#will gradually start to post scans from this i have about half of it scanned currently

[bishonenspit]

Le Poème du Vent et des Arbres - Keiko Takemiya (Shogakukan 1985)

[bellaxgiornata]

You're Safe With Me [Chapter Six]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.8k

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of chapters for You're Safe With Me here.]

a/n: Finally we get the next chapter! There's a surprise in this one; can y'all catch it? Things are starting to get even more interesting...and dangerous, maybe. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @lunaticgurly @allaboardthereadingrailroad @linamarr @hollandorks @sleeperthelazy @marcysbear @mattkinsella @mattmurdocksstarlight @xxdrixx @v4leoftears @aoi-targaryen @danzer8705 @anon-cat-posts @heimtathurs @kmc1989 @thepunisherfrankcastle @agirlcandream84 @americaarse @desert-fern @youmakelovinfun @callmebrooklynbabes @jooheoniesdimples

"What are you doing?" you asked in confusion. 

Looking out of the front windshield, you watched as Frank pulled off onto the exit ramp on the side of the interstate. Frowning, you glanced over at him in the driver's seat beside you. He was focused on the road, his face set in his typical flat and stern expression as he drove with one hand on the wheel. His other arm was resting against the window beside him, his hand absently running across the firm set of his lips. 

"Takin' a detour," he replied simply, eyes remaining fixed ahead. 

"A detour to where?" you pressed.

Frank’s attention shifted to you for a moment, his eyes briefly scanning the inquisitive look on your face before his focus returned back to the road. Eyebrows rising up onto your forehead, you impatiently waited for a response of some sort from him–anything at all–but he remained mute. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement. 

With an irritated huff you glanced back out of the windshield, noticing the van was now gradually rolling to a stop at a stop sign. Eyeing the shops and gas stations around the area, you were still confused as to what would make Frank take a sudden detour. You thought he'd said this morning that he was trying to put as much distance between you and what had happened back at that motel you’d been ambushed at the other night as fast as he could. He wanted to make it as difficult as possible for the Patriot Militia to pick back up on your trail.

So what the hell was he doing stopping? It was still a bit before dinnertime and therefore still earlier than when he usually stopped for a motel. A look at the van's gas gauge showed you that the tank was just over half full. If he was stopping for a bathroom break he usually just said so because he always warned you not to 'fuck around,' always eager to just get back on the road.

And really, you couldn't have him stopping. Not here. Not right now. Not after yesterday.

"A detour to where ?" you pressed further.

"To Walmart," he finally answered.

One of your brows quirked up onto your forehead at the simple response. As if a detour to Walmart was the most obvious thing in the world right now while you were driving state to state with the Punisher trying to stay alive. When he predictably didn’t elaborate, you pushed for more information. 

"What's at Walmart?" you questioned.

Frank’s focus remained on the road as he drove, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "You need a phone in case of emergency," he replied, his tone a bit clipped. "And I'm guessin' you need some things since you left your place so quick." He shot you a look over his shoulder as he added, "You don't even have a coat. It's gettin' cold in some of the places we're driving through."

At his response, you sat in the passenger seat completely stunned, entirely forgetting about your current location and the shooting you'd seen on the news last night for the first time today. He was making a detour just for you ? So you could get things you needed because you hadn't had a chance to properly pack before you'd slipped out of your house?  

"You're taking me shopping?" you asked incredulously. 

Frank shot you a firm, stony look as he pulled up to a stoplight. "Let’s get one thing straight right now. I am not taking you shopping, Spunky," he snapped. "It's a Walmart, not a goddamn mall. You're going to quickly grab whatever the hell it is you need while I grab you a prepay. This isn't a fun stop. Got it?"

You nodded, still in shock that Frank was actually taking the time to do this for you, even if Walmart was not the first place you'd want to stop and buy clothes at. But if you were being honest, with the way he'd been treating you so far, you figured you'd be begging him to let you find a laundromat just to wash the few clothing items you had. Yet here he was letting you grab some necessities–and you certainly were going to make sure you grabbed some tampons while you were there. 

The light turned green and Frank continued to drive, turning farther up ahead and navigating his way to the nearby Walmart. Your eyes were staring out of the windshield as your mind raced, quickly trying to make a mental list of everything you needed while attempting to ignore other thoughts. You weren't about to test Frank's patience; you were sure he wasn't kidding about not wanting you to spend a lot of time there so you had to prioritize what you absolutely needed.

A few minutes later he'd pulled the van into a parking spot in the Walmart parking lot, your eyes still glued to the window as you took in the sight of all the other parked cars around you. Frank cut the engine before shifting in his seat, the movement of him reaching towards the center console and grabbing his wallet catching your eye. Wordlessly he opened it, pulling out a stack of bills and counting some out. Folding the stack in half, he held it out towards you and you froze in your seat, eyeing the cash.

"Take it," he ordered. "It's two hundred. Should be more than enough for a coat and a few things. Can't have you usin' a credit card or anything for them to track."

For a moment you just stared at the cash, feeling awkward about taking it but also increasingly aware that it meant you and him would be splitting up inside the store. Nerves shook loose in your stomach as that realization fully hit you, but when he held the cash out further towards you with an irritated grunt, you hesitantly reached out, accepting it from his hand. Though it still felt weird taking the money from him even if he'd told you that this little road trip was being funded by the government. 

"Should probably get yourself a hat and some sunglasses," Frank added. "To help disguise yourself. Might be useful at some point while we're running."

"Okay," you replied softly, mentally adding it to your checklist. 

Frank held your eye, his stare making you a little uncomfortable with how hard it was. Especially with the way your palms had begun to sweat at the thought of him not being right beside you in the store. Ever since he'd tossed you into the back of the van at Ruby’s Diner he hadn't left your side for longer than a quick bathroom break.

"We don't have long," Frank told you. "I'll give you twenty minutes. Get the necessities. Take a piss. Meet me at that exit–" he said, gesturing to the doors nearby, "–in exactly twenty minutes. No later."

"But what if–"

"No later," he reiterated firmly. 

"Alright, Sunshine," you grumbled, unbuckling your seatbelt.

Opening the van door, you slipped out of the seat and onto the pavement, pocketing the cash and carefully surveying the parking lot around you yet again. There were a handful of parked cars–about the amount you'd expect in a small town a little after two in the afternoon on a Monday–but no one was wandering around outside. Though that didn't stop the prickle of fear beginning to form low in your gut as you anxiously hugged your arms around yourself, increasingly becoming more nervous. 

You knew exactly where you were right now. Ever since you and Frank had gotten on the road this morning and left the Happy Lodger Motel, you'd made a point to pay attention to the road signs and read the maps posted at the rest area stops. You were currently on the outskirts of Harrisonburg, Virginia. Which was very near Glen Allen–the place where the shooting had happened just yesterday afternoon. Meaning you were currently very near recent Patriot Militia activity.

And Frank had no idea.

Frank's form appearing around the front of the van startled you, causing you to jump on the spot. His eyes narrowed at you curiously as he paused mid-step. He had clearly caught the way you'd frightened just now. You knew that he'd noticed something had been going on with you today with the way he kept watching you with those perceptive eyes of his. He had asked you a couple of times now if you were alright, but you'd always simply lied and answered yes. He hadn’t said anything past that, but the way he continued to silently stare at you with a look of disbelief on his face was unnerving. It was as if he was waiting for the right time to pull the information out of you. 

Truthfully you knew you probably needed to tell him exactly what was going on because clearly Madani hadn't told him much herself. If there was possible danger nearby, you knew he should be made aware of it. For both your sakes. But Frank was still hard for you to read. Would he think you were far more trouble than you were worth to protect if he knew the full story? If he knew what was actually going on? Is that why Madani hadn't already told him herself? Because as much as you didn't like the killing he did, you had to admit, you'd be dead without him. You needed him. You couldn't have him bolt on you and leave you an unprotected target for an entire militia with members that spanned the countryside.

The thought of you on your own without Frank had your fists curling around the fabric of your shirt, arms hugging your chest a bit tighter. You were too terrified right now to question when your fear of Frank had shifted to a fear of losing him in just a matter of days. 

"You good?" 

Drawn back to the moment, your eyes darted over towards Frank. He was standing there with that hard to read expression on his face, but it felt like he was seeing right through you. He knew you weren't good. But instead of telling him the truth, that fear of him abandoning you to fend for yourself in a Walmart parking lot so close to a place you knew there were militia members, you simply nodded and hummed out an affirmative. Frank's eyes narrowed further, his lips thinning out. You forced a smile onto your mouth, but even you could feel how tense it was.

Without another word, Frank turned and headed towards the entrance of the store. Sucking in a deep breath you followed after him, each step further increasing your panic. By the time the pair of you stepped inside, Frank was gruffly reminding you that you had twenty minutes to meet him back here before he walked off. And then you were alone and fully panicking. 

Ducking your head, you tried to keep your breathing even as you hurried towards your right. You were going to try to focus on why you were here and not on where you were. Attempting to remain calm, you prioritized grabbing tampons first because the thought of asking Frank to stop and let you buy some later was absolutely mortifying. 

For a few minutes you navigated the Walmart, trying to orient yourself and read the aisle signs as you went. The store was massive and all the aisles looming above you felt suffocating right now. Internally you kept repeating the items you needed, listing them off in your head as you tried to ignore the racing of your heart and the way your breath was starting to come in faster each time someone in the store made eye contact with you. 

You wished you could say you felt safe in the semi-busy public place, but you knew better. The Patriot Militia clearly had no qualms with opening fire in public and killing innocent people. The only place you felt safe anymore was at Frank's side. But as your jaw clenched tight, you fought the surge of fear roiling in your stomach at the reminder that Frank wasn't by your side right now.  

Grabbing the box of tampons from the shelf, your hand nearly crushing the side of it with how tight you were holding on to it, you turned and headed back out of the aisle. You needed to find a hat, sunglasses, and a winter coat. If you had time, you'd find a few more clothing items for cold or hot weather. Since you and Frank were going to be all over the country, you knew you needed to be prepared for all types of weather wherever you found yourself with him. 

As you continued your shopping, trying to keep track of the time with a clock that was on the wall just past the registers, you felt that gnawing guilt since watching that news segment last night at the bar return to you. Somehow it crept its way past the fear still holding you in a vice and you suddenly froze, overcome with that guilt that had been steadily chipping away at you all day until it abruptly drowned you in it. Your hand fiercely clutched the hanger of the tee-shirt you were holding, your left arm crushing the other items you had to your chest as the thoughts hit you again all at once.

You'd heard them talking about Glen Allen at the Patriot Militia rally where this whole nightmare had begun. At the time, the city hadn't rung any bells in your mind because nothing had happened there. But you'd told Madani about it and your fears, and you knew she'd obviously heard it mentioned on the recording you'd sent her. But still, the shooting still happened. People had still been injured and killed. The proof of that was on the news last night at the bar you'd been at with Frank. And somehow it felt like it was partially your fault for not doing more to stop it. For not finding a way to warn everyone in Glen Allen or finding a way to stop the shooters ahead of time instead of just running and hiding and saving yourself.

Your hand began to shake, gripping the hanger even tighter in your fist. Your breath was coming in even faster and sharper now than it had when Frank had initially parted ways with you at the store entrance. Eyes closing, you tried to fight the lightheadedness washing over you. But the longer you stood there, guilt and fear mingling together and clawing at your mind as it spiraled further, the more you felt yourself freeze up and your feet root themselves to the floor.

You weren't going to survive this. Eventually these people would find you and kill you. And all the deaths and terror they caused before and after that would partially land at your feet. You were a news anchor, you could have reported this. Tried to stop them somehow. Maybe even told Frank ahead of time and been in Glen Allen and he might have been able to stop them. 

But you'd done nothing instead. 

Your hand tightened so hard around the hanger that you felt it snap in your fist. Feeling like you could barely breathe, your eyes clenched closed tighter as your thoughts continued to spiral further and further, your chest constricting firmly around your lungs and your heart. You were hyperventilating now, having a panic attack in the middle of the Walmart.

Something grasped onto your shoulder and you gasped, eyes flying open. Frank was standing just beside you, concern written clear across his features. Those warm, dark brown eyes of his were boring into you, but instead of fear, you felt relief flood you at the sight of him. 

"C'mon," he urged softly, gesturing his head towards the registers. "Let's get your things and go."

He gently pried the shirt you'd been holding onto–the one you'd snapped the hanger on–from your hands. And then slowly, he carefully took all of the items from you without a word before making his way towards the registers. You followed after him easily, the promise of safety in his presence quickly quelling the panic in your mind as your breathing became less shallow.

Once again you'd wrapped your arms around your chest, nervously hugging yourself as you stood next to Frank. He was focused on ringing up all of the items you’d had, his face expressionless as he used the self-checkout. You were far too relieved that he’d found you when he did to care that he was currently ringing up your box of tampons.

After he’d bagged all of your items into three bags, Frank grabbed them all into one hand before he turned towards you. His left hand reached out, landing on the middle of your back and surprising you with the touch. Gently he began to guide you out of the store without a word, though you knew plenty of them were soon coming. For now you focused on keeping in step with him, surprised to discover yourself relaxing even further underneath that large, warm palm of his on the center of your back. 

It was a minute before you were both back at the van, Frank opening the back doors of it and setting your bags onto the floor of the vehicle. You had significantly calmed down in his presence and under his gentle, reassuring touch by now. Whether Frank had noticed that was unclear because he had quickly focused his attention on a cellphone he had retrieved from one of the bags, typing away on it as he sat down on the edge of the van.

"You gonna tell me what's actually goin' on now?" Frank asked, breaking the silence as he continued to focus on the phone in his hands. "Or you just gonna keep pretending you're alright?"

Exhaling a breath, you leant up against the side of the van opposite him, your eyes continuing to survey the parking lot. Thankfully the pair of you still seemed to be alone. Though you figured Frank was currently more aware of your surroundings than even you were despite it appearing that he was currently distracted. 

"Wondered when you'd push," you whispered.

"Been in your head and jumpy ever since you saw that news story at the bar last night," Frank observed. "That story that upset you and made you want to leave last night." He glanced up from the phone, holding your gaze. "Guessin' that shooting’s got something to do with why you're on the run from this militia. Got me thinkin' there's some things I should probably know that you're not tellin’ me."

Guiltily you focused down on your shoes. Of course he’d picked up on all of that. Frank was smart and perceptive.

 "Madani told you I'm running from the Patriot Militia then?" you asked softly. 

"Said you accidentally stumbled on some information that proves they're a terrorist organization," he replied, attention returning to the phone. "And that there's some big names involved in the mess, too. Making it so she can't trust everyone in Homeland and any other federal departments."

"Yeah," you admitted nervously, looking up at him through your lashes. "That–that shooting on the news last night? That was them. The militia."

Frank's hands momentarily paused what they were doing, his jaw tightening as he glared at the cell phone in his hand. A second later he locked the phone screen, his attention entirely shifting to you now as his hands lowered to his lap. There was a hard set to his eyes, but you could also see the way he was trying to piece things together with that soft furrow between his dark brows. 

"The shooter?" Frank clarified.

"Yeah," you told him with a nod. "Things must not have gone as planned because the shooter was apprehended by police, but he was supposed to be shot by a bystander. Like some of those other shootings going on around the country lately." Feeling your guilt beginning to creep back into your mind, you could feel the sting of tears in your eyes as you continued. "The–the bystanders who shoot the assailants in these mass shootings are also Patriot Militia members. It's all planned out, meant to paint them as heroes for carrying a gun and using it for protection. The others–martyrs for their cause."

"To push some rich political bastard's agenda, I assume?" Frank asked. “Considering there’s federal officials involved in this.”

" Many rich political bastards' agendas," you replied, nodding. "But I–I overheard them talking about Glen Allen, Virginia at that rally. I knew they were going to hit that city somewhere like this and it's–it's my fault it wasn't stopped. Its my fault–"

"Stop," Frank said firmly. "Stop it."

You froze, mouth still half open as you stared back at Frank. He was shaking his head as he looked back at you, his expression softer than it had been a minute ago. 

"'S'not your fault," he repeated. "What those assholes are doing is not on you. You did what you could–you took this to Madani. She's dealing with this now."

"But I'm a news anchor," you continued, the tears further building in your eyes. "I could have gone on the news. Warned people. Outed them. Something more than just running and hiding."

"Doubt your station would let you air that," Frank told you. "And you'd have only ended up with a bullet right here," he said, pressing a finger to his forehead, just between his eyes. "Because you'd have had them on you instantly. If there's big names involved in this, I can guarantee you there's worse out there looking for you than these half-assed organized militia members, Spunky. People like me. Maybe worse. You’d have had them on your doorstep so goddamn fast if you’d have taken this public."

And that was what did it. The thought that there was possibly something or someone worse than an entire militia after you right now sent the tears running down your cheeks, hot and wet. Frank winced when he spotted them, running a hand across the top of his head.

"Shit, I didn't mean to scare you," he said. "'M'sorry. I just meant this isn't on you. You're doing your part to try to stop them. You can't control what those assholes are doing out there."

"Except you're probably right, though," you choked out. "There probably are others out there after me right now. And I–I can’t outrun them forever. Not if they’re all out looking for me.” 

Almost immediately that tightness in your chest returned and you pushed off of the van, turning your back to Frank and burying your face in your hands. You couldn’t fight the sobs that wracked through you, ashamed that you were breaking down like this in front of Frank. But his words had set a new fear loose in you, one that felt like it confirmed the fact that you were on borrowed time.

Tentative hands were on your shoulders, your body going rigid at the touch. The tears continued to stream down your cheeks behind your hands, but you tried your best to hold back your sobs, though they kept coming out in strangled hiccups.

“Hey, hey,” Frank’s soothing voice said, his hands on your shoulders very gradually pulling you in towards himself. “You’re alright. Everything’ll be alright.”

“They’re going to kill me,” you breathed out, your hands muffling your words.

“No they won’t,” Frank said firmly. “I won’t let them. They’d have to get through me first. And I’m a stubborn asshole.”

You couldn’t resist the laugh that slipped out of your lips, Frank’s deep chuckle that followed somehow soothing. Slowly you lowered your hands down your face, the tears beginning to fall a little slower. Frank had somehow wrapped you in his arms, one of his hands soothingly rubbing back and forth across your upper back. The feel of it had you relaxing into him, though it didn’t help that you were now quickly becoming aware of your proximity to him.

“Told you I’d keep you safe,” Frank murmured. “And I’m gonna do that. You’re gonna help Madani take these assholes down. And I’m gonna make damn sure you’re alive for that. You hear me, Spunky?”

A slow smile spread across your lips at his words. You nodded, your forehead brushing lightly against his firm chest as you did.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Good,” he stated, unwinding his arms from around you.

He turned back towards the van, grabbing the cell phone he’d set down when he’d gotten up to comfort you. With his back turned for a moment, you hurriedly wiped the back of your hands over your cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears that had fallen. If you were being honest, you were still terrified of the nameless and faceless people out there after you, but Frank’s determination and confidence to keep you alive was certainly comforting.

“Here,” Frank said, turning back around and holding out the phone to you. “Already programmed mine and Madani’s number in there. Don’t think you’ll ever need it, but just in case you do, you have it.”

“Thank you,” you said.

Reaching out, you accepted the phone from his outstretched hand. Your other hand slipped into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out the cash he’d given you earlier. When Frank saw it he immediately shook his head, waving a hand at it.

“No, keep it,” he told you. “Probably makes sense you have some cash on you in case we’re ever separated.” When he saw the way your eyes widened he immediately added, “Which we won’t be, but it’s better to take precautions. Don’t need you stranded somewhere without money, right?”

“Right,” you whispered weakly, slowly returning the cash to your pocket.

Frank’s eyes narrowed at you for a moment, studying your tear stained face. You noticed his expression wasn’t as hard as it usually was at the moment. 

“How far from that shooting are we?” he asked curiously. “I’m guessin’ you’re aware.”

“Less then two hours away,” you answered instantly.

Frank let out a grunt at your response before he turned, closing the doors to the van with two solid bangs that echoed in your ears. Your eyes followed his movements as you stood there quietly, grateful that the urge to cry in front of him again had disappeared for the moment. Though at some point you knew you were going to have to unpack whatever that unexpected moment with him was when he had yet again comforted you.

“Next time, tell me this information,” Frank said, turning around and facing you. “That’s the kind of shit that I need to know to keep us both alive.”

“I was–was worried you’d think this whole thing was too big for you to want to deal with,” you admitted awkwardly. “Was afraid if I told you that you’d…leave.”

Frank’s eyes fell closed, his expression briefly looking pained. A second later his eyes opened again, focusing back on you. The look in them was almost pleading when he spoke.

“I’m not gonna leave you behind,” he assured you. “Can you just–just please trust me on that? I’m here to see this through to the end with you.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay,” Frank confirmed. He gestured his head at the front of the van. “Get in. I’m gonna drive a bit in the opposite direction before we grab an early dinner and a motel. We’ll be on the road first thing tomorrow morning and puttin’ as much distance between us and this Glen Allen as we can. Alright?”

You nodded again in response. “Alright,” you agreed.

“Let’s get the hell outta here, then,” he said, turning and making his way towards the driver’s side.

Silently you made your way over to the passenger side, suddenly realizing that you were beginning to really trust Frank. And maybe you were even beginning to like him a bit.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Standing beside Frank in the motel lobby, your hands held the greasy bag of fast food that you’d both picked up just before stopping at this shady little motel, your duffle bag slung over your shoulder. Just like he’d said he would, Frank had driven a couple of hours in the opposite direction of Glen Allen, trying to put more distance between you both and that city. The pair of you were planning to get a room and call it an early night in the hopes of getting back on the road early tomorrow morning and putting even more distance between you and here.

Though neither of you had expected to be waiting in a line at this motel, something you could tell was irritating Frank with the way he kept impatiently running a hand across his mouth. You also noticed it wasn’t just you who’d been eyeing the young blonde with the long curls that were pulled into a pony-tail booking a room in front of you with interest, either. Frank had also been curiously eyeing her, something like concern written on his face. She looked barely eighteen–if she even was–and that combined with her staying in a place like this was admittedly strange and a little worrying. You couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she was doing here.

As if she could feel the weight of both sets of eyes on her, she glanced over her shoulder back at you with distrust on her face as the woman behind the desk filled out some paperwork. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, especially when they landed on Frank just at your side. She gave him a quick once over, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she did.

“What’re you looking at, rough road?” she snapped.

“What?” Frank asked her, head cocking to the side as surprise washed over his features.

“Why don’t you stop staring at me?” she shot before abruptly turning back around.

Frank’s attention shifted towards you as he sent you a look of confusion at the interaction, his dark brows pulling together. You shrugged wordlessly in response, shaking your head at him. Though you had to admit, part of you wanted to laugh at her comment. Not even knowing who Frank was, he already looked intimidating as hell for someone like her to just say something so brazenly.

It was a minute later that the girl had grabbed her key from the woman behind the desk, turning and storming off out of the motel lobby, giving you and Frank a wide berth as she went. Frank briefly watched her leave, a frown on his face before he returned his focus on the woman behind the desk who was looking rather bored.

“Can we get a room?” he asked, approaching the desk and pulling out his wallet. “Two queen beds.”

The woman immediately began to shake her head at him. “Uh uh. Don’t have any more of those,” she replied, gesturing a hand at the door. “She just took the last one for her and her father. All I’ve got is a single queen left.”

You heard Frank swear under his breath, running a hand in frustration through his short hair before he reluctantly agreed to take it. As he paid for the room, you nervously clutched the bag of food tighter in your hands, wondering what having only one bed was ultimately going to mean in a place like this. A moment later the woman was handing Frank the room key before you were following after him out of the motel lobby, silently making your way past the rows of doors while looking for room eleven. 

As you approached the door behind Frank, you watched as he stuck the key inside and unlocked it. Awkwardly you stepped into the room after him, your eyes immediately falling on the single queen bed in the center of the space. Glancing around, you noticed that the only other piece of furniture was a very uncomfortable looking armchair and a small table beside it.

“You can take the bed,” Frank said, closing and locking the door after himself.

“And where do you plan to sleep?” you asked, looking over at him.

Frank turned, taking in the room himself. His mouth pressed into a firm line before he gestured to the armchair.

“I’ll just sleep here tonight,” he answered.

“That thing looks way too small for you,” you pointed out.

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” Frank shot out with a shrug. “Don’t care.”

Your eyes dropped down to the worn and very dirty motel carpet. You weren’t entirely sure what color it had been initially with how faded and stained it was. You cringed at the thought of him laying down and sleeping on it. Gradually your eyes returned to the single bed as Frank shrugged out of his coat, laying it along the back of the chair.

