also really tall i am not”

tubbo

tubbo was actually the last person you met and made friends with, your community were convinced for some reason that you both didn’t like each other and that’s why the pair of you didn’t talk to each other. this was far from the case you were both waiting for the right time, tubbo was an extremely busy teenager and you didn’t want to interrupt him, and tubbo knew you were currently in a stressful position since you had recently joined the dream smp, also you were still meeting people so he didn’t want to stress you out. this doesn’t mean he didn’t want to be your friend, he actually asked tommy since he had been your friend for at least 4 years what would be the best way of getting to know you.

“mate they hated me when we first met, just talk to them or something. you could have met them the last time i went up to visit you, but they ended up not feeling too good and went back to the hotel room.”

“when are you next coming up?”

“how about next week, and i’ll bring y/n, i really don’t understand why you’re nervous tubbo, it’s y/n they wouldn’t hurt a fly..well hmm.”

“see you next week then!”

a week later tommy dragged you to the train station.

“uh tommy where are we going?”

“...on a train.”

“no way, really? oh my god!”

a few hours later you finally got off the train.

“ill go with my dad to check into the hotel room, do you want to come with us or?”

“i think i’ll go for a walk and stretch my legs.”

“right okay, meet you at the beach later”

you spent a few minutes walking around the beach picking up any rocks and shells that caught your eye, little did you know it would result in you meeting tubbo. once you finished putting your new collection in your pockets you noticed a small crowd of people walk up to someone asking for pictures assuming it was tommy you walked over to the boy, it wasn’t tommy it was in fact tubbo. at first you stayed silent not wanting to really cause attention to yourself. you only spoke up when some people started to make inappropriate comments towards him.

“oh sorry to be a pain guys me and tubbo have plans with tommy in a few minutes, we should go so we’re not late. bye guys.”

you smiled and waved as they walked away. you looked over to tubbo, you could tell he was still pretty anxious about what just happened and honestly if you was in his position, you would react the same way.

“we should probably move from here incase they come back and see you’re still here, are you okay?”

“im feeling better now it’s over..thank you”

“oh it’s no problem i’m, y/n btw.”

“wait you and tommy were still meant to be on the train.”

“the train was actually on time, tommy went to check into the hotel i wanted to stretch my legs, i also wanted to collect some rocks.”

“did you collect enough or did you want more?”

“im not going to say no if you wanna go collect some with me.”

the pair of you walked around keeping each other close incase the people from before returned. half an hour later, the pair of you sat on a bench close to the beach so you could show tubbo everything you decided to pick up, he ended up keeping a rock he liked to have as a memory. tubbo wrapped an arm around you as it was getting cold whilst you watched the sunset.

“tubbo i think tommy forgot about me.”

“you can spend the night at mine, i’ll send him a message to let him know.”

“are you sure?”

“of course!”

“this has to be the most unsafe thing either of us will ever do, we hardly know each other and now i’m staying at yours.”

tommy sent you a message explaining that he didn’t forget, there was a problem at the other hotel and they had to go find another one, but you’ll be fine to stay at tubbos for the night. the pair of you spent the entire night learning as much as you can about the other person. it had only been an evening but you already knew the pair of you would be great friends.

taglist:

@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @c1loudee

[deleteddewewted]

Hello! How are you, and I have a request if you wish to do it. So I was thinking of a College AU with Shinsou working there as a part-time employee, then one day fem! reader comes in and at first he is like “Pfft whatever” but then he brings dropping his tsunade behavior and beings growing soft for her while he got to know her and he has seen her rescue a kitten in which he asked to help co-parent their child. He is doing it to get to know her more because he fell for her, but she is a bit oblivious when it comes to ✨feelings✨. I thought this would make a cute HC/ Drabble, however you wish to do it, of how their relationship began to bloom at the local coffee shop.

AAAAHHHH!!!! YES!

Happy Birthday to Shinsou Hitoshi!💜

The most adorable, handsome, and overall best purple headed boy on the show (Fuck off Mineta).

To Take Care of a Stray: Shinsou Headcanons

Barista! Shinsou x F! Reader

FLUFF

As any college student would tell you, cheap caffeinated drinks were a must.

Coffee specifically was a must.

Shinsou was honestly debating if he needed his 3rd cup of coffee that morning or if he could just wing it and go on with an empty tank.

He procrastinated when it came to his assigned project, plus his project partner ditched him, so he was practically all alone figuring his shit out.

And thats how he found himself working at his local coffee shop.

He hated every single customer that would come in at any hour of the day that he work on.

They all demanded his attention and honestly, some days he wished he could just scream in their faces that "No, i don't give a fuck about your pet bird speaking back to you. I'm only here to make you your coffee and take your money."

The cheap coffee was worth it though, so he keeps the complaining to a minimum.

Retail is honestly a "no reward" type of job. The amount of entitlement that some people have baffles him at times.

Around his second year in college he ends up working the late shift to make some extra cash. It also meant less people coming in and demanding an overly complicated drink. Score!

The sound of the rain pouring down helped calm his nerves and allowed him to relax for moment before the door of the shop swung open.

"Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to do that." The first time you walked into the shop you accidentally pulled the door with too much force that it ended up slamming into the wall.

Shinsou immediately didn't like you.

Who the fuck was this woman?

You went up the counter and told him your order taking out your money and handing it to him.

Clean and simple. Nothing special.

Then you came back again a few days later. That really fucked with him.

Most customers came in and never bothered to talk to him. He wanted their money while they wanted the shitty coffee they sold. Easy, right?

Nope, not with you apparently. You came in and asked about his day, how his studies were going, and if anything interesting happened in the shop.

He would respond with brief answers and immediately ignored you afterwards.

You were just so annoying.

..Ok, maybe not.

You were funny, the way you fumbled and played it off as you being intentional.

The way your mouth would widen into a smile anytime he spoke back to you.

You weren't overly energetic, nor overly happy. You were just nice, nice to him.

He wasn't use to that.

You fascinated him just because you existed and he wanted to learn more about you.

He got his chance on the 5th time you came in.

You usually came in at a specific time, always when there was barely any customers, but today you didnt' show up at all.

He wont admit it but he got concerned and would keep looking at the clock on the wall and back to the door of the coffee shop.

When you finally came in, you had scratches on your hand and on your cheek.

"What the fuck happened to you?" He leaned onto his hand that was placed on the counter top. His body relaxed and only showed boredom.

In reality he was terrified, you had scratches on your hands and red streaks too. Why?

"Oh, i was just- i fell into a bush." You gave him a smile that made his heart flutter and legs go weak.

He was so happy he was leaning on the counter because he hadn't he would have fallen onto the floor.

Your smile just had that affect on him.

"How stupid can you be? Look were your going next time."

"Aww, thanks sir!"

Good mood was gone. He told you not to treat him like your friend, thats not what you both are.

...But he really hated that you took that very literally and didn't bother to at least call him by his last name.

"Hmm." He gave you your usual and answered the questions you had for him that day.

You started to come in 4 times a week and every time you did he would notice new scratches on you.

The scratches weren't that bad, he thought maybe you were one those "adventures" types, but the red marks were concerning him.

When he would ask you about them you always had a different excuse for them.

"My backpacks straps are bit rough."

"I placed my arm wrong on the table"

It was this or that but never a concrete answer.

It was happening every time you came in so something had to be wrong.

He gathered up the little cuarage he had and decided to ask you what you were doing.

"Why do have so many scratches on you?" You werent expecting him to be so blunt but you happily told him to meet you after his shift at the nearby alleyway.

He was suspicious of you but he was also curious, he desperately needed answers because the concern for your wellbeing was getting to be too much for him.

He followed your instructions and walked towards the alleyway you directed him to.

When he turned the corner he saw the most beautiful scene in the world.

You were surrounded by cats...and you were giving them food.

He could die happily then and there.

"W- this is why you show us with scratches all over you!?" You nodded but got up and walked over to a cardboard box that was tucked under a bigger box.

You told him to follow and when he crouched down to see what was in it he saw two huge eyes staring back at him.

"You've been- this little thing is the reason for your scratches?"

"Yep!"

He laughed at you and helped you feed all of the cats.

When the two of you finished up, you picked up the box that the small kitten was tucked in and gave it a pat on the head.

"What are you going to do with the kitten?" Shinsou asked you.

"Well, i wish i could take it with me but i don't think i'd be able to take care of it since i work early in the morning and have classes late at night."

Shinsou's mind started planning.

He really liked you and wanted to be around you more often.

Shit, if he was brutally honest he had a crush on you.

"Well, i have classes early morning while i work at night. So...why don't we co-pa-... i mean co-care for the little guy?" He knows his ears were red, he knows his face was starting to turn red as well.

But he wasn't about to admit that he really wanted you to say "yes".

"Uh, ok. Sure!"

Shinsou was over the moon with this and it was all going so perfectly as well.

The kitten would spend the mornings with you and in the afternoons the two of you would meet up to take care of it together.

You both decided to name the kitten Mieko.

""Beautiful blessing child", thats a cute name! Why do you want to call him that?"

"Because...i want to- y-you idiot. Stop asking so many questions!" You just laughed at him and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

Shinsou melts.

Shinsou would bring the kitten with him to work since his boss had a soft spot for animals.

Imagine how exited he was when you first invited him into your own apartment.

"You have your own place? Color me impressed."

"Thanks Shin." Shinsou blushed a little at the nickname. It had been over a month that you both agreed to take care of the kitten together.

The more time he spent with you the more he fell.

"I hope you like the umm...book." This was another thing that started after the two of you began to co-parent the kitten. He would bring you gifts and act like it meant nothing.

Reality is that he was courting you.

He expected you to make a comment on his gifts but you glossed over them like nothing.

It was getting on his nerves.

"Aah, hey. Do you want to take Mieko out for a walk...again."

"Was that a question or a demand?" You laughed at him

You made it look easy with how much you make him blush.

The more time you both spent with each other, the more Shinsou realized he was truly in love with you and wanted you to be by his side.

But he was facing a problem. You.

You wouldn't pick up on the hints he was dropping on you. His interest on you.

So one day he decides to just tell up upfront if you would like to go on a date with him.

"Hey Shin, do you want to go on a date with me?"

Shinsou. exe has stopped operations

"W-wha-"

"I'm joking buddy! But seriously do you want to go out to eat? I think Mieko would-"

"W-WHaT!? F-fuck no!" That upset you because you thought he might like free lunch.

"You could've just said no." He was losing you, again.

Fuuuuuuuck!!!!!

"N-no wait! What i wanted to say was umm, would you like to go out with me? Like a date! N-not like friends."

You both just stared at each other for a moment, the silence only making the situation worse.

"...Sure."

Mieko, your child, just blinked at the two of you.

"These two ridiculous humans are my parents, great." At least this lead to Shinsou moving in with you and Mieko having a permanent home now.

Double the pats for the two new people in your home, double the purring sounds, double the angry and grouchy cats begging for your attention.

Who wold trade this? You got to cuddle with the two most adorable people in this world.

"I'm not fucking adorable Y/n!"

"Shush Toshi or you're not getting cuddles and kisses."

"....fine."

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [One]

Night Changes Series Masterlist

Summary: It may have been years since Poe and the reader have seen one another, but that doesn’t make the emotional upheaval any easier to navigate for either of them.

Warnings: Fuck ton of angst, language, a lot of feelings, mentions of death and loss, grief. WC-5,780 (Jesus buckle up I guess!)

Poe was dreaming.

Nothing particularly special, but it was a dream nonetheless, a break from the usual nightmares that tended to invade his sleeping mind night after night when all he wanted was to succumb to the darkness for a few hours. The dream was more of a memory, a replaying of a night back on Yavin-4 so many years ago before he and Charlie had gone to flight school.

A night like every other, yet the humid evenings on Yavin 4 always did seem to hold a little mystery, like a warm blanket that wrapped one in a false sense of security; he could do anything. And on that evening, he had snuck some of his father’s good whiskey, the stuff from a planet far, far away, and gone to knock on Charlie’s window in the cover of darkness. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, though the whiskey was a new addition.

Charlie had answered immediately, a big grin stretching across his face even before he saw what Poe had brought, the relief in that grin piquing his curiosity-why did he seem grateful that Poe was there? When he climbed through the window, he found you were already there, sat on the floor across the small bedroom with your back against the end of Charlie’s bed, your face wet with tears and he understood your brothers reaction.

Before Poe could ask what was wrong, Charlie noticed the bottle in Poe’s hands and tapped it excitedly, “Just what we needed! How do you do it, brother?” His voice was always so loud, but in the Horn household it wasn’t an issue. Your mother was asleep on the other side of the house and even if she did wake, she wouldn’t come in and begrudge a little teen rebellion. Poe really liked her for that, for trusting them, for never making him feel unwelcome.

“Didn’t realize it would come in so handy. What's going on, sweetheart?” The affectionate nickname had been around for years, so long now that he hardly noticed himself using it. He liked the way it tugged the corners of your lips up, even when you were sad. But he didn’t like that you were sad right now, his concern only growing when you pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head to them, hiding your face and, no doubt, a fresh wave of tears.

You had always hated crying in front of them, for some reason. Charlie never cried, but Poe had no issues with sobbing outright in front of you both. He didn’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from him.

Without speaking, Charlie and Poe sat down on either side of you, your brother taking the whiskey and opening it, taking a small swig and huffing through the smoky burn.“Kid, you tell him.” He used that extra soft voice reserved only for you, his free hand reaching over to pat your foot on the ground next to him.

Poe had his shoulder pressed against yours. He knew you enjoyed how warm he always was, that you thought of him as your personal furnace, cuddling him even on warm days like this because you seemed to forever run a little chilly, or maybe you were just a touchy person and you were that comfortable with Poe.

After a few moments of quiet sniffling, you finally raised your head, setting your chin on your knees and staring straight ahead. “Gus ended things earlier.” You whispered into the moonlit room, your voice wavering somewhat with emotion, though Poe could sense it was more of embarrassment and disappointment of being dumped than that of actual heartbreak.

Poe felt an odd mixture of both anger and relief sweep through him, the latter of which he resolutely shoved away, into the far reaches of his mind to be stubbornly ignored. “That kriffing asshole! Who does he think he is, dumping our girl?” And truly, what the fuck audacity did that guy have? Did he not have eyes? Did he not spend just five minutes with you and feel like he was sitting in the company of a Sun, so bright and warm as you were?

You gave a watery laugh at his words, and Poe felt warmth pool in his chest; he was always good at making you laugh. He saw Charlie’s shoulders sag somewhat with relief upon hearing you, always so protective and yet he had difficulty reigning in some of your big emotions, often looking to Poe for his help.

“He said it was because I’m a prude. Because I wouldn’t, you know,” You broke off, and Poe glanced down at you to see you bite your lip briefly, eyes still forward, “He said there was no point going on dates if I wouldn’t even give him the chance to, and I quote, ‘appreciate your tits properly, at the least.’”

Poe turned to face you fully now, his eyes meeting Charlies over your head. His friend looked just as annoyed as Poe felt, hearing what that skinny piece of shit had dared to say to you. A silent agreement crossed between them then, Gus would be meeting their fists come morning. For now, though, Poe focused on you, tossing an arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your hair, “He’s a prize fucking idiot, sweetheart, doesn’t know what he’s losing. Right, Charlie?”

“Exactly. Remember kid, no guy is ever going to deserve you because you are perfect. You don’t need to cry over someone who can’t see how lucky he is you even let him breathe the same air as you,” Charlie added his arm to your shoulders, curving under Poe’s, “Flyboy and I will take care of you, always.” He promised, and you nodded before reaching both hands up to grab each of theirs on your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

And Poe stayed the night, each of you taking turns to sip the whiskey until eventually sleep won out and Charlie crashed on his bed. You and Poe curled up on some pillows on the floor together, your head resting on his chest and even though he knew you were sad, which made him sad too, he couldn’t help but feel truly whole in those moments before sleep took over.

It was a good memory, one which he would have been content to remain in until the abrupt and incessant whirring and beeping of his droid woke him, Poe shooting up in his bed with a shout of surprise. “What? Are we being attacked?”

BB8 came to a stop near the edge of his bed, his noises growing quieter now that he’d woken Poe up.

“Buddy, it’s my day off. You better have a good reason for scaring the living hell out of me-“

The droid beeped again, clarifying his reason for interrupting his rest day. Interest piqued, Poe ran a hand over his face before planting his feet on the floor and leaning towards the droid.

“The new replacement is here? Guess that means the General wants me to come and meet them?”

BB8 confirmed, and now his alarming wake-up made more sense. The droid was as excited as Poe to meet his new second in command. He’d just lost his long-time friend, Jess Pava, to a new unit on an outpost for the Resistance. He’d recommended her for it, at her bequest, because he knew she’d be damn good for the role. But it didn’t make the loss any less disruptive; she’d been gone a few weeks now and he’d had to take on extra duties to compensate.

General Organa had profusely apologized to him a few times now, only explaining that the replacement was due back from a classified mission ‘soon’, and once they were they would be coming straight to D’Qar to join his squadron. He didn’t mind the work, but he was a little miffed that the day the new Major arrived was his only day off.

Poe quickly got himself ready for the day, taking a speedy shower in his fresher before pulling on his khaki’s and button up. Once pleased with his appearance, he stepped out of the fresher and walked toward his small desk area, above which he had a corkboard with a few mementos pinned up, including his favourite picture.

You were standing in the middle, sandwiched between him and Charlie, a big, goofy grin on your face. Charlie was laughing in the photo, and Poe was looking down at you with a fond smile. You all wore flight suits, as it was taking when you had first joined Gold Squadron. Charlie had his arm flung over your shoulders while Poe’s was snaked around your waist. You had your arms wrapped around each of their waists, though Poe remembers how your hand had brushed up his back before the picture was taken, fingers unknowingly leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He looked at this photo every morning, tapped it once and then carried on with his day. It was the only time he allowed his conscious mind to think of Charlie, of you, and the life he lost in the blink of an eye.

When the door to his quarters opened, Poe saw a few service droids unloading a couple of crates into the room directly across from his. The room where the new member of his team would live. He could see within the unit as the door was open for the droids to carry items in, a few cases already inside the otherwise bare space.

Being careful to step around the droids and avoid falling over his own, who was wheeling excitedly along next to Poe, he made his way to command, hoping the introductions wouldn’t take too long. He had woken up with a big appetite.

And he really needed his morning caf.

“Ready to meet them, buddy?” He asked of his droid, and BB8 gave a happy little ‘weeee’ as he zoomed along beside Poe. He laughed loudly and BB8 pulled ahead, the doors of the command room opening at their approach.

Poe could see into the room now, activity within quiet enough that General Organa and the new arrival both heard his laughter and turned as he walked into the room. For a few beats, Poe kept walking, his mind not processing what he was seeing because it simply could not be. And then he froze, mid-stride.

It was you.

And from the patch on your uniform, it was now Major Horn.

And just like that, every emotion, every feeling of guilt and self-hatred and heartbreak came roaring to the surface, breaking through the walls he’d so carefully built up around what he’d done when he lost Charlie, when he’d lost you, walls he spent the last few years reinforcing as best he could.

Leia knew of the history, though she didn’t know any details of why neither of you had spoken since that terrible fucking night. She simply knew you’d all grown up together, which was probably why she hadn’t felt the need to warn Poe that it was you coming to take over as his second in command. Maybe she thought you had kept in touch and were expecting her.

Stars, Poe hadn’t seen you in person since the funeral. The night he ruined the best thing he had in his life because he couldn’t deal with his grief and took it all out on you, of all people. Poe thought of Charlie then because your brother and you looked a bit alike, but it was your eyes; you each had the exact same eyes. Though yours were lined with thick, long lashes that would sometimes tickle Poe’s cheeks when you would lean in and press a chaste kiss to them.

It had only been a few years, but so much about you had changed. Gone was the goofy girl with braids falling past her shoulders, her big smile that stretched from ear to ear. No, now Poe was looking at you and you were all grown up, wearing your uniform, hair pulled back into a low bun that was woven with intricate braids, a few wisps framing your face. You had leaned out slightly, though you still had your curves, the ones that had boy after boy falling for you back in the day-no doubt now it was man after man. He found his eyes flicking from your face to your hands, but he saw no ring. Not that he should even be thinking of whether you were single or not.

But somehow, it felt like he should know if you were with someone. Because Charlie would have expected Poe to always keep an eye on you, be there for you. The only person he let down more than Charlie was you. He knew his best friend would murder him if he knew the things Poe had said to you that night. He had never known a greater regret, a regret that he carried with him since the moment he spoke and watched your face contort in pain, as though he’d hit you with a physical blow.

He had wanted to apologize, to take it all back that very moment. He couldn’t believe himself, but you’d pull away to be sick and he was so shocked at how much he’d managed to hurt you that he couldn’t do anything other than listen to you when you ordered him to get away from you.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on him, either.