“We could…share the bed,” you said awkwardly, not entirely sure why you were suggesting that idea.

Frank stiffened beside the armchair at your words, his head slowly turning back towards you. One of his dark brows rose onto his forehead as he studied you questioningly for a long moment.

“You sure you’re good with that?” he asked.

Feeling heat creep into your cheeks, you stepped over to the coffee table and set the bag of food down onto it before dropping your duffle bag to the floor. “I mean I trust you’re not going to do anything other than sleep,” you muttered. “You’re doing all the driving and–” you broke off, shuddering as you continued, “–protecting. You need to get decent sleep. I’d give you the bed and sleep somewhere else, but…admittedly I don’t really want to sleep on that floor or that chair, either. So…we could just share the bed?”

Hesitantly you glanced over at Frank beside the chair, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for his response. He was still studying you with one of his usual impossible to decipher expressions on his face. Eventually you saw him give a single nod in answer.

“Alright,” he agreed. “If you’re sure. Should probably eat though and get to sleep. I want to get outta here early tomorrow.”

With a sigh you turned, opening the bag of fast food and grabbing the chicken sandwich you’d ordered out of it before making your way to the edge of the bed to eat. As Frank rooted around in the bag for his burger, your eyes lingered on the muscles in his back and the way his shirt was straining against his thick arms. For a brief moment you wondered how it would feel to curl yourself around his hard body in that bed tonight, having him wrap those strong arms around you while he comforted you yet again.

Though you quickly shoved that thought aside, blinking rapidly as you averted your gaze, beginning to unwrap your chicken sandwich. You were both just going to sleep in that bed tonight, and whatever those thoughts were that you occasionally found yourself having about Frank needed to stop.

[lalal-99]

When in College: Letting Loose

This is chapter 4 of 5 of the story "Play with Fire" {skz h.h.}. Word Count: 9.9k Click here for chapter overview. Click here for the Masterlist. Notes: This chapter contains smut. If you're under the age of 18, please do not read it! Smut tags: unprotected sex (be safe everybody!), fingering, handjob, car sex, breathplay, chocking (f. receiving) Taglist: @putmetogetheragain13 @97lovestay @jihoonis

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"Hello?"

Your brow furrowed as you noticed the heavy breathing on the other end of the line.

"Chan? Is everything alright?" you questioned curiously, a concerned tone in your voice.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"You sound out of breath," you detected as your eyes scanned the trees through the windshield.

You had finally given up after attempting to start your car by having Hyunjin push it while you continuously turned the key. It was getting colder by the second, and Hyunjin had complained about his freezing hands one too many times to let you keep him going. At this point, the realisation had kicked in that you needed to jump-start to get it going.

"Oh, that," Chan recognised with a light chuckle. "Changbin's nagging was unbearable after you left, so I took him out for a jog."

"In the cold? Are you sure you won't catch a cold?" you asked him as your eyes met Hyunjin's. His hands were crossed in front of his chest as he watched you expectantly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was obviously annoyed at your small talk when all you needed from Chan was to come and pick you up.

"We're gonna be fine," Chan told you, and you could almost see him propping his arm on his hip. The parental gesture he had adapted throughout the past year. "Why'd you call?"

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Can you come and pick us up?" Your hand came to your mouth as you started biting your nails lightly.

"y/n ran out of gas, and we're stuck in the middle of nowhere," Hyunjin called into the microphone, coming just a little too close for your liking. You rolled your eyes at his words, switching your phone from your right to your left ear so that he couldn't repeatedly interrupt. It was bad enough that you were stuck in your car with him, but you didn't need him constantly complaining about everything on top of that.

"No, I didn't. I think my battery is the problem. The car won't start," you corrected Hyunjin's false statement as your eyes made their way back to face the outside. It was much more comforting watching the trees sway in the wind than looking at Hyunjin's overly dramatic face.

The road in front was clear up until the horizon, the darkness slowly coming closer with each minute. As you looked up at the sky, you noticed the moon gradually appearing, surrounding itself with a couple of stars. In any other situation, this would have been rather romantic. As if it was straight out of a movie. That was if Hyunjin hadn't been the only other person around.

"Well, I can come to get you, but it'll take a while. We're about half an hour from the cabin, and Changbin is starting to lose his stamina."

"Hey!" you heard the boy complain from somewhere beside Chan, his teasing chuckle echoing through the phone. "I can bench more than you."

"In your dreams," Chan retorted as you heard some ruffling. Apparently, they were wrestling now to find out which one of them really was in better shape. Right now, you were more than annoyed by their childish behaviour.

"Chan!" you called a little louder this time to get his attention back on track. It seemed to work when the shuffling on the other end of the call stopped. "Can't Minho pick us up or something?"

"Hell no. If you think I'll let someone else drive my car, you don't know me at all." Chan was right about that. He never let anyone other than himself sit behind the steering wheel of his precious Ford Focus. You should have known better than to assume he'd make an exception for you.

"How long are you gonna be? We're freezing, and it's getting colder by the second," you told Chan, your free hand coming around your front. Hugging yourself helped only for a second before you felt just as cold as before. It didn't improve the situation that you didn't have anything else with you other than a thin cardigan over your t-shirt.

"Maybe forty minutes," Chan estimated vaguely, making you sigh in defeat.

"Please, hurry!"

"You're that desperate to get away from Hyunjin?" Chan questioned with a laugh, and you could tell he was mocking you. You couldn't deny that you would have preferred being stuck in a small space with anyone but Hyunjin. Even a nagging Changbin or a lovestruck Jisung and Minho.

"Like you wouldn't believe," you answered, throwing Hyunjin a fake smile. You knew he couldn't have heard what Chan had said before, or else he would have complained already.

"Well, you probably won't like it then, but I have an idea how you can keep yourself warm," Chan stated as you heard him pick up his pace again. "Body warmth is the easiest way to keep yourself alive in the cold."

"What are you suggesting?" you questioned, your brow furrowing as you had just the slightest idea of what Chan was trying to say. And he was right about the other part. You didn't like it – like at all.

"I suggest the two of you get your butts on the backseat and cuddle the hell out of each other." You knew Chan was more than a little amused by that mental picture. You could hear it in his tone as well as in the chuckle leaving his lips. He seemed to love the idea of you and Hyunjin keeping each other warm in the dark of the night.

"Yeah, I don't think so," you replied with a huff. There was no way you would let that boy lay a hand on you. Not even if it meant that you caught a cold. "How bad can the cold be anyways?"

"Hypothermia occurs under a body temp of 35 degrees Celsius. So even if I get there in half an hour, your body will have shut down under the current temperature." How Chan knew facts like that was a real mystery, but it didn't change that you trusted his knowledge.

"Why do you have to be such a smart ass?" Chan knew you were mocking him as much as he knew he was right. Even you had to admit that Chan was the most intelligent person you knew, so hearing him say things like that made you think the unthinkable.

"See you in forty! Have fun!"

With those words, Chan hung up the phone leaving you in silence. With a sigh, you put your phone down beside you as you thoughtfully started biting your lip. Of course, cuddling with Hyunjin had never been in the realm of possibilities. Hearing Chan tell you what could happen if you didn't manage to keep your bodies warm shifted everything, though. Somehow, it altered your view of reality.

"What did he say?" Hyunjin questioned, oblivious to the content of the talk you had just had with Chan.

"He's on a jog with Changbin. He'll take at least forty minutes," you repeated parts of your previous conversation. "He also said that if we don't want to die, we'll have to keep ourselves warm."

"And how does he suppose we do that without gas?" Hyunjin's know-it-all attitude made it harder for you to say the following words. You didn't even attempt to correct him in the gas matter – that's how bad it was.

"Body warmth," you simply stated, your eyes trained on Hyunjin's face to catch his reaction. His head turned to look through the windshield as a huff left his lips.

"Of course, he would suggest that." Hyunjin shook his head as his eyes came back to you. "Did he also have any serious suggestions?"

"He was pretty serious about this one," you explained, your bottom lip coming back between your teeth.

As much as you hated the thought of being closer to Hyunjin than a few metres, you couldn't deny that Chan's words had gotten to you. When you had left the house about thirty minutes ago, it had already been below zero degrees. Knowing the weather was unpredictable at this time of the year, it was more than probable for the temperature to decrease further. Anything in that range was deadly – you didn't need Chan to tell you that.

"Don't tell me you're considering it," Hyunjin asked out of the blue, apparently having read your facial expression. You debated denying it for a second, but what good would that do.

The reality was that there was no other option. Your car didn't start, and not even the blanket you had in your trunk at all times would provide enough protection from the cold.

"Believe it or not, I like living. I don't want to die because we're too proud to cuddle," you told Hyunjin honestly, your eyes shifting to the backseat. "I'll even go first, so you can tell everyone it was my idea."

"And have everyone think you were the bigger person? I don't think so?" Hyunjin said as he pushed you back a little to make his way through the front seats before you could. Apparently, that was easier said than done as he was obviously struggling to get through the small space between the front seats. "Ugh, why's your car so small?"

"Stop complaining," you ordered as he finally plopped down onto the back seat. "Did you even consider your thick thighs being the problem?"

"My thighs are not the problem. They're a gift." You ignored the urge to roll your eyes at his smugness as you followed him into the back of your car. For a second, your butt got stuck between the backrests of the front seats, allowing Hyunjin to clap back at you. "See, your big butt doesn't fit either."

"Last time I checked, my butt was the least of your problems."

As you sat down on the cushions, you took a deep breath. The first mission had successfully been accomplished, though that didn't make the next one any easier.

The distance between you was at max, even though the two of you had ended up in the backseat. The furthest possible was the default distance between you in any other situation, so why would it have altered in a small space?

After your less than innocent game of Truth or Dare a few weeks back, you had distanced yourself even further. Seeing Hyunjin push you off of him in disgust somehow made you more nervous about approaching him again. Especially now that it was just the two of you rather than a group.

You didn't quite believe the pity you felt for him, having to be close to you when he so obviously hated every second of it. Whatever it had been that had made Hyunjin leave you so promptly – be it disgust or hatred – you still felt guilty for causing his discomfort. Even if you had been as much involved in it as he had been.

"So, how do you suggest we do this?" you questioned, breaking the awkward silence. The least you could do was let Hyunjin take control.

"How should I know? You wanted to do this," he stated, making you look at him in amusement.

"Let's not make that a part of the story, alright?" The last thing you wanted was for people to think you had suggested any of this. Chan was the one who had brought this idea up, so you didn't want to have people joke about it.

"Fine," Hyunjin finally gave in, clearing his throat as he slowly scooted over towards you. "Let's get this over with."

"Wow, you really do hate me, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Hyunjin questioned, looking at you in confusion.

"Oh, nothing." With those words, you got up from the comfortable seat, turning around so that you could grab the blanket from the trunk. You stretched your upper body through two of the headrests, which were closer in distance than you had expected.

"What are you doing?" Hyunjin asked in shock, flinching away from you as you sat back in the backseat. Your shirt had rid up to just below your bra when you had squeezed back out of the small space, so you quickly pulled it back down as you held the blanket out for him.

"Relax. I just got a blanket," you explained as you realised it was your exposed back and stomach that had caused the boy to react this strangely. "Oh, come on. You've seen me reveal more skin than that."

"I guess. Sorry."

Something about Hyunjin's mood visibly shifted at that moment. Usually, he would have given another smart-ass answer to your words, though this time, he didn't. Why he would apologise for flinching at your half-naked upper body was another mystery unsolved. He had literally dirty talked to you just weeks ago. Why would he react this uncomfortable at something so innocent?

As soon as you had arranged the cover over your legs, your feet coming up beside you, it was Hyunjin's turn. Just like you had done, he took off his boots, bringing his feet up so they would get some warmth too. Neither of you seemed too fond of the idea of losing a toe or two. That probably had something to do with them being crucial for your future careers in dancing.

Hyunjin grabbed one corner of the blanket, bringing it over his body as you scooted closer to him. He seemed to still be a little stiff in your close proximity, though you felt him relax after a few seconds. He must have finally noticed that there was nothing much to sharing a blanket.

"It's not so bad, is it?" you asked, a genuine smile playing on your lips. "If you want to, you can put your arms below the blanket."

"Oh, yeah." Hyunjin's arms joined you under the cover as you felt them close to your side. Had you moved just a centimetre, you would have probably touched him, but right now, you weren't quite there yet. You still needed to get used to being this close to him in the first place. Maybe then, direct body warmth would become an option the two of you were comfortable with. "Is it weird that this isn't as weird as I thought?"

"Maybe a little," you agreed, your hands resting comfortably in your lap. Even though it had barely been a minute, your fingers already started to feel less frozen. "Honestly, we've been closer than this."

"You mean the dancing?" Hyunjin asked, referring to the choreography you had worked on for the past few weeks. Some of the movements required the two of you to touch, some even having him twirl you by your hip. Maybe that had something to do with the familiarity this proximity made you feel.

"Yeah, that," you confirmed, your eyes coming to look at him. "But also Truth or Dare. Right now is a lot less steamy than that."

"I guess." Hyunjin actively tried to avoid eye contact, which made you feel guilty again. He obviously still felt uncomfortable about what had happened, and you came to the realisation that now was most likely the right time to apologise for it. Up until this point, you hadn't had the opportunity to say something about it, so if not now, you'd never say anything.

"By the way, I really am sorry for crossing a line there. I know I was wrong for saying something so-"

"Raunchy?" Hyunjin finished your sentence when you didn't find the right word. Somehow, he had found the perfect description for your behaviour. "It's fine. You didn't mean it."

"Yeah," you agreed hesitantly, hoping Hyunjin wouldn't notice.

Why you were doubting the truth behind your words, you didn't know. Maybe you remembered that in the heat of the moment, there was the slimmest possibility that you, indeed, did mean it. Whatever it was that day, something about him had made you feel – attracted. To Hyunjin, out of all people. Of course, the alcohol must have had something to do with it.

"Can I ask you something?"

The words out of Hyunjin's mouth made you look up at him again. At some point within the past five minutes, the atmosphere had taken 180 degrees, for some reason allowing the two of you to have a normal conversation. It was the vulnerability in his question that made you realise that it had been longer than ever since either of you had said something just to piss the other off. This must have been some sort of record for the two of you.

"Now or never," you joked, looking at him curiously.

"When you said that I hated you before, were you being serious?"

It was an honest question. Hyunjin obviously wanted you to answer truthfully, which wasn't a given. Not with the two of you constantly bickering in any other situation.

"Well, I guess. You obviously have some problem with me, and honestly, I'm not surprised."

As you were talking, you felt one of Hyunjin's hands fidgeting below the cover. As if he was nervous about your answer. But that couldn't be, could it?

"The dare was one thing. I can understand that I crossed a line there. You had every right to push me off your lap. But it's a whole other thing that you don't want to share a blanket with me if our health is on the line."

Hyunjin was waiting for you to finish your explanation. When you did, he started chuckling, confusing you all the more.

"You honestly think I hate you?"

"You don't?" you questioned curiously. Somehow, that made your heart feel a little lighter. As if a ton of bricks fell from it. You could have never imagined feeling this relieved about Hyunjin not hating you. Had someone told you this would happen this morning, you would have taken them straight to a mental hospital.

"Did I ever say that I did?" Hyunjin asked, shaking his head as if you were totally off for assuming all your bickering and fighting was for something other than hatred.

For you, at least, it wasn't. Obviously, you had never gotten along with Hyunjin, but you didn't hate him. You never hated anyone, for that matter. Maybe Hitler. But not someone as innocent as Hyunjin – at least compared to the most vicious war criminals that ever walked the earth.

"Well, no. But-"

"Tell me, if I hated you, would I have pulled you off the train tracks?"

"I guess not."

He was right. Had he really hated you, he would have simply watched you get hit by a train rather than save your life. Even if you still had all the time in the world.

"Exactly," Hyunjin pointed out as a matter of factly. "And am I sharing a blanket with you now, aren't I?"

Again, Hyunjin had a point there. Even though he had seemed like sharing the blanket with you would be the greatest sacrifice he ever had to make, he had given in rather quickly.

"Well, if you put it like that-"

"I gotta say, I'm a little offended that after a year, you still don't know me at all. You still believe that I'm truly an awful person. And that even though we're more similar than any other two people in our group."

Now, that statement was a lie. There was no one in the group you felt further apart from than Hyunjin. You two were like fire and ice. Like heaven and hell – you obviously being heaven. Like Tom and Jerry.

What was Hyunjin trying to achieve by saying this? Was he trying to mock you? Was he trying to get you to trust him before crushing you into little pieces? Maybe, this was his way of getting back at you after winning your last fight on the train tracks. Hyunjin must have felt emasculated after that, so now he was trying to take back the little pride he had left.

What other explanation could there have been for Hyunjin to say that you were similar? This couldn't have been his way of simply being nice. There was just no way he would say something this horrendous if it wasn't for his own benefit.

"In what way are we similar? I don't know if you noticed, but out of everybody, we get along the least."

"Exactly."

How your words had in any way correlated with his hypothesis, you didn't know. If anything, your words were totally contrary to what he had said before.

"Have you ever heard of 'opposites attract' before?" The sarcasm in Hyunjin's voice was undeniable. "Well, according to this logic, in which two people who have few in common get along great, similar people push each other away. Hence, we keep fighting because we have similar personalities."

The tone Hyunjin was using made it appear as if his statement was the most logical one in the universe. As if he was merely stating facts. How hadn't you thought of it that way when he had so obviously done so in the past? Maybe you had gotten too caught up in fighting with him to ask for the reason behind it.

"I guess it makes sense if you put it like that. But that doesn't answer my question," you pointed out, feeling weirded out by the fact that you had just told Hyunjin he was right. "In what way are we so similar that we keep getting into these meaningless competitions?"

"Well, for starters, we both like dancing."

"That hardly makes us similar, though. I mean, Yeji and Felix like dancing too, but they don't get into these arguments." Hyunjin had to agree that you had a point there. Most of your friends had similar interests. Minho, Felix and most of the girls were dancers, Han, Chan, and Changbin liked producing songs, and Seungmin, Jeongin and Lia were really into songwriting. Neither of them ever got along as little as you did.

"But do they also have that kind of pressure on their backs as we do? I bet all of their parents showed up at every audition, every school play or every talent show."

Now, this was undeniably something you had in common. Neither of your parents ever accepted your artistic tendencies. Chan's mom would have never told him to achieve something great within three years, or else she would pull his funding. And Felix's dad would have never thrown him out for going after his dream.

You had learned a while ago that both of you hadn't been handed this opportunity that easily. Hyunjin's father hadn't been kind enough to allow him to come back home if he didn't feel he could do it any longer. Just as your mother had given you only three years to basically achieve what took others a decade.

Hyunjin had to work part-time to pay his tuition, and you had to get straight A's. In some way, that made you more similar than you could have ever imagined.

"I never looked at it that way," you confessed, somehow feeling closer to him than ever before. That Hyunjin was the only one who could truly grasp the amount of pressure you had felt weird nevertheless.

"Well, then you probably never saw our competitions as something we have in common either," Hyunjin assumed, his eyes never leaving you. "We both love – and I mean love – winning. So much even that we've been competing for over a year now. And neither of us will let this go."

"You can stop now. I see where you're coming from," you told Hyunjin as you realised that maybe, he really was right about all this. There was no reason to deny that both of you hated losing. It was the sole reason you were fighting over choreography, the sole reason your game of Truth or Dare had taken that dreadful turn. God only knew what would happen if you were ever challenged to a game of Mario Kart.

"Then you probably see why I don't hate you. Why I never could hate you." Your eyes met Hyunjin after trying to avoid looking at him for so long. "You're probably the only one who knows what I'm going through. You're the only person I can really relate to."

Why was Hyunjin so honest all of a sudden? You weren't used to him giving you an insight into his mind at all, as you also didn't give him any clues to yours. It wasn't easy to not assume a motive behind his kindness. But if there really was a hidden agenda, he wouldn't be opening up like that. Only if everything he had just said was lies could he truly profit from whatever game he might have been playing.

"I don't hate you either. Just for the record."

Hyunjin laughed at your words, shaking his head.

"I know. Other than you apparently do me, I actually know you and how you tick. You're not a hateful person. Neither am I, by the way."

And just like that, you felt guilty for assuming a motive behind Hyunjin's vulnerability. Maybe, he really was trying to just be nice. For the sake of the calm atmosphere, you decided to believe him.

"So, what is this? The end of our constant fighting? Is this how our competition ends?" you question curiously, oblivious as to how you were meant to continue from here on. You couldn't possibly go back to fighting now that he had opened up to you. Well, maybe you could, but you'd much rather enjoy the calm.

"I don't think we can ever truly give up on that. After all, we love winning."

"There's one thing I don't understand, though," you pointed out as your eyebrows drew closer together. The light smile on Hyunjin's face felt foreign, somehow unreal as you had rarely seen it before.

"What is it?"

"If you really hate losing so much, then why'd you let me win the dare?"

It was an honest question. You had no idea why Hyunjin would push you off his lap as harshly as he did if it really wasn't due to disgust or hatred. Up until now, you had only speculated an explanation. Now that it was clearly wrong, you didn't know just how to interpret his behaviour.

"Oh, that? I was just super turned on and didn't want you to notice."

That was unexpected.

"Okay, that's an outright lie," you called his evident bluff, your cheeks flushing a light shade of red nevertheless. Just the thought of you having such an effect on Hyunjin made you feel – excited. As weird as that was.

"I can see why you'd say that, but I'm not lying," Hyunjin confirmed his previous statement. A smirk played on his lips as he visibly noticed how shy you were getting. "If you tell anyone about this, I will deny it."

"Wait, so you really were turned on?" you questioned, still a little doubtful that Hyunjin had told you the truth.

"You're surprised?" Hyunjin countered as you felt his hand close in on you below the blanket. It made your heart race, though you had no explanation for that. "I mean, you did tell me to fuck you in the next room. Given the circumstances, I think anyone would have been turned on by that."

You had to admit that Hyunjin was right about that. You basically talked dirty to him for minutes while sitting on his lap and touching him more than inappropriately – for frenemies at least. Also, you couldn't deny that it had made you feel just as on edge as him, apparently.

"But I knew you were just playing. So, I got up and left before anything could happen," Hyunjin explained as you saw him biting the inside of his cheeks. "I'm just that nice."

You debated for a second how to go from here. If it were anyone else, you wouldn't hesitate another second to set things straight. Because other than Hyunjin, you knew it wasn't as playful as he had interpreted it to be.

Why were you still treating him differently, though? After how vulnerable he had just been with you, there was no need to distort the truth any longer. Or was there?

"What if I wasn't playing."

Just as quickly as you had said those words, you regretted them. What were you thinking? You had just implied another reason for your action other than trying to get the upper hand. You wanted to take your words back instantly, but you couldn't. They were out there now, and it was up to Hyunjin how to react to them.

"You weren't?" Hyunjin questioned, his eyes trying to find the answer in yours. You almost caught yourself thinking he wanted you to confirm his suspicion.

"That's not what I was saying," you backtracked, laughing nervously. "Just hypothetically. What if I had told you to take me to the next room because, secretly, I wanted you to?"

By asking a hypothetical question, you were trying to get Hyunjin to open up without having to yourself. It was a desperate move, maybe even a little pathetic, but this was the only way you could think of at the moment. You needed to know if Hyunjin's attraction to you had been a one-time thing or if he still felt it. Frankly, you felt it, and you had for a while.

"Well, did you?"

And yet again, another question you didn't know just how to answer without giving yourself away.

"Hypothetically speaking, there might be the slightest possibility that I did, at the moment." Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to find the right words.

It was harder than expected to get your message across while also leaving an escape plan. And you needed a Plan B if it turned out that Hyunjin wouldn't have done anything. Just so you could get out of that uncomfortable spot. A way of phrasing that you could simply brush off as a misunderstanding.

All the hypotonicity couldn't have led Hyunjin down the wrong path, though. He had understood that your approach wasn't hypothetical already, his aura visibly shifting now. The confidence that you were used to suddenly appeared on his face, his eyes narrowing as they scanned your lips right in front of his own.

"Well, hypothetically," a smirk appeared on his lips as he leaned in closer, his mouth close enough so you could feel his breath. "I would have done you right then and there, princess."

And just like that, just by moving a few centimetres closer to you, he took all the hypotonicity away.

You had always predicted Hyunjin to be a good kisser, one hint being his plump, almost cushion-like lips. You had obviously never known before today, but they were so warm against your own. Almost like all the blood in his veins rushed straight to them. Another hint was the girls he had dated over the past year, who somehow kept chasing after him. Up until now, the reason for their eagerness had been unknown to you. Now that you knew just how careful and considerate he was, you understood.