He’d walked straight to the hangar where his x-wing was parked and took it out, finding a secluded spot a few hours away to camp for two days, just to clear his head. He cried and grieved and then he realized just how badly he’d fucked up and he panicked. He started to plan how he would apologize, what he would do to earn your forgiveness and then tell you how he truly felt. But he failed you, hurt you, and he knew he had a lot of work ahead to repair what he’d broken.

Only, when he came back to base and sought you out, he instead found Jess and Tommy waiting for him by your room, their faces so grim his heart had stopped in his chest, and he’s not sure it ever restarted once he found out you’d left. Without a word or a note, you had just...deserted him.

And he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Nor did finding out that you’d been clever enough to have your new assignment sealed, eliminating any chance he could have had of going after you.

And he would have. He’d have flown across the galaxy to find you.

Instead, Poe was alone and never, ever forgave himself for being the reason you had fled in the first place.

Eventually, Poe grew enough in rank that he was able to access your private files. He only did so now and again, just to check-in and make sure you were still alive and on active duty. The last time he’d checked had been about five months ago, and it had stated you were on a classified mission that even he couldn’t access the details of. But he knew you were alive and doing well enough that you were getting assigned seriously high-class missions. Charlie would have been so proud of you.

It was a few awkward moments before Poe was able to function, quickly shaking off his shock and continuing forward, his eyes tearing away from your too-blank expression to meet the warm gaze of General Organa. “Commander Dameron, I believe you know Major Horn here. Thank you for coming to greet her with me this morning.” Leia smiled between him and you, and Poe had to swallow before returning it, breaking out his usual grin.

When he looked back at you, he found your blank expression had now morphed into one of utter contempt. An insane part of him wanted to laugh, because how could (y/n) Horn, his best friend since he was a boy, the girl who had owned his heart, ever look at him like that?

Instead, Poe forced a friendly smile, nodding to you politely, “Welcome, Major. It’s...it’s good to see you. And congratulations on your promotion. I’m happy to have you join our team.” He stuck his hand out and hoped you would grasp it.

Your eyes, so much more intense than he ever remembered, searched his face for a second before you took his proffered hand and shook, a small smile appearing on your lips.

“It’s an honour to be here, Commander.” You replied, and Poe had to blink, pulling his hand way almost too quickly. Stars, you even sounded more grown-up. Your voice had always been a little breathy, which Poe had always found alluring. But now it had matured, the breathless way you spoke now demure, feminine.  

“I was just telling Major Horn that after you two had met the day was open,” Leia said, seemingly unaware of the tension between her two best pilots, “I know you earned this day off, Commander, so enjoy it!”

Poe couldn’t help but give her a wide grin, “Thank you, General.”  

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to...reunite us, General.” You said, excusing yourself before abruptly walking past Poe and out of command.

He rushed after you, BB8 still at his side, now beeping in confusion at what the hell was going on. Poe ignored the droid, catching up to you just down the hall. “Wait...(y/n)...”

He trailed off, unsure of what he could even say to you, questioning why he’d stopped your departure. You ceased walking and turned to look at Poe, your expression now openly hostile, which he knew he deserved yet it still stung. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stood before you, a huge part of him wishing you’d start yelling at him. Or hitting him.

Instead, you gazed up at Poe and after a moment your face fell, a storm of emotions rolling across your pretty features. You took a careful, measured step back from him, as if afraid he might try and reach out to you. “I didn’t know I was coming here to be on your team,” You didn’t meet his eyes when you spoke, instead focusing on the droid at his feet, “But this is a big opportunity for me, so we’ll make it work.”

You sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than Poe, but he nodded all the same. “Of course. And you deserve it.”

You scoffed, “Thanks so much, Commander.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t know what possessed him to say that. It was just that one moment you were biting your lip, and then the next you were giving him a familiar look of incredulity that he remembered receiving more than once growing up and he suddenly needed you to hear that he did miss you. Missed you more than you could ever really know.

Poe saw a flash in your eyes before you spun on your heels and marched away, not looking back. He didn’t try to follow you again. He knew there wasn’t a whole lot he could say, not right now when you were both still reeling from the shock of seeing one another again.

And what could he even say to you? Sorry for taking our friendship and smashing it to pieces at the worst possible time? For never speaking to you again because I was too cowardly to try and find you, especially once I realized how deeply I felt for you? And how could he explain how those feelings seemed to develop over such a long time that he didn’t recognize them for what they truly were until you were gone?

Charlie would have hated what had happened between you both. He would have killed Poe, easily, but he’d had also been disappointed in you. Charlie had protected you both that day because you and Poe were his family, and if he found out that his family never spoke again after the funeral? He’d have been livid.

Guilt and regret now at the forefront of his mind, Poe had lost his appetite. Instead, he found the nearest caf machine before hurrying to the flight deck and climbing in his x-wing eager to get off the ground and clear his head for a few hours.

He spent the rest of the morning thinking about Charlie, his heart tight in his chest.

✨

“I’ve missed you.”

You could hit him, you really could. No one was around, either, you might get away with it. But that would be too easy and not nearly as satisfying as you might hope, you knew.

The audacity of Poe fucking Dameron saying he missed you was so infuriating, you briefly considered violence. But you had grown up with him, knew the way he worked even if it had been a few years. You could hate him and still understand him, which meant that he wanted you to give him a strong reaction that he could confront head-on. Scream and punch and cry and he would instantly work to comfort, to apologize, but it was really just a way to make himself feel better.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

You spun away-not before seeing the pained expression cross his face-and hurried off. You figured if you still had such a decent read on him, the same went for Poe. He’d always been able to read you, your body language, expressions, hell Charlie usually went to Poe for help when he couldn’t figure out how to support you, comfort you.

You needed some time alone, time to process and figure out the best way to make this work.

When you were invited by the General herself to come to D’Qar, to work under her ‘top pilot and most trusted Commander’, you hadn't blinked before saying yes. And you’d known that it would mean, inevitably, seeing Poe again-you knew he still worked here. But you’d had no idea until he walked into command that morning that it was his team you were joining.

When you’d been standing with General Organa in the control room, chatting amicably about the weather, the very last thing you’d expected to hear was his booming, rich laugh. And then the doors had opened, a small droid whizzing in, and his laughter continued as he stepped into the room. You had thought you might pass out, throw up, or start screaming.  

With no idea what he was doing there, you had simply stared at him, watched as he reacted to seeing you. Actively working to keep your expression blank, you stared at your once best friend for the first time in years, going numb inside.

In some ways it had been almost comical; he’d frozen mid-step and gaped at you stupidly for a few beats before coming to his senses and continuing forward. And it was at that moment you had realized he was the superior you were meeting. He was the Commander you’d be working under. When he stood directly in front of you, your mind betrayed you by immediately zoning in on one specific thought.

But stars, he’d aged well.

When he finally was able to collect himself enough to wipe the surprise off of his face, it had settled into that easy smile you remembered so well. The one you tried to never think of because of the pain that would build in your chest, the memories and feelings that you had refused to look back on for a very long time now at risk of bursting through your mental walls if you weren’t careful.

Now, that smile revealed a slight crinkling around his eyes, though he hadn’t changed much beyond that. He was just as broad and lean as you remembered, just as handsome and you thought he might be a little more built up, a new layer of muscle moving under his button-up. Charlie would have loved to tease him over the grey flecks you could barely discern in his raven locks, and you suddenly wondered if your brother would have had any grey hair himself.

Those thoughts were fleeting at that moment before fury and sadness and longing were suddenly overtaking you and it was all you could do to remain composed in front of the General when, for the first time in years, you wanted to crumble to the ground. That fucking grin of his, it was always maddening, always so attractive and disarming.

When you were kids, he’d do it to get away with something and even though your parents knew he’d done it, it would work and he’d barely get a slap on the wrist. As teenagers, the strongest memory you had of that grin was one time when he’d climbed into Charlie’s room late at night and your brother wasn’t there-he’d fallen asleep on the couch-so Poe wandered to your room.

You had just gotten out of the fresher, having taken a quick rinse off to cool down, and hadn’t shut the door. Your bedroom door was closed and it was the middle of the night; you hadn’t expected any company. And then Poe just sauntered in, his eyes on your bed where he doubtless thought he’d find you. You had barely had time to freeze, completely naked and mid-stride as you sought a clean nightgown when he seemed to sense you. His head had jerked in your direction in surprise.

That memory forever burned into your mind. The way his eyes had fallen, then snapped up to your face and instead of seeing amusement or a pervy smirk, Poe had slapped his hands over his eyes, cursed, apologized vehemently in a loud whisper, and then he grinned. That grin, just as powerful even though his eyes were covered. It spread across his face and you couldn’t help but laugh despite your embarrassment, quickly throwing on a nightgown before walking over and punching him in the sides a few times, hissing didn’t he know how to knock?

And though you worried it might affect things between you and your best friend, it never did seem to. For you, it did in some ways because you couldn’t seem to get the look on his face (the one that slipped out just before he could properly react and compose himself) out of your head and you wondered what it meant-if anything. He still stayed the night, climbing into your bed, his arms casually behind his head as he laid next to you and told you about his day while never once teasing you.

At one point, when sleep was close, eyes drooping and your cheek resting against his arm, Poe’s soft voice had pulled you from unconsciousness. Barely a whisper, he said, “I really am sorry I came in without knocking, sweetheart. Please forgive me.”

And he’d sounded so concerned, so genuinely stressed that you would be mad at him, you had snuggled closer into his side and murmured your reassurances until eventually, you fell asleep.

Today, however, it was only memories of what that smile used to mean to you and anger for what it was now. That he got to keep that easy fucking grin all these years, it only pissed you off. The logical part of you knew he had been just as surprised to see you and was no doubt struggling himself now, but you didn’t have room to care.

He had been the one to break you, to take your friendship and pulverize it by saying the worst possible things to you.

He had broken you.

That fight hadn’t just been the loss of what you had thought was the greatest friendship in the galaxy. It had been the final moment that took your life from carefree and fun to what it was now, what it had been since. Joyless, lacking, lonely-so fucking lonely.

That had been the night you had to grow up, realizing that not only was Charlie gone, but the life you’d had was too. Gone were the days of adventure, of going on test flights and racing one another, of Poe getting you drinks at the cantina and Charlie sitting with his arm slung casually over your shoulders, until any of you spotted someone who caught your interest. Someone who would only be around for the night but would bring a little pleasure and escape. Charlie was more often the one to go home with such a person, happy to play the field and often making new friends you’d see again, even though he never exclusively dated them.

And the little flare of excitement you’d get each time it was just you and Poe? That had been carefree too because whatever it meant didn’t need to be examined, it just was. Casual touches that lingered and sent heat up your spine, easy and flowing conversation, long hugs even when you’d see each other the next day. All of that had been such a prominent fixture in your life, the slow escalation between you and Poe was something that, to this day, you never tried to understand.

But then Charlie died; everything changed, and you left and never looked back. All the while, Poe Dameron kept grinning like that. Fuck, fuck!

You almost walked straight past your new room, so lost in your thoughts and memories, but thankfully a passing droid greeting you politely pulled to the moment, and you only had to retrace a few steps back. Immense relief washed over you the moment you saw that all of your items had been delivered and unpacked, only a box of mementos and photos left on your desk for you to find new homes for.

Even the bed had been made already. And as much as you wanted to just climb under the covers and shut the world away, you instead set yourself to the task of putting the final touches on your space.

The room was silent save for your occasional gasps and hiccups as you let your emotions run free in the privacy. You proudly displayed the plaque you had been given from the Resistance following Charlie’s funeral; a handsome photo of him in uniform set in the middle, his name inscribed along with his rank, years of life and final resting place on Yavin-4. His flight suit patch was attached to the plaque above the photo, the final touch to a beautiful little tribute to Charlie that you could take with you wherever in the galaxy you went.

The final item you pulled out was a small protective album for photos you displayed in your room. You pulled out the photos, ones of you and Charlie as kids, of your parents, of the whole family plus Poe during one hilariously disastrous little vacation that resulted in all of you returning home and ignoring one another for three days, even Poe. A few from your teen years, early and late, Poe and Charlie usually taking up the most space in the photos between their sizes and huge smiles, and the final photo you had was your absolute favourite.

Smushed between Charlie and Poe, you had a smile on your face that hadn’t been seen in years. It was silly, girlish and youthful and not the person you were anymore. You were looking at the camera, Charlie with his big arm over the top of your shoulders, laughing as he looked toward the camera as well. Poe was looking at you. Giving you a warm smile that you always suspected he only shared with you, one that melted his eyes to pools of warm honey and made your insides wriggle. You remember how his hand burned where he gripped your waist, and you had instinctively traced your hand up his spine in the moment, though you never understood why.  

That photo both broke your heart and made you smile every time you looked at it. The last photo of the three of you together, the three of you happy. A photo that not only showed your love for one another but also hinted at that feeling you never did examine. A photo that revealed that feeling might not have been one-sided, not at all.

When you finished your tidying, you took a seat at your desk and used your data pad to pull up your schedule, curious what the days ahead would look like. Right away you could see no missions in the queue, though that could change in an instant. And as eager as you were to get flying, you knew it would probably be best to spend the next couple of days trying to establish yourself on base, meet the rest of your team, and figure out how you were going to keep a cool head spending so much time working with Poe.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and decided a late lunch was in order, hopeful that the weird hour would leave the caf quiet. Although you knew you’d be recognized you did hope to push that off for as long as possible.  

You needed to swallow back your feelings and face the fact that you weren’t just working directly for General Leia. You were back on D’Qar; a planet that Charlie had spent enough time on, even before you joined Gold Squadron, to make lasting friendships and leave an incredible reputation behind after he’d died. You hadn’t been back since the funeral, so it was inevitable that others would be bringing him up, asking after you, where you had disappeared to, why you’d left without saying goodbye to pretty much everyone.

You needed to suck it up because you had a job to do and your work for the Resistance was the only thing anymore that made your life worthwhile. No family, no close friends, no partners, just fighting the fight and being the best damn pilot you could be.

You wondered if Charlie would be proud of you. Of how far you’d come, of the fact that you were now the same rank as he had been before his death. But after seeing Poe today you knew that wouldn’t have entirely been the case, not with how things all ended up.

So, you reasoned with yourself, that meant that you had to work extra hard here on D’Qar to push aside the history between you and your Commander. And actually, indifference and coldness were probably going to be your best assets going forward.

At least you had a game plan.

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[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Everyone cries (but only because they’re stupid), they go home, and Leon wins a lot of money :)

Merlin’s Angry Magic Reveal, part 5 (final part)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

TW: Lots of death again I suppose (you’ll see what I mean)

The gang watches on in amazement as Merlin calls lightening strike after lightening strike, seemingly unbothered by the chaos around him, and the power he was displaying.

Merlin really wasn’t kidding when he said they should be scared of him. Damn.

They worry for a moment, and Lancelot has to hold Arthur back, as they notice the first of the three enemy sorcerers step into their line of sight. But they calm quickly when they see Merlin look towards her and nod, before going back to the battle at hand. If he trusted her, then they would to.

Elyan points to her and shouts at everyone to keep a tight grip on the horses as they see the ground beginning to shake, the ripples in the mud heading towards them at an alarming pace.

“Brace yourselves!” is shouted by Leon moments before it reaches them, and all of them are thrown to the ground violently.

No one is injured, but they are dazed, and it takes them a few moments to right themselves again. The next time they look out, a frenzied blue fire is ripping into those closest to Merlin, and dissipating into the air around him.

Now with some space, it would appear that Merlin had taken inspiration from his new found friend, and the ground shakes even more violently than before (though this time much more contained, The Gang doesn’t feel even a small tremor where they stand).

Gwen speaks up quietly, but still loud enough that everyone can hear her over the shrieking:

“Gods above... how long has he been able to do that?”

Morgana answers her:

“The Druids don’t fuck around. They did say he would be The Most Powerful Warlock to Ever Walk the Earth, I guess we should’ve seen this coming.”

Everyone nods distractedly, but no one can tear their gaze from the scene in front of them. The ground snaps shut with one last rumble, over half the army having disappeared, and they see the remaining soldiers turn to flee.

Every one of them gasps in shock as vines burst from the ground, and begin to rip the deserters to shreds. None of them thought that Merlin was the type to kill someone who had their back turned, but like he said earlier... he was pissed.

Suddenly the battlefield is near empty, and silent. They’re distracted by the slight tilt of Merlin’s head, and the distant sounds of howling wolves (no doubt summoned to take care of the last few soldiers), so don’t see the frenzied King sneak up on him before it’s too late.

Arthur takes in a sudden breath when he notices and begins sprinting towards Merlin, no one holding him back this time.

The King of Camelot shouts his warning too late as the sword pierces Merlin’s back, and is forced with a shove out through his chest.

The sorcerers in front of him stare on in shock, too far away from Arthur for him to be paying them any attention.

He pulls his sword out as Merlin’s attacker stumbles back, and cuts him down without a thought, without looking away from Merlin for even a second.

He collapses on the floors behind his friend (could he really call him that after last night?) and begins to beg (begging who, he isn’t quite sure. Anyone that would listen, he supposes) :

“ No.... no no no, Come on Merls, don’t do this to me. You promised.”

He has to hold in a pained gasp as he turns Merlin over, and is struck with horror as he realises the exact resemblance to the vision from four days ago.

The blank stare of Merlin’s eyes, the blood from his mouth. All identical.

Arthur is so wrapped up in his shock, that he doesn’t notice The Gang finally catching up, and gathering around him.

Everyone is in shock, painful cries escaping them. Both at the death of their friend, and the sporadic breathing and sobs of Arthur.

Lancelot pushes to the front, and kneels on the other side of Merlin, taking his already cold hand in his own and whispering to himself (to Merlin) :

“Come on.... come on, Merlin. You can do it, you’re immortal remember. Come on.”

After what felt like forever, the forgotten sorcerers push through the crowd. Everyone is too shocked to notice the intrusion.

The girl takes in a deep breath, and whispers:

“Emrys...” before crouching next to Arthur, and tilting her head, as if waiting.

She looks up to her two companions, and they nod at her, seeming to all be agreeing on something. She swallows and looks back towards Merlin’s blank face, reaching towards the hilt of the sword at his spine.

Leon and Elyan jump into action, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back:

“What are you doing?!” and “Don’t touch him!” are shouted simultaneously as they grip her, but she looks back in annoyance before replying sharply:

“I’m trying to help! How do you expect him to wake up with a great big bloody sword through his chest?”

This seems to get Arthur’s attention, and he looks up for the first time, eyes red and cheeks wet as he stares at her in confusion.

Her annoyance fades, and she gives him a soft look as she explains:

“He will be fine, I promise. But he won’t wake up if he’s just immediately going to die again. His body has to heal before his soul returns to it. We need to take it out.”

In Arthur’s state of shock and grief, it takes him a few moments to fully register what was said, but he shakes his head and looks back at her, before saying in a quiet, shaking voice:

“He’ll come back?”

All three of the sorcerers nod slowly understanding his grief, and the girl reaches for the hilt of the sword once again, slowly this time.

“Do it.” from Arthur prompts her to grip the metal, and pull it from Merlin’s body with a sickening squelch.

The whole gang grimaces as it come away slick with blood, and try not to look at the floor as the puddle around him begins to expand even quicker than before.

Everyone stares at Merlin with bated breath, waiting and hoping (well... the gang is hoping. The three helpers don’t seem too worried) for any sort of movement.

After what seemed like hours, Merlin’s eyes blink slowly, and he brings in half a shuddered breath before coughing violently, and rolling off of Arthur’s lap and onto the floor, onto his hands and knees.

The Gang stares in shock as their previously dead friend coughs and splutters, blood flying from his mouth, before he collapses down onto his back, clutching his chest:

“That bloody hurt.”

Gwaine is the first to begin laughing, not necessarily out of humour, but an adrenaline crash mixed with a no-longer-dead friend will do that to you sometimes.

Merlin stares up in confusion as everyone joins in, some hysterical (and probably still in shock), and some just quietly chucking at how stupid they’d been.

Percival is the first to catch his breath and speak:

“Are you telling me... that after all that worrying... we literally just had to pull the thing out of you, and you’d be fine again?”

Merlin shrugs as best he can from his position on the floor (made even harder by the fact that one of his hands was being gripped by Arthur, the other by Lancelot) and replies with a smirk:

“I guess so. I told you I’d be fine!”

Everyone shakes their heads in disbelief, and Lancelot stands, pulling Merlin and Arthur with him. Merlin is quickly engulfed in a tight group hug, the sorcerers having just managed to escape and standing off to the side, staring on in amusement.

Arthur is the last to pull away, and Merlin’s now free arms wrap around him without hesitation as he buries his head in his friend’s (?) neck:

“I told you. Nothing can keep me away from you... at least not for too long. Pull it out a little quicker next time, yeah?”