His lips moved against yours as if he would break you the second he kissed you harder. As though you were made of some of the finest porcelain. This was a totally unexpected side of Hyunjin you had never imagined getting to know. Not that you had fantasised about kissing him anyways.

As his hand came up to cup your jaw, you opened your mouth a little, and when Hyunjin entangled his tongue with yours, you were eventually over and done for. Your head tilted to the side as your hand came to his thigh, making him shiver a little below you.

Had someone told you this morning that you'd be kissing Hyunjin in the privacy of your car by the end of the day, you would have called them crazy. And you would have called yourself crazy for being friends with such a lunatic.

Right now, you didn't have the time to analyse any of this, though. All you knew was that you were kissing Hyunjin, and it was good.

So good even, you needed to be closer to him. The space between you felt cold, and you didn't want to be for another second. So, when his free hand came to the small of your back, pulling you closer, you immediately obeyed. Your leg came over his lap, situating itself on the other side of his body so that you were straddling him. All the while, your hand stayed on his thigh and eventually ended right on top of his crotch.

"Fuck," Hyunjin moaned when you started massaging his growing bulge over the restrain of his jeans. You regained your usual confidence as you simply smiled into the kiss, your second hand coming to his hair and pulling lightly at the roots. You had heard him moan once before, though this time was even more intimate. And you loved being the cause for it.

The blanket was still covering both your bodies, though with how hot you were getting, you barely needed it anymore. Soon enough, Hyunjin started pulling off your cardigan, leaving you in just your top.

"Are you cold?" Hyunjin questioned with a smirk as he noticed your nipples hardening under your shirt.

You wanted to answer him, to tell him that how firm they were had nothing to do with the temperature, but you were cut off when his hand ran over them through your top. You sucked in a breath before kissing him again, a little harsher this time.

It was your hips moving against his in small circular motions that made Hyunjin harden the kiss himself. When his tongue knocked at your mouth a second time, you denied him the entrance just to see how he would react. He instantly realised what you were doing, biting your bottom lip and pulling away just to let it bounce back against your face. In return for your teasing, he pinched your nipple, making you moan against him. He took that opportunity to push his tongue back into your mouth, eventually winning this small fight.

"You sound amazing," Hyunjin told you honestly as his hands took hold of the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to your chest.

"Ditto," you breathed against him as the cold air hit your stomach. Goosebumps rose all over your skin, especially when Hyunjin's hands started running over it. His touch made you shiver and press into him even harder. "Fuck me!"

You didn't mean it literally. Well, you did, but right now, it was more of a verbal reaction to Hyunjin's hands all over your exposed tummy. They strengthened their grip around your body even further, leaving their imprints all over your hips.

"If you insist," Hyunjin jokingly answered your plea, the smirk on his face remaining unnoticed as you threw your head back the second his lips met your cleavage. The wet kisses he left all over your neck and neckline made you tremble, and by now, you were sure the temperature had nothing to do with that anymore. It was all him – it was all Hyunjin. "Let's get this off, shall we?"

With those words, Hyunjin dragged your shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere to the side. It left you in only your bra as he scanned your uncovered chest. Hadn't you known it to be physically impossible, you would have guessed he was trying to eat you up with his eyes.

"That's the same red bra, isn't it?" Hyunjin questioned as you looked at him in confusion. You had no idea what he was talking about – blame the arousal you were going through at the moment. "The one from your matching set."

"Oh, yeah." You remembered telling him about your matching set during your famous game of Truth or Dare. "I guess I let you see it after all."

"And you weren't lying. The lace – it's something," Hyunjin pointed out as he softly bit his lip. "Please tell me you're wearing the stockings, too."

"Sadly, no. But I'm wearing the matching panties. Maybe, if you're good enough, I'll let you see them," you told Hyunjin with a sweet smile.

"Yes, ma'am," Hyunjin mumbled against you as you felt his hands reach up to your bra. With a simple motion, he pulled one cup down enough to let your nipple spring free. The second it hit the cold air, you felt a shiver approach, eventually crashing over you when his mouth met the hard nub.

"Fuck," you groaned as you pressed your hips harder against Hyunjin's in response. His tongued started innocently playing with you as his eyes observed your every reaction. He needed to know just how much you were enjoying his attack – and that you did.

Your hands came to the back of his head, pulling harder on his hair as if to pull him away. Apparently, Hyunjin realised that you didn't actually want him to stop, as his ambush became more vigorous. The second he started biting down onto your nub, the air got stuck in your lung. It didn't help that Hyunjin had pushed the second cup down by now, his cold fingers massaging your other breast.

After a few moments, he switched sides to even it out, maybe. You couldn't control your hips circling over his crotch, trying to get just the slightest bit of friction. Before today, before Hyunjin, you had never been as desperate for anything. Right now, you needed to feel Hyunjin and all of him.

"Fuck me!" you moaned yet again, coming up to look at the boy below you. He stopped his attack on your body for a second, his hand still on your chest. "Literally. I want you to fuck me. Now!"

"Your wish, my command," Hyunjin agreed, pulling his shirt over his head.

For a few seconds, you got off of his lap so that you could take off your pants. He joined you immediately, though getting rid of yours and his jeans took a little longer than expected, the tiny space making it unnecessarily challenging.

The moment you could focus on him again, sitting back down on his muscular thighs, your eyes met the shimmering silver decorating his navel. His piercing was even more beautiful than you had imagined – and that you had done. Piercings being one of your main turn-ons, you couldn't have stopped your wandering mind most nights after your dare.

Only when you had gotten used to the pretty view did you notice the sight around it. And damn, Hyunjin didn't disappoint. Being a dancer obviously came with its perks, and those perks came in the form of abs. Tight, caramel-coloured abs that you wanted to lick and bite and worse.

"Thank you," Hyunjin took you out of your daydream, your eyes coming up to his.

"I didn't say anything," you pointed out with a chuckle as his hands came back to your hips, situating you higher up on his lap. You could feel him press against your clothed core as you let out a light moan.

"I know what you wanted to say, though. I'm well aware of the fact that I'm hot."

"Don't be so full of yourself," you told him with an eye roll. Just cause you were in a different state of mind didn't give him the permission to be so smug. At that moment, you wanted to do nothing more than rip that smirk off his face.

"Make me!"

Now, that was a challenge.

"Careful now," you warned him as you closed in on him, your hands meeting his navel as you started pulling on his piercing a little. It made him groan right into your ear, only spurring you on further. "You might just unleash a beast."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

And just like that, Hyunjin had started something that neither of you could stop once it was out there. It was something neither of you wanted to stop anyways. Those few words made the competitiveness inside you roar, and you were sure that it was just what he had wanted to achieve.

That even sex would become combative between the two of you shouldn't have been a surprise. Knowing just how much the two of you loved winning, it was inevitably even.

Neither of you had to say anything else as both of you knew this was war yet again. With different stakes, maybe, but it was war. Over who could do better. Over who could make the other one finish faster. Both of you knew it instantly – neither of you wanted to lose.

"Oh, I'm gonna end you," you silently breathed against Hyunjin's neck as you rolled your hips into him roughly. It almost made you moan, so that he did was no surprise.

For a second, you thought you had already won as Hyunjin rolled his head back against the headrest. Though, when his thin fingers found the hem of your panties, creeping below the band, he unexpectantly turned the tables.

One of his slim digits immediately found your nub, running over it lightly as it was now you moaning out loud. You involuntarily arched your back into his touch as he rubbed you lightly for a few seconds. That such a light touch could get you this riled up came as a surprise, even to you.

"What was that, princess? I couldn't hear you over all your moaning," Hyunjin smirked as he pressed his lips onto yours. His finger kept on moving against you, running up and down your folds before it finally entered you, ever-so-slowly. Your hands came to his shoulder for support the second he added another finger. "Feel good?"

You couldn't answer him as you were unable to speak or think. Frankly, you couldn't remember a time that somebody's fingers had put you in a rough spot like this one. You had a few aces up your sleeve as well, though, at his skilled movements, you barely had the chance to use any of them.

As you tried your hardest not to roll your hips against his hands, your own hand slowly travelled down his front and towards his briefs. You could feel his manhood the moment you reached his lap, roughly placing your hand on top of him. It made Hyunjin's movements falter for a few seconds, though you knew that it would need more to get him constantly distracted.

Which is why you slowly let your hand wander below his briefs, softly grabbing him. A groan left his lips as you started running your fingers over him, paying particular attention to the head. That you couldn't see what you were doing – your hands deep inside his briefs – didn't really matter at the moment. The way he twitched in your hand was sign enough to know that he liked what you did.

"Feel good?" you mimicked Hyunjin's prior confidence, a chuckle leaving your lips.

The movement of your hand paired with you sitting on top of him, clad in a sexy set of matching underwear, seemed to be enough to get control over him. Just as most men you had been with before, Hyunjin appeared to be easy to see through. That's what you thought, at least.

For a few moments, Hyunjin's hand merely rested beneath your panties as he was too caught up in the moment to do anything. Other than you were used to, he somehow came back to reality after a while, his hand picking its previous movement back up. And this time, he was even more vicious.

You couldn't stop yourself from swallowing hard when two of his digits pumped back into you, his thumb rubbing over your most sensitive spot. Your ability to do anything decreased further when his second hand came to your throat, pressing up against your airway.

All the air got stuck in your throat, Hyunjin's hand preventing you from breathing normally. It made your eyes roll to the back of your head as you got so much closer way too quickly.

"Good thing, I remembered this, huh?" Hyunjin spoke, again meeting your lips. Honestly, you should have been mad at him for using your kink against you once again, but it just felt too good. "I told you, you're not the only one who's into choking, didn't I?"

As he held you close to himself, your chest pressing up against his in a desperate attempt to get at least his hand to stop, you picked up your previous movements as well. Your fingers could barely reach him, only softly pumping as you weren't able to focus.

Your own wetness clung to Hyunjin's fingers as he rapidly entered and exited you, spreading the juice. It made it easier for his thumb to keep the pace, rubbing deliciously against you. The sound coming from below only got overshadowed by your moaning as well as his almost calm breathing. You would have been jealous of his composure hadn't you been in a rough spot at the moment.

Hyunjin's hand on your throat, his other hand in your panties, was too much for you to handle, though you had no head to stop it. Too good did his breathing feel against you, his tongue lapping at your neck every once in a while. All you could really do was let him do all these beautiful things to you while you tried returning the favour. Unsuccessfully, that is, as you couldn't concentrate on his pleasure when your own was overflowing you.

Frankly, you couldn't remember the last time someone had knocked you off your game with only their hands. Maybe, that was cause it had never happened before. Usually, you were in control as your partner laid at your feet, unable to do anything. You were used to being begged to make someone come, not the other way round. While you really despised being a mess at Hyunjin's hands, you loved it at the same time. As if you had finally found someone who was a match for you.

"I'm so close, Hyunjin," you told Hyunjin once you felt your release approach. You knew that this confession would confirm his victory over you, though you hardly cared at the moment. All you wanted was for him to lead you through it, dealing with the aftermath later.

"Interesting," Hyunjin replied smugly as his hands sped up a little. It made you arch your back as you rolled your head back against his fingers. That only constricted your throat further, the extra choking doing you no favour. "Are you saying that I'm better at this than you?"

"I'm – ugh," you tried to speak though it only hurt your throat. Hyunjin seemed to notice, loosening the hold he had around your airways.

"Try again. I couldn't hear you," Hyunjin spoke with a smirk. "Say I'm better at this than you are."

"Fuck! Yes, you are," you eventually gave in. "You win!"

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" As he spoke those words, Hyunjin retrieved his hands from your panties, leaving you empty and cold as your head snapped up to look at him.

"What the-"

"Relax. I'll let you finish, just not like this," Hyunjin explained as he pushed his boxer briefs down his legs, revealing his length to you. You had felt him before, but seeing him was a whole other thing. As your eyes were focused on him, taking in what you had only had the privilege of imagining prior, his hand came back to your panties. He slightly pushed them aside, enough so he could enter. "You ready?"

"Yes. Just please go slowly. It's been a while," you honestly told Hyunjin as you realised that this would most likely hurt a little. Even though you evidently weren't a virgin, the last few guys had been nowhere near his size.

"Of course, princess," Hyunjin agreed as he placed himself at your entrance, pushing his hips up slowly and in short back-and-forth movements. You squeezed your eyes shut at the stretch as it took him about 10 seconds to fully enter you. Thankfully, it didn't hurt as much as you had anticipated. "You good?"

Hyunjin's hand came to your face, cupping one side of it as he searched it for a hint of pain or a sign to stop. Frankly, that he took you into consideration this much surprised you. Pleasantly, of course, but it surprised you. Apparently, Hyunjin wasn't as much a taker as you had thought.

"Yeah, I'm fine." It took you a few more seconds to feel comfortable, and Hyunjin patiently waited for you to give him a sign, telling him that he could go on. When you picked yourself up from him, letting him exit almost entirely before moving back, he seemingly noticed that you were good to go. The pleasant moan coming from you as your lips wandered between your teeth was enough hint for him to finally, after so long, push himself up against you.

Almost immediately, he hit that one spot inside you that was like an on-switch, your eyes opening wide at the pleasant feeling before you started picking up the pace.

About one minute later, the whole scene went blurry.

»»»»»»»»»

"I can't believe we didn't do this earlier."

It had been about five minutes since you had finished your little adventure, and the effect of your climax was starting to wear off. As your breathing slowed down and the fog lifted off your brain, you felt yourself rapidly coming down from the high you had previously been on. And damn, did you fall quickly.

"You're surprised?" you questioned Hyunjin as you shimmied your jeans back over your legs. Taking them off had been a lot easier than trying to put them back on, but you could probably blame the missing sexual component for the decrease in speed. "It's not like we were that close before. We barely even talked without fighting up until today."

"I guess, if you put it like this, I can believe we haven't done this before," Hyunjin agreed with a laugh as he leaned back against the backseat of your car. It didn't seem as though he was in any haste of getting dressed, his piercing still on full display in front of you. You almost caught yourself calling him beautiful, with his hair all messy, sweatily sticking to his forehead as he was still coming down from his high. "I'm a little mad at myself, though. Had I known you were this- you know, I would have made this happen a lot earlier."

At this moment, it became pretty clear to you that this image – him laying naked in the backseat of your car, half his body covered by that blanket – would stay with you for a while. This whole event was so unexpected and life-changing that there was no way you could simply let it go. Even though that was what you really wanted.

Obviously, this would change the dynamic between the two of you. And how couldn't it? You had just slept with the guy you had vowed to yourself never to sleep with, and that only because Hyunjin had said all these nice things. Well, that, and because you had been sexually frustrated for a while. But that would have probably gone away eventually.

In a way, you felt guilty not only to yourself but to all the other women who would come after you, having to put up with Hyunjin's now even bigger ego. Surely this would increase his self-worth, knowing how he had even gotten you – his frenemy for over a year – to finally sleep with him.

It was when you saw a beam of light reflecting in your rearview mirror that you eventually came out of your endless thoughts. It was an abrupt halt to the moment, to the intimacy that somehow still lingered within the walls of your car.

"That's Chan!" you noticed as your eyes caught your friend's car heading towards you in the distance. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded a few more minutes to talk to Hyunjin about this properly. Why you were looking out for him when you knew that he would get over your following words within seconds, you didn't know anyway. "Listen. I know this seems like a huge thing. You probably want to tell everyone that you finally added me to your little black book or to the notches in your belt. I'd just really appreciate it if this stayed between us."

As your eyes found Hyunjin's, you picked his shirt and pants up from the floor, throwing them at him to get him to finally get dressed. The last thing you needed was for Chan to find him butt-naked in your car. It would be hard enough, as is, to explain just why the windows were so foggy and the air smelled of sweat and shame.

"Wait, what?"

Somehow, Hyunjin seemed to be surprised by your words. Maybe he hadn't expected you to address this whole thing as head-on as you had, but there were other things you worried about at the moment than his confusion.

"What black book? And what belt?"

"Come on. We both know you keep the names of all your conquests somewhere. You can't tell me you don't have something like an Excel Spread Sheet in your computer with notes about all your sexual encounters." You almost laughed at the thought of Hyunjin giving grades to performance or boob-size or just anything jerky. "Honestly, I'm not even mad at you for somehow tricking me into sleeping with you. I guess it was meant to happen at some point, and now we got it over with. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"

"Is this a joke?" Hyunjin questioned, somehow hopefully, as he pulled his shirt back over his head. It finally rid you of the sight of his piercing, which had honestly distracted you up until this moment. Despite all of this and his intentions behind being nice to you, you still couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards Hyunjin. If he hadn't been as cocky as you knew him to be, you might have kept him around just a little bit longer. "Please, tell me you're playing."

"I'm dead serious, Hyunjin," you explained as you laid your hand on top of his while he was putting his pants back on. You wanted him to look at you while you said the following words, and for a moment, to not be preoccupied with getting dressed. "Please don't tell anyone about this. Let's just go back to how everything was before and not make a huge deal out of this."

As you looked deeply into Hyunjin's eyes, waiting for him to agree, you saw something strange – something you didn't understand. Obviously, you knew he wasn't totally unemotional. Even someone as confident as Hyunjin had feelings that could be hurt – even he had a sensitive side. Though, you had never expected him to be this pained by you telling him to forget this ever happened. As if he had hoped for a different outcome of all of this.

Frankly, you didn't really know how to handle this. You didn't know what you had said that made Hyunjin seem so hurt in the first place, and you didn't know how to fix it. If anything, you had expected him to disagree with your wishes and tell everyone about you despite you begging him not to. That's the Hyunjin you knew. The one who would do anything to annoy you or undermine you. You had never seen the Hyunjin who could be hurt by you enough to align a single tear in the corner of his eyes.

Somehow, you preferred the Hyunjin who wasn't hurt by you.

Just as quickly and unexpectantly as he had appeared, the sensitive Hyunjin had vanished again. His soft eyes changed to more spiteful ones, your heart missing a beat or two as you didn't understand how he could be hurt one second and hateful the next one. When you heard a car door being shut outside, you brushed your confusion and slight angst off, opening the door behind you.

"I'll distract Chan while you get dressed." With that, you turned around to, one, go and distract Chan long enough so Hyunjin wouldn't be half-naked, and two, get away from Hyunjin's intense gaze. Because honestly, it scared you a little.

"Hey, y/n," Chan greeted you with his signature kind smile as he showed you a tank in his left and a bunch of cables in his right hand. "I didn't know whether you were out of gas or it was the battery, so I brought both."

"Thanks," you told Chan with a fake smile as you tried to get Hyunjin out of your head for at least a little while. You could worry about him all you wanted later when you were alone. "How's Changbin?"

"Calmer, now that he got to run it out of his system," Chan said with a laugh as he nodded over at your car. "How was cuddling with Hyunjin? I take it you did, seeing you're still alive and all."

"Honestly, not as bad as I thought," you explained to Chan. Had the situation not drastically changed while cuddling Hyunjin, you would have probably gotten out of it alright. Despite the turn it had taken, you somehow felt a little closer to Hyunjin now that you knew he at least didn't hate you enough to consider dying over cuddling with you.

"Should we get you filled up then? I mean, Changbin's good for now, but I think he'll forgive you once he has a cold can of beer in his hand," Chan joked as he took a step towards your car.

Just as you were about to pull Chan back so he wouldn't accidentally catch Hyunjin in the midst of getting dressed, the car door opened hastily. With a loud thud, Hyunjin threw it shut behind him as he rushed over to Chan's car, his arms crossed in front of his chest. For just a second, your eyes met as a cold shiver ran down your back. As quickly as he had appeared, Hyunjin had disappeared inside of Chan's car, taking the passenger's seat.

"What's with him?" Chan questioned as his eyes followed the man before coming back to look at you in confusion. Frankly, you couldn't think fast enough to find a reasonable explanation, so you simply shrugged, leading Chan towards your car.

"I don't know. Maybe he didn't like cuddling with me as much as I thought." It was a bad joke, not funny a bit. Still, it seemed good enough for Chan as he nodded understandingly before taking the cap off his gas tank to finally get you up and running again.

[hanmaenthusiast]

Always and Forever

“I like the sound of that Angel.”

inui x f!reader

warnings - mdni🔞, praise, mutual pining?, sofa sex, oral (female receiving), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, riding, body worship, creampie, basically vanilla smut, slight fluff, profanity, use of pet names such as angel and darling, one mention of blood.

synopsis - you and Inui had been living together for a while, one night he comes home wounded after being attacked at work, you have no choice but to help him out in one way or another.

a/n - this is my first post on tumblr & first time attempting smut! apologies for any mistakes, i’m hoping to write more in the future & get better at it lol, anyway the lack of inui on this app is killing me >:(

wc - 2,950

It was late, much later than usual. Seishu still hadn’t come home considering his shift finishes around 4 on a Saturday, you kept your gaze on the clock which continued to tick past 7pm. You found yourself worrying again, worrying about all the possibilities that could’ve happened to him. I mean it was normal to be this concerned, especially since your long term roommate was an ex gang member.

Once again you started pacing around the room, fingers etching to send another distressing ‘where are you?’ or ‘tell me you’re not dead’ text. Seishu’s stern words replayed in your mind ‘Stop worrying about me Y/N, focus on yourself for once’ as you remembered his constant lectures.

Finally gathering yourself together, a set of keys jamming into the front door caught your attention. Sprinting down the stairs your eyes glued onto Inui’s figure as he stood slightly hunched with a prominent bloody gash on his forehead.

“Seishu what the fuck?” you exclaimed, almost passing out at the sight in front of you. It was like you had premonitions about this scenario only seconds before he made his apperance.

“Agh, not so loud, my head is sore.” he groaned, running a hand through his hair after locking the door behind him. He shuffled his way into the room latching onto your arm for support.

“I can quite well see that, sit down over there i’ll clean you up.” you helped him over to the dining table, placing him down onto one of the wooden seats.

Inui told you what happened, how he was suddenly attacked by a group of presumed male gang members at the motor shop unbeknownst to why it played out. Your gut tightened at the story, afraid of any future encounters with them.

“Jesus, they got you good huh. You have to be more aware from now on, where was Draken hm? You better tell him i’ll-“

“Y/N.” Seishu let out a low sigh, he cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

His gemlike pearls fixed onto yours, exchanging a sombre look. You could tell he didn’t need to hear your berating.

“Sorry.” you muttered continuing to clean up his wound.

Ever since you met Inui, you stuck together like glue both having similar interests and mutual acquaintances made it easier to find a blossoming friendship. Of course, you felt a little more than friends towards Inui continuously expressing your feelings from early on.

“Y’know you’re super cute Seishu-“ you tilted your head, hovering it above his “no wonder there’s tons of people feening over you, me included.” you added, tracing a finger over his scar as he lay his head on your lap.

“Yeah? Same goes for you Y/N.” he replied with his tone full of sarcasm, according to him you were making a joke.

This continued for months, constantly sharing flirty remarks but never pursuing one another. Some people had their suspicions, Draken especially, always assuming you’re both in a secret relationship.

“Oi, Seishu your girlfriend’s outside.” Draken nodded towards the entrance of the shop, wiping his hands clean with a rag.

Inui exhaled followed with a roll of his eyes. “She’s just a friend Ken, i’ve told you this multiple times.”

“Seriously just a friend? That mean i have a chance ‘nupi?” Draken giggled, elbowing his colleague in the arm.

“Don’t you dare even try it.” Seishu warned him.

“There, all cleaned up. There’s some leftovers in the fridge too if you’re hungry.” you declared, but before you could retreat back to the sofa, a soft hand grasped you wrist.

“Thank you, genuinely Y/N. I hope you know i’m grateful for everything you do.”

His glossy eyes stared into yours as his sincere words spilled from his mouth. Seishu’s gaze left you with butterflies, a feeling of comfort you would admit, it was odd to see him so thankful seeing as you should be considered a burden to him for how often you seek his safety.

“I know you are, buuut all that praise will have my ego inflating, on another note it was kinda hot seeing your face all bloody.” you laughed kissing above his wound gently before finding a seat on the sofa.

Moments later Inui joined you, resting his head on your shoulder making use of the rest of the couch as he sprawled out his legs. Once he was settled, you both shared a mutual silence watching the TV.

...11:04pm

Your narrowing eyes scanned over your phone, squinting at it’s bright screen shining into your pupils as you attempted to read the time. ‘Shit, must’ve fell asleep.’ you concluded, shifting your weight onto your elbow as you propped up.

You noticed the familiar blondie sleeping tirelessly beside you, an arm positioned lazily over of your waist. Seishu was sound asleep, or so you thought, his ruffled hair tickling your cheeks as you found yourself laying back down facing towards him.