Arthur laughs quietly and pulls back, pressing his forehead against Merlin’s before quietly replying with a smile:

“Bold of you to assume I will ever allow this to happen again.”

It’s Merlin’s turn to laugh this time, and the both of them ignore the confusion on everyone else’s faces (as far as they were all concerned, that comment came unprompted out of nowhere).

Arthur coughs slightly and pulls back, his face flushed, seeming to remember that they were surrounded by their closest friends.

Merlin rolls his eyes before also stepping back, and giving Arthur a pointed look:

“Don’t look so embarrassed Arthur. I’m pretty sure this lot knew before we did.”

He doesn’t give Arthur time to reply, instead looking around at his friends with an exhausted, but shining smile on his face:

“Time to go home, I think.”

~

The journey back to Camelot is relaxed, and full of smiles. Arthur spends the whole journey glued to Merlin’s side, and Leon spends the whole journey with a self satisfied smirk on his face (if they get their act together at some point in the next 2 weeks, which Leon has absolute faith they will, then he wins a lot of money).

They had invited the three sorcerers to join them, but they declined, saying they had been missing a long time, and wanted to get home. The Gang provided them with some spare clothes, and helped them catch some of the enemy’s horses, (who had miraculously not run too far during the battle) before sending them on their way with an open invite to visit Camelot any time they would like.

They rush home, but they aren’t nearly as tense and desperate as they were on the way out, so it takes them an extra day to get there, not that any of them minded. 

Once Merlin had gained a little of his strength back, he reached out to the Druids who remained in the city as advisors, so that the council could be updated on the state of things.

The people were told that the King and the Inner Council had been successful in their mission, and would be returning home within a few days, victorious.

The meeting they got at the gates to the city was astounding. Banners and flowers and declarations of celebration surrounded them all the way from the city walls, to the castle, and even the Council seemed in a good mood (a rare occurrence).

They were especially happy when Arthur dumped a dented crown, and a slashed and bloody cloak on the table, announcing that the opposition had no heir, and if they moved quickly, the neighbouring Kingdom would be absorbed into Camelot. Arthur, King by Conquest, had almost doubled the size of his kingdom. 

He sent out half an army, along with Leon, Elyan, and Lancelot, within the week. They took medical supplies and food, as a show of good faith to the commoners. The first month or so would be spent clearing the kingdom of any supporters of the fallen king, and spreading compassion and help. Once that was complete, Arthur would go there personally, to greet his new people (and probably sign a lot of paperwork, but bleugh).

Merlin and Arthur are sitting back in their comfy chairs by the fire in Arthur’s chambers, when Arthur casually mentions gifting the new land to Merlin, and making him King. Or at least Lord.

Merlin looked at him indignantly, it had only been a few days since they got back, and they were both still exhausted, but he replied with such vigour that you would never have known that he’d died barely a week prior:

“Absolutely not. I don’t think I would make a good King, Arthur. And I don’t want it anyway. I’d be weeks away, and everyone I care about lives here. You can’t get rid of me that easily, especially not after such an emotional confession.” He raise an eyebrow and smirks as Arthur flushes, looking to his lap:

“Shut up.” 

The conversation hadn’t been had yet, but neither felt awkward about it, they both knew the truth. After Merlin woke up again, it felt like time had reset, like once more they had all the time in the world. Neither of them are great at talking about their emotions, and both were prepared to wait until the moment seemed right, until they both had the right words.

Merlin laughs at Arthur, before absentmindedly reaching out a hand towards him. Arthur takes it without question, and looks back to Merlin, face serious, but loving:

“I meant it Merlin. I love you, with everything I have. I would give all of it up for you, the crown, Camelot, everything.”

Merlin smiles, blushing, and stands, pulling Arthur to stand with him.

They still grip hands, and stare into the blue of each others eyes as Merlin’s voice echoes in Arthur’s head:

“I love you too. I told you Arthur, this is where I belong, with you.”

Both of them ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as they lean forwards. They meet in the middle, in a slow kiss that has both of their hearts jumping.

Merlin wraps his arms around the King’s waist as Arthur lifts his hands up to rest against his Sorcerer’s chest, pulling at his collar slightly. 

They pull away slowly, needing breath, but not willing to part as they once again find themselves resting their foreheads against each other:

“Merls, you'll stay, won’t you?”

Merlin responds without even a second of hesitation, a fond smile on his face:

“Forever.”

~

Leon gets his money (which Gwaine never stops grumbling about: “If they’d held off for two more weeks, I would’ve won!”) and is very smug about it.

As time passes, Morgana’s terrifying visions start to make more sense.

Gaius and Hunith did in fact cry... three years down the line when Arthur finally requested that the Druids perform one of their binding ceremonies on himself and Merlin, their closest friends and family as the only witnesses.

(There was, of course, a larger, more public celebration of their joining, but the private affair was the important one.)

The silver crown, forged by the Druids behind Merlin’s back (as a sort of... wedding gift, Arthur would say) was used a few days later in Merlin’s official crowning. Made to look like leaves and vines and flowers and berries, truly the most Druidic, magical, nature inspired crown anyone had ever set their eyes upon.

(Arthur thought that Merlin never looked better, more himself, than when he donned the crown. But Arthur would never say that out loud, Merlin was still shy at heart, and he didn’t want to discourage him from wearing it.)

The tombstone, they discovered, was the fallen King’s. He was cruel, and cowardly, but Arthur had honour, and had the crown and cloak washed and buried in his bloodline’s cemetery. Nothing fancy, just a stone and a name and two dates.

(For history’s sake. After learning the truth about magic, Arthur swore that he would never knowingly erase history, not even his own mistakes.)

The empty chambers were obvious in the end. It may have taken three years for them to be officially wed, but their rooms were down the corridor from one another... and Arthur had a nicer bed. It only took a week or so before they were sleeping besides one another every night, and who would argue against it? Arthur was King, and Merlin had once again saved the kingdom, they could bloody well do what they liked.

They never actually figured out specifically when Morgana saw nine of them sat at the table, looking blank. Merlin was so often late to meetings, leaving the rest of them to wait patiently (or not so patiently) for his arrival. It could have been any number of times over the years.

After all their fretting, the anxiety of the war and the worry for her friend had led Morgana down a grim path. Perhaps it was because she was looking for reasons to dissuade Merlin from going? 

Whatever the cause, her and Merlin continue to work together to hone their crafts, Gwen supporting her every step of the way.

Now. Morgana and Gwen. They were a little more subtle about their relationship, but they also moved a little quicker, and were quietly bound to one another within a year of the Great Battle of Merlin’s BAMFness. Not that anyone was that surprised, mind you.

Speaking of Merlin’s BAMFness, there were definitely more shows of Merlin’s power once they got home. Despite being Court Sorcerer, Merlin was still affected by the years spent hiding and in fear (something that Arthur never quite forgave himself for), and never used his magic in public much, not if he could help it.

He used it for simple things, or when asked, but never would he allow himself to succumb to his emotions, positive or negative, and always kept tight control. The last thing he wanted to do, was accidently convince someone that magic was dangerous and evil and undo all the work he and Arthur had done.

Nowadays, after months of pestering by the gang (mainly Gwaine and Percival) to “show us something cool! Come on Merlin, you defeated an entire army, we know you can show us something cool!” , he was definitely more comfortable using his magic in every day situations.

Arthur was eternally grateful for that, he had done all he could, and he continued to support Merlin, but he knew that unless that validation came from elsewhere as well, Merlin would never be comfortable in his own skin.

BUT for now they have everything. Merthur is happy, Leon is smug, Morgwen is happy and smug, and the gang stays together, and happy, forever.

All because Merlin got depressed and angry and yelled at Arthur in the middle of the forest one day.

~

THE END 

Actually the end this time. Might be a bit anti climactic, but happy ending are a little anti climactic sometimes, and that’s ok.

I have a bunch of drafts on the go but if you’ve got anything specific you want my take on, go for it ✌️

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Two

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: This one was gonna be super short but I felt bad so it’s super long instead lol. I originally planned on posting shorter chapters more frequently so it might be closer to 3-4 days between parts now that I’m posting longer chapters. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m going to keep the limit pretty small. And if you want, you can buy me a coffee! ❣️

(Part One)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

About an hour later, a light knock on the lab door drew your eyes from your work to Bucky as he walked in. Peter’s eyes darted up but immediately looked back down when he realized the visitor was for you.

“Hey Bucky,” you smiled. He smiled back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So… you wanted to see my arm?” he said, more as a question than a reminder.

“Yeah, if you could sit right here, that’d be perfect.”

He did as you asked and took a seat on a lab chair, letting you lean across the lab table toward him so you could fiddle with his prosthetic arm. You quickly grabbed your magnifying glasses, flipping the magnifiers up so you could examine him at face value first.

After a few minutes of looking at the outer plating and sensory receptors, you pulled away.

“Can you feel with this arm?” you asked.

“I can feel pressure but I can’t actually feel with it.” You gave him a confused look, only sort of piecing together what he meant. As he fumbled over his words to explain again, you put your glasses to the side, running around to Bucky’s side again to stand in front of him.

“Okay, this might be weird but it’ll really help me. Hold your hands out, palms up.” He did as you said. “I’m going to do the same thing to both arms and then I want you to show me, using just your right arm, how it felt on each one, okay?”

Bucky nodded and watched as your fingertips gently glided over his forearms, leaving goosebumps in your wake. The second time, you brushed your palms against his skin, as if you were brushing away crumbs. The final time, you scratched your nails down his right arm, making him take in a sharp breath as he watched the skin of his arm turn a pale pink. His left arm, however, kept catching your fingernails between the plates so you resorted to scratching across instead of down.

“Okay, now show me.” You flipped both of your arms over, palm up.

Using just his flesh arm on your right arm, he grazed his fingertips over your skin, admittedly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t even consider how weak that touch usually makes you, especially from someone who looks like that. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him attractive before you even graduated college. You and your roommates were guilty of many nights of fuck-marry-fight with the Avengers as your victims.

When your gaze moved up to meet his, he brushed his hand over your arm, then delicately scratched his nails down your arm.

If it hadn’t been for the slight hum of machinery across the room, you’re sure Bucky would’ve heard your heart beating out of your chest.

Dad would literally kill me if he knew the thoughts going through my head right now, you thought.

“Okay,” you started, pausing briefly to clear your throat. “What about what your left arm feels?”

This one made him furrow his brows, either in concentration or confusion. He pushed his fingertips against your skin harder than before and moved them down your arm. He used more pressure again with the second movement, then went back to heavy fingertip pressure for the scratches.

“Hm,” you said simply, letting your arms drop to your sides again. “So you feel the weight of the touch but not the sensation that comes with it?” The confusion in his eyes made you rephrase. “So this on your right arm —“ you ran your fingers down his flesh arm again, “gives you goosebumps, but this on your metal arm —“ you repeated on the left, “is just a weight, no shiverbugs?”

“Shiverbugs?” he repeated with a barely noticeable smile.

“Goosebumps! Sorry. Shiverbugs is something my grandma used to say. Sometimes I slip into the family slang,” you chuckled. Bucky’s smile grew a bit at the sound of your laugh.

“Yeah, I only feel that on the right arm. No shiverbugs with the left.”

You jokingly scrunched your nose at him before returning to your previous seat. He stood there as you scribbled down notes on how he feels things and your immediate thoughts on how to make it more real for him.

“Is there anything you want done to your arm?”

Bucky seemed slightly taken aback at the question, but quickly steeled his expression. “I know Tony wanted to make it quieter,” he said.

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned your elbows on the table between you. You could tell he was still pretty reserved, either because you were new and he didn’t feel comfortable around you, or because he didn’t feel comfortable in the tower as a whole yet.

“I know what Tony wants,” you said gently. “What do you want?”

He frowned at this, turning his eyes to the floor as he thought. After a beat, he finally said, “I just want it to feel real again.”

And you could’ve cried right then and there. You knew the story of the Winter Soldier. You had heard what Bucky had been through. You couldn’t imagine going through anything close to what he experienced, and you’d be damned if you let him down.

But you couldn’t cry in front of him on your first day, so you smiled at him softly.

“That’s not an easy feat but I’ll do what I can, Barnes.”

He smiled briefly before frowning again. That frown seemed to be his default expression.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

“Not right now. Thanks for helping me out,” you replied. He just nodded before walking out. Your eyes stayed on the door for an extra couple seconds before you spun around on your seat and scurried across the room to plop down next to Peter, who was packing his stuff to head home for the day.

“Hey, Boy Wonder, question.” Peter looked at you with raised eyebrows. Nicknaming ran in the family. “Want to use that biomolecular engineering and help me with something?”

•••

Nearly every day when you stopped in the kitchen for lunch, you’d run into Bucky. Sometimes he’d be with Sam, sometimes Steve, sometimes on his own. But almost every single day, he’d be in the common room chatting or the kitchen eating. For the first couple weeks, he was a little tense when you were around. You’d hear him and Sam bickering as you approached, just to see him quiet down once you entered the room. It was a bit disheartening at first, but when it was just the two of you, he always engaged.

You’d called him into the lab a couple times to look over his arm again, but you always felt bad taking him away from whatever training or cases he was working on. The digital renderings were always there, and you spent plenty of time digging into those and running simulations of the different ways you could muffle the wiring. And it’s a good thing you ran the simulations, because a couple of them would’ve fried his whole arm and then some.

Peter was a great help too. When he wasn’t working on his own projects, he’d poke his nose into your work and throw out recommendations. Robotics may have been your specialty, but the kid knew his stuff. He’s the only reason you finally figured out the perfect combo to quiet Bucky’s arm without knocking him out.

Nearly four weeks after your first day — and a week after Peter went back to campus, leaving you alone in the lab — you cornered Bucky in the communal kitchen again and turned on your classic Stark charm.

“Hey Bucky,” you said sweetly, leaning over the counter across from him while he tossed fruit into a blender.

“Hey [Y/N].”

You’d grown a bit more comfortable with each other, mainly from when you two were left alone. He still was a bit quieter with one of his friends around, but he was growing more talkative in general. You felt comfortable tossing nicknames at him; he felt comfortable saying “hey” instead of “hi” and once gave you your own nickname. Since you called him Bucky Bear a time or two, he called you Build A Bear. He almost looked panicked when it slipped, but your initial shock was quickly followed by giggles, easing the tension in his shoulders. But the feeling that name sent to your stomach felt more like bats than butterflies. He even joked with you now.

“So I’ve been looking at the blueprints we have for your arm and I was wondering — I know this is a lot to ask — could I maybe spend some more time digging around in your arm?” You flashed him a hopeful smile, even propping your chin on your hand to look cuter.

Before he answered, he put the lid on the blender and started it, staring at you blankly as the sound filled the entire room. You just sat there, continuing to smile at him. And the more you fluttered your lashes while he let the blender run, the more you could see his frown-y facade start to crack.

He finally broke into a smile when he shut the machine off.

“You don’t have to ask, [Y/N]. I mainly train in the mornings so my afternoons are free. As long as I’m here, you can call me in whenever.”

You jumped up and ran around the counter, giving him an unexpected hug, made obvious by the way he tensed up. You elected to ignore it.

“You’re the best, Bucky Bear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, gently pulling away from you to pour his smoothie into two glasses. “I just have one stipulation.” You looked up at him expectantly. “Take the rest of this? I, uh, I made a bit too much.”

With a laugh, you grabbed the nearly full glass and led him down the halls to your lab. Since Peter was only coming back one weekend a month, you had kind of taken over the lab, adding some color to make your workspace a little less drab. Your guilty pleasures playlist — aka your favorite middle school dance songs — played quietly over the speakers as you directed Bucky to sit down.

Getting into his arm wasn’t the easiest task. You had to pry off the opening of each individual outer plate, then unscrew — yes, with a screwdriver — the covering on the inner plates to actually see the wiring inside. Fortunately, Bucky brought his phone with him so he could occupy himself and let you focus. You were a bit surprised at how easily he understood modern technology, but he wasn’t quite the old man Steve was when it came to the changing times.

After spending a solid 10 minutes leaning over the lab table to open Bucky’s arm, you poked around inside for a while, jotting down notes as you went. Shuri had sent Tony quite a few notes for you to reference, but seeing everything firsthand and taking your own notes always helped.

Unfortunately, Bucky had two removable sections in his arm: one on his forearm, one in his bicep.

“Scale of one to ten, how comfy does the table look?” you asked.

Bucky looked up from his phone and gave you a confused look. “Uh, maybe a two? Why?”

“Well, Buckaroo, I need to get to the top plate too so you’ll have to either hold your arm up for me to get to it or lie down somewhere.”

He glanced back down at the table, then looked at you in confusion as he voiced his own suggestion. “What about the couch in the common room?”

You tapped your nose and pointed at him with a smile, gathering your supplies and the rest of Bucky’s arm. He led the way, lying flat on the couch and raising his left arm over his head.

“Is it okay if I play more music out here?” you asked as you unloaded everything.

“Sure. I should probably catch up on modern music anyway,” he said with a soft smile. You had Friday play your guilty pleasures playlist again while you got to work on opening up the top of Bucky’s arm.

You’d been poking around for almost 20 minutes when the silence was broken.

“Music nowadays is so sexual,” Bucky said suddenly.

“Hm. What makes you say that?” you asked, only half paying attention as you drew up more stream-of-consciousness notes on the coffee table beside you.

“This song.” You paused and immediately recognized the beat for “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent.

“Oh come on, as if you didn’t have any inappropriate songs in the ‘40s,” you scoffed.

“Of course we did but it was never this blatant! We were more subtle back then,” Bucky defended.

“Bro,” you deadpan. “If you think ‘Candy Shop’ is obvious, you have way more catching up to do. Friday, play ‘WAP’ by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.”

You watched Bucky react as the song started. Even the initial “there’s some whores in this house” made his eyes go wide. At “wet ass pussy make that pull out game weak,” he turned to you, beet red in the face.

“What kind of music do you listen to?!”

“This is a popular song!” you laughed. “We have some obviously sexual songs that aren’t quite as… vulgar too. Friday, play ‘T-Shirt’ by Thomas Rhett.”

Bucky eyed you cautiously this time, not quite sure if you were actually playing a more censored song. He visibly relaxed when he heard the first lyrics, “Get off of work and we meet down at our spot. We got a patio with a view of a parking lot.”

“See, this is already so much better.”

“Don’t act so innocent,” you smirked, rolling your eyes at him.

“That sounds like an accusation,” Bucky laughed.

“Oh, it is.”

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up to face you directly, one leg landing on each side of your body sitting on the floor. His posture combined with his playful conversation had you wondering where this confidence came from. Because you definitely liked it.

“Come on,” you scoffed. “You can’t convince me a face like that,” you pointed directly at him to emphasize your point, “wasn’t making panties drop left and right back in the day.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself, leaning back on the couch, yet made no move to deny your accusation.

“Who would’ve known my sweet little Bucky Bear was a player?” you joked.

“Oh, like you’re not the same way, Build A Bear.”

“Excuse me?!” you squealed. “I’ll have you know I’m a good little Christian girl and I’m saving myself for marriage,” you said with a grin, maneuvering from sitting on your butt to kneeling and clasping your hands together like you were praying.

“You’re a lot of things, [Y/N]. A good liar is not one of those things,” Bucky smirked.

Your mouth fell agape. You liked this confident, playful side of him. You’d only seen glimpses until now.

“What’s your number?” you asked, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Uhh… My phone number?”

“No, your sexual body count,” you laughed, making sure to clarify; former assassins probably have a different interpretation of ‘body count.’ “How many people have you slept with?”

You knew it was a personal question but given the topic of conversation and casual tone you’d both taken on, it didn’t seem totally out of bounds.

Bucky thought for a second, slowly counting on his fingers. Your eyes watched as the slender metal digits flicked up: one, two, three... “Four.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Because that’s my body count.”

“Doll, I took plenty of dames out on the town, but I’d leave the night with a kiss and nothing else,” he said, that old school Brooklyn lilt sneaking up on him.

You sighed and shook your head, still not believing him but choosing to let it go for now.

“Give me your arm,” you said, holding your hand out. Bucky let his arm drop into your hand while you picked up a microchip with a needle-thin pair of tweezers. “This will adhere to the vibranium and essentially act like a pillow to muffle the sounds of your arm. So it’ll still make noise — I can’t just get rid of all sound — but it’ll be notably quieter.”

You tucked the chip under the inner plating of Bucky’s arm, watching as it sparked over the metal to let you both know it was working.

“Now lie back down so I can put you back together, Humpty Dumpty,” you said.

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, but leaned back on the couch with his left arm over his head. After 15 minutes of angling the plating just right so it would fit back together, you climbed off the couch, distancing yourself from Bucky for the first time in nearly four hours.