“So precious.” you whispered, lifting your palm gently onto his face as your thumb rubbed slow circles against his pale skin. This was probably the closest you and Seishu had been, cuddled together, bodies attached to one another seeing as the sofa wasn’t roomy enough.

“That feels nice.” Seishu whispered, his soft spoken voice breaking the silence. He brought his hand to yours, placing it on top as he matched your movements, fingers delicately tracing your skin.

“Oh- uhm, well it looks like we fell asleep, i hope you feel somewhat better after having a nap.” you croaked, suddenly feeling the heat rush to your face from embarrassment. Before you lingered around any longer, you sat upright as your back faced Seishu’s figure “I’ll let you rest a little longer-“

“No, stay.” he grabbed your wrist once again, restricting you from fleeing the scene. “Please…for me?” he pleaded, one arm resting on top of his forehead as the other hand was still wrapped around your wrist.

You hesitated, only for a second until you shortly gave into his innocent eyes face paired with a soppy look. “Anything for you Seishu.” you lay back down, again facing towards him on your side.

“Perfect.” he muttered a breathy whisper, a small smile formed on his face along with his emerald eyes flexing a lustrous stare. A dainty finger of his trailed across your cheek moving a strand of hair from your face.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed again, almost tongue-tied especially in this situation. You and Seishu were admittedly always close but never this intimate.

Once again the atmosphere grew silent but before you could mutter a word, Seishu let out a sigh. “You’re…perfect.” Inui murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Seishu…” a soft exhale escaped your lips.

Inui’s hand found it’s way to your chin, gently lifting it upwards so you were eye level to him. “Can i kiss you, Y/N?” his thumb swiped a slow stripe along your lower lip.

You nodded in reply, discreetly trying to hide your inner enthusiasm as you closed your eyes allowing Inui to take the lead. Seishu’s lips planted a longed for soft-lipped peck against yours, gradually finding motion as he continued kissing your lips.

The thumping of your heart increased, focusing only on the rhythm of how soft and velvety Seishu’s lips felt against your own. His a hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer against him without breaking contact.

Your free hand grasped his blonde locks, running your fingers messily through his hair. Your lips begun to plump, meshing together with Seishu’s perfectly as he slipped his needy tongue into your mouth.

“You- don’t know…how long i’ve- wanted this.” his voice muttered between kisses, claiming your lips after every word. You felt yourself grinding ever so slightly against Inui’s thigh, hoping to release the friction caused by his tongue senselessly invading the depths of your mouth.

Faint whimpers escaped your lips as you continued to slowly rock yourself against Inui’s lower half. “Seishu~“ you panted quietly “N-need more.” your hand balled up his shirt, gripping onto it for support.

Inui’s hand which recently held onto your waist found itself sneakily travelling under your cami, fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra. He made quick work of removing your shirt slowly followed by slipping off your undergarment.

“God, you’re gorgeous Y/N. So fucking gorgeous.” he admitted, lips tracing along the outline of your jaw as his eyes glistened at the sight of your naked breasts exposed in front of him. “Prettiest tits ever.” His soft hands ghosting over your breasts, thumb and pointer finger capturing one of your hardened nubs beginning to knead the flesh of your mounds.

Seishu slowed his pace, a small string of saliva connected your lips as he broke the kiss. “Tell me what you need angel. Although i must say, the rutting against my leg isn’t very discreet darling.” he joked letting out a small chuckle, eyes glancing down to your clothed needy cunt.

“Want you to…“ you struggled to express your needs, unable to finish your sentence as you buried your face into his chest out of embarrassment. “Don’t go all shy on me now angel, use your words for me okay?” Seishu placed a hand over your tight shorts, pads of his fingers rubbing against your clothed pussy as moved them up and down ever so slightly.

“Ngh! Want more of that, please Seishu.” you choked, almost begging on your knees asking him to please your throbbing cunt. Seishu made quick work of removing your lower garments, pulling down your shorts as he was met with your drenched panties.

“Look at that mess darling, you got this wet just for me?” he caressed your face again, helping you lay underneath him as he moved further down to your lower area, delicately peppering kisses along your stomach.

Inui’s hot breath fanned lightly over your clit “May i?” he questioned. “Yes Seishu.” you replied almost immediately, lifting your hips a little higher to allow easier access to your heat.

Inui’s hands spread your things, gripping onto them for support. His tongue licked a stripe between your folds, coating your cunt with his spit. “Mhm, just how i imagined.” Seishu continued to speak careless whispers into your cunt, his tongue twirling it’s way onto your throbbing clit ultimately forcing you to grind your hips on his face.

His tongue toyed with your bud, circling hearts as he pleasured your arousal. Inui slipped a finger into your entrance, slowly pushing it further before adding a second finger in to accommodate it. “Seishu! Fuck!” you cried out, moaning into you palm.

“Let me hear that voice of yours Y/N.” Inui encouraged you, his eyes staring from above your seeping cunt fingers pumping into you at an increasing speed. “Ngh! Seishu- i’m close!” your hand pushing his head further into your pussy.

Inui’s fingers padded against your sweet spot, curling in motion as he pumped them in and out of your cunt. His tongue continued licking your throbbing clit sucking onto it simultaneously. “Fuck, Y/N, gonna make me cum from that look on your face.” he moaned, fingers scissoring into you faster.

“Fuck~ Seishu- i’m-“ you were cut off by your own moans, legs shaking from the sudden orgasm as your wet slick spilled from your entrance. “Good girl.” Inui let out a hoarse whisper as he pulled his fingers out which glistened in the dim light covered from the tip of his finger to his knuckles in your own cum.

Inui stuck his digits into his mouth, sucking off every last drop of you. “You did so well for me angel, i’ve waited so long for this exact moment.” he exclaimed, hovering above your face before kissing you on the lips again.

“Seishu…i need more of you, right now.” you demanded, a hand palming the tent growing in his pants. Seishu picked you up, resulting in you straddling his lap on the sofa as he sat beneath you. You lifted your hips before quickly pulling down his shorts letting his cock immediately spring free.

Your eyes grew wide. You never expected Seishu to have such a pretty cock, nevermind larger than you’d have imagined. “Like what you see? Seem’s like you underestimated me darling.” he caressed your waist “Lift yourself up for a sec.” as he tapped the outer side of your thigh.

“Wait- wait…i’m on birth control.” you mentioned stopping Inui from getting a condom from the drawers. “You sure about this?” he smirked somewhat enjoying the fact he gets to fuck you raw the first time.

You nodded again, his tip begun toying against your wet folds before casually slipping the head into your dripping entrance. “Agh~ Fuck Seishu!” you let out a breathy moan, eventually taking the full length of his cock. “So tight, ngh- oh fuck.” Inui spoke, guttural whimpers releasing from the depths of his throat as he buried himself deep inside your cunt.

His hands gripped your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he pulled you gently down onto him. You both adjusted to the position, flashing Seishu a look of encouragement as he slowly started to bounce you on his cock, his hips slightly lifting along with yours.

“You like that yeah? Look at those pretty tits.” he mewled as he buried his face onto one of your exposed breasts, tongue ravaging your perky nipples. “Faster- please.” your hand finding its way to the back of his neck.

Inui bucked his hips into you, bouncing you faster onto his rock hard cock. The smacks of your ass echoed throughout the room as they collided with Seishu’s thighs, your tits bouncing along with every movement as Inui pounded further into your cunt. He quickened his pace again, this time you begun grinding faster matching with his speed in which your legs almost turned to jelly from the fastened movements.

“G’na cum so quick baby~.” you whined, dragging out his pet name whilst throwing your head back as he plowed into your pussy. The adrenaline mixed with arousal was too much, your eyes beginning to roll back from the way Seishu’s tip prodded against your g-spot like he was a miner digging for gold.

Seishu kept a firm grip on your ass, still pounding into you as he continued sucking on your tits giving each one equal attention. “Need- agh- your cum on my cock darling.” manoeuvring his hand to your pulsating clit as he thumbed your nub generously. “Yes ngh~ want you so bad Seishu, want your cum inside me.” you choked out, drawing out your moans from the stimulation his cock was causing as he abused your sex.

Inui flipped you over, cock still fucking your tight cunt as you lay on your back, legs wrapping around his waist. “I’ll fuckin’ give it to you Angel, fill- agh- you up with my cum real good.” he cooed, voice almost gravelly from his own moaning.

He smacked his hips against your ass, cock slipping from your hole a few times. “Wettest cunt I've had.” Inui quipped. “The only cunt you’ll ever have from now.” you sent another remark back. 

“I like the sound of that Angel.”

His fingers padded against your clit, vigorously rubbing against it paying close attention to the nub. “Shit- g’na cum gorgeous.” Inui let out another guttural moan “Let’s- cum together.” he ordered you, quickly intertwining your fingers with his as he took your hand. 

Seishu somehow gathered his stamina letting out a few final hard thrusts along with you bucking into him, your walls gradually spasming around his cock. “Agh- Fuck~” you simultaneously croaked, Inui came inside your cunt. Your wet slick spilled all over his cock along with your insides overflowing with Seishu’s seed.

A slow and steady pace allowed you to both ride out your highs, Seishu caressed your cheek removing your hair stuck to your face. “My god you’re gorgeous Y/N.” he pulled himself out, the mess inside leisurely spilling from your entrance.

“Hold on Angel, I'll clean you up.” Seishu grabbed a rag from the washroom, helping you gently as he tided the mess. He came back in his nightwear, seemingly grabbed a shirt that was his which he placed over your head, covering your exposed body just before he lay beside you on the sofa. 

Inui held you tight against him, wrapping his arms around your figure. He knew how to make you feel safe and extremely comfortable, only two of the things on your never ending list of praise for him.

After a short lived moment of silence, you exhaled out a tired sigh “Seishu...I think I lo-”

“I love you, Y/N.” 

You jolted. Almost speechless at his sudden confession, dumbfounded even, burying your face away from his vision once again “No fair, I was gonna say it first.” you complained, lightly pushing his chest. “I wanted to be the first to say it-” he reassured your complaints “I was just looking for the right time.”

“Crazy how it was after you fucked me, eh?” shooting a cheeky wink towards his face. “Yeah right it was a spur of the moment, you were about to say it too.” he spoke in defence, giving you a kiss on the forehead as an apology.

“Not sure why I waited so long, I guess I was just afraid of hurting you.” his answer was sincere, stroking your hair tenderly “I really do love you Y/N-”

“Not to mention how my head no longer hurts, all thanks to you.” Inui gloated.

You sighed, probably in relief after realising the love you shared for him wasn't just some one sided waste for all these years. “I love you too Seishu-” you replied.

“...always and forever.”

[hyungieyoongi]

See You

Pairing: Professor!Hobi x Professor!Reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers + fluff + angst + Hobi and Reader have some personality conflicts at work but should really just make out or something and stop acting like they dislike each other + this entire fic is inspired by Hobi’s look in that gum commercial I mean he screamed professor with that turtleneck and plaid blazer (thank you @moon-write​ for encouraging this vision)

Word Count: 3.2K+

---

“No, no, please tell me you’re joking,” you groaned, eyes scanning over the classroom assignment list posted on the faculty board in the hallway over again, hoping you were seeing things wrong. A third look at the paper confirmed that your fears had in fact come true – you and Hoseok were teaching next door to each other the entire fall semester.

Hoseok was the History of Dance Professor in your department. He was hired at the beginning of last year, three years into your career as one of the youngest faculty members in the Music & Arts program at your university. While he was bubbly and energetic, you were the more typical academic – down-to-earth, a little bit serious. He was beloved by his students for his positive personality and passion for teaching; you were well-regarded as being a natural talent who wanted to hone your students’ abilities.  

It wasn’t that your students didn’t like your course. No, it was well-reviewed and relatively popular considering it was an elective. But once Hoseok arrived, you felt like you were competing with the star of the program. Every student, even the ones who didn’t like dance, were lining up for his course, pushing your class and others into smaller classrooms with dwindling numbers. He, of course, got the large lecture hall this year.

He was the pain in your side, constantly flashing his bright smile to get his way in the department, dazzling your colleagues. Students would often be buzzing in the hallways about how they didn’t have to take an exam in Professor Jung’s class like they did in Professor Y/L/N’s. They got to go to a local show instead and analyze the dance performance. Hoseok was creative and intelligent – that much you could agree with – but you rolled your eyes every time you saw another one of his students attempt to flirt with him.

Hoseok and you figured out you got on each other’s nerves pretty quickly. He would always play music too loud in his office while you were grading papers – he timed how long it took you to show up at his door to tell him to turn it down every afternoon. You would make it a point to have your students play samples of their pieces they’d written on the piano while he was in the middle of a lecture, leaving your classroom doors open so the notes of the instrument would float down the hallway to the lecture hall. You’d have a satisfied grin on your face when you heard the telltale noise of the lecture hall doors slamming shut.

The entire department knew about this little game the two of you would play with each other, not to mention the sarcastic comments from you and teasing jokes from him that were on repeat any time you were in the same room. The bickering was bound to get worse with the two of you in such close quarters all semester.

“Y/N!” you heard a loud voice call down the hallway. You hadn’t heard that voice in two and a half months thanks to your summer vacation. You gritted your teeth, turning with a tight-lipped smile toward your least-favorite coworker.

“Hoseok,” you greeted with a nod. As usual, your semi-chilly behavior toward him didn’t faze him.

“Y/N, come on, I thought I told you to call me Hobi!” he said cheerfully, his eyes squinting from his smile. He was wearing a cream turtleneck tucked into his khakis, plaid blazer over his shoulders. He had dyed his hair from the black you were accustomed to, his strands now a platinum blonde. You realized, begrudgingly, that he looked more attractive than he did last year.

“Well would you look at that, we’re neighbors,” Hoseok said after scanning the list on the board.

“Try to keep the gaggle of screaming fans away from the hallway when I’m teaching, would you?” you said sarcastically. Hoseok’s hand flew to his heart, acting like you had personally attacked him.

“Y/N, I cannot believe you would accuse my students of being so frivolous,” he said dramatically. “Just because we have more fun in my class, doesn’t make it any less serious than yours.”

“Oh, please, save the theatrics for the students who signed up thinking your class would be an easy ‘A’. I know for a fact that you gave out four D’s last semester.” Hoseok’s eyes twinkled at your challenging tone.

“And how many did you give out, Professor Y/L/N?” Hoseok asked in a sweet voice.

“None, thank you very much. Since my students actually learn something in my class, I don’t have to give out such low grades,” you quipped. Hoseok chuckled, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

“Maybe I should sit in on one of your classes this year. Learn a thing or two,” Hoseok said, stepping toward you. You flushed momentarily at his low tone, immediately stepping back. He smirked at your reaction.

“It’s invite only to audit my class, Jung,” you said before turning on your heel to walk toward your office down the hall, “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not!” you yelled over your shoulder.

You heard Hoseok laugh, and you cursed yourself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that his teasing had gotten to you.

You had promised yourself at the end of the summer not to play into it this year – you were going to be professional, courteous. But the first time you see Hoseok, bam, it goes right out the window. 

You would just have to avoid Hoseok as much as possible.

You sighed once you closed your office door behind you. It was going to be a long semester.

---

Two months into the semester, the leaves had turned to burnt oranges and red, signaling the return of fall. Hoseok was sitting in one of the auditorium seats, his legs crossed over each other, looking down at his fingers with a soft smile playing at his lips. The delicate notes of the piano were playing from your classroom, the noise piercing the thin walls separating your classroom from his.

His class had been dismissed half an hour ago, and, based on the lack of students having straggling conversations in the hallway, yours had, too. He often waited after he was done teaching to see if you would play when you thought no one was listening. The notes you played sometimes indicated your mood; the music was soft and flowing, other times dark and intense.

Today it was, melancholic? He couldn’t quite place it, but it made him think about the change in seasons. He wondered if that was on your mind. The song was fluid, making him want to choreograph a piece to it, the dancer’s body matching the tempo of the music. He shut his eyes, picturing the movements behind his closed lids.

He’d never admit that he indulged in this as often as he did – he knew you wouldn’t be playing if you found out he was your only audience member. You had been avoiding him this semester. He had tried all of his old tricks – the loud music during office hours, teasing comments during staff meetings. But you wouldn’t blink.

He opened his eyes, the song transitioning into something light and happy. It made him think of sunshine.  

---

You stopped playing, your hands lifting off the keys like they burned you. You had been playing mindlessly, your fingers starting to pluck away at the keys in the melody that you had thought of when you would think of Hoseok.

The more you avoided Hoseok, the more you seemed to miss his overly positive personality. You would see him at staff meetings, always giving you a big smile. One day you came in late after a meeting with a student ran long, and you came into the room to see that he had saved you a seat next to him, the last one left empty in the room. 

He was still playing his music too loud, but you had stopped bugging him about it, and you noticed that it was gradually getting quieter.

You closed the cover over the keys, willing the thoughts about Hoseok to go away, packing up your papers and laptop. He was just your annoyingly happy colleague; there was no reason he should be taking up this much space in your mind.

---

“Are you honestly suggesting that the music composition class shouldn’t be considered a prerequisite for all music program students going forward?” you questioned angrily. You and Hoseok were at a standoff in the department meeting, his normally pleasant features tense, arms crossed in front of him.

“If that means that it prevents funding from getting diverted from the dance program to the instrumental students, then, yes, that is what I’m suggesting,” Hoseok countered.

“That’s ridiculous! Music composition is a fundamental building block for all students – including dance, Jung!” your voice had risen, and the department head looked between you both, deciding that the meeting had gotten too out of hand to continue.

“Professor Y/L/N, Professor Jung – why don’t the two of you take a walk around the building, get some fresh air. The rest of you, dismissed. We’ll resume this conversation, civilly, next week,” the department head declared.  

You were fuming, angrily shoving your notebook and pen in your bag before storming out of the building. You felt someone else’s presence, and you turned, groaning when you saw the last person you wanted to see standing behind you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“Give it a rest, Jung, I’m not in the mood,” you said grumpily.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bookstore to grab a coffee and put this behind us,” Hoseok scoffed, smile wiped away. “But, I guess not.”

“Not everyone wants to just roll over and play nice when you flash them a smile, Hoseok.”

“Well, not everyone wants to act like they have a superiority complex, either.”

Your lips pursed, hands beginning to fidget with how angry and upset his comment made you. The two of you had been annoying last year, sure, but you had never been mean to each other. Until today.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said quietly, heated tone still evident despite the low volume.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hoseok said harshly. “It’s not like you’ve even tried to get to know me. You immediately disliked me from day one. You never even gave me a chance!”

“That’s rich coming from you. All that shit with the music and the comments – it’s like you wanted me to dislike you,” you replied.

“I wanted you to talk to me, Y/N,” Hoseok said, exasperated. “Forget it, I can see now that it was useless to try.”

“I was trying to play nice this semester,” you said, glaring at Hoseok. “You came in like a damn bulldozer last year, disrupting everything in the department. And everyone just did what you wanted because you’re ‘mister nice guy’, and you make people laugh and people just think you’re perfect. Well, I don’t buy it.”

You took a deep breath, leveling your gaze at him.

“Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” your voice was stone-cold. Hoseok’s eyes flashed, lips in a thin line before he responded bitterly.

“Perfect.”

---

Things had been quiet between you and Hoseok since your fight outside of the building a few weeks ago. You politely nodded at each other in the hallway when you passed by, avoiding eye contact. You would grimace when you heard his laugh during lectures next door to yours, wanting to block the sound out.

You couldn’t get what he said to you out of your thoughts – you really didn’t know Hoseok very well. All you knew is what he presented to the rest of the world. He was bubbly and positive and optimistic; he probably thought you were just some brooding, academic stiff.

Hoseok noticed the songs you were playing lately were rather intense. Sometimes he would hear you smash against the keys like you were angry with the piano for not producing the sounds you wanted to hear.

He knew the feeling. He was spending more time in the dance studio lately, dancing aggressively to loud hip hop music, trying to drown out the frustration he was feeling at not being able to make you crack and talk to him.

That’s where he found himself tonight, trying to get rid of his stress. You were stubborn, but you were also beautiful, intelligent, passionate, tenacious. He turned his music up louder, drowning out the thoughts of you.

---

You had re-read the same sentence four times, red pen poised in your hand ready to edit the student’s paper. The loud beats were still audible from the practice rooms. It was late, and the building had been closed to students for the past two hours.

You decided to go down there. You weren’t going to get them in trouble for staying past close, but with finals coming up, you were sure the students needed a gentle reminder that sleeping was just as important as practicing.

You walked down the dark hallway, going down the steps to the practice rooms on the floor beneath the faculty offices, finding the one with the light on, music blaring through the glass panes separating the space from the hall.

You glanced into the room, seeing Hoseok dancing. You had never seen him in his element before, and it was captivating. He was wearing a black pair of sweats, an oversized yellow t-shirt adorning his slender frame. The music seemed to be moving through his body. He was grounded in the floor, an intense expression on his face as he hit heavy movements on the beat, fluidly moving through other parts depending on the music. You felt like this was personal, like you weren’t allowed to be watching, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

Hoseok looked into the mirror, his eyes looking toward the shadow in the hallway. His eyes met yours, his gaze burning into yours through the glass. You gulped.

He turned, grabbing a bottle of water and pausing the music. You figured that was your cue, opening the door to the studio and stepping inside.

“Was it too loud?” Hoseok asked, voice light despite the obvious tension in the room.

“No, it’s okay uh – I was grading papers, and I thought a student was still down here,” you explained softly. “I thought I’d tell them to go home, get some rest.”

Hoseok had a curious expression on his face. If he was surprised to hear why you were down here, he didn’t mention it. You felt the need to fill the silence, so you spouted the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re really talented, Hobi,” you said quickly. His eyebrows shot up at the sound of the nickname you never called him. “Hoseok – sorry, I meant Hoseok.”

“Watch out, people might think we’re friends,” Hoseok joked, but it came out strained.

“Hoseok – Hobi. I’m sorry about what I said a few weeks ago. I was heated, and I apologize,” you said, looking down at a scuff in the hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry, too. What I said was uncalled for, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Last year, this semester. Anything I’ve done that has made you mad or annoyed. I’m sorry,” Hobi said sincerely. “I-um, well…”

You looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“I just wanted your attention.”

“What?”

“I wanted your attention. I wanted you to want to talk to me. I wanted you to get to know me. Not the version of me that I show my students. I wanted you to see me. Really see me.”

You gulped, Hobi’s vulnerability making you nervous. He took a step toward you, and you willed yourself to stay in place.

“I know you do the same thing; you hide. Hide behind this persona you’ve created. I think it goes away when you play piano.”

“How do you–what do you mean?” you asked incredulously.

“I hear you play. After class. I never told you because I selfishly wanted to keep listening. Your music it – it tells a story. About your day, your feelings. If you didn’t tell me yourself, at least your music did.”

Your cheeks burned knowing that he was audience to all of the time spent in your classroom, working out your feelings on the piano like it was your therapy.

“Everything goes away when I play,” you stopped, thinking about how distracted you had been lately trying to compose. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”

“That’s how I feel when I dance,” Hobi admitted with a gentle smile. You nodded, realizing that the two of you had this in common, at least.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you said, backing away from Hobi toward the door.

“Wait –,” Hobi said, slightly flustered. “Dance with me.”

Your eyes widened. Hobi laughed, and you hated to admit that you had missed the sound.

“Come on, just trust me, Y/L/N.” You waited while he picked out a song, holding out his hand. You placed your fingers in his, and he pulled you close to him, leading you around the studio floor to the song. He made you feel light on your feet despite your lack of dance experience, his hand tightly gripping yours, his other floating over your waist. Your skin tingled from the contact.

He spun you around twice, your hands landing on his chest as you tried to regain your balance. You looked up at him, genuinely enjoying yourself. His bright smile you used to roll your eyes at lit up his features, causing your smile to match his.

“Can you see me now, Y/N?” Hobi asked, referencing his earlier confession. “Because I see you when you play. When you tell a student crying in your office that everything is going to be okay. And I see you now when you’re dancing with me like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Remember when you said I didn’t know anything about you?” You nodded, recognizing his reference to your fight outside of the department building. “I don’t think that’s true. But I know there’s so much more to know. And I want to know everything.”

Hobi’s hand came up to your cheek, softly placing it on the side of your face.

“I want to know you, too, Hobi,” you whispered.

He leaned forward, his breath fanning over your lips, “Want to start now?”

You gripped his t-shirt in your hand, pulling him the last few inches to your lips instead of answering. You felt him smile against your lips, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him.

He pulled back, his forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“Does this mean I can start playing my music loudly during office hours again?” Hobi teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater, brushing against your skin.

You made a face at him, causing him to laugh. He kissed you on the forehead, then on the lips again to make you smile before answering.

“Not a chance.”  

---

Check out my other work! ❤️

Taglist: @alpacaparkaseok​, @delacyrose224​, @moon-write​​

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[writing-on-the-wahl]

Part two to boys and butter? (I know I already requested something but still)

Ok here goes! Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 here. (based off a prompt by @nuttynutcycle)

*special thanks to @im-a-wonderling for the beta read, edits, and fantastic ideas!!* 

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

Villain was washing her hair, for the fourth time, cursing stupid heroes for forcing her to get her hair wet. In water. For the fourth time that day.

A loud pounding interrupted her ranting and her shampooing.

Who would dare?

“Uh Villain?”

She lifted her head out of the sink and turned off the water.

“What!?!”

“Um well, Sidekick is here.”

“And?”

“Well, he uh, he says he wants to talk?”

She growled and reached for a towel.

Henchman leapt back as she wrenched open the door, spraying water droplets in every direction. “So you just let him in?”

How did he even know where her lair was?

“No!! He’s standing outside the front door.”

Might as well post a billboard saying ‘Villain lives here!’

“Get him inside, now!”

“Where—?”

“I don’t care! The entryway! Just get him off the street!”

Henchman scrambled away as Villain took the towel to her hair before pulling up the hood of her jacket.

She should probably have her people send Sidekick away, vulnerable as she was at the moment, but this didn’t feel like a trap. At least not the dangerous kind. More of the buttery kind.

She stomped through the upstairs, her henchmen darting out of her way. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she paused. Her mask was still upstairs covered in nasty butter, and even if Sidekick knew where she lived, she didn’t need him seeing her face as well.

“Hit the lights!” she shouted.

Every single light in the house went out. At least her people were efficient.

She tugged her hood down further as she rounded the corner to the entryway, clinging to the shadows.

Sidekick stood framed in the light shining through the window on the front door, his hands raised unthreateningly to the sides.

“Why didn’t you just turn off the lights with your powers?” It was a curious question rather than a judgmental one, and so quiet she wondered if he’d meant to say it out loud.

Before she could answer, he shook his head. “Right sorry!” He muttered. “Not my business. That’s not why I came...” It was clear now he was in fact talking to himself, and hadn’t yet noticed her come in. His hand darted up to his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose, before the cocking of her henchmen’s guns sent his hand back away from his body. “Sorry! Sorry! Nervous habit!”

Villain couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her lips.

“Have you ever dropped a blow dryer in water?”

He jerked around, scanning the shadows until he spotted her. “I-um-no? But that sounds rather dangerous.... electrical currents in water can lead to...”

“Exactly.”

His face was half in shadow, but the adorable confusion was easy to see.

“I was washing my hair.”

His face, or what she could see of it, flushed red.

“I’m sorry-I didn’t... I don’t...”

Oh this was too fun.

But she decided to put him out of his misery.

“In the sink. My hair is wet...Wet hair, electrical current...” she waved her hands in an explosive gesture and didn’t have to wait long for him to piece it together. It was a rather unfortunate twist of her powers that she could essentially summon lightning, but if she was the slightest bit wet, all that energy went into her rather than her intended target.

“So you can’t use your powers when you’re wet?”

Oh no.

She’d been so distracted by his utterly innocent flustering that she hadn’t thought about the ramifications of telling a member of Hero Agency her biggest weakness.

Should she just kill him now?

But he was so cute...

Sidekick had noticed her silence. He groaned. “Listen. This isn’t why I’m here. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Then why are you here?”

He reached for his pocket, but froze as her henchmen advanced.

“Sorry! Sorry! I just need to get something out of my pocket.” He looked at her, or rather, in her direction, since she was still obscured by the darkness.

Villain dipped her head. “It’s alright. Just move very slowly.”

He took her words to heart, moving with painstaking slowness as he pulled a small paper from his front pocket. He gingerly unfolded it before extending it out to her.

“Other Henchman?”

Other Henchman stepped forward, gun aimed at Sidekick’s chest, and took the paper. He backed up until he was out of arms reach, then turned and delivered her the paper. She squinted at the writing, fingered the thick paper. It wasn’t a note, it was a $100 bill.

“What is this?”

“It’s $100.”

“I know that.” He flinched at the venom in her voice, and she mentally reminded herself to be gentle.

“Why are you handing me money, Sidekick?”

“It’s a bribe.”

“A what?”

“Or a payment. I mean however you want to look at it. And I can’t explain, so please don’t ask me any questions, but I will give you $100 if you let me borrow your mask for an hour.”

Hero blinked, several times, thinking back on the strange events of the day. First the heroes... now Sidekick.

“Are you making a game of me?” The quiet question hung in the air for the briefest moment before—

“NO!!” The outburst from the timid Sidekick made her jump.

He ran his fingers through his curly hair, but this time her people didn’t bother to protest his sudden movement. They could tell, as she could, that he wasn’t a threat.

“I’m not trying to mock you, but I can’t explain right now. But... please?”

Villain couldn’t doubt his sincerity.

“So you’re wanting to… what? Rent my mask for an hour?”

“Yes.” He squeaked out.

“And what’s to guarantee you’ll bring it back?”

He paused. “I give you my word.”

Villain laughed. “You’ll have to forgive me for doubting the word of a sworn enemy.”

Sidekick shifted from foot to foot.

“Well, what else do you have?” Sidekick’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you willing to offer as collateral?”

“I--” He reached into his pockets. Keys, wallet, phone. Nothing she was interested in.

“What’s that around your neck?”

Sidekick’s hand flew to the chain peeking out of the collar of his shirt. “Nothing!” he replied too quickly.

“Hmmmm. Well I think I’ve made my decision. You can leave whatever it is that’s hanging around your neck here with me until you return my mask, or you can leave now, before I decide to keep you here, indefinitely.” She wasn’t actually into the whole kidnapping scene, but she couldn’t resist teasing him.

“I..It’s… you wouldn’t want it.”

“Oh?”

He pulled the chain out of his shirt, revealing a small blue shell. She knew he had some sort of water affinity, but had avoided him. The whole ‘get wet and your powers backfire thing’ really stole the appeal of being close enough to see his powers in action.

Villain raised her eyebrows. “Explain.”

“Well, I have water powers.”

“And? Hurry up, little hero. Before my offer expires.”

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Igetmypowersfromtheshell.”

It took her a moment to process his jumbled words, then Villain blinked. Twice.

“I- well..” She’d been expecting some sentimental ‘I remember the day I found this shell’ drivel, but… his powers came from a shell? The look on his face told her he wasn’t lying. She didn’t want to be anywhere near some mystical shell-thing, but she’d already made her offer.

“The shell as collateral for my mask. Take it or leave it.” She waved the $100 bill. “Oh and either way, I’m keeping this.”

Sidekick closed his eyes and nodded once.

“Henchman,” she signaled him to draw closer. He listened to her instructions before darting up the stairs.

When he came back down, he held out his hand, but she waved him off, pointing at Sidekick.

Sidekick stiffened at Henchman’s approach, but relaxed when he saw the object Henchman held pinched between two fingers. He reluctantly pulled the chain over his head and dropped it into Henchman’s open palm before taking the mask Henchman now extended to him.

“Careful it’s-"

“What in the world?”

Villain covered her eyes. She really should have cleaned her mask first.

“Don’t ask.”

Sidekick nodded. “Ok then. I guess I’ll just be going?”

He took a hesitant step back, and when no one stopped him, he gradually turned and grasped the handle of the door.

“Sidekick?”

He froze.

“60 minutes. Starting... now.”

He vanished out the door.

Villain sniffed her hair and gagged. Then she went back upstairs to wash it for the fifth time. She should have been plotting revenge against Other Hero, but instead she was puzzling over a endearingly curious curly-headed, glasses-wearing sidekick and the tiny blue shell that now hung around her neck.

[vostara]

I Am Lost - 01

Volume One: A New Guardian Component 01

pairing: - cayde-6 x female guardian x uldren sov - the crow x female guardian (eventual)

blurb: “The woman’s gaze drifts down to look at her hands. She moves her fingertips, intrigued by this odd sensation of feeling, of movement.”

word count: 2.8k+

When Verna awoke as a guardian, she knew nothing about what life is meant to be like as a Lightbearer. And though she has been told that learning about her past is a forbidden endeavor, she can’t help but feel drawn towards discovering who she once was. But her pursuit of the quest is interrupted by the growing chaos, by the Darkness spreading.

Begins with the events of Destiny 1 and will continue up to the current timeline (but hey, it’ll take awhile to get there). Verna is a void-using Hunter.

*This work is cross-posted on Ao3.

01 | … series masterlist

Tag List (Open): @mangovalkyrie

We called it the Traveler, and its arrival changed us forever. Great cities were built on Mars and Venus. Mercury became a garden world. Human lifespan tripled. It was a time of miracles. We stared out at the galaxy and knew that it was our destiny to walk in the light of other stars—but the Traveler had an enemy. A Darkness, which had hunted it for eons across the black gulfs of space. Centuries after our Golden Age began, this Darkness found us and that was the end of everything. But it was also the beginning. — The Speaker

COSMODROME

Old Russia, Earth

A pale orange machine with golden engraving zooms around a wreckage of rusted, disintegrating vehicles. Searching amongst the ruins. He stops to scan a skeleton, slumped over in one of the cars. “Ouch,” he comments, blunt, before flying away. He pauses, looking off into the distance. And then, quick, he speeds off to investigate this new area of interest. Curiosity running strong within his circuits.

His scanner flicks on once again, scrutinizing the debris. “Is it possible?” For a moment, he feels an inkling of hope. His protective shell moves away from his main body—a metallic orb—pushed apart by a glowing sphere of blue light. “There you are!” He says, confirming his suspicions. Excited, the machine puts all of his energy into bringing the skeletal remains back to life.

In its place, a young woman appears. Tanned skin forms, surrounding the broken bones. Dark hair grows, cascading in loose waves down to her mid-back. And with her first inhale of breath, a blush of pink life spreads across her cheeks. Slowly, the woman opens her eyes, and winces at the invasion of light.

“Guardian,” the machine says. He moves closer to her, flying right up into her line of vision. “Guardian?” He repeats.

The woman blinks at him. She feels sluggish, confused. Her mind still busy trying to process the concept of life, existence.

“Eyes up, Guardian!” The strange object says, inching the slightest bit closer to her face.

She tilts her head in curiosity, finally noticing the talking robot.

“It worked… You’re alive!” He says. “You don’t know how long I’ve been looking for you. I’m a Ghost. Actually, now I’m your Ghost. And you…”

The woman’s gaze drifts down to look at her hands. She moves her fingertips, intrigued by this odd sensation of feeling, of movement.

“Well, you’ve been dead a long time,” the robot continues. “So, you’re going to see a lot of things you won’t understand.”

Something yells in the distance, drawing his attention towards it.

“This is Fallen territory,” he says. His optic eye shifts rapidly to glance around the area. He’s nervous, concerned. “We aren’t safe here. I have to get you to the City.” Briefly, he flies away, before turning back to the Guardian. “Hold still,” he says, disappearing.

The woman opens her mouth to speak—tries to call out for the machine to return—but no sound escapes.

“Don’t worry,” his voice says. The sound vibrates inside of her head, and it feels ever-so-slightly unsettling. “I’m still with you. We need to move, fast.”

Almost hesitant, the woman pulls herself up onto her feet. She surveys the world in front of her, overwhelmed by the sight of sparse greenery and spreading decay.

“We won’t survive long out in the open like this,” the Ghost gives her a verbal nudge. “Let’s get inside the Wall.”

She looks beyond the clumps of rusted metal, focusing on a building that’s crumbling in the distance. With unsteady steps, she walks towards it. She stumbles in the dry dirt, gradually adapting to process that’s involved in forcing her legs into motion.

“I didn’t bring you back just for you to die again,” Ghost says. “We need to move.”

Sensing the urgency, she picks up her pace. The woman climbs through the wreckage and jogs the rest of the way to the Wall. She enters through a large hole that greets her with darkness. An automatic light resting on her left shoulder switches on, illuminating the space. She climbs the staircase to her left, ascending up a couple flights of stairs. The woman is cautious as she travels further inside, careful to avoid cutting herself with the jagged, sharp edges of broken metal. She considers grasping onto the safety railings for support, but changes her mind upon noticing that they look as if they could snap between her fingers.

A skittering noise echoes throughout the building, pulling the woman’s attention to the dark ceiling.

“Quiet,” the Ghost says, half a step below a whisper. “They’re right above us.”

Making a deliberate effort to keep her footsteps light, the woman traverses further into the building in search of a way through. Eventually, she opens a door and steps into an open space.

The Ghost rematerializes beside her, and immediately begins to scan the area. “Hang tight,” he says. “Fallen thrive in the dark. We don’t. We need more light. I’ll see what I can do.” He zips away, flying deep into the darkness. “Another one of these hardened military systems and a few centuries of entropy working against me.”

As she stares into the pitch black, a rock of discomfort settles inside the depths of her stomach. Goosebumps bloom down the woman’s arms. She feels something watching her, examining her every move. But she can’t see the source.

The lights flicker on.

And illuminate the swarm of creatures moving across the adjacent bridges and walls. The woman’s eyes widen at the sight, caught off-guard by their six slender limbs, claw-like hands, and glowing blue eyes. The creatures—the Fallen—are dressed in spiked gray and silver armor, with purple cloaks draped over their heads.

The woman emits an involuntary gasp, taking a step back towards the door that she had walked in from.

“They’re coming for us,” the Ghost yells as he speeds his way back towards the woman.

“Yeah,” she responds. And for a brief moment, she is startled by the sound of her own voice. It’s coarse, strained, yet soft, quiet.

“Oh,” the Ghost pauses, stopping abruptly to look at her. “So you can speak!”

“Yeah,” she confirms, though she sounds as if she doubts this herself. Hearing hurried footsteps, she turns her attention back to the creatures that are gaining on them.

The Ghost turns to look back at the Fallen, and then rushes back to the woman. He scans a gate beside her, hacking into the system to unlock it. As the gate rises, he flies through and points a light at an object leaning against a metal crate. “Here,” he says. “I found a rifle. Grab it!”

She runs after him, quick to pick up the offered weapon.

“I hope you know how to use that thing,” he says.

Walking at a brisk pace down the hall, she detaches the rifle’s magazine and checks the amount of ammo stored inside. “You and me both,” she mumbles, clicking everything back into place. A group of Fallen soldiers jump in front of them, and the woman reacts on instinct, lodging a couple of rounds into each of their heads. Another Fallen appears, ready to strike. And, pulling out a knife from her thigh holster, she jabs the blade into the creature’s neck.

“I think you’ll be okay,” the Ghost says, watching as the fresh corpse collapses onto the ground.

The woman looks over at the Ghost, before continuing forward. Rifle raised and ready to fire. After walking through a disorientating maze of hallways and fighting off two hoards of Fallen soldiers, she stumbles into an open space with high ceilings. On the other side, a giant fan is slowly rotating behind a metal grate.

“The Fallen have a tighter hold on this place than I thought,” the Ghost comments. He heads towards the fan and looks down a new hallway. “Just a little bit further. Let’s hope there’s something left out there.”

She follows after him. “You don’t sound entirely confident.”

“I was fortunate enough to finally find you,” he says. “I don’t know how much more luck I’ve got left today.”

As the woman enters the hallway, she pauses to look back at where they had come from, double checking that none of the Fallen were hot on their heels.

All clear.

The Ghost and the woman follow the path. It leads them outside, into another field of rust and ruin.

“This was an old Cosmodrome,” the Ghost explains. “There’s got to be something we can fly out of here.”

“Cosmodrome?” The woman whispers. She takes in the sight, trying to process and understand this ever-growing pile of information.

“Right,” the Ghost turns to look at her. “You don’t know—”

His words are interrupted by the loud sound of something being launched in the distance. The woman and the Ghost whip their eyes towards its direction, watching as a smoking orange light—a flare—flies high up in the air. Gradually, it changes direction, curving towards a nearby tower.

“Incoming!” The Ghost warns, pulling the woman’s attention away from the flare.

A large portal of blue and white light forms in the sky. And through it, a ship appears and starts to descend. With the sound of a faint explosion, another ship flies through another portal. It heads towards them, landing closer than the first.

“Fallen ships!” The Ghost says. “This close to the surface?”

The woman unclips her magazine from the rifle and replaces it with a fresh one. “We should go.”

“Move!” The Ghost agrees.

She sprints across the courtyard, approaching the ship. As she nears, several Fallen leap out of the vehicle. Aiming her rifle, she shoots several of them dead before their feet can touch the ground. Moving at a quick, but steady, pace, she heads closer and continues her task of killing the creatures. Fighting her way around the swarm, she treks through the open courtyard, before entering a new building on the other side.

“I’m picking up signs of an old jumpship,” the Ghost says. “Could be our ticket out of here.”

“Here’s to hoping,” the woman mumbles.

They follow the hallways inside, pausing to kill the Fallen before these enemies are able to spot them. Eventually, they turn a corner and enter a wide, open room with a broken glass ceiling. Across the way, an old ship sits abandoned, collecting dirt and grime. It’s suspended above them, held up by multiple thick cables.

“There’s a ship!” The Ghost says.

The woman steps closer, her eyes glued to it. “It looks relatively intact,” she notes. A cluster of running footsteps storm in through the entrance behind her, and she pivots to shoot the Fallen. Once all is calm, she turns her attention back to the ship.

The Ghost reappears beside her. “Alright, let me see if I can get us out of here,” he flies up to the ship and begins to scan it. “It’s been here awhile,” he comments. “Hasn’t made a jump in centuries. We’re lucky the Fallen haven’t completely picked it clean.”

“Will it fly?” The woman asks.

The Ghost pauses and turns to look at her. “I can make it work,” he says. He turns back towards the ship and disappears as he slips inside of it. After a few moments, the ship’s lights flip on and its engine begins to rumble. Another moment goes by, and then the ship breaks itself free of cables as it raises to hover in the air.

“Would you look at that,” the woman says.

“Okay, it’s not going to break orbit, but it might just get us to the City. Now—about that transmat...”

Through a hole in the wall, several Fallen scurry into the room. “Might wanna put a rush on that,” the woman yells. She swings up her weapon, finger ready to pull the trigger.

“Bringing you in!”

Before she can fire a shot, the woman disappears in a cluster of blue lights. She reemerges inside the ship, disorientated and confused. As she stares at the different levers and buttons inside, the Ghost steers the jumpship out of the building and away from the enemies that are shooting at them.

“Let’s get you home,” he says.

“Home?”

The Ghost turns to look at her, but says nothing in return.

And unbeknownst to the duo, a stranger watches them from a distance.

TOWER

The Last City, Earth

The trip “home” is shorter than the woman anticipates. Though, she was—admittedly—a bit distracted with her face pressed up against the windows of the ship. Eyes glued to the snow-capped mountains, vast forests, clear lakes, and crumbling cities that passed by beneath them. Breaking through the dark clouds of a thunderstorm, the ship is greeted with bright rays of warm sunshine. And, pressing her nose even further into the glass, the woman’s eyes widen at the sight of a giant orb floating in the distance. Below it, a towering grey building glimmers beneath the sun’s light.

When the ship approaches the location, the Ghost switches back on the transmat and teleports the woman down onto the courtyard below. Just as her feet touch the ground, the ship flies away and disappears behind the roof of the building.

“Welcome to the last safe City on Earth,” the Ghost says. “The only place the Traveler can still protect. It took centuries to build. Now, we’re counting every day it stands.”

The woman takes a step towards the balcony’s edge, wanting a better view of the City below.

“And this Tower is where the Guardians live,” the Ghost says, flying towards the main building.

She turns to follow him, but freezes in place. She’s stunned by the expansive entryways, tall pillars, glowing lights, and red flags billowing in the wind. Robots patrol the courtyard, sweeping the ground and collecting stray pieces of rogue trash. A group of children race across the steps, led by a young boy that’s clutching a large black ball between his small hands. As the laughing children sprint passed one of the cleaning robots, it cautions them to be careful and to slow down.

“You keep referring to Guardians,” the woman says. “Is that what I am?”

“Yes.”

“And what does that entail?”

The Ghost hovers just out of her reach, his outer protective shell whirling in circles as he goes through an internal debate. “It’s normal for you to be confused,” he says, looking at her. “I’m sure that all of this is… a lot to take in all at once.”

The woman sighs, “Maybe just a little bit.”

Their conversation comes to a halt.

“Follow me,” the Ghost says, ending the long stretch of silence. “I’ll take you to—”

“Wait,” she interrupts. “I want to… I want to know who I am. Why can’t I remember anything? What even is this place? This… Tower?”

He drifts closer to her, meeting her gaze. “The answer to that is a bit complicated,” he says. “But who you are now is a Guardian, a new Guardian.”

“So,” the woman blinks, “I was once somebody else?”

“Yes and no,” the Ghost responds. “Your body—your face—it once belonged to somebody else. Beyond that, you are completely different.”

“So, you’re saying that I’ve been reincarnated?” She asks, looking down at her hands. The woman examines the bare skin, noticing long scars etched along the outside of her right forearm.

“Don’t think about it,” the Ghost says, nudging her arm back down to her side. “Pursuing knowledge about your past life is ill-advised. Forbidden, actually.”

“Do you know who I was?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

The Ghost stares at her.

But she continues to pry, “Not even a name?”

“Would you like a name?” He asks.

“‘Guardian’ feels a bit… impersonal,” she admits. “You probably have a name, don’t you?”

The top of the Ghost’s shell lowers, as if pulling itself down to represent a frown. “No,” he says. “I’ve only ever been ‘Ghost.’”

“Wouldn’t you like a name?”

“Oh!” The Ghost’s straightens out his shell. And his optic center appears to widen with brewing excitement. “You could gave me a name,” he suggests. “We could… do a trade. You name me and I’ll name you?”

For the first time, the woman feels amusement. “A fair proposal,” she smiles, “Tangerine?”

The Ghost flies around her head, contemplating the suggestion. “I like it,” he says, coming to a halt in front of her face. “My turn! What to name you,” his voice trails off, pondering his options. “Something strong? Pretty? Traditional? Unique? Do you have a preference, Guardian?”

“It’s up to you, Tangerine. That was the deal.”

Finally, he speaks, “What about Verna?”

She quirks an eyebrow, “Verna?”

“You don’t like it?” Tangerine’s shell spins rapidly, nervous. He starts to sink towards the ground, unsure and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s the first thing that I thought of. I can come up with something else if—”

She giggles softly, lifting the Ghost back up high into the air. “I like it,” the woman��Verna—says.

A/N: Thank you for reading! While I plan on keeping this story relatively close to the game itself, it will prioritize accuracy for the in-game cutscenes and spoken dialogue, and not any other miscellaneous written lore. This is simply because Destiny has an absolutely massive library of lore and I am simply a graduate student with little free time who has to write a novel for her thesis project.

Also, we'll be seeing some of Cayde-6 in the next chapter. ^^ I was hoping to squeeze him in for this one, but I felt that ending with Verna's name was a natural stopping point.

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Hi, I love your writing. I really want to make a request where the readers have eating disorder but works in the modeling industries. She is like dating Gerard, but they were in a super big fight because of her eating disorder, as well as her constant traveling for fashion weeks, and at the end, they make up, and Gerard is helping her getting better, and stuff like that. I really love your writing, can you please write one? THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Title: Poisons A/N: I actually got two requests for something like these. The endings for both requests were slightly different, but here’s the first one. I didn’t really edit it, just because I haven’t updated much content in forever, but here you go! Pairing: Gerard Way (probably late Black Parade era) x Model!F!Reader Word count: 3,170 Warnings: Eating disorder, swearing, angst, drama, there’s just a lot.

Okay, so this was not what Gerard expected to come home to.

The man expected to go back to his New York apartment, shared with his gorgeous girlfriend, and for everything to be perfect. Well maybe not perfect, but perfect in Gerard’s mind.

He wanted nothing more than to just eat some chips, not having eaten in 16 hours due to his flight and partial distaste to airplane food, and curl up with his girlfriend, hugging every inch of her curves.

Instead he came home to a house that was nearly empty of any food, only a few protein shakes resided in the large fridge. This was already a huge warning sign Gerard looked out for. His mind attempted to justify itself, thinking that maybe he was jumping to the worst of the worst conclusions. No, you were probably just traveling so much that you weren’t at home enough to actually buy food.

He sighed, moving to one of the cabinets he knew the take out menus were hidden in. Opening it up, he picked up one of the cheap paper menus covered in dust, shaking it with his hand to get it off. Great, these hadn’t been touched in months.