“Anything else I can help the mad scientist with today?” Bucky asked. He had moved to rest his elbows on his knees, looking up at you from his spot on the sofa.

You checked your watch to see how much time you had left in your workday. 4:15. Forty-five minutes until you can clock out for the weekend. Not quite close enough to bullshit through some dumb side project so you don’t get too invested. But there’s one thing you wanted to check out to improve the feeling in Bucky’s arm.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you asked plainly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for half a second before he slipped back into his playful demeanor. “Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

“Shut up,” you giggled. You giggled. “I just want to see how the arm is connected to your torso.”

Without pause, Bucky leaned forward, grabbed the back of his shirt, and tugged it over his head to let it fall to the floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t consider what he’d look like underneath his clothing, so it took you a second to gather your bearings again. You couldn’t help yourself. How could you not admire the slender lines of his collarbones, the thick layer of muscle covering his chest, the distinct ridges on his abdomen speckled with scars, the very tip of what you could only assume were two tantalizing depressions leading right to —

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked.

Your eyes met his, reluctantly pulling away from what you knew would be the source of your dreams tonight.

“Four, my ass,” you mumbled in fake annoyance, kneeling between his thighs again to get a better look at him. Your fingertips trailed along the smooth line of scarred skin bordering the harsh metal of his arm. It took all your willpower to focus on work instead of the heat his body was radiating being so close to each other. “Was this how, you know, they put your arm on?”

Bucky shook his head, his expression growing sullen at the indirect mention of his tormentors. “They just kind of dug away at it. The Wakandans actually cut away a bit more of my skin to allow for healthier healing.”

You could tell it was carefully done, judging by the faint discoloring and thin ridge alongside the metal, as opposed to angry red lines that protruded out like the photos Shuri sent.

“Does this area hurt?” You pressed your hand flat to the scar; Bucky had to try to reign in his heartbeat. You had leaned in close to see his arm, leaving you close enough for him to just dip his head down and —

“What’s going on here?”

Both of you whipped your heads to the side to see a very confused — and slightly annoyed — Tony standing in the entrance to the common room, clearly just passing by and stumbling on a somewhat compromising situation: his daughter on her knees between a shirtless Winter Soldier’s thighs.

Without taking your eyes off your father, you reached around on the coffee table and grabbed your notebook.

“Research! I promise!”

“Research that couldn’t happen in your designated lab?” You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but had to keep it to himself for now to avoid telling Bucky who you really were.

“I had to open the compartment in his tricep area and didn’t want to make him lie down on the lab tables for three hours.” The accusatory glare from your dad made you shrink into yourself, your voice growing quieter as you spoke. Fridays were family dinner night, and you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, still eyeing you and Bucky suspiciously. “And why did he need to be half naked for that?”

“Da — Tony,” you said, barely catching yourself. “I mean, Mr. Stark. I was examining the scar tissue and spinal connection to determine how to enhance the sensory receptors currently embedded in the vibranium.”

Tony’s eyes flitted between you and Bucky. Your eyes were wide, clearly nervous as he grilled you. Bucky, on the other hand, was flushed pink and leaning a little too close for Tony’s comfort.

“Keep this PG from now on, okay? And no working outside of the lab. This is Stark Tower, not Bezos Tower. We’re not gonna work you to the bone.” He started to walk away before stepping back and adding, “No fraternizing with coworkers, remember?”

With a quick nod, you stood abruptly and gathered your things to take it back to your lab for the night. Bucky was quick to slip his shirt back on and followed you with his head down to avoid the burning gaze of your father — or as far as he knew, his boss.

You didn’t expect Bucky to go back to your lab with you, but part of you was glad he did. Being around him brought you a sense of calm and comfort, even after what just happened. If he had just walked away, you’d assume the worst: that an accusation like that was far from what he wanted to hear.

You set all your things back on your table to start putting them away when Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that,” he said. You spared a quick glance at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he chose his words carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused on how that situation was somehow his fault.

“Tony… he doesn’t really like me much.”

“Yeah, I know,” you laughed. “But that was way more of a me-problem than a you-problem. We’ll just have to work in here from now on.” You shrugged and went back to putting your tools in their respective drawers.

Bucky still stood right inside the doorway, the door shut behind him so no one outside could hear you two. He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to force himself to follow through with at least mentioning what he planned on asking you.

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted to get dinner together sometime until Tony gave us that speech,” he chuckled.

You slid the final drawer shut and turned to Bucky. You knew you two were getting closer and you couldn’t deny feeling an attraction to him, but you never expected him to feel that same pull. The thought made you smile back at him while he cracked his knuckles, most likely from nerves. What happened to that fun and flirty attitude he had just a few minutes ago?

Your grandma always said to never date a man who wasn’t nervous about asking you out...

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” you said quietly.

His eyes stopped darting around the room to find your gaze. You stepped closer, taking slow steps as you crossed the room to him until you were toe to toe. He didn’t take his eyes off of you until you held your phone out to him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” you said with a small smirk.

His lips curled into a small smile as he snatched your phone and entered his number.

“I’ll text you my address. Does tomorrow night work?” you asked, unintentionally biting your lip but not missing the way Bucky’s eyes followed the movement.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Buck.” You took a bit of a risk and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, his face immediately flushing red. Your own cheeks grew warm when you stepped back, tossing Bucky a quick wave as you turned back around and hoping he’d leave before you started screaming.

[escapewithbts]

“Do you know BTS?” - Yoongi

——————————————————

“I have an iced cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso and 2 Splenda!” You called out, placing the drink on the counter.

It was a busy morning at the local coffee shop you worked at downtown, all the business men and women looking to get their usual morning caffeine fix. You were short staffed, of course, so you were doing way more than you were supposed to; making drinks, taking orders, bringing food to the people who sat at the tables. You were running around frantically trying to keep up, and apparently not succeeding.

“Umm excuse me?” An annoyed looking woman in a black pantsuit approached the pick up counter, drumming her long manicured nails on it’s marble surface, “this was supposed to be a hot cappuccino, NOT iced.”

You furrowed your brows and looked at the label stuck to the cup which clearly read “iced”. In fact, you were the one who took her order, and specifically remember the word iced coming out of her mouth.

But you knew better than to argue, so instead you grabbed the cup and said,

“I’m sorry, m’am, let me remake it hot for you.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“How long will it take?? I really don’t have time to wait around again.”

You shook your head and tried your best to smile, not very well succeeding.

“Just a couple minutes, I’m making it now.”

She let out a loud sigh and crossed her arms. You could feel her staring daggers into your back as you started the espresso machine.

“Hey, (y/n),” your coworker came up behind you with a tray of iced coffees in her hand, “these are for table 4, they’ve been waiting for a while, do you think you could run them over? I have got to get this man’s quiche in the oven.”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the drink you were remaking in front of you.

“Yeah, sure, but can you please finish this woman’s cap first? She’ll probably prefer you making it over me anyway.”

She nodded as she handed you the tray of drinks and took over your spot at the coffee machines. Then you walked out from behind the counter and onto the floor, navigating through the people waiting to order and the people waiting for their drinks.

Suddenly, without warning, someone bumped into you from behind. Hard. You let out a yelp and stumbled forward, the coffees slipping off the tray and splashing all over a man who had been standing in front of you. He jumped a little, startled from the sudden wet and cold sensation on his back. His black t shirt was soaked, clinging to the skin underneath. His arms raised from his sides as he turned around slowly. A few people were staring, but most were too preoccupied with themselves to notice what happened.

Upon the man turning around, you noticed he had wireless headphones in, a black baseball cap on his head, and a face mask over his nose and mouth. You could barely see his eyes as he raised his head up to look at you and removed one of the earbuds from his ear.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry sir let me-“ you started.

“What the fuck?” He interrupted, glaring at you from under the rim of his cap, “Are you serious?”

He fiddled with his shirt, pulling it around forward to see the damage behind and muttered something to himself in what sounded like another language. Korean maybe?

Your face turned beet red and you frantically tried to figure out what to do.

“I-I’m so sorry, can I get you some napkins, um or-or a cloth, um maybe a towel I-“

“No. Just stop.” He interrupted again.

You shut your mouth, feeling horrible at your inability to rectifying the situation.

“Fuck. You should look where you’re going,” he snapped, his voice thick with a foreign accent.

He didn’t have to be so rude.

“I said I was sorry, okay?? It was an accident.”

The man rolled his dark brown eyes and mumbled a quick “whatever” before turning and storming out of the shop.

You sighed and bent down to pick up the now empty glasses off the floor before retreating to the back to get towels to wipe up the mess.

This was so not your day.

Finally, after 10 more long hours, 6pm came. Thank god it was closing time. You were exhausted and couldn’t wait to close up shop and go home. You didn’t mind volunteering to work a double shift as you appreciated the pay, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t take a lot out of you.

The setting sun shone through the large glass windows at the front of the shop creating a beautiful orange glow. You loved this time of day. You had to finish closing alone but you really didn’t mind. It felt calming and quiet and warm, making the cleaning process almost therapeutic.

As you were setting the chairs up on top of the tables to start sweeping, you heard the bell on the front door jingle, signaling it had been opened. You had turned the chalkboard sign outside to read ‘CLOSED’ right at 6, so you were confused as to who it could be.

“Sorry, we are actually closed now,” you said, looking up.

Right away you recognized the same guy you had spilled the iced coffees on earlier during rush hour. He wore the same black hat, same pants and shoes, but this time he bore no face mask and had changed into a white t shirt. Your cheeks immediately turned warm. What did he want? You mentally cursed yourself for not locking the door.

“I know,” he said quietly, walking towards you, “I wanted to be back earlier...”

You swallowed as he got closer, your heart pounding in your ears.

You tried to sound confident but was only able to squeak out,

“What do you want?”

He stopped a few feet from you and removed his hat to reveal soft looking jet black hair, his bangs falling over his forehead and almost covering his eyes. He ran a hand through it and you couldn’t help but notice his soft facial features and pale white skin. Silver hoop earrings hung from both his ears, a collection of thin bracelets wrapped around his thin wrists. He bit his lip hesitantly and looked at the ground before speaking.

“I came back... here to say I am sorry.” He spoke slowly, like he didn’t know English very well. Or rather he did, but was not confident in his abilities.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh.”

He scratched the back of his head.

“I, um, was not nice. I am a little stressed this morning, but I should not have been rude to you,” he still didn’t look at you, his shyness evident, “I know it was accident, so I am sorry for how angry I was.”

He took a deep breath, almost like he was relieved to get that off his chest.

“It’s okay,” you responded with a small smile, beginning to take notice of how handsome he was, especially in this light, but also how adorable his apology was, “I, too, was having a stressful morning. I shouldn’t have snapped back at you.”

He nodded, gazing off to the side.

“No, it is okay. It was all me.”

He smiled slightly and finally looked at you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the eye contact. You were suddenly flustered.

“Do you, um, want something now maybe? Since you didn’t get anything this morning? It’s on me.”

You walked back behind the counter, tying your apron in the process.

“Oh no, no you don’t have to do that,” he protested, “I am fine.”

“Please,” you insisted, “it’s the least I can do. What do you like?”

He thought for a moment.

“Umm, can you make a iced americano?”

You nodded confidently.

“Of course. One iced americano coming right up.”

You felt him watching you as you mixed the espresso shots with cold water before pouring in ice to fill the cup to the brim. You set it on the counter in front of him.

“Here you go.”

He nodded and took the drink in his hand.

“Thank you,” he paused, “Um, also... My name is Yoongi.”

You smiled.

“I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi.”

“You too.”

He took a small sip of the coffee and his eyes got wide.

“Wow. This is the best iced americano I have had ever. Number one iced americano.”

You blushed and looked down.

“Well thank you... but shouldn’t I be the one complimenting you? After all, I’m the one who spilled coffee all over you this morning.”

He let out a chuckle, his mouth wider this time revealing perfect teeth and a gummy smile. He really was adorable.

“Maybe.”

There was a pause as you two just stood there awkwardly.

“Do you...” Yoongi finally spoke, fiddling with the straw in his drink, “Do you know BTS?”

You cocked your head and thought for a moment, wondering why the sudden random question.

“Yes, I think I have heard of them. They are a K-pop boyband, right?”

He nodded gently.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. I don’t know much about them, and I haven’t heard any of their music, but I know so many people adore them. Why do you ask?”

He hesitated, shuffling a little and rubbing the back of his head with his free hand.

“That’s me,” he stated, “I am BTS. My group name is Suga.”

Your eyes got wide. Whoa. A famous artist had come to your coffee shop! You suddenly wished you knew more about them.

“Oh wow! That’s really cool! I’m sorry I don’t know you or your music... But, um, congratulations on all your successes here in the US and around the world. I know you guys are quite well known for breaking that barrier.”

Yoongi chuckled and looked down timidly. Now aware of how well-known and successful he was, his obvious bashfulness really surprised you.

“Thank you. It is an honor, really.”

You smiled at him admiring his humbleness.

“I am here in New York for two more weeks,” he continued, “Ummm maybe... I could come back here and we could drink coffee together?”

He looked up at you again, a rosy colored blush forming across his cheeks.

Your heart sped up. Was he asking you on a date? You suddenly felt giddy and flustered.

“Oh, um, yes. Sure, yes. I would really like that.”

“But maybe next time,” he said with a grin, “I drink the coffee, not wear it. Okay?”

Your face turned red of embarrassment again and you covered it with your hand.

“Well I can’t make any promises,” you laughed, “but I will try my best.”

*

Masterlist

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 7]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, fingering, daddy!kink, dirty talk, ‘cuz you can touch touch me~ 😏 ur gonna need to imagine headband/bandana wearing left&right cheol for this cuz that’s the fantasy i was imagining for this chapter the entire time i was writing it hehe 🍒 quick apologies to anyone who thinks this is moving a little slow 😩 I literally don’t know how to shut up and I end up writing too much LMAO and as always, thank you for the continued interest! Have a great weekend bbys! 💕 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - ?

dom.cheol has donated $400

therealchan99: yea this is about right on course

dom.cheol: what, did u miss me? 😏

gentleman_josh95: loosely

chwenon: more like the obscenely large donations were missing lolol

You jokingly roll your eyes, exhaling deeply as you push your toys off to the side of the bed. You’d just finished your Saturday show without a hitch, albeit feeling a little lonely. “Aww, c’mon you guys! Don’t tease~” Glancing around the room, it did feel a little odd to you now that Seungcheol wasn’t there but he had called earlier in the day and told you that it might’ve been better if he stayed back.

In truth, you understood exactly how he felt.

Part of you was ready to throw all caution out of the window when it came to Seungcheol and he felt it too. But at the same time, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy and that there were still things that the two of you needed to discuss before deep diving into intimacy, especially when it came to powerplay.

kitty_junjun: hey dont take this in a weird way but like

kitty_junjun: i feel like i saw u earlier today…

universe_WZ: ooo i never thought abt that before

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

xcaliburDK: have ppl recognized u irl before? :o

dom.cheol: i feel like i might’ve seen u irl before too…

Your cheeks bloom a hot pink; a nervous giggle on your lips. “Oh! I mean, yeah, there’s been a handful of times. I’ll wear wigs out sometimes though. Can’t have people calling me out in a grocery store, y’know?”

kitty_junjun: wait so maybe i did see u? I dont wanna give out locations tho…

“Maybe! I’m still out on my little weekend trip and I was out and about earlier~ if you see me next time, don’t hesitate to say hi! I promise I don’t bite~” You pause, leaning closer into the webcam as you wink.

“Unless you want me to~”

You start running a bath right after you end your show, stretching and turning on some music as you start to unwind. Thankfully you didn’t have a tiring show today, so you decided to take the rest of the night to pamper yourself in preparation for your day with Seungcheol.

Biting your lip, you pick up your phone, already seeing a multitude of messages from Seungcheol on your lockscreen.

cheollie ✨: don’t forget ur glass of water!

cheollie ✨: also don’t forget i’m picking you up at 9:30am

cheollie ✨: hope ur ready to spend all day at the roller rink with me baby

You can’t help but grin, already excited to see how Seungcheol spent his day at work. Typing a response, you quickly hit send before setting your phone down onto the nightstand and making your way to the bathroom.

‘I can’t wait! I’m so excited~ u promised me free skates and free food so don’t forget!!’

It’s exactly 9:29AM when Seungcheol messages you that he’s downstairs.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down your dress and hair and grabbing your bag before you rush down to meet Seungcheol. 

There’s a mild feeling of nervousness that pours over you, but you quickly shake it off once you see his blue headed figure standing outside of the lobby.

“‘Cheollie!”

He turns around to face you just as you stop in your tracks; gasping when you see the cute way he’s styled his hair for today. “Whoa… wow, uh, j-just.. Wow. You look great in bandanas...”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes forming crescents. “I don’t usually work the weekends so I thought I’d spice it up a little. Guess it looks good?” You can only nod shakily, mentally cursing yourself when you feel the arousal already pooling inside your body. He winks at you once, opening the passenger’s side door as you slide into his car.

“Hope you’re ready to have a boring day at the roller rink with me.” He gives you a tight lipped smile, shutting your door before he rounds the car to get in on the driver’s side.

“I’m telling you, it’s not going to be… y’know, anything crazy.”

“Who says it has to be! I’m excited to see where you work and anyway you promised!” You tease, poking him in the arm as he starts the car. “I know, I know… I just---I don’t want you to be disappointed. I bet you thought I was some rich old hotshot before, huh?” Seungcheol shoots you a glance, smiling gently.

“Mmm.. not really.”

“No? You didn’t think I was some lonely CEO with loads of money with a thing for camgirls?”

You laugh at his response, placing your hand over his on the gear shift.

“Nah, if there’s anything I thought about you, it was that you were way too nice to be on some camming website.”

The two of you have idle conversation as Seungcheol takes his time to drive to the roller rink. In all honesty, he was a little nervous himself, although he’d never say it to your face.

“Oh my god, is that it?! It’s so cute!”

He parks close to the entrance, turning the car off as he jogs over to your side to help you out. “‘Cheol, you know you don’t have to be so sweet~” You pout, latching onto his arm as he locks the car.

“Oh but I do. You deserve to be spoiled once in a while!”

A blush coats your cheeks yet again, shy eyes fixated on the floor as he walks you towards the entrance. “Yeah, but all you ever do is spoil me… That sybian was no joke and my god, Seungcheol, the price! I almost had half a mind to return it…” You end in a mumble. Seungcheol laughs, opening the door for you as you unlatch from his arm and step in first.

“You’re worth spoiling. Now stop worrying, okay? I promise I’m not up to anything illegal in order to afford your gifts.” Giggling, you lean up to kiss him on the cheek, nodding firmly.

“Fiiiiine, I trust you, y’know?”

“I know, baby. I trust you too, now let’s go meet my best friend who’s going to play butler for you today.”

He leads you over to the concession stand where an equally tall yet bored male stands. “Hey, Jeongguk!” The said male looks up from his phone, eyebrow quirking when the two of you walk up. “Uh, hey Seungcheol-hyung…” Seungcheol feels a weird tenseness fall over the three of you, clearing his throat to get Jeongguk’s attention when he finds the younger male staring.

“Um, this is my friend. She’s---uh, she’s gonna be hanging out here for the rest of the day. I promised her that you’d give her free food, so uh, just--just let me know how much it is so I can tell Namjoon to take it out of my paycheck.” Jeongguk grins, a sly look in his eyes when he finally meets Seungcheol’s concerned eyes.

“Sure! Can I talk to you over there? It’s about our paychecks actually.” Jeongguk turns to you, leaning over the counter. “Sorry, employee only info, ch--uuuuuh, you know the deal.”

“Yeah, of course!”

Jeongguk points off to the side, gesturing to Seungcheol who follows suit.

The younger male makes sure they’re a safe distance away, watching as you pluck your phone out of your purse before he starts talking in harsh whispers. “What the fuck, dude!? You’re---no, you’re not fucking Cherry. She doesn’t have a boyfriend so what the fuck?”

The blood drains from Seungcheol’s face; the feeling in his fingers going numb as his throat goes dry. “Wuh--what? What are you---what are you talking about?” Jeongguk scoffs, eyes rolling jokingly.

“So, hyung, how do you know her?”

“You’re asking me?! How do you know her!?” Seungcheol’s eye twitches just as Jeongguk shoots him an incredulous look, arms crossed in mock annoyance. “I’m a horny boy, what can I say.”

“Please do not ever use those words to describe yourself again.”

The younger male stands in silence, nodding in thought.  

“Fuck, wow, I should’ve noticed. All those extra shifts you were taking, the reason why you could never come hang… You don’t like working here as much as Yoongi-hyung but you--holy---holy shit, wait--you… you can’t be…”

Fuck, here it comes.

“You’re fucking ‘dom.cheol’ aren’t you? You’re the one always leaving her insane fuckin’ donations all the time… and the gifts.. Oh my god. The ‘cheol’ was from Seungcheol, I should’ve known...”