After debating mentally between Chinese and Italian, he moved to your bedroom, in hopes to finally see the love of his life after months of being absent on tour. There you were, peacefully sleeping in bed. Jetlag, he knew.

He carefully removed his shoes, moving to his closet to change his airplane clothes to more comfortable ones. Climbing into the warm bed beside you, he placed his hands on your hips as he always had. His initial smile soon turned into a frown.

Even under the large hoodie you were wearing he could feel the painful outlines of your ribs. Grimacing to himself, he heard a small sigh fall from your lips. “Gee?” You coarsely called out.

“Mhm,” He hummed back, kissing the top of your head despite the pure disappointment towards you that coarse through his veins.

“What’re you doing? Weren’t you supposed to be gone for another week?” You asked again, still half asleep.

“The guys and I decided to cancel the last week where we were just supposed to travel, I missed you too much.” He smiled lightly, moving your hair to the side to kiss your neck.

“Mmm,” You hummed quietly, your consciousness growing back. Within seconds realization hit you, your eyes internally going wide, not wanting to show anything to Gerard, and you pulled away from him slightly.

“Babe,” He sighed, “We’re not doing this again.” “Doing what again?” You tried to pretend to not understand what he was saying.

“You’re a gorgeous, talented model,” He began with a soft smile, “But don’t go into acting, you’re not good at it.” “Gee, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You fired back.

“Take off your hoodie,” He insisted, “Now.” “Gerard, what the fuck?” You scoffed, “Take off my hoodie?” “You heard me,” He stated, “Take it off.” “Why would I take it off?” You scrowled.

“So I can confirm that you haven’t been eating like you’re supposed to.”

“Gerard, please-” You begged, now falling off your pedestal of lies. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

“Why haven’t you?” He asked, looking at you, “What has caused you not to eat again? I thought we were over this.”

“I don’t think that’s your problem.” You snapped. You rarely if ever did so, but this was only further confirmation that you hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. You were cranky.

“Damn right it is my problem.” He sat up next to you, his face had gone completely serious. There were traces of anger in his eyes, his pulsing veins along his muscular arms told you all you needed to know. He wasn’t only infuriated with your habit, he was disappointed.

A word you hated. You absolutely hated. The way it sounded, the meaning, how it made you feel. “Please,” You begged him, your once bright eyes gray from the torture you had put yourself through. “Please what?” He asked, his tone still somewhat harsh.

“Just don’t be mad.” You pleaded. You could see his eyes scan over your face, looking for any signs that you were lying. He found none.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to clear his head he nodded lightly. “Alright,” He said barely letting out a breath, “But you need to tell me everything.”

And you did. Most of it at least. You explained how your insecurities resettled themselves in your mind, starting the moment he left for Tour. You talked about how you were getting more gigs and all due to your tinier size. You explained how skin and bones was basically the new trend.

He sat and listened to you. And he believed it, because he knew it was true. But naturally, he also was a human lie detector. Especially with you.

“Okay,” He began, “And what else?” So maybe that one small part your left out was something that you really didn’t want to admit. Gerard had this strong distaste for most of your model “friends”, ya know, the ones who are naturally tiny and eat salads 24/7, never genuinely enjoying a single meal. The one’s who flashed their designer shit everywhere they went, who posted bikini photos every other day and managed to somehow photoshop themselves into complete Barbie dolls. It made Gerard’s blood boil, he never liked you hanging out with them. Because are them you were not Y/N, you couldn’t be. And that made you even more secure.

“There’s nothing else.” You lied. He looked you in the eyes, waiting another moment.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to tell me the truth,” He sighed, “What else?” “I said nothing.” Your tone was adamant. He rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“You lied to me,” He began, “You just fucking lied to me. We’ve been over this how many times?” “I didn’t fucking lie to you,” You stuck up for yourself, moving further away from him.

“Another lie, damn Y/N.” He sighed, “We’ve been dating for three years, and you still can’t trust me.” “I do trust you, Gerard.” “Then why are you lying to me?” He asked, his tone going to a much harsher pitch.

“Ya know what?” You said, grabbing your pillow violently, getting up from the bed, Gerard looking at you with no emotion. “Fuck you.” You stated.

“Are you seriously gonna leave?” He asked, rolling his eyes, “Immature.” “No, I’m going to the fucking couch where I don’t have to sleep next to a complete dick.” You fired back, going into your closet and grabbing a spare blanket. “You didn’t mean that.” He scoffed.

“Then why the fuck did I say it?” You marched out of the bedroom, flipping him off to which you heard a sarcastic laugh.

This was far from how you had planned his return. You were gonna stock the fridge and pantry, ya know, not give him a chance to think you weren’t eating, and probably have dinner made. You would eat a small portion, making the excuse you had a big lunch with your friends, and bam! Everything would be okay.

But naturally, shit didn’t work out and after numerous insults thrown at each other you found yourself on the couch silently sobbing. You and Gerard had never gone that far, ever. This fight was beyond messy, it was a complete dumpster fire.

You wanted no more than to apologize to him, but you also wanted an apology from him. You should’ve told him everything, that was on you. But he pushed your buttons and he knew what he was doing. It only took 15 minutes, before you heard his soft footsteps coming from the bedroom, and his warm arms wrapping around you, to which his shoulder became one to cry on. His slow and soft coos calming you down, as he began apologizing over and over again, clearly more mad at himself at this point. “Sugar, I’m so so sorry,” He apologized, “I was just really upset.” “I know,” You sniffled, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have called you a dick.” You looked up at him. “Well, I was kinda being one.” He lightly smiled, to which you giggled in his chest. “Just promise me, you’ll start eating again.” “Gee-” You were about to make an excuse when you were interrupted.

“Babe, you have to.” He began, “Remember what your manager said last time?” You sighed, remembering. Yep, they would place you right in a psych ward. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re not gonna tell anyone, but I need you to start eating, okay? We’ll go gradually, start small and build up. Together, okay?” You nodded, placing you head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” You smiled, looking up at him. “I love you too.” He smiled right back down.

-Six months later-

"Gee, that’s too much salt!” You scolded as he put a tablespoon of salt not a teaspoon into the cookie dough you were making.

“Oops.” He looked down to which you smiled lightly. You took a chunk of it placing it into your mouth, and he did the same. You couldn’t help but gag at how much salt was in it. “Salty.” He admitted, and you lightly nudged him.

“Yeah, ya dork.” You smiled. “That’s what happens when you add too much salt.” He lightly laughed, wrapping his hands around your waist from behind and placing his head on your shoulder.

“So what’re we gonna do to fix it.” “Nothing,” You said, “We could like, triple the batch, but that would be way too much.”

“Don’t forget we’re seeing the guys tonight,” He smiled, “They’re gonna eat this shit up.” You sighed, nodding.

“Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea after all.” The two of you spent the next half hour adding more of every ingredient, thankful that your apartment was stocked with food to use.

Carefully, you placed as many trays as you could into the oven, closing it and setting the timer. Giving Gerard a quick peck on the lips, he went off to review some emails as you checked your phone. Of course, the group chat was buzzing.

You sighed as you open the text chain reluctantly, scrolling through only to see your name pop up numerous times. “Y/N, where have you been?” “Yeah, fr, we have been out to lunch with you in forever.” “Why are you ignoring us?” “Really? Now you’re being a fake friend.” “Guys, I’m okay.” You simply responded, “Just really busy.”

“Uh huh, you’ve been doing boutique stuff for months.” “Literally nothing even big.” “Not since that Prada show.” “It’s Gerard, isn’t it.”

And just like that, you were about to light these girls up. Gerard was the only one willing, and quite frankly able, to get you out of the huge hole you had dug yourself into. And damn, now these bitches (I hate misogynistic terms against women, but I think it may fit here) were really gonna act like the good guys. “Don’t bring Gerard into this.” You simply responded. “It has to be him.” “He’s not even worth it.” “You could have any guy in the world, and you chose him.” “He’s way out of your league, and you’re still on your knees for him. Smh.” You knew damn well they were trying to get to you. None of these girls had had any true romance, only summer flings with football players, actors, and singers. Granted, Gerard was a singer, but he made good music. He was an artist at his core, singing was just apart of that art. It didn’t take you more than a moment to remove yourself from the group chat, and block all those girls. The real fake friends. The timer went off, which startled you a bit, but placing your phone down with a heavy sigh, you turned it off, to check out the cookies. The top row was done, which you were going to take out. Naturally, the tsunami of inappropriate texts from who you would once call your “girlfriends” was still flooded in your mind, and like a complete idiot, you reached in, touching and grabbing the sheet. With you bare hands.

“Shit!” You yelped, dropping the pan on the open oven and rushing to put your hand under cold water.

“Y/N?” You heard Gerard rush in. You looked up at him, and judging your hand under water, and the cookie sheet which had clearly gone through it, he took a slight sigh, first going to examine your hand. “You alright?” You nodded despite the tears forming in your eyes.

It wasn’t even the burn that hurt. It was the fact that you knew you let those girls get to you so easily, and the just embarrassed yourself in front of Gerard. You knew he didn’t find it embarrassing at all, it was an honest mistake. But still, it embarrassed the shit out of you. “Baby,” He cooed, moving your head up with his fingers under your chin to see the tears that were now slowly cascading down your red cheeks, “It’s okay.” He said lightly. You nodded, placing your head into his chest and sniffling a bit. “What happened.” “I was just distracted,” You admitted, “Forgot the oven mitt.” He nodded, holding you for a moment longer before he knew you were okay, and going to pick up the mess. “Gee, I can clean it up, I made it-” “No, no, please, just worry about your hand, okay, sugar?” You nodded, attending back to it.

The bright red mark across your hand didn’t want to budge, which you were fine with, considering it didn’t hurt as much, just stung a bit. He managed to clean up all the cookies pretty fast, putting them on the stove top to cool, and quickly going back to you. Giving you a kiss on the top of your head, it was his way of messaging he didn’t want to push the topic. But if you wanted to talk he’d be there to listen. It wasn’t but a few hours later that the guys came over. The mistake from earlier was long forgotten, other than the mark on your hand.

The guys were honestly some of your best friends, just like they were Gerard’s. They truly cared about you, just as much if not more than you cared about them. All of them knew about your struggles, and they were honestly your number one cheerleaders.

So the looks on their faces when they saw you healthy again was one that you could not pay for. It was definitely a lot of pride in you for doing it, and it made you feel even better about your decision to get healthy again.

Honestly, you loved the relaxes atmosphere of just hanging out. Sitting next to Gerard with some water, as he drank a Diet Coke, and some of the guys had beers, some opted otherwise. You could theoretically drink as well, but you didn’t want your boyfriend to ever feel alone or strange not drinking alcohol, considering his rough past with it. So you typically opted for a non alcoholic beverage.

It wasn’t until after the guys were gone and you were in the shower that Gerard figured out what was wrong. Your phone kept buzzing, going off constantly. He had never once checked your phone without your permission. There was a huge element of trust in your relationship, and he never felt that there was a reason to. He knew your passcode, you two had openly shared each others in the case one of you needed to use the others phone, but when he picked up yours and saw all those girls name pop up he scoffed.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have done it, but he opened your phone, scrolling through the messages. Some of them you had yet to block, and they were obnoxious. He went into the group chat where the messages were flooding, reading from the beginning of the day until now.

Pissed was an absolute understatement. If it wasn’t for the sound of the shower you were in keeping him aware of his surrounding, he probably would have smashed your phone. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he placed it face down on the counter right where it was, resorting back to your bedroom in some hope of calming down before you got out, not making anything too obvious.

Everything was fine, completely normal. The two of you laying in bed together, doing your typical night time routine of reading a bit, maybe watching something, it really depended. You could feel how tense Gerard was, even by your head just leaning on his shoulder. His muscles flexed together, twisted into tight knots. You weren’t sure what had him so stressed, there wasn’t a need for him to be, right? “Babe?” You asked, to which he quietly hummed, “Are you alright?” You had caught on quickly, like you always had. And now he had cursed himself for looking at those messages. Transparency, he remembered, transparency.

“Honestly,” He sighed putting his book down, “I- I- I saw those messages.” He stumbled on his own words. You gave him a confused look, “The ones the girls sent.” You let out a sigh. Oh shit, he thought, thinking the worst of the worst. “Please don’t listen to them,” You insisted, “You know you’re not the reason for any problem in my life?” “Of course not,” He scoffed, “You’re totally fine. It’s just, how they treated you that bothered me.” “Gee-” “Y/N, we’ve talked about this.” He turned to you, “I’m not a controlling person, I try my hardest not to be. But damn, those girls are complete poisons. They’re hurting you, they’re doing far more harm than good. And I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a manipulator or anything, but even you’ve admitted you’re a lot different around them.” You sighed and nodded.

“I know, I just-” You began, “I’ve spent so many years of my life surrounding myself with people like them that it’s hard for me to know what to do without that, ya know?” He nodded.

“You don’t need a bunch of model friends thought to still be a great model.” You nodded.

“I’ll cut everything off with them in the morning, okay?” “Babe, you don’t need to rush it,” He said, “I mean, sure, the sooner the better, but this is your timing okay?” You nodded.

“Do you think everything will be okay?” You asked him next.

“Well, after they very possibly blame you for everything over text and try to put you down a psychological spiral, because that’s what they do, then yes, everything should be okay.” He smiled to which you nudged him. “You’re making this so much easier.” You sarcastically said, “I don’t even know why I ask you.” “Because you love me.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

I am entirely too asleep to name or summarise or anything this thing, but it’s short and fluffy (hey, might even count as fluffy enough for you, @willow-salix although there’s no John?) and @gumnut-logic prodded me into writing and posting it, so here it is.  Warning: I am more asleep than awake so I cannot promise much sense here.  But I can promise sleepy fluff.

The first thing he was aware of was the vague sensation of fingers running through his hair gently. No doubt his gel had completely lost the battle to keep it in place, although the strands that tickled his forehead felt unusually soft and product-free.  Had he not put any gel in that morning?

There was a weight across his collar bones, too.  Light but present, reaching from shoulder to shoulder.  It wasn’t at all restraining, and he felt that if he wanted he could move it without any effort, but that required sitting up, and wherever Scott was, he was comfortable.  There was material under his head; it had some give but not like a pillow would. Warmer than a pillow, too.

The fingers were still threading repetitively through his hair, that soft weight across his shoulders was probably an arm, and that meant… his head was in someone’s lap?

He definitely had not fallen asleep like that.

His eyelids were heavy with sleep and the annoying cold that had decided to drain all of his energy – that was why his hair was missing its gel; he’d been too tired to bother – but he forced them to peel open a crack to see whose lap he was apparently using as a pillow.

A blur of yellow took a blink or two to focus as blond hair, and there was no mistaking the dark amber eyes of his second youngest brother even with a sleep-and-cold-addled brain. They were looking down at him, and softened when Gordon noticed he was awake.

“Hey, bro,” the aquanaut said quietly, fingers still moving through his hair.

“Gordon?” he asked, internally cringing when his voice came out barely louder than a whisper.  “What-?”

His earlier assessment about the weight across his collarbones being easy to shift if he tried was proven wrong as he tried to push himself upright, only for the previously-lax arm to tense and pin him down.  Normally, it would be simple enough to escape.  Normally, he wasn’t weakened by a cold.

“You fell asleep during the movie,” his brother told him.  Right, he’d dragged himself out of bed and into the den only for the squid to persuade him to watch a movie instead of doing any work.  “It’s only been half an hour.”

Sure enough, if he concentrated, he could hear the tv murmuring away in the background.

He tried to push himself up again, but Gordon’s arms were strong and Scott was frustratingly weak. The fingers in his hair never broke their rhythm as he was pinned in place.

“Am I that uncomfortable?” Gordon asked, humour lacing through his voice.  “It’s fine, Scott.  You’re exhausted; go back to sleep.”

“But-”  The paperwork.  Hell, even the movie.  It wasn’t often he got to sit with just Gordon without another brother also around. Where were the rest of them?

“Sleep, Scotty,” Gordon repeated, softer.  Gentle and soothing, like the fingers in his hair.  “You need it.”

Scott wanted to rebel against the instruction, but the blasted cold had him weak and weary, and Gordon made a surprisingly comfortable pillow.  His eyelids felt like lead, and against his will they were sliding shut again.

The last thing he noticed were those fingers, never ceasing their movement, before sleep pulled him back under.

 *****

Gordon sighed as he looked down at his eldest brother.  He’d been pretty unsurprised when there had been a gradual weight on his shoulder, which a glance had confirmed to be his brother’s head, having expected Scott to conk out during the movie.  Slightly more surprising had been the lack of reaction when he’d shifted him from his shoulder to lie down properly, proving just how exhausted his big brother was.  Scott normally woke up at the slightest movement.

And now, after a groggy awakening where Gordon was certain he’d still been mostly asleep, he was settled comfortably, face pale from the cold that was gnawing incessantly at him. They’d run scans to confirm it wasn’t anything contagious he’d picked up on a rescue when he’d first flaked out at the desk – it wasn’t, just Scott’s body protesting from being overworked and shutting down on him in exhaustion – and when he’d come up clear, taken turns at trying to get him to rest.

Gordon was admittedly feeling a little smug that he’d managed to get Scott back to sleep with minimal complaints.  Even when ill, the Tracy stubbornness ran strongly through the eldest brother, but it seemed that this time that stubbornness had met its match.  Scott’s face was paler than normal – not white, but missing the healthy colour nonetheless – but relaxed in sleep.

It was a shame he was only relaxing because he was too ill to do anything else, no matter what hare-brained thoughts he’d had about trying to get work done in his current state before Gordon had coaxed him into watching a movie instead.

Scott hadn’t even gelled his hair that morning, for goodness’ sake.  If he wasn’t even up to that – or getting dressed, because Gordon was well aware he was still in his pyjamas underneath the hoodie – then he definitely wasn’t up to paperwork or anything else that required mental power.

Stupid big brother. Gordon had missed most of the movie in favour of watching him sleep in exasperated fondness.  He wasn’t even sure when he’d started running his fingers through gel-free hair.  Just something to do with his hand, because he wasn’t great at staying still, but Scott hadn’t commented on it or tried to get him to stop, so he kept going.

Maybe that was the secret to getting him to relax?  Hell knew Scott’s hair was usually guarded by hair gel and a warning glare if anyone dared try to mess with it.  Gordon filed that theory away for later experimentation.

For now, he was content to stay where he was, his lap providing a pillow for his big brother – even if it meant he wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere for a few hours.

If it meant Scott was getting some much-needed sleep, Gordon was more than willing to stay put.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (12/17)

Summary:  “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Recruitment Season.

Having been recruited himself, Levi was somewhat familiar with the timeline. Or at least he should have been familiar with it.

When he had suggested showing up for one of Mikasa’s tournaments, his end goal had been to at least get Hange out of her hole, the same way she had pulled him out of his own slump. With nothing else on his mind though leading up to the tournament, he found himself a little too surprised at the large crowd that showed up that day at the entrance of the school.

And Levi was familiar with the clipboards, the iPads and the way those particular people strode into the school with some sort of purpose.

The school so close to their largest city was much larger than the school he grew up in. Back in his old school, there were only two to five scouts at a time for at least ten different sports. There, by the entrance of Public School No. 104, the crowd was large and Levi was overwhelmed.

For a second he doubted whether or not he had read the entries on the events page right. That second became a few seconds and maybe even a minute as Levi recalled that there had been multiple events slated for that day. There was a huge possibility that he could have read it wrong.

He had thought ahead enough at least to bookmark the page on his phone. Whether or not he had thought ahead to bookmark it because of any lingering doubt or because it had been just a little too convenient to click the star on his phone was a question he quickly brushed off even before he could entertain it.

What was important then was he had something to assure him that he hadn’t been a total idiot taking Hange to that school.

If we can’t watch jumping, maybe they have diving or gymnastics or something. Levi thought to himself in that few second gap pulling the phone out of his pocket and scrolling through it.

Those were all consolations though. The grand prize was still the high jump event and he would hate himself if he had read the time wrong. The chances were small but the visit to the school had been crucial for many reasons.

For one, Hange had not gone out since her parents gave her a deadline to vacate her apartment. She hadn’t seemed completely alive since then, almost reminiscent of Levi’s own bout of isolation. She didn’t do much either to ask for help, to open up about her own turmoil.

It had been just the two of them clearing out years worth of clutter in the apartment for hours on end, which soon turned to days on end, save for those small few hours to get groceries. The silence which only further alluded to the lifelessness of the room, was deafening.

And in his own way, Levi found himself almost obliged to reignite something within her.

On top of that, Levi hadn’t written anything for three days. At first glance, that wasn’t an issue. Overtime though, with nothing much to do, with the decision to stay at home with Hange, he had started writing more, organizing thoughts on Petra, Zeke, Erwin, Farland, Isabel and he had written thousands of words, tens of pages but Levi was sure, the story was far from over.

There were glaring holes that he had dug through the deepest pits of his memories trying to fill. His documents were riddled with empty bullet points, blank spaces and sometimes even half complete sentences any other casual reader would have never made sense of.

There were inarguable truths though with what he had pieced together. Many of the people he had met had died, and he felt the raw pain with every single one of them in his dreams, only manageable by the reminder that they were all alive and were merely dead as characters in his dreams.

In his dreams and in his stories, he was a soldier. Erwin died and Hange had taken over as a commander. And somehow, they had ended up outside the walls, lying together in the forest and Levi could have sworn he didn’t want to leave.

But for what? Why?

For a time before that, he had been in the forest with that blond doctor too and Levi had hated his guts then too.

But under what context?

Keep writing and you’ll find out. Something nagged at him. But it was as if he had written everything. The dreams just replayed. The memories of familiar strangers only got more and more vivid. And the dreams he saw and the thoughts he reflected on only served to add detail to the sceneries and to the faces as Levi wrote them.

But he knew how they looked like in real life, there was no need to describe their faces any more than he already did. And what did scenery have to do with anything? From what he remembered, half of what he dreamt of was within walls anyway.

But there was a lead. Mikasa Ackerman. He remembered voices. He remembered raw care and concern. And he was sure there was still something to probe on those names. He tried describing her on paper with just the name as some sort of lead, but it proved futile.

Any description he attempted to shoehorn into his stories seemed like a lie. It felt almost idiotic and almost obsessive then and Levi was very careful with his words as he asked for directions then.

They gestured for Levi to follow and he found himself keeping a good distance from the crowd as they walked through the school grounds.

From his place behind them, he had heard the name ‘Ackerman’ mentioned a few times among the college scouts, whether they were talking about him or Mikasa, he didn’t probe. He didn’t want to know either. Watching the high jump event might be painful enough for him and he didn’t want to unnecessarily add any more salt to that wound.

“Levi, you sure this is the way to go?” Hange asked.

“That’s where the scouts are going,” Levi said.

Hange pulled out her phone. “I’ll look for a school map.”

Levi shrugged. “The school is bigger than I expected. Let’s cover some ground while you search.” He kept his eyes ahead, keeping the crowd at least in his peripherals as he scanned his surroundings.

As they walked through the main path of the school, the crowd gradually dispersed. Then for Levi who had been so religiously following the crowds since almost a minute ago, it became a game of which crowd was biggest.

Because everyone should be here for Mikasa Ackerman right? Levi thought to himself. He couldn’t wait for Hange to navigate. He pressed on, following the biggest crowd before they turned the corner and disappeared completely.

The crowd may have been for Mikasa, or it could have been for any other athlete or any other sport. He never did find out.

“Levi, I think we should turn around here… The high jump event should be---” Hange started.

“It’s Connie Springer! Connie Springer’s batting next!”

From his view along the main road, partially obscured by tall trees and bushes dotting the landscape, Levi hadn’t gotten a good view at first. And if it hadn’t been for the familiar name, maybe Levi never would have sped up, or gone as fast at least as his limp and his crutches would take him.

He turned the corner, the largest crowd forgotten. He made good distance, even on the rocky landscape that made up the smaller path.

“Levi, be careful. You might trip.” Hange asked. “Besides, where are we going? The high jump event i...”

Hange’s protests eventually faded into something unintelligible from behind him. If he had actually tried to listen, maybe he would have heard whatever else she was saying. It was as if his mind knew, anything she said was futile. He was hell bent on making that detour and he was 100% that detour which was only a few feet away, would give him enough of a satisfying answer.

We can check the venue after. Just give me this few minutes. Levi had been in enough high jump tournaments to know they lasted a fair amount of time anyway.

The smaller path opened up to a field. There were athletes on the field clad in red, one on the field clad in green. Levi had enough stock knowledge on Major League Baseball to know exactly what was happening.