Seungcheol dies a million deaths inside his head; the ringing in his ears becoming unbearable while Jeongguk stares at him in mild disbelief. “It all clocks out, holy fuck. No wonder you were so fucking eager to pick up so many extra shifts…” Seungcheol’s mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure what to say.

“I mean, fuck hyung, I--I’m kind of impressed but wow. You think you know a guy, huh?” Jeongguk laughs, patting the older male on the shoulder. “She’s only one of the hottest camgirls out there right now. You’re a lucky man, hyung.”

A weird possessiveness washes over Seungcheol, hands gently balling up into fists at his side. “Okay, well, she… she’s just here to chill, alright? Don’t do anything weird. And most of all, don’t say anything weird either.” The younger male nods, already walking back to where you were standing.

“Hey, sorry, hyung’s paycheck is gonna be pretty sad next week and I had to let him down gently. Anyway, I’m Jeongguk. You are?”

You give him a fake name; shaking his hand over the counter as he grins at you.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You spend the first two hours on the floor skating; catching Seungcheol’s eyes on you from time to time as he sits nearby cleaning skates. The place seemed pretty empty, which was something that Seungcheol was immensely glad for.

Eventually you skate off out of the rink, making your way to Seungcheol who smiles at you when you come sit next to him. “Told you. Bored already, huh?” The two of you share a laugh, watching as the few other people continue to skate around the rink.

“I mean… it’s different! Right about now I’d usually be six episodes into a new series or something… It’s nice to be somewhere else and doing something different.”

He nods in return, slightly pouting when he turns to face you. “I hate that you have to go home tonight.” You mirror his sentiments, lips quirking into a sad smile.

“I know… I don’t wanna go home…”

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting over to Jeongguk. “Hey, maybe we can bail a little early. This place is pretty dead anyway, and I--I can have Jeongguk clock me out when he leaves. My shift is supposed to end at 3PM and it’s noon now so… We can leave in a hour? Maybe get a late lunch?”

“Seungcheol… I don’t want you to get in trouble…” You mumble, brows furrowing in concern. “Really, it’s okay! We can just hang here ‘til then and still have time to get dinner!” He sighs, knowing you were right. Now was not the right time to be testing the waters with Jeongguk and Namjoon.

“Okay, okay, you win, baby.”

It takes 45 minutes.

45 minutes and a free drink from the concession stand before your mind starts wandering.

You watch Seungcheol converse with Jeongguk behind the concession stand; his cute laugh sending you into orbit when your eyes meet and you can’t stop the thrums of lust pouring over your body when a certain idea pops into your head.

Seungcheol turns his attention back to the younger male and you quickly start to unlace your skates and put your normal shoes back on before Seungcheol’s entire break gets taken up. 

You walk up to the two; Seungcheol cleaning off his hands before he exits from behind the counter.

“Seungcheol…” You softly call out; a look of concern crossing his features when he stops in front of you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, mmhmm! I just--I need to talk to you, if that’s okay?” Jeongguk already turns to leave, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You drag Seungcheol away, tugging him towards an even emptier part of the roller rink as the concern builds up inside of him. “I have an idea.” He feels himself gulp, already anticipating what you have to say.

“And…?”

“Well… It’s… It won’t t-take long I don’t think, just… hear me out?” You question gently, head tilting cutely up at Seungcheol who already knows he can’t say no to you. “Okay, shoot.”

“Wh--what if we… film a small POV v-video… like, not a live one! Just a small upload on my channel to test the waters maybe? I just---you don’t have to say anything and--and it’ll be quick, and--and like, nothing major just a little, um, f-fingering and--oh my god, sorry, I shouldn’t have a-asked, that’s just---I’m s-sorry I was thinking about it and it kinda got to me and I’m---I’m kinda already wet just thinking about it and--”

“No, let’s… let’s do it. To be fair, people seem to like risqué public things like that right?” A crimson blush falls on Seungcheol’s cheeks as he turns the tables, wrapping a hand around your wrist as he walks you to the employee restroom. “It’s… there shouldn’t be anyone in here so we should be safe.” He mutters, checking to make sure before he ushers you inside and locks the door behind him.

“I don’t know what to do so you’ll have to guide me a little here, baby.”

You nod, pulling your phone out and opening the camera app. Scrolling, you put it in video mode, clicking the red button before passing it to Seungcheol. “I’ve never done it either but I’m sure I can just… crop it and I m-mean it’s meant to be a little shoddy, right?” You giggle nervously, body already on fire when Seungcheol makes the camera face you. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not comfortable with your voice being in the video, I just need… this.”

You reach for his free hand, playing with it as you run your fingertips across the veins. “I’m sorry, daddy… I just… I couldn’t help but think about your fingers inside my tight pussy...” Seungcheol almost loses his grip on your phone; palm clammy when he watches as you bring his hand underneath your short dress.

“Please… please, won’t daddy fuck me with his fingers? I promise I’ll be good for the rest of the day if he lets me cum on his fingers…” You whine.

Seungcheol isn’t ready to have his voice heard yet, so he nods, fingers twitching in your hold.

You take this as an okay to continue, dragging his hand up until his knuckles graze your panties. “O-oh, fuck…”

This time Seungcheol takes the lead; his own body ablaze when he can already feel your wetness soaking through your panties. He presses into it, digging his fingers into the wet material until it sticks to you like a second skin. “D-daddy, please, please, put them inside, I need it!!” You mewl, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible while still being audible enough on camera.

He shoots you a look; one that tells you to hike your dress up until your soaking panties are seen through the camera lens. And you easily follow, holding your dress up as Seungcheol drops to his knees, angling the camera upwards until only his fingers and your clothed pussy are in view. You spread your legs a little more, back resting on the wall behind you.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer…”

He gulps once, saying a prayer before he slowly pushes your panties to the side. And you all but lose any semblance of sanity the second he runs his fingertips through your wetness, pussy clenching around emptiness. “Fuck--fuck me, please!”

Once Seungcheol deems his fingers wet enough, his eyes meet yours, asking for silent consent before he makes any further moves. You nod frantically, fingers gripping the material of your dress tightly.

Seungcheol bites his lip the second he starts sinking his first finger into your tight warmth; already feeling the drool pooling in his mouth when you moan loudly. He starts a slow pace, mentally noting just how obscenely wet you are when he drags his finger out slowly. “Ngh, daddy m-more, please, I can take it, I wanna be f-full~” He gives it a few more thrusts of his index finger before he adds his middle finger; this time slowly sinking both digits into your pussy as you whimper above him.

His eyes flit up, mesmerized when he sees your face contort in bliss. “O-oh my god, I’m--I’m already so close… Daddy’s fingers are so much bigger and thicker than mine, it fuh--feels so good…” You mutter; squirming when Seungcheol doesn’t move.

And it takes him a second; too fixated on the way your tight walls only seem to suck his fingers in deeper.

But he starts a moderate pace, scissoring and curling his fingers inside of you until you’re reduced to whines and soft breathy moans.

He can already feel you getting tighter around his fingers after a few more minutes; doubling his pace when you start to beg.

“Oh my god, oh my god, ‘m so close, fuck! P-please touch my clit, daddy, please make m-me c--cum!”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his pants but he focuses on you, thumb immediately on your clit as he rubs harsh and quick circles on the swollen nub. He doesn’t know how much time has passed or if his break is over, but the look of absolute pleasure on your face is enough to make him not care.

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, holding them still as he continuously rubs your clit until you’re cumming; thighs shaking as you let out shaky breaths above him.

“Oh m-my god, daddy!” You mumble in a hurried frenzy, thighs clamping around his hand between your legs as the pleasure washes over you.

Seungcheol lets you ride out your high, gently wiggling his fingers inside of you as he starts to slow down.

“Mmh… Seungcheol…”

Oh fuck.

He definitely liked it when you moaned his name. 

“Y-yes…?” It’s his cue to turn off the camera, shaky finger pressing the ‘stop’ button. He gently slides his fingers out of you, muttering an apology when you wince.

“You don’t have to say sorry! It’s just… ‘m sensitive…” You mewl, already missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Y-yeah, of course! I, um, I hope that was okay? I’ll give you a second to get cleaned up, I’ll uh, run and get you some water.”

You nod in response, thanking him before he quickly washes off his hands and bolts out of the restroom; ears and cheeks redder than a tomato.

Once you’re alone, you quickly open your camera roll, clicking on the video as you hurriedly crop out the beginning and end, making sure that the short video didn’t have any incriminating details before you open up your camming homepage.

There’s a moment of unsureness that makes you pause. You bite the inside of your cheek, weighing the potential outcomes of posting this to your page. 

But before you can change your mind, you quickly start the upload; adding a title and a short description before you lock your phone to let it process.

In the meantime, you get cleaned up, checking your appearance in the mirror once before picking up your phone again. Unlocking it, you find the upload has finished and you exhale sharply, publishing the video before locking the device again.

You move to exit the restroom, already finding Seungcheol holding a bottle of water on the other side.

“Oh, there you are! Everything okay?”

“Mmhmm! I uploaded the video before I could change my mind so I’m a little nervous…” You trail off, accepting the bottle that Seungcheol passes you.

“Well, the good news is, we’re bailing, now. I told ‘Guk to clock me out so we should get out of here so I can get your mind off of that.”

He shoots you a genuine smile, offering his hand which you take.

“Let’s fuckin’ get some ice cream, I think we deserve it.”

Seungcheol takes you on a scenic drive, taking you to an ice cream shop further away from town.

The two of you sit down in a booth towards the back of the shop and he helps clear your head, talking about various topics to keep your mind off of the huge risk you’d just taken.

“Anyway, that’s one of the reasons why I’m never bar-hopping with ‘Guk again. He’s got no limit, nobody can keep up and nobody wants to keep paying the uber fees.” You laugh as Seungcheol finishes his story, taking a sip of your milkshake.

You can’t help but sigh after a few seconds, pouting at Seungcheol who blinks questioningly at you. “‘Cheollie, I don’t wanna go home…” He stares back, unsure of what to say. A million different thoughts run through his mind in the split second before he opens his mouth.

“Why don’t you stay with me for a couple more days?”

Seungcheol doesn’t understand the gravity of his words until they spill out of his mouth; a panicked look on his face when you go completely silent in the seat across from him. “I m-mean, uh, I mean, like, fuck. I’m sorry, that must’ve been way too out of bounds. I just---it’s just, you don’t want to go home and---and I can take care of you while you’re here! Even if it’s just a couple days. I can help you film too!” He curses himself for rambling; immediately shutting himself up.

“I--I don’t want to bother you, ‘Cheol… That’s really too kind of you…” A shy blush coats your skin; chewing on your bottom lip when you shyly avoid his gaze. “A-and my filming stuff is back home too… I brought a few toys with me so I could film my weekend shows but--but my camera…”

“I can ask Jeongguk!”

You shoot him a bewildered look, brow quirking. “He--he streams sometimes too, like, video games ‘n shit. He actually offered me his extra equipment a while back, if I ever wanted to get into it myself. I can ask to borrow it, if you want?”

You drink in his words, unsure. The thought of staying with Cheol might’ve danced across your mind a handful of times, but now that the offer was on the table, you weren’t sure how to respond.

You trusted Seungcheol, and you knew by now that he would never do anything to hurt or betray you. But this was a far leap from how things were the last time you’d seen him.

“Listen, I can see the cogs in your head turning, baby. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m not forcing your hand into anything you don’t want. But I know you’ve been wanting to get out a ‘lil more and… well, in truth, I think it’d be nice for both of us? I can take care of you while you’re here with me and we can keep each other company.” He pauses, smiling at you from across the booth. “But I can also take you back to your hotel room and let you pack so you don’t get home too late.”

“‘Cheol I trust you.. It’s just that… I’m s-scared…”

“Scared? Of what, baby?”

The warmth blooms inside of you; shy eyes meeting his.

“Scared that I’m not gonna wanna go home…”

Seungcheol takes it easy for the rest of the day and doesn’t make an effort to get an answer out of you. He takes you around the city, tugging you into shops he thinks you’d like and walking around with you aimlessly until the sun goes down.

But time seems to go even faster once he takes you to dinner; a sigh on his lips when he knows he has to bring the topic back up.

“I hate to ask but… I have to take you back to your hotel after this so…” Seungcheol trails off, leaving it open-ended for you.

“I know… I just want to know… Why do you like me so much?”

The question takes Seungcheol by surprise; eyes wide as saucers. “I--I’m sorry I don’t follow?” You chuckle under your breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s just… we were strangers, kind of, before Friday, you know what I mean? And now you’re offering your place to me to just… crash at for a few days? What if I rob you blind? Or what--what if you try something with me that I don’t like?” You suddenly start catastrophizing; mind going a mile a minute with potential outcomes.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, wait. Calm down, sweetheart. It’s okay! Breathe!” You let out a shaky exhale, groaning as you hide your face in your palms. “God, ‘Cheol, ‘m sorry, I--I really want to stay with you for a few days. It’s just that my brain is going light speed and I can’t keep up. I really like you too, you’ve been nothing but kind and sweet and you’re so handsome, it’s just so crazy to me...” Your words are slightly muffled but Seungcheol catches it, a soft chuckle on his lips when he leans his head on his palm.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa and leave you alone. You can take the bed. Hell, you can even rob me blind and I’d say thank you.”

He reaches his free hand over, fingers circling your wrist as he pulls your hand down. “And I’m offering you my place because I like you as you. You’re cute and funny, and so fuckin’ humble. And I want to get to know you better. In person, y’know?”

“Y-yeah… I wanna get to know you better too. And it’s only a couple days right?”

“Right.”

Seungcheol drives you back to your hotel, a smile on his face when he sees you in better spirits.

He parks his car in front, turning to face you. “So I’ll just wait here while you grab your things and check out, okay? I’ll contact ‘Guk to see if I can swing by and take that extra equipment he offered.”

This time you nod cheerily, body buzzing with excitement as you hurriedly step out of his car. “I’ll be quick!”

He gives it a moment before he picks his phone up, taking a deep breath before typing out a message to the younger male.

‘Hey, ‘Guk I have a favour. Get back to me asap if u can.’

Jeon 🥴 : bold of u to msg me…

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features; fingers hovering over the keyboard. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jeongguk takes a second to send a screenshot, Seungcheol’s cheeks burning a crimson colour when he sees the content.

Jeon 🥴: it’s the employee restroom for me.

Jeon 🥴: bruh it’s also the fuckin way i knew it was u before i even played the video… fuck man is that why u too so long on ur break? u do kno u went over right, I clocked it cuz i was expecting u to come back sooner

Jeon 🥴: for the rec im not mad, actually im impressed just cant believe this is u

Seungcheol ignores Jeongguk’s messages, instead opening the screenshot again and re-reading the video title.

‘I was so needy… 🥺 so I asked daddy to finger me in public…’

Jeon 🥴: bitch i kno ur reading this im dropping the hyung bc u kept this from me!!

Jeon 🥴: after i even offered u my extra camming stuff u were already doing it behind my back…

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at the younger male’s dramatic nature, fingers quickly swiping across the keyboard.

‘Alright, I’m sorry okay? I just didn’t think my online habits needed to be public knowledge and for the record, that was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that. I promise no more secrets, unless absolutely necessary. And also speaking of that extra equipment, can I swing by and grab it from your place?’

Jeon 🥴: r u gonna cam now? u got one sip of the devils juice and now ur all in?

‘Would u stop being dramatic oh my god. It’s not for me, it’s for ‘cherry’. She’s going to be staying with me for a few days and I fully expect you to keep your mouth shut on this.’

Seungcheol grimaces when he calls you by your online handle; already feeling unfamiliar with it.

Jeon 🥴: o i c. sure, u can come pick it up, simp. I’ll make sure she’s got all the necessary things before u get here and u owe me one!! i fully expect u to come stream with me at least once for keeping ur secrets 

‘It’s a deal. I’ll be there in an hour and a half.’

A sigh escapes Seungcheol’s lips, his eyes dancing over to your figure that skips towards the car. He locks his phone just as you tap on the glass, popping the trunk before he steps out.

“How’d it go? All checked out?”

“Mmhmm! Did you get in contact with Jeongguk? What’d he say?”

A nervous laugh spills from his lips as he puts your small luggage in the trunk, slamming it shut before rounding the car to open your door. “I’ll help you get settled in at my place and then I’ll drive over really quick and grab the stuff from his place.”

You hop in his car, fiddling with the seatbelt until Seungcheol slides into the driver’s seat.

“He didn’t ask what you needed it for?” Gulp. Shit.

“I just told him that I was thinking about streaming, for--for gaming stuff. He was okay with it.”

He’d tell you the truth. Soon, he promises.

No. Now.

Seungcheol sighs, hands on the wheel as he stares straight ahead. “No, no, I--I can’t sit here and lie to you. Jeongguk knows you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier, I told him to keep his mouth shut because I didn’t want him to bother you while we were at the roller rink.”

“I--oh…”

He can only nod; eyes dancing over to you as you play with the hem of your dress. “Yeah, I--I’m really sorry. He--He also found out I was ‘dom.cheol’ too and, fuck, I--I don’t know, I kind of panicked too. I hid that part of me from everyone I know so it was just… it was a lot.”

You meet his sad eyes, shooting him a small smile of your own. “It’s okay! It’s a little funny that happens right after that ‘kitty_junjun’ says he saw me in person too, huh? I mean, thanks for trying to protect me at least. It must’ve been weird for you too.”

“Yeah… If you’re not comfortable anymore, I… I’d understand too.” Seungcheol prepares himself for the worst, knowing that there was a chance that this was goodbye.

“Are you kidding! What’s one person gonna do? And you said he’s your best friend and you trust him… I’ll have to take a leap of faith on that one but… I trust you.”

You lean over the center console, kissing him on the cheek. “And anyway, as long as he’s not one of those weirdos asking for ‘favours’, I think we’re in the clear, right?”

Seungcheol grimaces; as long as it’s from me and not you, he thinks.

[peaches-writes]

there’s nine days left until christmas

skz of christmas day 1: early morning mass with jisung

member: jisung wc: 1.6k genre: fluff, comedy, childhood friends to lovers au (but the lovers part is so tiny), neighbour au warning: explicit language note: this the one time im making church boys skz happen bc it’s kinda funny + i made a rlly corny joke somewhere there but u hav to squint rlly rlly hard

Having to live in the city for almost 350 out of 365 days a year in order to study at university, you’ve naturally come to appreciate the peace and quiet of the countryside you would spend long stretches of holidays at. From the screeching but natural sound of roosters replacing your phone’s alarm clock to the gentle breeze that doesn’t need you to run around in circles a few times to brush past your open arms, you’re always looking forward to staying with your grandparents in a small mountainside village just an hour away from the main road because of all the healing it has to offer.

Well, maybe except small but constant inconvenience in your visits in the form of your neighbor, Han Jisung.

“Ji, I swear I will drag you out of your bed and take you to church in your pajamas if you don’t get up right now.” You threaten the still snoring boy on the bed you’ve been crouching next to for the past five minutes. Slapping his cheek once more, you frantically try and wake him up again by adding, “Han Jisung, get up now! We’re going to be late!”

Like you, Jisung only visits on Christmases and a few weeks at the beginning of each summer. He stays with his own grandparents who live next door to yours which, in hindsight, sounds like it doesn’t give you much reason to be hovering over him at 3:55 AM on a Thursday if not for the fact that when there’s 9 days left before Christmas Day (aka today), your grandparents want to attend the early morning mass in the town proper but the only means of transportation is the shuttle that only comes at 4 AM.

Jisung’s clearly not a morning person, either, so you can see where your problems currently lie.

“Jisung...” You call his name again between gritted teeth now. You’ve pulled the covers, took his extra pillows away, and switched off the electric fan across the room but to no avail—the boy just groaned, whined, and curled up into a ball on his sleeping bag. “Deadass the only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because your grandma promised me rice cakes again if I got you dressed before the shuttle arrives so wake up, you dumbass, or I’ll turn you into the rice cake.”

In front of you, Jisung only rubs his closed eyes and whines even more. “Five more minutes, baby.” He mumbles under his breath, lazily bringing his bare arm up to his face to cover his eyes from the harsh light flickering on the ceiling.

The nickname has you rolling your eyes and smacking his head. In frustration, you then stand up from your position and walk over to his closet, throwing him his clothes. “I’m going to count down to five and if you still haven’t opened your eyes and started changing, I’m calling Minho in from next do—“

The mere mention of your other childhood friend across the street immediately has the boy opening his eyes and throwing the random shirt over his head.

-

“You have drool on your face, dumbass.” You point to Jisung with your index finger, chuckling when he aggressively wipes on the area right next to his bottom lip. “The whole church would smell the morning breath through the speakers.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, sinking into his seat with his acoustic guitar hugged to his chest and a yawn. “What’s taking so long, anyway?”