The innings were all on the scoreboard, large enough for Levi to see from his angle. Visitors were leading by three points. The home team had one more out left before the game would be declared over. And out on each base was one player clad in green.

It was a decisive possession for green. Levi surmised even if it hadn’t been Connie Springer who had caught his attention then, maybe he still really would have stopped to watch.

A lot of the crowd looked like they were thinking the same thing. Even with the game almost over, people were still approaching the field.

Connie Springer…

Levi heard the whispers among the scouts. Good runner. Mediocre Batter. And maybe he had felt a little offended for Connie when someone had joked that they should just bid the regionals and nationals goodbye.

Connie was better than that. Levi was sure.

And just like Levi had thought, Connie seemed unfazed. From his position at the side of the field, Connie approached the home plate at a steady yet rapid pace, bat in hand.

The whispers around him only started to get louder as Connie got into a position to bat.

Connie was a mediocre batter and a good runner at the same time. And Connie's hand position as he held the bat was a remnant of just that. Connie held one hand behind the mid section of the bat and he gripped it as if he weren’t going to let go any time soon.

He’s gonna bunt. Levi didn’t need the whispers for that commentary. Just as expected, that was a safe play for someone deemed a ‘shitty batter’ by the cruel audience.

Connie gripped the bat and positioned it. The pitch came a second later. And in that small span of a few seconds, Levi’s expectations were subverted, and as proven by the gasps around him, it looked like the audience’s expectations were subverted as well.

Connie had taken a risk. And in the next few seconds, everyone would find out if it were a good risk. He had swung the bat all the way through, there was a clank of the ball and the ball flew. Looking at the blue and white of the sky, Levi had to squint to see it.

It was a bunt fake. Levi soon realized. But he quickly dropped that thought as he followed Connie along all the bases. He was a great runner and Levi struggled to follow him through the bases. He felt his heart thumping as he followed Connie’s path.

He could hear screams from the audience to run. And Connie was screaming much louder as he ran even after having reached the second base.

Levi was sure he could have stopped there but Connie continued to run, screaming to the others to run as well. And by the third base, Connie could have stopped, and they could have secured a tie. The coach by the third base, held his hands up high, as if to tell Connie to take those three points.

It’s a tie game, no need to. And as Levi soon found out, any efforts to move in the next few seconds would be risky. Levi followed the ball which was already making the rounds of the bases. And when he looked back to third base, he found it empty. Connie was still running.

There were angry screams and Levi wouldn’t be surprised if it was from the coach. Levi didn’t bother to look anywhere else though to check. The next few milliseconds, he dedicated to Connie who was still dashing towards the home base.

Levi’s breath caught that split second when the catcher bent over to grab the ball.

But he still has to tag Connie. The catcher made the mistake of approaching Connie on the lane connecting the bases.

Or was it a mistake? He was blocking Connie’s path. And if Connie did anything like stray away from the path it would be an out.

He kept moving, As if fortune did favor the brave, everything started working for him at once. The catcher had bent over to dash faster. Connie was only getting faster, gaining momentum with every stride.

The split second Connie launched himself in the air and over the catcher, Levi could have sworn time stopped. That pause could have lasted an eternity. Yet everything after that could have happened on fast forward. Connie fell onto the home plate and skidded violently on the field and before Levi could take a good look, Connie was surrounded.

That scene on the field reminded Levi of his own accident months ago.

Is he okay? Levi stayed longer than he should have. He knew if he had left then and there, he probably wouldn’t be able to rest without the guarantee that the young baseball player out there wouldn’t suffer the same fate Levi had.

“Levi… Did you see that?” It sounded like Hange was struggling to breathe.

But in a good way. A good way he had missed so much, he found himself distracted enough to look away from the congregation on the home base and back at Hange.”It looked like he was flying huh?” Levi asked, taking a long good look at Hange as he said those words.

Her face was flushed. The glimmer in her eyes was still there, albeit weaker. Her eyes completely concentrated on the scene in front of her, as if in a trance. And Levi was sure she was imagining, seeing herself in that same spot only a second ago.

Was that how it felt Hange? Every single time you saw someone jump?

Levi was convinced he was right. The glimmer in Hange's eyes was weaker for sure. At first, Levi had thought it to be a remnant of the events of weeks ago, with her thesis struggles, with her parent’s admonishing remarks.

Levi ended up concluding though, that it wasn’t weaker. It was just glowing differently.

There was no desire in her eyes, no childish jealousy at lost dreams she couldn’t achieve. It was as if Hange had gained the power to so purely and innocently, so easily place herself in another's shoes, when she just thinks through it.

And absence worked to make Levi notice it more but in that new glow, that new glimmer in her eyes, Levi noticed then, there was no subtle hint of guilt at having indulged in such a trivial and useless passion her whole life.

Yet every single time he had snuck glances at Hange watching jumps before that, there was guilt in her eyes. As if she was supposed to be doing something more important: studying, working, succeeding, meeting expectations.

Is that how liberation feels? Levi asked himself then. He wanted to ask her that same thing then but he found another question, a follow up question which popped so quickly into his mind even before he had completely articulated the first one. Does she know yet that she’s free?

Maybe she didn’t. Because it had just come so naturally for someone like her.

“I wrote her like that because that’s how Hange Zoe really is.”

“Then I’ll work harder to be like her.”

“You don’t have to. The squad leader and the commander are already in you, you just have to uncover for yourself those parts.”

And she had figured it out for herself in the easiest of states, in a trance borne of passion, ecstasy, excitement and maybe euphoria.

An authentic, unrehearsed and organic smile, from Hange of all people, had left Levi with too many emotions to wrangle with: nostalgia, relief, excitement and everything in between. Too many for him to figure out for itself. Yet, it manifested in that moment, as Levi stood frozen next to her, staring at her for god knows how long. As if that Hange Zoe was something he had lost so long ago, maybe even centuries or even millennia ago. And he could have stood there forever as long she remained in that state of pure organic euphoria.

Hange’s lips widened, then curled up into a smile. “He’s okay!” She screamed, much louder than what could have been appropriate for that situation, for someone who barely even knew the guy on the field.

Levi didn’t mind though. In another story, maybe in another life, Connie was a member of their legion after all.

Hange’s outburst was a done deal and there was nothing much they could do about the eyes focused on them or the whispers among the crowd. Levi took advantage of that sunk cost, he approached Connie who was sitting alone on his bench, taking a quick drink of water.

“You did great out there.” It came out as barely a whisper and as Levi soon realized, he was still too far for Connie to have heard it. And the latter didn’t.

That whisper had completely and so easily been overshadowed by calls from his own teammates to hurry up and pack his things. Connie’s team was going to regionals.

And maybe after that, nationals. It would have been nice to send some sort of congratulations then. Reality took over and brought with it reasonable arguments, all against some sort of odd and almost stalkery approach towards Connie.

Their team would be celebrating that night. Connie was far gone and had disappeared among the crowd of red baseball uniforms. It would be an odd and completely unjustifiable effort to chase Connie down then.

“Congratulations,” Levi whispered to himself.

“Congratulations to...? The home team?” Hange asked, stepping up beside him.

“Yeah, I would have wanted to talk to them. Congratulate them myself.”

“I’m sure they heard you,” Hange said.

The murmurs among the crowd, the praises, the cries and the dissemination of rumors were ubiquitous and they were still far from dead, even as the crowds started to disperse. Behind it all, Levi heard the rustle of trees and the whistling of the winds.

And maybe the wind could carry messages for him. Just in case, Levi did whisper other words of greeting, much softer than what Hange would have heard beside him. They were generic words of congratulations and well wishes but Levi swore they were heartfelt.

And he ended it with one last personalized message. I hope we could meet again and maybe have a little more time to talk.

Hange’s voice broke through his little correspondence. “Hey Levi, we still have an hour or so before the high jump event. What about if we try other events on the way?”

Levi shrugged. “Why not? We’re here already.” The trip had proven to be filled with surprises already.

*******

"Levi, you shouldn't have gone to the toilet. You missed some amazing jumps. There's this girl…. Sasha Braus I think…"

“Sasha Braus?” Levi made sure to say her name slowly, to at least imply some unfamiliarity.

But he was all too familiar with that name already. In fact, that hadn't been a toilet break, Levi had gone to the cafeteria only a building away and bought some plastic wrapped melon bread. Just in case there would be an opportunity to talk.

"How many jumps did I miss?" Levi asked.

"Five or six but we missed the start of the competition already so I think we missed more than that. They said this was the last round… But Sasha's already winning by a lot."

"Just as expected."

"So you know Sasha?"

"I follow athletes too you know."

"But diving?"

"Maybe." Levi kept his reply short, unwilling to keep that joke of a charade any longer.

Hange had a knowing look on her face as if she never did believe him.

Levi returned Hange with a playful look of his own as if to say:

But how else would I know her name?

Hange probably suspected the recognition to have been the result of a series of deductions. But Levi wasn't that smart.

After that encounter with Connie, the names and faces just came to him much faster than ever. Even among the five athletes lined up in front of the pull, Levi could spot her from meters away, last in line

He checked the watch on his phone, thirty minutes until the high jump event. They had enough time to kill.

In the few minutes leading up to Sasha's final dive, Levi made sure to search her name.

Top diver. Top seed for college scouts. High level of diving technique.

Diving wasn't a particularly popular sport where they lived but it was enough to make waves at least on the internet.

When Levi started to watch the women dive into the water, performing tucks, pikes and twists along the way, he did wonder why it never was popular.

And with the way, Hange was looking at them, he suspected she thought the same thing.

"Let's go Sasha!" Hange's voice rang out in the indoor pool area.

Do we know her? Levi asked. Realistically, do we know her? He amended that soon after. He knew her. But was he supposed to know her. Was Hange supposed to know her?

He wasn't too self conscious either. She wasn't the only one who was cheering after all. He could have sworn the blonde in front of them was cheering just as hard.

"Was I too loud?" Hange whispered, a second later. "I think I got too excited."

"No, that's very much a Hänge Zoe move," Levi said.

That small shadow of self consciousness in Hange's voice completely dissipated and Levi was relieved to see that gentle yet excited smile that followed.

And it could have been a hint or an illusion, but as Levi looked back at the brunette who approached the edge of the diving board, he could have sworn she had given them a flicker of a gaze as she positioned herself on the edge.

She may have heard Hange's cheers. Levi wondered though, if she had heard any more of their cheers or if she had recognized them.

Levi leaned towards a 'no.' though having been disappointed a little too many times. And he considered it a done deal as she executed a difficult twist, a pike then dove into the water head first.

"The high jump is starting in ten minutes. We should go," Hänge said, glancing at her watch.

The melon bread in the inner pocket of Levi's jacket protested. He had bought it for her after all.

He had other options at least. "Psst…" Levi called the attention of the blonde in front of him.

She didn't look back.

"Historia," Levi said. He decided for himself then that it was worth the risk.

The blonde looked back at them, her eyes wide open in confusion. "I'm sorry… I don't think I recognize you…" It was just like her to still be polite to a couple of potentially creepy strangers.

"No need to recognize me," Levi said. He pressed the melon pan, into the hand that Historia had held out for a hand shake. "Get this to Sasha for us. Tell her it's from her fans."

With that, the two stepped down from their place in the second row bleachers and quickly and silently slipped out through the entrance.

*******

“Maybe we have the time for one more detour,” Levi said.

“We’re still on the way to the high jump venue. And it’s not like we’re gonna miss everything if we’re ten minutes late,” Hange added.

As they stood at the entrance of the gym along the main road, they were distracted for different reasons. Levi was distracted because he had heard that one name among the cheers loud enough to hear even beyond closed doors. Hange though looked like she had managed to at least get a glimpse of what was going on inside through the transparent glass of the door.

“Should we… go in?” Levi asked.

“You wanna? There’s only a few seconds left.”

“Why not?”

Even with both of them in a silent agreement, they still hesitated. The door opened towards the inside and from what Levi could see with a slight tiptoe, even the door was barricaded. As Levi took a closer look at Hange, he realized that that could have been one of the reasons she was hesitant to go in.

“I saw this pretty cool dunk through this window. I wish you could have seen it.”

“I’ve seen a lot of cool things today already.”

“Yeah, but a few more cool things wouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just look at them on Youtube after. You got a name?”

“I’m checking his jersey… The name is too far… Can’t see it from this shitty view. It starts with a K… And it looks like a really long name.”

“Kirstein?”

“Can’t tell…But that doesn’t sound like a long name.”

The buzzer rang loud enough that even Levi found himself jumping at the sound. Cheers followed which Levi had to admit, had been a worse ordeal for his ears than the buzzer of a while ago.

But maybe the wait will be worth it. Levi told himself and he willed himself to be patient. “Let’s wait by the side of the door. People are gonna be going out soon.”

“I wish we could have been earlier. I would have wanted to see more dunks.” Hange whined. “You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone dunk in real life until now.”

“Well, maybe one day I’ll take you to watch a basketball game live,” Levi said as he leaned on the wall to the side of the gym.

“The tickets are expensive.”

“Aren’t your parent’s filthy rich?”

“Well, they thought games were a waste of time…”

“After we graduate, then we get jobs, maybe we can watch together.”

“That would be nice.” Hange leaned on the wall right next to him. Leaning her head back, she looked to Levi and gave him a playful smile. “Then after that, we can go watch some Major League Baseball and some diving tournaments too.”

It was only then Levi realized he had leaned his head back in the same manner. The way she had mimicked it had been comforting and he found himself following suit. “Maybe we can watch a gymnastics competition or a skating competition?”

“And maybe when we earn more money… Let’s watch the olympics together.”

Levi smiled. “That’s the dream.” He looked at the sky above him, avoiding Hange’s gaze. With the price of the tickets and the distance of the venues though, Levi was aware that it was a distant dream.

But something inside him nagged.

Two months ago, actually making the olympics wouldn’t have been such a distant dream. His coach had talked about the Olympics many times before already, talking about scouts, about post graduation training with the national team. He wondered how pathetic he was at that moment, shifting from dreaming to make the Olympics to dreaming of just watching. It was a short episode of melancholy and maybe if Levi had indulged it, it would have lasted longer.

It was something he willed himself not to show Hange though and instead, he stared up at the sky, willing himself instead to silently admire the view. From his peripherals, he was relieved to see Hange had done similarly.

Noon had shifted to afternoon so subtly. Looking straight up at the light blue, didn’t hurt so much anymore and he suspected it was late afternoon already. He knew they should be leaving soon if they wanted to catch Mikasa’s tournament.

The melancholy weighed on him. As if Hange understood though, she was silent and she didn’t pressure him to move just yet. Levi slid back down on the ground, letting the crutches fall in front of him.

“You okay?” Hange asked, sliding down to a sitting position next to him.

No, I’m not. Levi would have answered. When he looked at Hange though, he saw understanding, as if she knew what would have only been the correct answer to that. But you aren’t okay either. Levi had to note, so it would have only served to stoke the fires of her own vulnerability to admit his own. So he went for a kind in-between.

“I know we’re both not okay. We just have to ride through this until shit gets better,” Levi said, giving Hange the best authentic smile he could muster which felt like more of a lopsided grin in the end.

Hange took a deep breath. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” She returned that smile with her own and Levi was certain her own smile had been a better rendition of what he had.

“Jean! Hey! Come back here.”

Levi had done a pretty good job of tuning out the crowds that had been exiting the gym since a while ago. When he looked back to the entrance to see Jean and an unrecognizable teammate just outside, he was almost surprised to see their surroundings almost completely empty, especially when compared to a while ago.

“You can’t just leave. Coach will kill us.”

“I said, I’ll follow. It’s just a celebratory dinner. It’s not like we’ll lose our ticket to regionals if I don’t go.”

“But you scored the winning dunk.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jean asked. “Besides I am going. I’ll just be late.”

The player next to Jean cleared his throat. “Is this about her?”

“Yes. I wanna watch her jump. Is that so bad?”

“Mikasa’s gonna have other tournaments you know.”

“But we’re going to be busy with regionals. Who knows how many times I’ll be able to catch her tournaments before graduation.”

There was an awkward silence between them and Levi was almost tempted to use that moment to approach Jean. Even with some support from Hange though, it had taken Levi more than enough time to push himself to a standing position.

“God you’re such a simp Jean.”

“Cover for me Caleb.”

Caleb walked back into the gym and Jean started to jog, making his way for the main path. Levi was sure with his current state he wouldn’t be able to catch up. It was as if Hange though had read his mind.

“Excuse me!”

Levi followed at a much slower pace, only able to catch up because the two had slowed to a stop in the middle of the main path.

“Mikasa Ackerman? Yes! She’s my classmate.”

Levi noted the light blush on Jean’s face as he spoke. “We wanna watch the tournament too,” Levi added, slowing to a stop beside Hange. “Could we walk there together? This is our first time here so we might get lost.” A partial lie. It wasn’t their first time but they had looked at the map on their phone enough times to have sworn on their life that the path they were taking was correct.

Jean had looked surprised at first, but his dumb expression had quickly shifted to something much friendlier. “I’d be happy to take you two there.” He held out his hand. “Jean Kirstein.”

Hange had been the first to take his hand in a friendly gesture. “Hange Zoe.”

The pleasantries were quickly forgotten and their conversation had shifted to other things. Along the way, Levi had stopped listening as it shifted to conversations on air time and agility exercises.

Just like Hange to want to talk about that. Levi thought. That was the thesis she had wanted to do after all.

Levi allowed himself to trail behind a bit, letting the two grab a bit more distance.

That gave him a good view of the two, side by side. And they have been side by side before, Levi recalled that much. They had discussed strategies, paperwork, war conditions many times before.

Levi took advantage of that distance between them. To further indulge that little picture of a memory, Levi whispered two names under his breath. Commander Hange Zoe and Commanding Officer Jean Kirstein.

That at least added some realism to the view. And Levi was sure he’d remember enough to write pages worth when he got home.

*******

“Looks like we haven’t missed a lot,” Hange said.

“You missed the first few heights but those were too easy. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mikasa sat it out.” Levi commented. He looked to Jean who was gesturing for them to follow as he climbed up the bleachers.

And he kept his focus on Jean the whole way up. The high jump event was his domain and although he had hoped to keep a low profile during the event, a part of him knew that it would be almost impossible. Although his face could be almost forgettable and maybe unnoticeable in the crowds, the crutches only made people stare. And when people stare, they have a tendency to look at faces. And when they look at faces they recognize, sometimes they talk.

Levi had learned that lesson so many times before already. At least though, with every lesson learned, he had gotten better at brushing off the whispers. On top of the quick introductions, the familiar faces on the bleachers had been a very helpful distraction as well, one unbothered and the other, the complete opposite, a little too curious about everything.

Eren and Armin.

“You’re late Jean. Weren’t you the one who so excitedly told Mikasa you’d show up to cheer her on?” Eren asked.

“Hey, I’m here right now. Besides, I knew you and Armin were going to show up anyway. You always do.” Jean said, raising his hands defensively. He looked back at the field as if searching for her among the athletes. “So when is she jumping?”

“She got eliminated.”

Jean buried his face in his hands. “You’re kidding.”

“Eren, she sat out the easier heights right?” Levi had to note that at first glance, it did look like Mikasa wasn’t there. He suspected that the bench where Mikasa was sitting was just a little obscured from their view on the bleachers. He had done similarly too often for it to be anything but routine.

“Oh, you’re familiar with how high jump events work. Better than horseface here,” Eren gave the still recovering Jean a side glance before looking back at Levi. Eren’s unbothered face was far from menacing.

With his own store on his side and his own thoughts, Levi found himself still a little too careful. “I’m a little familiar...” Levi said, letting his voice trail off as he looked back out at the field.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke up from behind him.

Levi was quick to look back. Compared to Hange who was already so engrossed on the happenings on the field just below, Levi was far from entertained. The heights were still much lower than what he would have considered entertaining.

It was Armin who had called out to him. “Are you Levi Ackerman?” He asked. The blonde seemed so unsure of himself that Levi had half the mind to deny it there just to play with him for a while. Didn’t Jean introduce us already?

“Why do you ask?”

Armin put a hand at the back of his head and flashed a sheepish grin. “Well, ever since Mikasa got into high jumping, I started to get a little more familiar with the high jumping scene. Also Eren, didn’t your brother talk about him?”

Zeke Jaeger.

“He mentioned that Levi Ackerman was injured, probably sidelined for life…” Eren trailed off, he looked pointedly at Levi’s casted knee. “Is that it?”

“So you are Levi Ackerman…” Armin said, a little more certainty in his tone.

“Wait, who’s this Levi Ackerman? Are you related to Mikasa?”

Levi shrugged. He didn’t know the best way to answer it either. Do I say distant relatives? He opted for a safe yet vague. “Maybe.”

The three boys didn’t ask anymore. The crowds exploded into cheers, and in their own little corner, the five of them fell silent as Mikasa made her way to the center and approached the starting line of the runway.

Levi quickly estimated the bar to be at 1.8 meters, too high for most high school students. So high that only two had cleared the height. And if Mikasa cleared it, that meant three people would be moving on to the 1.9 meter bar.

Or when Mikasa clears it. Levi corrected himself a second later as he watched Mikasa run to the take off box.

The crowd cheered as she landed. It had done little though to pull Levi back to reality. The cheers were merely fading background music as Levi replayed that jump in his mind. Everything from the run to the take off to the landing, everything from the smallest twist mid air had been seamless and Levi only noticed a second later his mouth had been wide open.

Mikasa wasn’t the tallest among the jumpers either, as if she relied as well on her own flexibility to get her through the bar.

“Levi, that’s how you used to jump,” Hange said. That had been enough at least to pull Levi out of his trance. “Now do you get how it felt to see you jump?”

Levi didn’t answer instantly. His first instinct had been to look back at the Youtube videos and the Instagram videos of himself Hange had shared to him a while back. He couldn’t have jumped like MIkasa. Back when he had watched his own videos, he never felt the goosebumps, or his hair stand up, or that sudden need to drop his jaw and leave his mouth wide open for a good few seconds.

But his view of Mikasa had been organic, it had been an experience, unmarred by camera angles, commentaries and video edits. Real life didn’t have video edits, and with his own first hand experience, he had the freedom and the convenience to continue to follow Mikasa, long after her jump was over.

He ignored the next two who had failed at the 1.9 meter height, completely eliminated. He had only surmised their own fate from the less than enthusiastic cheers from the crowd that followed each attempt. He continued to follow Mikasa, all the way until her second jump, focusing on the way her body curved so easily above the bar, the way her body twisted into a more comfortable angle mid flight.

As if she’s been flying her whole life.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We have a champion! Mikasa Ackerman!” The announcer chimed. But they weren’t cleaning up yet.

“There’s one more event: the men’s event, then after that the awarding,” Armin explained.

Levi shifted his attention once again to Mikasa who was making her way away from the center.

Towards the audience. Towards the front row. Levi followed Mikasa s gaze, to see a familiar back profile at the front row. The man only stood up from his seat, making the situation all the clearer for Levi.

“Coach Greg is here?” Of course, he’d be here. He’s recruiting.

He didn’t look like he was successful at recruiting though. From his spot towards the middle of the bleachers, Levi could see the way Mikasa shook her head, the way she had given the most apologetic smile and the way she walked back to the bench where her other teammates were, looking completely unbothered by that rejection.

He’s recruiting Mikasa? Levi thought.

In reply, Coach Greg looked back at the bleachers. He caught Levi’s gaze almost instantly as if he had known Levi would have been there the whole time. Levi had trained with him enough to know what he wanted just by the expression on his face.

“Levi, where are you going? The men’s jump event is about to start.”

It had been months since he trained with him, but years of old habits were still hard to break. Before Levi even noticed it himself, he had scrambled onto his feet and maneuvered through the crowd in the bleachers.

*******

“I saw you enter the venue mid match. Honestly happy to see you watching tournaments again and I’m sure a lot of the fans are happy to see you too.”

If by happy, you mean gossiping. “Jumping is hard to completely give up,” Levi replied.

The two had settled on a bench, only a few meters away from the emptiest bleachers. The screams and cheers were still audible and sometimes, comprehensible. But there was still enough peace and quiet to manage a fair conversation.

“How’s your knee?”

“I’m sure you’ve talked to Erwin about it already.”

Greg grinned sheepishly at it. He dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “I was hoping he would have given you a better prognosis. He told me you were gone from jumping for good… I just thought…”

“My last season is over. You’re already preparing for regionals and I can still barely walk,” Levi said as he gave a pointed look at the crutches he leaned on the side of the bench.

“With physical therapy…”

“I can barely walk right now because of physical therapy. We were going too fast.”

“So anything after college might be impossible huh?”