“The priest who’s supposed to preside had something come up last minute, apparently,” You shrug, flipping through the song book and practicing on the old piano in the mean time. Nearby, both of your grandmas are conversing animatedly with the rest of the choir while your grandfathers have both wandered off somewhere—most likely to the small vendors outside the building. “I’ll give it ten minutes until they get the priest from the next village.”

Jisung groans, finally placing his guitar back on its stand and sitting up properly only to scoot closer to you and rest his head on your shoulder. “I could’ve gotten more sleep at home.”

You immediately shrug him off in response but to no avail. “And who said you can sleep on my shoulder?”

“You woke me up so you take responsibility.” He pouts, linking your arms to hold you in place and adjusting his head on the crook of your neck. “Wake me up when we’re about to start, okay? Goodnight!”

“Ya, Han Jisu—ya!” You tilt your head down to meet his gaze to find his eyes already closed forcibly shut. When you flick his forehead and complain even more, he simply cusses at you and swats your hand away with his free hand. “So that’s how it is...”

“Don’t you dare...”

Moving your hands as close to the piano keys as you can, you then surprise the sleeping boy by practicing on the piano as loudly as you can. Great Amen echoes throughout the entire church, amplified further by the speakers set up near every pew and, naturally, veryone in vicinity jumps in surprise, including your own grandma who drops her fan, Jisung’s grandma who almost topples over in her seat, and even Seungmin who’s supposed to help sacristans this morning with the candles. 

“I hate you so much.” Jisung mumbles with furrowed brows. 

“Then get off my shoulder.” 

“No.” 

- 

“Why are you playing a Bb6? It’s a Gm7.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

You and Jisung squint your eyes at each other as you continue playing through the song anyway. Fortunately, the people sitting in for choir haven’t noticed the small mistakes yet and you’re already halfway through the mass.

“It was a Gm7.” Jisung insists anyway, leaning forward on your piano to look at the handwritten music score properly as he strums his guitar. “Whoever wrote this needs to get their ears checked.”

“You wrote this in last year with Changbin.” You point out, biting down a chuckle. The song then finally finishes and the two of you lean back in your shared seat to wait for the next one. When you look over at the choir where your grandmas have been for the past forty minutes, you see them paying attention to the mass and not at all caring about the two of you arguing. “I’m trying to follow you, dumbass.”

Stubbornly, Jisung scrunches up his nose in denial. “No, I don’t think so? I’d remember if we did.” He defends himself, earning him an eyeroll from you as he then picks up a nearby pencil and writes the ‘correct’ chord on the paper. “Anyway, it’s only the first mass.” 

You’d erase the correction on any other day had your grandma cued you again for another song. Sitting up properly (and making sure you elbow Jisung enough for him to scoot away and give you space to play on the lower keys), you then deadpa, “You don’t even remember anything else you write.” 

“Yes I d—!” Before his tone of voice could rise up higher and disrupt the entire mass, you make sure to push him back from the microphone nearest to his mouth by placing a hand over his face. “Ya!”

- 

Speaking of your other other childhood friend, you and Jisung immediately trail after Changbin once the mass concludes. Stifling your giggles as you try and blend in with the crowd of aunties who are now talking about where they could eat breakfast together and children who’ve just woken up from napping throughout the entire ceremony, you find your target by the rice cake vendors at the church entrance with the same (almost annual) look of distress on his face. 

“Third year in a row.” You whisper to Jisung as the two of you hid in the mini garden right in front of the church. Just a few meters ahead, Changbin is still contemplating on buying the rice cakes. “Do you think he’ll do it this year?”

Next to you, Jisung is quick to shake his head. “Sorry to break it to you, baby, but did you see him back there? He couldn’t even hold the other person’s hand!” He laughs, a hand hovering over his lips to muffle the sound. “I’m pretty sure the rice cakes are gonna take another two years.”

“I did, I saw him! He looked nervous as fuck I felt really bad for him!” You topple over in laughter at this, clasping your hands together. “Ah, Changbin shouldn’t always be hanging out at the rice cake vendors after every mass if he’s not going to buy. He keeps giving them—and us—false hope!”

“Can you believe this guy ditched us to flirt? He can’t even do it properly.” Jisung dramatically scoffs, breaking into another fit of laughs when Changbin walks away from the rice cake vendor at seeing his crush already walking home. “We should ambush him later when we play basketball, ‘no?”

“And you think you can do better?” You quirk an eyebrow teasingly, elbowing Jisung by his side. “Flirt, I mean?” 

“Yeah, totally!” Jisung nods with so much conviction and exaggerated determination in his expression that it makes you laugh again. “Stop doubting my skills, Y/N!” 

“Of course I’d doubt it, you’re all bark and no bite most of the time.” You scrunch up your nose, making his eyes widen and a string of protests to come out of his lips. “What? It’s true!”

“That’s not fair, you only see me on Christmas and summer!” 

“Exactly.” You cross your arms smugly which he squints his eyes at. “So, think you can do better than Seo Changbin, Ji? Prove it!” 

Taking your hand in his, Jisung then pulls you up to a stand and starts dragging you over to the rice cake vendors. “Oh, I will prove it.” He rolls his eyes, even going as far as intertwining your fingers before you could even fully comprehend what’s happening so suddenly. “What color of rice cake do you want, baby? Also, you like cheese on the rice cake, right?” 

-

december 17 (lee felix)

skz of christmas (masterlist)

m.list

@skzwriternet 

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (17/18)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I told you it wouldn’t take as long to get this one up! And to everyone messaging about Walking the Baseline, I have started writing the next part! ❤️

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 

-/-

The swan is staring at her.

It is legitimately staring at her from its spot on her dresser with its beady little black marble eyes. For weeks, Emma has thought it was cute, has treasured its presence in her room. It’s the only thing anyone has ever won for her, which seems miniscule, but when you don’t have a lot, it’s a big freaking deal. That night had been awful, her heart warring with her over Neal and his presence at the fair, but then she had this dumb stuffed animal to hold onto – and squeeze onto instead of slapping Neal, if she’s honest. Killian had won it for her to make her happy, even if just for a little while, and while she hadn’t realized her feelings for him in that moment, she should have.

Anyone who plays rigged carnival games to make someone happy is probably a good person, and Killian Jones is definitely a good person.

A good person who was (is, hopefully) her friend who she then started fucking who then ended that, and now she sits in her room in the dark at seven in the morning staring at a stuffed swan.

What a weird thought process.

What a weird relationship.

What a weird couple months.

When Emma looks back on it, she can’t believe this is how her life has been lately. She ended a half-decade long relationship, had her heart shattered into pieces, and then she made the stupid decision to be friends with benefits with the last person she should have done that with. Who even does shit like that?

She does, apparently.

But the night of Liam and Elsa’s engagement party, she was tipsy and upset and needed to forget the pain. Killian seemed like the perfect person to do that with, especially knowing how easily he does casual relationships. As she now knows, having a casual relationship and having a casual relationship with Killian Jones are two different things.

At least when you’re her.

Now, though, she doesn’t know what relationship she has with Killian. They’re friends, always have been, but things have been…different since they stopped sleeping together. They don’t text as much, they certainly don’t hang out like they used to, and when they do, things are stiff. The conversations don’t flow, arguments fly more freely, and Emma has no idea what to do about any of it. She’s tried not to think about any of it and pretend that everything is fine, but then moments like this hit and it’s impossible. Liam and Elsa are getting married tomorrow, have their rehearsal dinner tonight, and Emma and Killian have to spend time together.

They’re going as each other’s dates.

And she feels like such a cliché at the end of a romantic comedy where people are being forced to gather at a wedding with romance everywhere, where she mopes around waiting for things to get better. That’s not real life, though. Some floral arrangements and twinkly lights do not solve relationship problems, especially when you’re not in a relationship to begin with.

Especially when the other person wants nothing to do with you.

Emma sighs and flops onto her mattress, pulling a pillow over her mouth and loudly groaning into it. She’s pathetic. This is why she hasn’t allowed herself to have any free time since the weekend in the mountains. She’s stayed busy, throwing herself into work and her runs. She’s even read the stack of books that’s been on her nightstand for months, but mostly she’s made sure to be surrounded by friends, even if that does include Killian. David and Mary Margaret, bless them and their inability to read the room, have continuously brought Graham around thinking Emma is open to dating him. She’s not. He’s a sweet man she gets along with and in another world, she might consider dating him. It’s not another world, however, and she doesn’t want to date Graham Humbert.

All she wants is Killian like the pathetic woman she is.

And for the freaking stuffed swan to stop staring at her.

After screaming into her pillow once more and kicking her legs up and down like a petulant child, Emma throws the pillows off of her and shifts from underneath her comforter. Begrudgingly, she stretches her arms above her head, her muscles aching from overuse, and she walks to her bathroom. Slowly but surely, she gets ready, spending extra time washing her hair and shaving while her phone plays music loud enough for her to sing along to. Once she feels alive again, she steps out of the shower, pulling her hair into a towel and walking to her vanity. She brushes her teeth and does her makeup, going ahead and applying the smoky eye she wants to wear tonight. She’ll look ridiculous until the sun sets, but she’s not coming home in between work and the rehearsal and doesn’t want to pack her full makeup kit. It’s the same reason she blows her hair out and curls it before pulling on a black jumpsuit. She’s had it for years, but never had a chance to wear it. It hugs her curves and flares out at the legs. There’s a cutout on her stomach and the cleavage dips, and to cover that up so she doesn’t get fired, she pulls a cropped sweater on top. An hour later, she leaves her apartment and drives through Storybrooke to get to the club.

This is just another day. Emma can make it through.

She’s made it through every bad day so far, most of them a hell of a lot worse than having to eat dinner with Killian Jones by her side.

With Labor Day over and summer beginning to fade away, tourists have fled from Storybrooke and returned to their normal lives. The beaches are empty, the restaurants barely occupied, and Storybrooke Country Club is only frequented by members who either live in the area or who avoid the main summer rush. Walking the hallways alone is odd after spending months not having a moment to herself, and since there’s no one around, Emma takes off her heels and walks down the hallway barefoot. There’s a luncheon in one of their smaller dining rooms, so Emma checks to make sure the linens and the menu are still correct from when she checked last night, and once she’s sure they are, she moves to their nicest ballroom where Liam and Elsa are having their reception tomorrow. They were going to have the ceremony inside as well, but since the weather looks like it’s going to be nice, they’re having it on the deck with the ocean in the background.

She thinks most of this place is stuffy and stuck-up, but she does love this ballroom. The windows are large and look out to the ocean, and if they open the doors, it connects to the expansive deck with string lights hanging over the ceiling. Tomorrow, when the sun sets and those lights are turned on along with the lights inside, everything will be cast in a magic glow. Emma looks around at the chairs lining the sides of the walls and the tables out, and she sighs. Someone was supposed to put everything out, and after calling around and finding no one, Emma starts arranging the tables and chairs herself. It takes her hours, especially when she starts putting out linens and setting the tables, and while florists won’t come in until tomorrow, she marks the places for the arrangements to be set. She nearly calls Mary Margaret and asks her to come in on her day off, but she likes being busy. It keeps her mind off things.

Too soon, though, she’s set up everything she can, and the cooks have started prep work for tonight’s dinner. Emma catches a look at herself in the mirror, sees where some of her makeup has run and her curls have fallen, and she grabs her work makeup bag out of her office and moves to the bathroom where she reapplies her powder and lipstick and brushes through her hair before pulling it into a high ponytail.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

“Tonight is going to be fine,” Emma tells herself, rolling her arms to relax her sore muscles and calm herself down. “It’s just like it always is. It’s spending time with your friends but in nice clothes, and you just have to get through a weekend without fighting.”

Emma stops rolling her shoulders and leans forward, fingers curling around the sink top. “Great, Emma. Now you’re having full on conversations with yourself in the mirror.”

Inhale, exhale.

She’s got this. She has to.

Emma looks at herself one more time, does a final adjustment on her ponytail, grabs her bag and walks out of the bathroom with her shoulders back. She sits through more weddings than any normal person should, and this is a weekend to celebrate someone she loves. It’s a happy moment.

Until she walks out of the bathroom, her limbs still shaky, and nearly plows down the bride and groom.

That would definitely get her fired, and she doesn’t think her year could take losing her job too.

“Hi,” she squeaks out, stumbling over her heels before correcting herself. “How are you two? Elsa, you look beautiful.”

“Oi, what about me?” Liam jokes, and Emma awkwardly giggles, still trying to catch up. She needs a reset of today.

“You look stunning,” Emma laughs, quickly hugging Elsa before doing the same to Liam. “Are you guys excited for tomorrow?”

“You have no idea,” Elsa sighs, happy, content, so many things that brides should be but rarely are. “Thank you so much for setting everything up. I know you’ve been by yourself with Mary Margaret taking the day off to do things with us, so I really, really appreciate you.”

“I’m happy to do it for you guys. Promise.” Emma squeezes Elsa’s forearm. “If you were anyone else, I would complain.”

“Well, you know how to make a girl feel special, but I have a feeling you won’t say the same thing when Anna shows up in a few minutes.”

“I have already mentally prepared myself for it.”

Elsa looks down at her phone. “Speak of the devil,” she laughs, holding up her phone. “I’m gonna step away and take this.”

Elsa moves down the hallway, heels clicking against the tile, and Emma is left alone with Liam, the two of them swaying back and forth, eyes never making direct eye connect. She doesn’t know the last time she spent time alone with this man, and at the moment, she can’t think of them ever spending time alone together. They’re not friends, have only started getting along recently weirdly enough, but they always have Elsa or Killian to be the buffer.

There’s no buffer now.

Emma tries to think of something to say, works through a conversation about the weather and the wedding and tonight’s menu in her head, but she never says any of it out loud. Instead, she laughs awkwardly and smiles, wondering how shitty it would be to excuse herself from the room when she doesn’t have an actual excuse.

“You should talk to Killian,” Liam says. Emma’s eyes widen, and she looks at Liam. He doesn’t shift away from her gaze like she was expecting. “I’m not sure what’s been going on between the two of you, but I know that there’s something. I know I’ve never been the kindest to you, but I know that you are good for Killian as long as you don’t decide to break his heart.”

Emma crosses her arms, her heart thumping under her fingertips. She wonders if Liam can hear it or see it the way she can, like it’s the third person in the conversation. “I don’t think you get a say on what I decide to do. Killian’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions. He doesn’t need you putting up some ‘holier than thou’ front to tell his friend not to get into a fight with him.”

Liam steps closer, and with her heels, she’s able to keep her gaze directly on his. “I may not know exactly why the two of you are fighting, but I do know you’re the woman he’s been sleeping with all summer.” Emma’s jaw drops, and she’s not exaggerating when she thinks it may be broken. How? How does he know? “You two should really learn to lower your voices when you’re talking in the morning. I didn’t realize until last month right before our trip, but there was one morning where I recognized your laugh and then your voice was so clear afterward.”

“I’m not – we’re not – he isn’t…”

“Emma,” Liam sighs, pressing his hand to her shoulder, “it’s okay. I’m not trying to be an ass. I know that I am one, but all I want is for Killian to be happy. And believe it or not, I want you to be happy, too. Talk to him.”

Her mind is running at one hundred miles an hour, her heart beating even faster, and her cheeks are so warm they must be as red as tomatoes. She doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how the hell she’s supposed to react to any of that, so she doesn’t. Instead, she makes an excuse, something along the lines of checking on the food for dinner, and then she’s gone, disappearing down the hallway and into a linen closet.

Liam knows.

Liam knows, and he didn’t even blow a gasket. What kind of crazy alternate universe is this? Emma doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything.

(But Liam apparently knows a lot.)

She doesn’t know what to think or say or how she even feels about anything. All she knows is that she still has to make it through this weekend. She can’t spend all of it hiding away in bathrooms and linen closets no matter how much she wants to.

Rolling her shoulders back, Emma takes her seventeenth deep breath of the night, twists the door knob, and manages to slip out of the closet without anyone seeing her. By the time the rehearsal has finished – they did two-run throughs – Emma’s heart has managed to calm down. It wasn’t easy, especially when she saw Killian walking down the aisle, one of Elsa’s cousins on his arm who couldn’t stop laughing at whatever joke he was telling, but she was able to push back the attraction and jealousy and everything else that comes with looking at Killian Jones.

She’s always known he was handsome. It’d be impossible to miss, but tonight as he wears a baby blue shirt, halfway unbuttoned of course, and some fitted Navy slacks, his hair coiffed and beard trimmed, she’s taken aback by him once more. Mostly, though, she’s taken aback by his smile, bright and beaming, and her heart aches missing it.

Missing him.

She stands at the edge of the ballroom as people begin to take their seats, finding the names on cards on the table, and Emma knows where hers is. It’s at the head table, rather undeservedly so, but she’s the best man’s date. She gets to stick by his side.

Right now, she doesn’t know how.

Maybe she hasn’t managed to calm down as much as she thought she had.

Emma catches Killian out of the corner of her eye, still talking to that same bridesmaid, but then he’s walking away and walking right toward her. He flashes a smile, as bright and confident as ever, but there’s something off about it. She can’t pinpoint what, especially when his smile fades as he looks from side to side, almost as if he was searching for someone.

“Hello, love,” he greets before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you. You look nice.”

“Don’t I know it?” he teases, cheeky, before offering her his elbow. She takes it, looping her arm through his, and as her skin presses against his dress shirt, she can feel his warmth. It feels normal, like it has for so long, and while she didn’t forget how much she loves his touch, she didn’t realize how much she’s craved it, craved the new normalcy they’d found themselves in this summer. “Shall we go to dinner and get drunk off our asses as we listen to people give awful speeches?”

“I’d love nothing more. Don’t you have to give an awful speech?”

Killian leans in and winks. “Mine won’t be awful.”

And for a little while, things are normal. She’s sitting next to Killian, and she doesn’t have to think too hard about what to say or do. It’s just the two of them, like it always has been, and the glass of wine she’s had isn’t hurting how calm she feels. They don’t talk much, too much food on their plates and then too many people talking, but just as Emma is telling Killian about how she nearly broke her neck on a ladder today, that same bridesmaid as before interrupts her to start talking to Killian. Emma knows her name is Nora, that she lives in Portland, and that she has no problem flirting with Killian despite the fact that Emma is obviously his date.

But who is she to say anything? They’re here as friends.

They always have been.

Friends, friends, friends.

And the flirting doesn’t irritate her, not really, but the fact that Nora interrupted Emma in the middle of a story does. That’s rude, and while Emma doesn’t have the best social graces, she knows not to interrupt people. Emma ignores the two of them and looks out across the room. She wishes she were at the table with Mary Margaret, David, Ariel, Eric, Ruby, and all of the rest of her friends. Anna and Elsa’s parents have taken up most of the conversation with Elsa and Liam, so she doesn’t even have Elsa to talk to.

She’s miserable.

There’s no point in dancing around it anymore. She’s miserable, her feet are killing her, and she’s ready to go home and sleep until she has to get up. She’s never craved a Monday so badly.

Emma excuses herself from the table, not that anyone really listens, and she hurries out of the room with a pounding heart. She thought it had gone away, but it’s back with a vengeance, making her cheeks heat and her stomach fill with bile. This is the worst. Just, the fucking worst.

She’s in love with her best friend who isn’t even her best friend anymore, and she doesn’t know how to deal with any of it. This summer has been like a rollercoaster, except she hasn’t been buckled in. She’s been holding on with fear and exhilaration, and now, she’d like to get off the ride.

When she hears footsteps down the hall, she knows the end of the ride isn’t here yet.

What the hell is he doing here?

“Did you follow me?” Emma asks, not bothering to turn around.

“Well, when a woman runs off and seems upset, some might say following her is a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t.” “Swan.”

Emma turns, her heels clicking against the tile, and crosses her arms over her chest. Killian glances down, and she realizes his eyes are drawn to her boobs. Typical.

“Go back to Nora, Killian. I’m fine.”

“Nora?”

“Elsa’s cousin. The woman you’ve been oh so fascinated with all night. I don’t need a babysitter when you obviously have other interests.”

Killian huffs and steps closer.  “You’re my friend and when a friend leaves a room, obviously upset, I follow.” “Well, if you’d said that a month ago, I might believe you. now, though, I don’t.”

She’s angry, she realizes. Pissed off, actually, and Killian might be here to be kind, but she’s not.

His brow arches, one followed by the other until his forehead is wrinkled, and he steps closer. “What are you talking about?”

“Really? You’re going to play that card?”

“What card?”

“The one where you pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Like, you don’t know things have been different between us since you ended things for no damn reason.”

“Why aren’t you here with Graham?” Killian asks suddenly, and she feels like she’s been slapped with whiplash. Emma isn’t sure that���s possible, but what the hell does she know anymore? “Why the hell would I be here with Graham? You and I agreed that we would do all of the wedding stuff together, didn’t we?”

“Well, you’re dating him, aren’t you?”

“Oh my God,” Emma sighs, turning on her heels and walking down the hallway before walking back toward Killian who has got to be grinding his teeth far too much than any dentist would ever recommend.

Why is that even where her brain is going right now?

Probably because she can’t stop staring at the way his jaw clenches.

“What”? he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest, fingers digging into biceps.

Emma stops pacing, the clicking of her heels against the tile stopping, and she places her hands on her hips as she takes a deep breath.

She’s about to fuck everything in her life up, but really, how much worse can any of it get? She can’t keep living like a madwoman, her mind contradicting everything her heart says, and for once in her life, she wants everything out in the open. She wasted too much time in an unhappy relationship because she didn’t want to speak up for herself for fear of someone else leaving her. She’s not doing that again. Damn the consequences.

It is not going to kill her to put her heat in Killian’s hands even if it means he has the ability to crush it.

“I am not dating Graham Humbert,” Emma says on an exhale. She doesn’t even know where Killian is coming from thinking that, but it doesn’t matter. “He is a new friend who I have repeatedly said I had no interest in dating, and if you could get your head out of your ass for one second, you would know that the only person I have any interest in dating is you, you absolute fucking idiot.”

-/-

-/-

tag list: @capthamm​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jrob64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galadriel26​ @galaxyzxstark​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​ @elizabeethan​ @captain-emmajones​ @csalltheway​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

[warren-lauren]

Lessons in love... 80′s!Professor Brian May x Student!reader pt 4

Christmas with your family was thankfully over quickly without much arguing with your parents. Obviously, there was some, there is every year. Your dad thought you weren't good enough to become anything worth all this education, you should be married, your mother was at your age, was one his favourite sayings along with, you'll only give up at some point so just save yourself and me, some time and money.

The cold winter winds blew around you, blowing your coat and scarf as you walked down the streets of London. As much as you 'loved' your family, you were happy to be back... Home. You had a new life at college, living with Lucy, a place you felt accepted.

You were about to walk up to the library's entrance when you slipped on a patch of ice and nearly fell flat on your arse.

"Careful!" A pair of long arms wrapped around you before you could fall.

"Oh, fuck," You clutched hold of your saviour's arms, frightened of falling.

"Y/N?" You looked up to meet a familiar pair of hazel eyes. Your body betraying the mantra in your head. Never happened. Forget. "Bloody hell, are you okay, love?"

"I- uh, I, yes, thank you, Professor Ma-" Your brow creased as Brian began chuckling as he straightened you up onto both feet. "Why are you laughing?" You snapped a little.

Brian shook his head, his curls bouncing a little as he did. "I think you of all people can call me, Brian, love." He smiled, wrapping his coat around him a little tighter.

You glared up at him. "I don't think it's wise, do you? If I call you, Brian, then how am I supposed to forget what happened, like you said we had to." You raised your eyebrow.

Brian nodded, a heavy sigh passing his lips. "Fair enough," Brian cleared his throat. "Uh, good Christmas?"

You shrugged, looking down your feet. "As good as it could have been. You?"

Brian hummed, "What are you doing here then? Shouldn't you be off having fun in the snow?"

You shook your head with a smile, "As you saw, I don't really get on well with winter." You chuckle. "I've come to do some research. I've been struggling to understand something, so thought I'd come here for some extra studying whilst I had some spare time."

Brian nodded, "If you've got no objections, I could always help. It is my job after all." He smiled warmly at you.

You blushed a little, "Do you think it's appropriate?"

"What? A professor going into a library with a student to study, it might just be a little bit appropriate." He chuckled making you blush even more and look away from him.

"Okay," You nodded with a thankful smile. "That would be great... Brian."

Brian's lips curled up at the corners and then nodded, turning around. "Shall we?"

You nodded and quickly scurried ahead of him. Your head was a mix of emotions and right now all you wanted to do was get inside and try to remember what you were there to study.

----------

With Brian's help your little physics problem seemed easy to understand, and what you thought would take hours only took one, so why were you still sat in the same spot a couple of hours later.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to spend any longer there." Brian shook his head in disbelief after listening to your story about your parents. "I for one, think you're doing exceptionally well, and you're going to go on to do great things." He smiled at you making you blush and look down to your hands.

"Oh, hmm, thank you."

Brian nodded, tapping his long fingers on top of the table. "Uhm, so, do you know what you want, to do after college? Or are you still unsure?"

You let out a soft sigh, "Well, something to do with medicine... I think. That's what I've been studying for anyway."

Brian nodded with a small smile. "So, you want to become a Doctor?"

You shrugged, "I'm not sure, actually. Lucy thinks I should be a nurse." You rolled your eyes playfully.

"I think you'd look good as a nurse," Brian said without thinking. He quickly sat up and cleared his throat. "I mean, I can see you, doing that because, you're so, lovely, and-" Brian sighed at himself as you showed your amusement with a giggle.

You liked seeing him like this, blushing and a mumbling mess instead of the stern, so sure of himself 'professor'.

"I get what you mean." You reassured him with a smile.

Brian let out a short huff. "I'm glad one of us does." He cracked a smile making you giggle.

"What are your plans for New Year's Eve? Are 'the band' playing a 'gig'?" You used air quotes as you grinned cheekily at him making Brian laugh.

"Fortunately not, wouldn't want to ruin the start of anyone's new year." He joked. "Freddie's throwing one of his famous parties that I have to attend." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "What about you, love? Out partying with your friends?"

You shook your head. "Not this year. Lucy has a date with the boy she took home before Christmas, so I'll be spending it on my own in front of the TV."

Brian frowned slightly. The thought of you being alone caused something in him to do... something. "Oh, that doesn't sound much fun."

You shrugged, "It'll be fine."

Brian nodded with a soft sigh and rubbed his forehead. "I don't think I'll be able to enjoy myself knowing you're all alone."

"I'll be fine." You smiled at him. "Most likely won't even make it to midnight." You let out a sigh. "What an exciting life I live." You joked making Brian laugh.

There was another silence between the two of you before Brian cleared his throat and looked up to meet your gaze. "What if I said I might have an idea?" He gave you a devilish smile, filling your stomach with nerves and excited butterflies.

----------

This had to be by far the stupidest thing you've ever done. Your leg bounced nervously in the footwell as you looked out of the passenger's window, worrying about what you were about to do.

"Hey," Brian reached over and placed his hand over yours that was tapping your knee repeatedly. He took his eyes off the road to briefly look at you and smiled. "What did we say? Hmm?"

"No need to worry, I won't know anyone." You nodded as you recited his words from earlier.

Brian had suggested that you go to Freddie's party with him as his date. You were shocked by his casual attitude towards the whole situation.

"There's absolutely no way in hell, you will know anyone there."

And of course, he was right, but it was still a bad idea. He was your professor for crying out loud.

"Well, yeah, but we've already shagged so-" He shrugged and grinned cheekily at you making you blush, "I promise, we'll just go as friends. I'm still technically, not your professor until next week."

You nodded at him, although he couldn't see you since he was looking back at the road. "I know no one will know me, but what if someone-"

"Y/N," Brian spoke as he pulled up outside of a house that was lit up like a Christmas tree. He turned to look at you once he'd shut the car off and smiled. "I wouldn't have suggested this if I thought there was any chance of this going wrong. We're both completely free to enjoy ourselves tonight. Besides, just friends, right?" He smiled slightly.

You nodded, feeling a little disheartened. "Friends."

Brian grinned, "C'mon,"

The two of you got out of his car. Brian quickly jogged round to your side and held his hand out for you, and you happily took it, liking the way his much larger hand surrounded yours. Then the two of you made your way into the party.

You were nervous as well because you were wearing a rather revealing dress. To stop Lucy being suspicious, you packed a bag of clothes and met Brian in a quiet coffee shop that no one you knew went near before he took you to his to get ready for the party. He helped you pick an outfit that would be perfect for the evening, which was a strapless figure-hugging black dress that came to your knees.

"BRIAN!" Freddie bounded up to you, pulling Brian into a big hug. He pulled back and smiled at you. "And, Brian's date. Hello,"

"Hello," You blushed with a shy smile.

Brian chuckled and put his arm around your shoulders, hoping to comfort you. "This is, Y/N, Fred. Remember, from that night at the pub-"

"Of course!" Freddie cut Brian off Your friends left you." Freddie nodded. "Bastards." He huffed making you giggle. "Well, it's lovely to meet you again, darlin' and might I add, you're looking drop-dead GORGEOUS!" He took your hand and raised it in the air. "Beautiful."

"Oh, thank you." You blushed even more.

"Come. I'll introduce you to Roger and John. Brian, go get your lovely girlfriend a drink." Freddie ordered as he walked off away from Brian still holding your hand, not giving either of you chance to correct him.

You looked over your shoulder to see Brian's curls slowly disappear in the crowd.

"Deaky!" Freddie walked up to brunette with a smile, placing his hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "John, meet Y/N, Brian's date."

"Oh, hello." He smiled, holding his hand out to you. "Nice to meet you."

You smiled back, "And you."

"And this here," Freddie turned you to a blonde man beside him. "This is Roger. Roger, darlin', this is Y/N, Brian's date."

Roger's face screwed up slightly. "Where's she come from?"

Freddie rolled his eyes. "They met at that pub we played at before Christmas. That night you had to take his guitar home."

Roger's eyes widened, along with his smile. "Ah, you're the one who's knickers I found on the floor."

Your eyes widened. You'd forgotten about that. In fact, you never got those back off Brian.

"It's nice to meet you, love." Roger smiled as he took your hand in his.

You nodded, "You too."

Roger let go of your hand, looking you up and down as he did. "How in the hell did Brian manage to get you into bed?" He chuckled.

"Roger," Freddie scolded with a small smirk. "At least let the poor girl get a drink in her before you start teasing her."

Roger was about to say something in return when Brian appeared by your side with a drink for you. He looked between his friends than to you with a soft frown. "What's happened?"

You shook your head with a small laugh. "Roger was just telling me how he's had his hands on my knickers." You smirked up at him, taking the offered drink from his hand.

Brian's mouth fell open. "W-What?"

Laughter erupted from the four of you as Brian looked confused.

"Oh, I like her already, darlin'." Freddie grinned. "Why didn't you tell us you were seeing someone, Brian?"

You blushed looking up to Brian, taking a big sip of your drink as he looked from you to his friends. "Oh, um, because we're just friends, Fred."

"Friends?" Roger asked, scoffing when Brian nodded his head. "Friends who've already shagged." He smirked, sending you a wink as you blushed even more.

Brian rolled his eyes, "Yes, Roger." Brian sighed, slipping his arm around your shoulders. "C'mon, love, I'll go introduce you to some other friends." You nodded, waving a quick goodbye to the boys as Brian took you away from them.

As the night went on, you found yourself talking more and more to not only Brian but his friends too. At one point you even danced with Freddie and John. The entire time Brian kept his eye on you, mostly to make sure you were enjoying yourself and you were safe, but also because he couldn't help himself. You look so beautiful.

"Alright everyone, it's almost MIDNIGHT!" Freddie stood in front of everyone as the music was lowered and the countdown began.

"What's your new year's resolution?" You asked Brian as the two of you stood together.

Brian thought about it as he wrapped his around your waist.

Throughout the night the two of you drank and relaxed, forgetting you shouldn't be doing what you were, and let yourself just be. Your hands clasped together more and more, you pressed more and more kisses to Brian's cheek. He even pressed a kiss or two to your forehead.

"I'm going to be, a little nicer in my lectures. Let people know if they're doing well." He smiled softly down at you. "What about you, love?"

You smiled as your arm snaked around his waist. "I'm not going to be scared to go to my professor's office hours." You blushed.

Brian's brow creased, "You're scared? Why?"

You shrugged. "It's daft, really, but I thought because you were being so hard on me, that you hated me, so I didn't want to waste my time."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, that's the last thing I wanted. My door is always open to you." He smiled.

"Ready everyone?! 10... 9... 8..."

You counted down along with everyone, excited for the new year to start. As the last few numbers came along you looked up to meet Brian's gaze.

"... 2... 1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Brian's hand cupped your cheek as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours to celebrate the new year. The two of you pulled back after a few seconds with matching smiles as you stared into one another's eyes.

You reached up, pulling Brian's face closer to yours so you could press a harder kiss to his lips this time. He kissed back, his arms wrapping around your body as your tongues tangled with one another. This wasn't meant to be happening but you couldn't stop it. You needed this to happen. You wanted it.

"WHEY! GO ON BRI!" Roger shouted as he walked past the two of you, causing the two of you to break your intense kiss.

Brian didn't look away from you as he reached up and cupped your face in his hands. "Are you sure?" He whispered, his eyes moving between yours and your lips, desperate to taste you again.

You nodded. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." You smiled up at him, making Brian grin before he leaned back in to press his lips against yours.

"Let's go home." He whispered against your mouth.

"Okay." You smiled up at him, letting him take your hand in his.

[raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal]

Finn, Alfie and the Eggs

A/N:  I love writing for Alfie because it gives me an excuse to watch ‘Alfie Solomons Best Moments’ video’s on repeat for ‘research’

Summary:  The Home Alone Peaky Blinders Series Featuring 10 y/o Finn Shelby part 2. The three daftest Shelby brothers forget their little Finn in London. Luckily for Finn, Alfie is there to save him.

part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

Warnings: none

---

It was supposed to be a boy’s day out. Finn had looked forward to it all week. The whole day, he and his brothers would go to London, do some sightseeing, drink some whiskey (or lemon water in Finn’s case) and talk about whatever brothers talked about. In truth, Finn didn’t really know what brothers talked about. His brothers only ever talked about business, horses and alcohol. So Finn should have known better; he should have known that the moment the Shelby’s ran into a business acquaintance, his little day out would be ruined. Finn watched as his three brothers talked and talked about some race. He sat on the curb, face in hands and was deadly bored. And hungry. The moment he thought about how hungry he actually was, he smelled something delicious. Something sweet. In an instant he knew what it was: scones. He looked around and saw a bit further down the street a market. And on the right side was a little bakery. He watched as an old lady placed the golden cakes in a basket and Finn heard his tummy rumble. That’s it, he thought, if I can’t have a boy’s day out, then I can certainly have a scone. He stood up and walked to Tommy, who was still talking to the business associate. Finn grabbed his brother’s coat and softly pulled to grab Tommy’s attention. “Tommy, can I get a scone?” he whispered. Tommy tried not to notice his little brother and continued talking. Finn changes tactics. He moved to get in front of Tommy and put his arms on his hips as he had seen Aunt Polly do. “Tommy, I am going to get a scone,” he stated. Now, Tommy had to acknowledge him. “Yes, yes, fine, go ahead,” he said absently and Finn grinned. He walked around the circle to Arthur, stuck his hand in the pocket of Arthur’s coat and pulled out three coins. Finn, being a practised pickpocket, was in and out in a jiffy and Arthur would never have noticed. Happy to finally be released from the boring impromptu meeting, Finn ran across the street to the old lady and her scones. She was kind and chatty, so Finn stayed to talk while he ate his sweet. He told the lady about his day and she listened and smiled at his jokes. After half an hour and an extra free scone, Finn realised that he should be getting back. He said goodbye to the lady and ran back to Tommy, Arthur and John. But when he saw nothing but an empty street, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Uh-oh,” he said softly. His brothers were gone. Had left without him. And had probably already gone home. As the realisation dawned on him, Finn hung his head. It was nothing new; they had forgotten him more often in the past. At the Garrison, at the church, at Uncle Charlie’s, the Garrison again, but that had all been in Birmingham and he had found his way home. But this, this was London. Finn felt giddy when he thought of the vastness of the city and he felt tears burn in his eyes. But no, he told himself, I am a Shelby, and I am not going to cry. Not even if I won’t find my way back. Not even if I have to beg for scraps and not even if I have to sleep under bridges and eat with the rats. But no matter how often he told himself not to cry, he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, and he became scared. He ran back to the market, the safest place he could think of right now. He still had two coins left, maybe he should buy something to eat now before the market would be closed. Finn nodded to himself and felt a little better having solved the problem of food for now. I need something nutritious, he thought, and his eye fell on a carton of eggs. But he had nothing to cook them with and started to walk on.

“’Ello, lad!” it suddenly sounded from behind him. Finn turned around and his breath caught in his throat. Before him stood a real-life boogieman. The man -or monster, Finn thought, - was wearing a long black coat and a white scarf. He had a wild beard and wore a big black hat and held a cane in his hand that went tap, tap, tap as the man came closer. And if Finn wasn’t frightened of the man himself, he was of the dog, which was obviously here to eat Finn alive. “Yes, you. Are ya here all by yourself, mate?” Finn’s eyes widened. He means to trick me into leaving with him so he can gobble me up in a dark corner, he thought, and he moved. His arms felt behind him and the only thing they reached was the carton of eggs. In a fight for your life, even eggs were better than nothing. “You won’t eat me!” Finn screamed and threw an egg at the monster. It flew with a perfect arc through the air and Finn followed it with his eyes. Then the egg hit the black coat of the man and cracked open. The egg yolk slowly dripped down and left a yellow stain. The man was absolutely stupefied and stared with big eyes at his coat. Then he lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Fucking ‘ell, you are certainly a Shelby,” he said. In Finn’s head all the alarms bells went off. He knows my name, he thought and panicked. “Get away!” he yelled and threw one, two, three more eggs at the stranger. The first one missed, the second hit the monster’s boot and the third one knocked the hat right off the man’s head. The man ducked under the rain of eggs and yelled: “Get him, Cyril!” and let go of the dog leash. The dog ran and leapt towards Finn, who was paralysed with fear. He closed his eyes; this is it, he thought and prepared for the worst. But instead, he only felt a soft, wet tongue on his face. He opened his eyes and noticed the dog was wagging his tail and pushing his muzzle in Finn’s hand, eager to get a rub behind the ears. Finn, bewildered, obeyed and stroked the dog. “You, laddie, got one ‘ell of an aim, that’s for sure.” Finn looked up and saw the man stand next to his dog. “You Shelby’s certainly know how to put up a show, hmm? You’re just like that brother of yours.” “Tommy?” Finn said surprised. “Oh yeah, I’m a—well, let’s call it a friend, I am a friend of Tommy’s and you must be Finn.” Finn nodded. The man seemed to be friendly enough and he knew Finn’s brother. Moreover, Finn had heard Tommy speak about one Alfie Solomons in London, who spoke with a funny accent and owned a dog. It all seemed to work out and Finn decided to trust the man in front of him. “Yeah, I’m Finn,” he admitted, “I was in London with my brothers but they forgot me and left here.” Alfie raised his eyebrows. “They forgot you, eh?” he asked in disbelief, “some brothers you’ve got.” Finn merely shrugged. “All I wanted was a scone,” he said softly. Alfie stood up and patted him on the shoulder “Right, then. Scones you say? Well, you’re in luck, mate. You see, I own a bakery.”

 After a short walk, Alfie and Finn arrived at said ‘bakery’. Finn had let go of all suspicions and had talked about all sorts of things on the way. He told Alfie about the time he had collected all the King’s pictures, which they had burned, and of the time he had nicked John’s gun, although he left out the part where he got a beating from Aunt Polly because of it. In Alfie, Finn found a patient and willing audience. Alfie let Finn hold Cyril’s leash and the boy and the dog had become best friends by the time they entered Alfie’s workshop. Alfie quickly told Ollie to ring ‘this boys fucking no-good brothers’ to tell them ‘they could collect their fucking stray’. When Alfie returned to Finn, the boy pointed to a handyman who was busy with the lock on the door. “What happened?” the boy asked. “Oh yeah, we had a fucking break-in last weekend. Some bastard thought he could just barge in and steal all our—” he stopped and glanced sideways at the boy. “—bread,” he finished. Finn nodded as if he understood. Then he asked, “don’t you have booby traps here for the thieves?” Alfie tilted his head, “Booby traps? What the ‘ell would we need booby traps here for?”

Finn’s face split open in a smile. “Well, some time ago, me and a friend were alone in the shop when two woppers came in, right.” Alfie raised his one eyebrow at the word ‘woppers’ but didn’t say anything. Finn continued speaking and told Alfie all about his episode with the Italians, the maple syrup and the feathers. “—and now if anybody sees them woppers walking in the streets they all laugh and point and say: ‘there are those ugly birds again!’.” “Well,” Alfie said after Finn had finished, “that is just bloody brilliant. Very effective indeed.” The man stroked his beard and made a decision. “Right then, lad, show me where we can plant these booby traps.” And for the next two hours, the workers in the shop saw how a 10-year-old boy pointed to doorposts, talked about tripwires, alarm bells, buckets filled with jelly that would fall on the thief’s head and saw how their ruthless boss and gang leader absorbed all the booby-trap-information like a sponge. Alfie even ordered for Ollie to grab a paper and pen and mark this all down, because ‘this bloody stuff might actually work, hmm?”

By the time Tommy burst into the shop to get his brother, Finn had fallen asleep on the sofa in Alfie’s office. Tommy exhaled in relief when he saw the curled-up shape of his little brother sleeping and he walked over to the couch. Gently, he brushed Finn’s hair out of his face. “Sorry, Finn,” Tommy whispered and bend over to pick him up. Finn woke up for a moment. “You owe me a hundred scones, Tom,” he mumbled before he continued to sleep on his big brother’s shoulder. “That I do,” Tommy answered, and he turned to Alfie. “Thank you for looking after him,” he simply said. Alfie nodded, “Of course, mate.” But then he added something. “But don’t you fucking lose him again in London. Because next time, I’ll keep him.”

Taglist: @caelys :D

[sleepyboisinc]

soo,,, the secret au huh?

its a band au. its a fucking band au. im posting this super impulsively, and it has no editing i think so if there are any mistakes,,,, fuck it idc

also this ends in a sort of cliffhanger i was gonan write more but i got tired of writing and never got the motivation to again im sorry lul

this au isnt just by me, theres other ppl involved in it too!! mainly bad timezone gang in technohive but others also helped :)

anywaysyysyshdhsh yea read if u want to ig

wilbur soot was discovered by a record label when he was 15 after he wrote the squid song. they didn't care that the lyrics were objectively bad, it was wilbur’s voice that grabbed their attention. they interviewed him and decided that they were gonna give him a chance. wilbur, who had always dreamed of being a singer, jumped at the opportunity. the interview went very well. they even asked him to sing a few songs and he nailed it. however, he wasn’t perfect. he still needed some vocal training. they spent an entire day discussing and signing paperwork. the label ended up arranging for wilbur to attend music classes to enhance his voice and get better at the guitar.

time-skip about 3 years. wilbur is 18 and is phenomenal at singing and the guitar. he starts going to uni and meets his roommate, an american student named technoblade who plays the violin. wilbur and techno quickly become friends, bonding over music and other mutual interests like video games. techno plays mini gigs on the street and at bars close to campus to make some money for himself. particularly at a little bar called “the harpy’s nest”

one day, wilbur gets bored sitting at home alone, so he goes to watch techno’s gig. he arrives halfway through the set and watches for about 5 minutes. after the gig is over, he watches as techno interacts with the bartender, a young man only slightly older looking than the two of them. techno notices wilbur and calls him over, introducing him to the bartender, philza. the two immediately hit it off and by the end of the night, they’ve exchanged numbers and a promise to meet up phil’s next shift.

-

over the next few months, the trio became best friends. wilbur learns that phil plays the drums and has several eps. one ep in particular, “hardcore2” blew up a bit in their general area and phil gained a bit of traction as a musician. the three boys spend most of their time hanging out at wilbur and techno’s dorm, or at phil’s bar. they stay up till ungodly hours playing video games and talking. their other friends dub them the sleepy boys, because of how tired they all are the next day. 

however, as the months fly by, the date wilbur is supposed to finish training and write his first songs draws closer. he worries he’s bitten more than he can chew and he wonders if he’s even ready for fame. a month later he is assigned a manager, pete. pete says that his training contract has expired, meaning that he's ready to start writing his album. wilbur says that he needs to think a bit before he starts. pete was about to tell him he can’t have extra time to think because he signed a contract, but seeing the look of stress on wilbur’s face, he allows him 2 days before he starts. wilbur goes on a walk to think. he curses himself for second-guessing himself now. he realizes he doesn’t wanna do this alone. then he thinks of techno and phil. 

what if they formed a band? that way he wouldn’t have to do this alone. he’s sure that they'd love to make a band together as well. he goes to them and… they agree. he goes to pete and asks him if they can be a three-piece band. pete says he needs to ask his higher-ups first. wilbur doesn’t hear from pete for 4 days and starts to worry. what if they won’t allow it? it wasn't part of the agreement so they have every right to turn him down. at the end of the fourth day, pete calls him and says that the higher-ups have agreed. they had to choose a group name by the end of 2 days. the trio was over the moon.

this was the start of sleepy bois inc.

-

their record label wasn’t massive, so the boys took to playing on the streets and in bars to gain some traction. they slowly started gaining recognition and grew faster when they made a youtube channel. they released several eps and a few albums, and gained a following over the next few years.

their first big break came 3 years after the band was formed. they had a decent following, about 50k subs on youtube and slightly less on other platforms. one day, jschlatt from lunch club, a massive boy band, got their music recommended to him on youtube. he’s intrigued and listened to it, and was surprised at how much he liked it. he liked it so much, that he decided to shout them out on twitter. 

sleepybois inc’s popularity skyrocketed, and the members of both bands grew close. when lunch club announced their next tour, they revealed that sleepybois inc would open for them. the fans freak out, and many iconic moments and inside jokes form from this tour. 

-

tommy innit was 19 years old and was preparing to become a musician. he was almost done with the 4 years of vocal and keyboard training provided by a record label and had to make a decision: be a solo artist, or join a band. if he chose the band, he has another 2 options: be assigned into a band that already exists under this label or make a new one with people that he knows. 

tommy is also a massive fan of lunch club, and sees that jschlatt shouted out a band called sleepybois inc. he likes them a lot and becomes a fan of their stuff too. what tommy didn’t know is that they were at the same label he was training at and were open for a 4th member. 

back on the music, tommy ended up going with band. he debated between making a band or being assigned one. after a while, he ended up going with being assigned. he was nervous about this because he'd have to integrate himself into their dynamic and feared that fans won’t like him, but he figured it’d be easier than making his friends all learn instruments.

being assigned a band is a process, so tommy had a couple of months free. during this time, lunch club was on tour with sleepybois inc and tommy got vip tickets to a show. so he went to the meet and greet and gave his number to sleepybois inc saying ”hmu if u need a keyboardist lul” as a joke (this is a very important detail i will include it f u)

so come around the day of tommy getting assigned. he has to do auditions for the bands that the record label selected for him to join. management has narrowed it down to the youngest 2 bands at their label who are open for a member: one of which is sleepybois inc. 

-

it had been a month since tommy interviewed for sleepybois inc. he did pretty well at it, and had been talking to the boys a lot since then. he still hadn’t had news on whether he joined though. 

it was 3 am. tommy had been working on school work for hours and had only just managed to finish up for the night. he settled into bed and was about to fall asleep when his phone rang. not bothering to look at who was calling, tommy picked it up

“who the fuck is calling me at 3 in the morning i swear to god-” tommy whispered angrily. 

“tommy?” wilbur’s voice rang out “wait shit- this is probably a really bad time im sorry. but we have something important to tell you.”

tommy’s eyes widened. 

“we’ve decided that you can join the band”

-

the band and their label spent a few weeks discussing how they would go about this. they boys decided they would need a name change too, and ended up settling on the name ‘purple pandas’. however, a new member and a name change would practically transform the band completely, so they had to go about announcing this the right way.

they ended up settling on posting a youtube video titled ‘making some changes’. seeing the announcement for this sent fans into a frenzy, frantically tweeting about what it could be. many rumours spread fast and it even got into a few news articles. conspiracies started floating around about what changes could possibly be taking place.

-

i cant write this shit no more bye

[minnochu]

Wonderwall (pt. 7)

Yoongi x f!Reader

Cursed | Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated Wonderwall. Mostly because I’ve hit a wall in the storyline and where I want to take this story. I know it was kind of a big WTF AUTHOR when I made Cursed a figment of Reader’s coma-induced dream, but yknow... I love angst like a mf ;’). 

...

The meeting with the solo artist goes without a hitch. You take the instructions from the general manager seriously, doing your best to learn and memorize as much as you can so you don’t hinder Yoongi. It keeps you busy at work, and that gives you a sense of purpose and confidence. A feeling you were missing before the incident, and now you feel invigorated and motivated to meet Yoongi’s expectations as his assistant. 

Everything seemed great, nothing could knock you down.

Beyond work hours however, this has to be the fourth time now that Namjoon can’t make dinner at home with you. The following morning of the first absence, he stumbles into the kitchen when he wakes up with your side of the bed empty. His hair is an absolute mess, eyes distraught and groggy as he looks around in a state of panic to find you at the stove. You had heard his loud shuffling from the bedroom, doors whining from being ripped open and closed. Arms had wrapped around you from behind, his nose buried into your hair with a relieved sigh.

It had momentarily relieved you to feel him close to you. Almost making you forget of his prior absence.

“I thought I lost you again,” his baritone voice, laced with the remnants of sleep, whispered into your neck that morning, his hands quivering at your waist. You almost hated yourself for even having any minuscule ounce of contempt for him leaving you to have dinner by yourself. The poor man was probably scarred by your attempt at your life, waking up with you gone must have been terrifying. 

It had only made you feel worse about your growing interest in Min Yoongi, like you were taking Namjoon’s love and throwing it on the floor, stamping all over it with your feet. All for what? A coma-induced dream? A man who you knew nothing about, only from the made up persona your mind had made up of him.

Nights like these, however? You didn’t feel remorse. Your phone feels like it’s burning into your thigh, weighing down and tucked into the pocket of your dress pants. Declining Hoseok’s offer to walk you home once again, you find yourself perusing the local market for a beer and maybe some quick meal you can fix up for yourself. After the first two times the dancer had walked you home, you felt like you were only becoming a bother to have him take you home constantly.

You assume Namjoon has dinner before he returns home in the ass crack of two in the morning, your dinner for two usually sitting nicely in the fridge - untouched - when you wake up the morning after. Perhaps, you can spare yourself the pity party in the morning with a fulfilling meal for just yourself, some alcohol, and a cringy romance movie on Netflix - one your teenage self would have cried and gushed over.

“What are you doing?” 

You blink, torn from your thoughts to find yourself staring rather harshly at a pack of raw chicken wings. Looking up, you darn yourself for looking like a fool when Yoongi is standing there - in all his stupidly handsome glory - with a sooty eyebrow cocked. Glancing between the meat in your hands and your boss, you blink multiple times before your face goes nearly beet red. It was starting to get weird when he was expecting a response, and you were most definitely gawking at him like an owl.

“Uh, just wondering what I should eat for dinner tonight.”

He eyes the four pack of beer in your shopping basket, then the chicken wings in your hand before snorting. “Someone kick your puppy? Looks like you’re about to cry yourself to sleep with a terrible romcom movie.”

Ouch. Right on the dot, you wince, and he notices this with a frown.

“Where’s Joon?”

“Meeting with a client probably, he’ll probably be coming home late again,” you say flippantly, tossing the wings into your basket and moving on to look for ingredients for the sauce, “What about Jinri?”

You don’t mean to put a distasteful emphasis on the word “again”, but it leaves your mouth and your boss catches it easily with a cocked brow. If he did or didn’t, you didn’t know as he doesn’t show any reaction.

“She’s got a job out of the city for overnight, thought I’d kick back with a drink tonight,” he muses, glancing down at the identical pack of beer in his hands, “She usually cooks, so I’m kind of useless in the kitchen.”

Say it. You bite your lip. Say it.

No. Don’t say it. That’s inappropriate.

“Did you want to join me? F-for dinner, I mean… Just beer and some hot wings… and a movie…”

Fuck, why did you say it?

“That’s a little inappropriate, (Y/n),” Yoongi cracks a sly smirk and you immediately start backtracking with your cheeks burning brightly in embarrassment. Shame and humility hitting you square in the face at the obvious reaction as your stomach flips with dread at the consequence of your stupid mouth.

I mean, what else were you expecting him to say? Oh yes (Y/n), I would love to, not that I, a taken man - who also happens to be your boss - finds anything wrong with having dinner with a taken woman such as yourself. It’s totally appropriate with the way you’ve been constantly thinking about him either. 

“N-no, well, you’re right, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way… I just meant it as a friendly offer and thanks for giving me this job and you know…” 

You’re stammering, tripping over words and barely breathing to the point that your face has gone pink in its entirety and Yoongi finds that cute.

Wait. What?

“I’ll accept your invite, free food amirite?” He shrugs, his lips twitching into a slight smile at your explosion. His eyes glance elsewhere, chewing the inside of his cheek at the thought. 

Damn him, you sigh in exasperation, although relieved. Relieved that he didn’t clown you for inviting him, or that he was willing to eat dinner and drink you with you, you weren’t sure.

As you prepare the chicken, leaving the wings to marinade in the spicy sauce you made, you faintly hear Yoongi in the living room put on a movie.

“I hope you don’t mind, I put on Inception,” He says, walking into the kitchen area to watch over your cooking prep. Although you shoo him back to the living room, more than slightly self conscious to have Yoongi watching you cook for the two of you.

That and you didn’t want the possible torture your heart might go through, thinking about just how slightly domestic it felt cooking for the two of you. Such thoughts were dangerous. And right now, growing fond of or anywhere near more than your obvious attraction was not good for your heart or your relationship with Namjoon. Even if he barely had time to spend with you. 

Inception. It was a good movie. You move in and out of the kitchen to catch glimpses of the beginning sequences to work on the chicken and some simple side dishes before you can finally bring out the finished products when the movie has reached a little passed the half way point. You almost feel bad for having to tear his eyes away from the screen when he looks so invested in the happenings of the film. 

“Smells good,” he comments as you set the dishes on the coffee table, he helps out in popping off the caps of two beers, offering one to you, “Have you watched before?”

And it goes on like this. Casually eating and small talk about the movie until the credits roll and you pick out the next movie since he had picked the first one. So, without further ado, you go with your original pick, with or without Yoongi being there.

A romcom.

His face goes from relaxed and content to sour with distaste real quick. It’s adorable, you quietly note despite yourself.

“Explain to me… why we’re watching this cringey piece of shit?” Yoongi groans ten minutes into the romance movie you put on.

“Listen, I was originally planning on drowning myself in terrible romance movies and beer before you joined in, deal with it.”

“You’re the one who invited me.”

“How do you even handle that amount of second hand embarrassment?!” He later whines, showing more emotion than you’ve ever seen from him in the last few weeks you’ve known the man. It must’ve been the alcohol loosening him up, which was weird when you thought he’d have more of a better tolerance than you did. 

His complaining stops eventually and he no longer makes a snort of indignation at extra cliche scenes and you wonder if he had fallen asleep... And fall asleep he had. 

You glance over and have to suck in a breath when you catch the way his head happens to fall off his palm and onto the back of the couch cushions. His dark lashes have fallen over his pale cheeks, his pink lips left ajar as his chest rises and falls steadily. 

This was most definitely a bad idea to invite him over. You have to will yourself to ignore the very sexy man sleeping on the other side of couch. Pressing your cheek to your fist, you can’t help but sigh as you look on at the male sleeping beside you. It just wasn’t even possible. How were you able to replicate his physical details in your dream, without even knowing the man? 

Don’t let him get to you, you think with a frown, there’s absolutely no reason you should be pining over him. 

You don’t know him. You certainly weren’t even single, nor was he.

Carefully, you pull a fleece blanket over his body, one that you keep folded neatly on one of the armrests for nights like these. Settling back into your space, you yawn, glancing at him before you drag your eyes back to the front to watch the movie. As it drags on, you find your eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

Yoongi wakes up suddenly when the credits start rolling, end song blaring in an upbeat tune. His eyes groggily roam the dimly lit living room, squinting at the bright light coming from the television screen. He makes out the shapes of the empty dishes stacked on the coffee table, along with the bottles of beer the both of you had finished. Shifting slightly, he notices the light blanket that’s been settled over his body. You must’ve draped it over him when he’d fallen asleep during the movie.

Speaking of you, he turns his head slightly to gaze over your slumbering form curled against the other side of the couch. You hug a pillow close to your middle, breathing steadily as he shifts to get a better look at you. 

Reaching out to wake you, he grimaces and stops himself. He only allows himself to watch as you shift in your sleep, body unconsciously moving into a more comfortable position. Staring down at his hand apprehensively. 

Clicking his tongue, he pulls the blanket over your form before making work at putting away the dishes as carefully and quietly as he could into the sink and arrange the bottles in the bin designated for recycling. 

He’s stayed far longer than he thought he would. Carefully closing the front door behind him, Yoongi turns to leave when he’s startled by Namjoon standing there with his keys in hand. The latter stares back in disbelief and confusion, blinking multiple times as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi decided enough was enough with the awkward gawking, “What a surprise running into you Joon-ah.”

“It would seem so, since this is my apartment, if I’m not mistaken, hyung,” the younger answers back, restoring his composure, “Might I ask… why were you in my apartment?”

“No harm in asking why you’re out late, neglecting your girlfriend then?” Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly, catching the way his co-worker winces at that, “Don’t even bother giving me that client bullcrap either. She’s not dumb, it may fool her for now, but it doesn’t faze me.”

“I don’t see why you need to concern yourself with someone else’s girlfriend, speaking of which, where’s yours?”

“Out of town with an actual reason than your half-assed excuse,” the elder grunts, “(Y/n) was about to drown herself in beer and terrible romance movies, would you like to explain?”

Namjoon flinches at the word drown, and Yoongi notices, only ever knowing the gist of what had happened a few months ago. 

“It has nothing to do with you.”

It was better to leave it at that. The elder shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets before stepping aside to leave.

“Make sure you move her from the couch, she might get a cold,” He calls back just as the click of the door signals that it’s been closed behind the other male. Suddenly, he feels empty. 

No no no. He shook his head. That had nothing to do with him. He faltered mid-step. The more he thought about it, he thought about how sad and lonely you had appeared at the store. The more he thought about it, he felt angry for you, and the way Namjoon was treating you. He hadn’t known you for long, but you were a nice girl, a handy assistant so far, a good cook from what he could tell, and damn well gorgeous. 

Okay.

That last one was a bit… 

That was besides the point. You didn’t deserve to be stood up by Namjoon, but it wasn’t his place to meddle with your problems or with you in the first place. The two of you were strictly professional.

With a heavy sigh, he leaves reluctantly. 

Come morning, you have to hear all about the night before from a fuming Namjoon. You wake up before him like usual, dressed for work and doing away in the kitchen. You’d like to delude yourself into thinking that Yoongi was a real gentleman and carried you to your bedroom when you had most definitely fallen asleep watching teenage romance flicks with him. The way your boyfriend’s eyebrows knit together and the imminent scowl on his handsome face when he came out of the bedroom had begged to differ.

“What the fuck was that last night?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Good morning to you too.” 

He’s not entirely taking it, his expression not letting up. “Was what Joon?” You finally sigh as you finish setting the table, but he doesn’t look like he’s sitting down to eat any time soon.

“Don’t act dumb (Y/n), why was Yoongi leaving here last night?”

And there it was. What was the coincidence that Namjoon had caught Yoongi leaving your apartment last night? 

“Well maybe because we’re friends and coworkers who decided to have dinner and drinks?” You shrugged, opting to make yourself a cup of coffee because, surely, this conversation was going to suck the life out of you for the day. You were gonna need it. “Why does me getting along with Yoongi concern you? Doesn’t seem like you bother to come home and have dinner with me anyways.”

He scoffs. The sound igniting irritation that you hoped wouldn’t show itself. 

“I’m working (Y/n), I thought you knew that.”

“And I’m merely having dinner with a friend, would you have the same reaction if I was having Hobi over for dinner and drinks?” You bite back a little too harshly. 

“You know it’s different.”

“And you should know that I have you, and Yoongi has Jinri.” A frown settles on your face, suddenly having no appetite for the breakfast you slaved over and the coffee you were in the middle of brewing.

The exhale that comes out of Namjoon is rough and full of frustration. His fingers ruffle his tousled beige locks. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s whatever I guess.”

He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and exhaling with an exaggerated rise and fall of his shoulders as he turns to head back to your shared room. He doesn’t look back and frankly, you don’t really know what to say to mend the situation. 

Ah… He’s mad. You think as you glance at your phone for any new messages from Namjoon. 

None.

You sit in the lounge, glaring down at your lunch. Or well, much of your untouched breakfast this morning after Namjoon’s confrontation. 

Was it really your fault for inviting Yoongi over? The more you thought about it, it did seem like a bad idea to invite your very attractive boss for dinner and drinks. Perhaps the absence of your boyfriend had really gotten to you and made you desperate. Maybe you should have asked Hoseok to join you after all. You and Namjoon would still have been on speaking terms and everything would be okay.

The chilled surface of a can shocks you out of your daze. Your body flinching away from the sudden coldness. Squinting up at the offending item, your eyes followed the can of iced coffee to it’s owner to see Yoongi staring down at you. The ghost of that damned smirk playing on his lips. 

“Are you sure you don’t have a dog? Someone must’ve kicked it real hard.”