“I’m taking this one step at a time. It was a painful experience. And with the extent of it, Erwin had told me multiple times even post surgery, it might never return to pre injury state. With the competitiveness of the high jumping scene… my height… I feel like these were all just signs to just move on from it all.”

Greg dropped his shoulders and shook his head. “You were something else though. I didn’t think someone of your height could have dominated the high jump. It was like your body knew the exact moments to get you through the bar every time. As if it was completely used to being mid air.”

“Maybe my body is just used to flying,” Levi said. “Maybe I was born and built for these types of sports. But I'm sure you're aware, no matter how inclined someone is to sports, careers don’t last forever. We all have expiry dates. And mine was just a lot earlier than others.”

“But you could have made the Olympics with your numbers.”

“But the accident happened and I don’t think I’ll ever achieve those numbers again,” Levi said matter-of-factly, so realistically it hurt even when Levi was sure he had long gotten over it.

“So, what are you focusing on now?” Greg asked, an attempt at digression.

“Studies, submitting my thesis, passing my last few classes…”

“Maybe when studies die down a bit, you can visit every now and then. After winter break is over, maybe you could even help get the new recruits up to speed.”

Levi raised one eyebrow at Greg. “You have one in mind?” Mikasa Ackerman?

“Mikasa Ackerman.” As if Greg had read his mind, he had repeated those same exact words with the exact same tone Levi had heard it in his head. “Are you two related?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“With the way you’re saying that, I'm guessing not close enough to talk to her.”

“Talk to her about what?” Levi asked.

“About considering Paradis University. She has that type of talent that only comes once every five years.”

“But if she’s committed to another university…”

“She’s not. In fact, she told me herself, she might not even go to university.”

“Why not?”

“She told me there was someone she didn’t wanna leave behind. You think you might know something about that?”

An all too familiar turn of events. Levi’s answer to his coach’s question had been a resounding yes. But he wasn’t telling him about that yet. ‘I’ll try to talk to her. Then I’ll see what I can do.”

The conversation ended soon after that with a quick promise to keep in touch. His coach hurriedly got back to the tournament and Levi found himself alone on the bench once again.

His knees ached, his arms were stiff from all the walking. And he decided for himself that a men’s jump event would not be worth the struggle of hobbling back to the bleachers.

*******

“There you are!”

Levi only had a few minutes of peace and quiet before it was interrupted by the familiar brunette who settled next to him on the bench. It had interrupted whatever trance he had gotten himself into. Either way, it was still a welcome sight. “You’re not watching?”

“I thought you went to the toilet or something but when you didn’t come back… I kinda realized you might have left because you didn’t wanna watch so I got worried. You wanna go back home?”

“I’m tired. So honestly, yes.” Levi shrugged his shoulders and did some test stretches. His body was aching from having maneuvered in crutches the whole afternoon. He could have sworn, he had reached well more than a thousand steps just walking the university, enough to expect an admonishing stare from either Erwin or his physical therapist.

“Well, we should be going back. We have to do some last minute packing since tomorrow is our last day.”

“Wait, before we leave. I was hoping to get some lead on Mikasa. I wanted to talk to her. Maybe after final exams or something.”

Hange gave him a cheeky grin. She held out her phone in an exaggerated manner. “That’s done already.”

“You got their contact details?”

“I had a pretty pleasant conversation with Armin, Jean and Eren, enough at least to get them to wanna keep in touch.”

“Keep in touch about what?”

“Thesis maybe? Future career prospects?”

“You’re meeting with a bunch of high school students?”

“Armin applied to Paradis University so there’s a lot to talk about and he said he could help out with my thesis. Besides, weren’t you the one who said you wanted to talk to Mikasa?”

“I’m doing my coach a favor.” Levi said, emphasizing those last words a little too much, he started to feel a little ridiculous a second later.

Hange raised one eyebrow in disbelief, only making Levi further regret attempting such a ridiculous lie. A smile played at Hange’s lips. “You know, I’m glad to see you’re reconnecting with your team again.”

Levi returned that smile with his own. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re reconnecting with your thesis again.”

*******

“I talked to the dorm. Scholars can get a good bed space for a cheap price, or maybe even free. You just have to sort out the paperwork, get some paperwork signed by your professor then the scholarship office. After that, we wait for approval. So, in the meantime, you could stay in a motel or something.``

“That’s the plan,” Hange said, her tone a mixture of despondence and exhaustion. Not too surprisingly, she was lugging boxes, lining them towards the entrance of the room as they spoke. “My parents are gonna pick up a lot of these boxes, probably put them in storage back home. And this…” Hange drops a purple suitcase in front of him. “Is all I’m bringing.”

“You’re serious about this huh?”

“Were you doubting it?”

Levi sat and stared at the luggage, his expression unchanging. “This just seems like a huge change.”

“This happens with everyone else anyway. I’m a senior in college. I’ll find a job, take out a loan then rent some cheap studio apartment just outside the city.”

“Studio apartments aren’t cheap, even if they are outside the city. Would you be able to afford that with the entry level income of one person?” Somehow, a part of Levi was still hoping Hange would make amends with her parents. Despite her having proven multiple times she was sure with her decision. She seemed happier then, more confident, more free. But at what cost?

“Then I’ll get a roommate,” Hange said.

“That’s a reasonable plan.” Levi said. “Well first things first. Fix those dorm papers, finish your thesis.”

“Thanks for the help Levi. Really, it means a lot.” From the firm determination of a while ago, Hange’s gaze softened to something else, something Levi had sworn he had only seen long ago, in another lifetime.

“You’ve done a lot for me too,” Levi said.

“You won’t be much help now since I’ll just be lugging boxes so feel free to just write or something until we’re ready to leave. Or you know, you could go ahead to your dorm. I’ll just contact you if I need to.”

“No, I’d rather stay.” Levi looked back at his laptop and opened his document. He had written a few words the night before as soon as they had arrived home.

Armin Arlert. Jean Kirstein. Eren Jaeger. Mikasa Ackerman. Connie Springer. Sasha Braus. Historia Reiss. The names had worked magic on the draft. With the names where they needed them to be, the story became more vivid than he had expected. He lost count of the amount of words he had written the night before, but he was sure he had added at least five pages.

And his head throbbed at that moment as he scanned through the file, reminding him of how much sleep he had sacrificed to get it written. At the least, he had managed to understand what had gotten them to the point in the woods, he understood why it had been he and Hange of all people who stuck together.

They cared about the younger soldiers for sure. But they had been the only two veterans remaining.

And what did you ask me back then? Levi asked silently as he watched Hange move the boxes one by one, lining them along walls from one corner all the way until the entrance.

Hange looked as if she were in a trance. But if their eyes had met at that moment as he thought of the question, would she have read his face, would she have known what he was asking then? Probably not. But Hange was perceptive and she had made some good guesses on his thoughts a few times already.

Maybe we should just live here together? Right, Levi? Levi wrote those words, somewhere at the bottom of the page, under descriptions of trees, stars and a glowing campfire. He wrote under it descriptions of the pain of fresh stitches, half opened wounds and the beginnings of a fever.

“You know, Hange. There was a war. This anti military faction took over, and we ran away to the woods and ----”

“Don’t tell me!” Hange interrupted. She dropped one box on to the wall, much harder than usual. “I haven’t reached that part. I wanna enjoy your story.”

“Sorry.”

Hange approached him and sat next to him on the wall by the window. Her voice was much softer as she spoke up again. “No need to apologize. I just wanna be in the best mood when I read it. Maybe I’ll catch up after final exams before winter break,” Hange said. “Besides last time I checked all you had were unfinished sentences and bullet points.”

“It’ll be finished way before then.” Even as he spoke, he was typing and Levi found himself marveling at his own ability to keep two conversations at once.

“Really? Don’t you have studies to deal with?”

“I know how it’s gonna end already.”

Hange gave a hum of approval. “Then I’ll hold your word to it. I look forward to reading it then.”

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us… I know you’re not able to stay out of the action.

Levi had ended up writing those last few lines to the disturbed rhythm of the thumps as boxes were dropped one on top of the other.

Yeah. That’s right. I can’t. He capped off that final paragraph with Hange’s one final response. Even fully wide awake with the afternoon sun illuminating the well ventilated condominium, even with the sound of the traffic down below only made louder by the windows left open, Levi still saw her, so vividly as if she were a dream. He memorized her face then, everything from the way her brow knitted, her forehead puckered. The way her glossy eyes showed nothing but a faded glimmer.

Yet it was a glimmer and in that, Levi saw desire. A desire for something else.

And then what happened? It couldn’t have ended there. He had filled in many of the gaps himself already. He had already found the missing pieces and pushed them into place. The story had ended so anticlimactically though and Levi found himself scraping the recesses of his mind for anything he may have missed, a futile attempt.

And maybe it was futile because Hange had interrupted him a second later. She had his two plump overnight bags slung over her one shoulder. She turned her chin slightly towards the entrance. “Let’s go.”

Levi pulled himself up from the window sill. “Give me one of my bags. You shouldn’t be carrying all that.”

“You shouldn’t be carrying all this,” Hange argued, looking pointedly at his leg. “Let’s go.” She went ahead, not looking back. Along the way, she had stopped, gesturing for Levi to make the distance towards the door and out into the hallway.

Levi looked back at her to see she was still standing at the entrance leaning on the door frame, leaving one hand on the open door swung inward. She made no movement, no explicit intention to leave just yet. He felt no need to hurry her either. Moving out was no easy task after all.

“I know you don’t like messes Levi ” Hange spoke up, her voice once again the lifeless drawl that never failed to hurt Levi even a bit.

“Really?” It was obvious, Levi had acknowledged that he had hated it. But he never remembered explicitly telling Hange about it. He was lodging in her place for free after all.

“You wrinkle your nose every time I leave something lying around. And you don’t think I noticed the way things magically cleaned themselves while I was away?”

“If you don’t want to, I won’t. I’m sorry about that.”

“No, I appreciate it. I think you did a lot of good for my space. Honestly, I’m more sorry that I couldn’t provide you anything cleaner…” Hange trailed off. It seemed like she was ready to say more. She looked back at him and took a deep breath, opened her mouth but stopped herself midway. ”And for a while I was a bit self conscious about it but I think I get it now.”

“Get what?

“I get now why I like messes and clutter. And I guess I just wanna point it out now, so maybe you’d understand?” Hange moved away from the doorway and out into the hallway. “Look, it’s clean.”

It was easy for Levi to put the scene of her condominium from a few months ago and the scene in front of him side by side in his mind. There were too many things he could have pointed out at once though. The room in front of him then, was much larger and more spacious than Levi could have ever imagined, especially with the boxes all lined up towards the wall. It was immaculate, any other day he could have used the picture of the room as a blank slate, something to calm him in between stressful situations.

But side by side with the room from weeks ago, hell back to the room months ago before he had started to stain it with his own brand of cleanliness, Levi wasn’t thinking of words like clean or immaculate.

It feels lifeless. But he wasn’t telling her that. Not just yet, when the fastidious side of him was still trying to process such an opinion borne out of his cleanliness-loving mind.

It was as if Hange was giving him no time to process though. “Do you get it though? Why I like my rooms with a little clutter?”

Levi gave up on processing, instead submitting to whatever tirade was coming out of Hange then.

And she was getting a little more emotional and a little more attached as she spoke. Because when everything's scattered everywhere, I always feel like I’ll have to fix it soon right? And when I have to fix it, I’m reminded that I’ll be coming back. But now…”

Levi jumped at the crack in her voice. He went forward and closed it, and it had felt like ripping off a band-aid. “Let’s go Hange.”

“I don’t have anything to return to now. It’s gonna be dorm and motel hopping until I get a job and can afford to find a new place,” Hange continued.

The two walked towards the elevators. Hange had kept her strides so slow and steady it had been a little too easy for Levi to catch up. With that, he had a little more time and space to reflect, come up with something more comforting than ripping of a band aid.

That part was easy at least. “You don’t have to have anywhere to return to.” Levi spoke up. “I think, what’s important is that people have someone to return to...”

“‘Someones’ like that are hard to find.” Hange looked at him. Then, Levi had a good view of her, her eyes glistened with what looked like unshed tears, the lines under eyes only told of pent up exhaustion, an all too familiar expression, almost a reflection of Hange that night in the woods.

It had been too easy to assume he had heard those same words as she looked at him expectantly then.

Maybe we should just live here together? Right, Levi?

But that wasn’t the time for a yes nor was it a time to echo the invitation or the words she had mentioned right there in the forest. It wasn’t a time either to tell Hange what had happened in the woods many a lifetime before.

But Levi still spoke up, his own reply tweaked for that situation alone. If he had been any more aware, any more hesitant, he would have pulled back, discouraged already by the many other arguments his mind was able to conjure.

She doesn’t remember about that time in the woods.

She’ll think you’re crazy.

Aren’t you comfortable with where you are already?

He clocked it then as a risk. A risk he was still very much willing to take. It came out of him as something spontaneous, as an explosion inside him raring to go out despite all the doubts glomping down on him.

It had been powered by something, that was for sure. But was it frustration? Regret?

“You know Hange, if you don't want me to, I won't leave. I’d gladly stay here by your side. ”

He didn’t think too much of the motivation though, what mattered was that it did come out. And in its own way, it had left him a little lighter, and maybe a little relieved.

*******

“So what happened after?” Shela asked soon after she had scrawled another few words on her clipboard.

Levi shrugged. “That’s it. That’s how the story ended.”

“Really? With a half confession in the woods? You didn’t even say yes.”

Levi had spent the past week since they moved out of the condominium trying to write in between fixing paper work for Hange’s move to the dorm, cramming school assignments and studying for finals that was looming in the month ahead. He would have loved to blame his inability to write on his shitty schedule.

But I had more than enough time to write. He had at least an hour a night to write before bed. On good days, that had been more than enough to get something written.

“Is school getting busy? Physical therapy?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you write a more satisfying ending.”

“That’s how it ended.”

“With a half baked confession?”

“Captain Levi was suffering from wounds after an explosion. It’s a miracle he even lasted that long.”

“So you think he died?”

“Maybe.”

Shela looked out the window, her expression unreadable. “What if you two did run away to the forest?”

“That would have been a nice ending.”

“Then why not make that the ending?”

“Because that didn’t happen.”

Shela shook her head in disbelief. “This doesn’t seem believable to me. Please try to continue writing.” She turned his laptop back to him and Levi found himself blankly staring at the open google document.

And the more he stared, feeling Shela’s observing eyes boring into him as he did, the more he realized how ridiculous that last sentence was.

I know you’re not able to stay out of the action.

It sounded like the awkward dialogue that preceded a horribly placed commercial break or ad, something Levi would have scoffed at as any other viewer or reader.

“But it’s not like I’m sharing this to anyone else,” Levi said.

“You’re sharing it to me and I’m not satisfied. There should be more to this.”

Levi looked up at Shela and back at the document a few times before deciding on his next plan of action. Shela’s glare was uncompromising and she didn’t look like she would take no for an answer. The document in front of him though, that tiny blinking cursor on the screen was calling to him, the bottom part of the page was blank.

And maybe there was something, albeit little, that can be done flogging a horse that was just almost dead. There were still a few more lines of dialogue that made its way to the pages and Levi was surprised he had enough of that clearly etched in his mind for it to so easily flow into the pages in front of him.

Shoot or listen. It’s up to you.

The last few lines had all been dialogue. But as he turned the laptop back to Shela, the latter seemed at least willing to accept that. “This still looks a little too abrupt...” she commented “ You sure this is how it ends?”

“Captain Levi could have gotten shot. Maybe he died.”

Shela dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Progress is still progress. Do me a favor and please think long and hard about what happens next.”

“I really think it ended with the conversation in the forest.” Levi turned the laptop back to himself, closed the window and shut down his laptop. “But I can try to get something else written out… Maybe a few more scenes?”

“Don’t try." Shela gave Levi a knowing look. “I want you to do it.”

And that look bore holes into him, Levi could have sworn she was a mind reader with the way she followed the laptop with her eyes as he placed it back into his bag. He wouldn’t have been too surprised if she could tell the contents just by looking through the hardware.

Levi had to admit though, what Shela was suspecting, was right. There was more to the story and these scenes nagged at him from the deepest pits of his mind, pleading for their own time to let loose.

They were terrifying though. They were unsettling and Levi was in no position to entertain them.

Not just yet.

Or maybe he never would. Maybe he would be happy never entertaining them again.

So maybe captain Levi died? Maybe they ran away in the woods? There were questions that had been echoed by Shela, questions that had been so easily answered by dreams that he had forced himself to forget soon after he woke up.

The complex emotions though, were very much answerable with a simple question, a simple explanation that Levi was in no obligation to expound on.

“But… Endings don’t have to be satisfying right? What if I just don’t wanna write anymore?”

[taetaespeaches]

"We hate people, remember?”

yoongi x reader genre: fluff word count: 1.6K 

note: this piece was written by mads, @secretmomentts​. As much as I would love to take credit for it because it’s amazing, it came from mads’ old bts blog and she gave me permission to post it. We both hope you enjoy! xo 

CHEEK pressed into the cotton pillowcase, you slowly peel your eyes open, squinting at the white light peering through the window.

You smack your lips and blink wider as your gaze starts to clear, body still heavy and warm.

The sound of traffic and the awakened world disturbs the peace of the room, you see the dust caught in the morning sun and feel cold air hitting your skin as you adjust your blankets and position.

Turning onto your side, you are faced with a ruffle of dark locks matted at the crown, a curved spine and the slight rise and fall of a top shoulder, moving with the soft intake of breath.

Back to you, Yoongi sleeps, humming as he exhales.

You move closer, bringing one hand under your chin, the other towards him; fingertips slowly drifting along his sleeping figure, up along the soft skin of his arm to his neck, next running your knuckle softly along his cheekbone, tucking strands of wayward hair behind his ears.

It was after this quiet moment that you flick your eyes to the small alarm clock resting upon his side table, ticking softly next to a dog-eared novel and stained coffee mug, and eventually, struggling without your glasses, make out the small hands reading a time of mid-morning.

Sighing, you remove your touch and push yourself into a cross-legged position, stretching your neck from side to side, rubbing your eyes and trying to wake your body while also simultaneously fighting the urge to collapse back amongst the sheets.

It wasn’t until you felt the lazy grasping of a hand to your left did you notice Yoongi had begun to stir.

Mumbling something into his pillow he was reaching behind himself, his fingers trying to find yours and desperately drag them back to the nape of his neck.

“Hmm?” you hum in question and in confusion as he continues to grumble. “What was that?” you giggle, amused at his growing frustration, “you’re going to have to speak up baby, I can’t hear you.”

Rolling over with a huff, he faces you with a frown, his lips set already in a pout and eyes half closed with sleep; his white shirt wrinkled, hair flatten to the side.

“I said” he grumbles, continuing to furrow his brows as you chuckle in response, “don’t stop.” 

You smile, bringing your hand to cup his cheek, stroking softly.

“Good morning to you too, gramps,” you say in a tease, nose wrinkling in humour, “or, should I say grumble-bum?”

Rolling his eyes, he brings his fingers to link with yours, holding your hand still against his face.

“Why are you awake?” he whines with a pained expression, “it’s so early!”

The corners of your mouth prick once more, eyes warm.

“Yoon, it’s almost lunch ti-” you begin, but are cut off by loud groan, Yoongi rolling his face back into the pillow before you can finish.

You persist nevertheless.

“We have things to do,” you say with a smirk, fingers tangling in his hair once more, ruffling it in affection, “people to see.”

“Things like what?” he huffs, half muffled, “and we hate people, remember?”

When all you do is laugh at his words, he lifts his sleepy head and turns to you, lying on his stomach and giving you an exasperated expression. 

It really was a sight.

“What have you done with my girlfriend?” he says, eyes narrowing, “are you an imposter?”

You scoff, but he continues, bringing his forearms underneath himself and tilting his head, pursing his lips, analysing you in the most obnoxious fashion he could.

“My baby would never pass up the chance to sleep…or are you so sleep deprived from your early wake-up, that you’ve gone mad?”

Rolling your eyes, your hand comes underneath his chin and you lean down to him, nose brushing against his, placing a soft kiss to his mouth before pulling away.

“Do you know how ridiculously over-dramatic you are?” you smirk, “about everything?”

He collapses once more, face first, before rolling over onto his back; wrapping his fingers around your wrist, he attempts to pull you closer.

“I’m not over-dramatic,” he mumbles, brows furrowing in feigned sincerity, “I just know my heart will give out, and I’ll die if you don’t come back to bed right this second.”

Giggling, you give into his tug, crawling onto his torso and bring your face back to his once more, the grip of his hands coming to your hips lazily.

“You are ridiculous,” you whisper, before pecking him on the nose.

“Mmmhmm, whatever,” he hums, before moving one of his hands to your neck, thumb under your chin, “just come here.”

You exhale deeply as he draws you in close, making your weight shift forward onto your forearms resting either side of his head.

His thumbs slipping under the cotton band of your sweats and you feel his lips against yours, a daze comes over you, the warmth of Yoongi and the mattress seeming more inviting with every kiss and circle of his fingers against your skin. 

Catching your cotton tee as he slides his fingertips up your back, the cold air breathes against your skin and his palms spread over your shoulder blades, pressing you into him, desperately trying to negate any distance between you both.

Covered in a encompassing pink flush, you pull away from him to catch your breath, but he chases your lips; tangling your hands in his bed-hair, you both gradually sit upright, Yoongi pressing kisses along your collarbone, his hands still making you arch into him.

Linking your arms around his neck and pressing gentle pecks to his mouth, you begin to slow, the faint noise of traffic below coming back into the room, the heaviness of your breath starting to even.

With fingertips dancing up and along your back and a slight smirk on his face, Yoongi holds your gaze and you shiver, the soft tick of the clock on the bedside sounding in your ears.

“Mmmm, still want to go out-and-about?,” Yoongi hums, removing a hand from your back to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and leaning his weight back against the headboard, “I can’t believe you would even suggest such a thing.”

Before you can answer, his fingers curl around your neck and draw your body into his once more, lips pressing lazy kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbone.

“Why go out and talk to people, and do stuff…” he says, voice muffled, “…when you could stay in this warm bed, with me?”

Lifting his eyes to you, you see that he is surprised at the teasing smirk spread across your face.

He didn’t expect you to give in that easily, did he?

Hmm, very confident this morning.

“Is that suppose to make me want to say?” you question, raising a brow, “you seem to think pretty highly of yourself Min.”

Within seconds he had flipped you onto your back, strategically placing himself over you, attacking your face and body with kisses as you giggle.

“God, you’re such a brat,” he murmurs, bringing his mouth back to yours, deepening the kiss.

“You love it,” you gasp as he bites your bottom lip, and as if to answer you, he moves a hand to your hip, fingers slipping under the band of your sweats once more.

Just slightly, and this time, with intent. 

In an automatic, and learned response, goosebumps appear over your skin and a slight whine escapes your lips.

With a tight grip in his hair you try to keep him close, but he pulls his mouth away from yours with a laugh.

“Now sweetheart, I’m going to ask again,” he murmurs, his thumb beginning to make slow circles, “do you really want to get up?”

You roll your eyes, and trying to avoid his question you attempt to pull him back to you, to much unsuccess; his gaze still intently glued to yours, lips agonisingly close, and his face smug and waiting for an answer.

God he was annoying, why does he always win?

“Why would I have changed my mind?” you say in an unconvincing tone, trying your best to ignore the feeling of his hand as much as you can and keep your voice steady.

Eyes scanning you for a quick second and observing your expression, he smirks.

You both knew who had the upper-hand.

“Ah, you’re probably right, we should get up,” he sighs, “you know, do all those important things, see all those people.”

He begins to pull his hand away, and before you could stop yourself, you grab his wrist to keep it in place.

Shit.

Eyes widening in feigned shock, “what?” Yoongi asks, a mocking smile coming to his lips, “You don’t want to go out now? What about all the stuff we have to do?”

You press your lips together in a tight line, and in a final and failing attempt to remain unbothered, you shrug.

“No, no, I for sure want to get up,” you say, eyes focusing on everything but Yoongi, you could feel the redness in your cheeks giving you away.

Mmm, you were never good at poker. 

“I’m just trying to give you more time to convince me to get up, as you definitely haven’t at this current moment,” you added.

“It looks like a nice day out there actually,” you continue, turning your head now to look out the window, “I think my phone said it was going to be around twenty-four degrees, you know, tee-shirt and jeans weath-”

You’re cut off immediately, and you smile into the kiss as Yoongi smothers your words with a groan of frustration, and as you like to remind him in the hours that follow, with a mix of endearment.

Wrapped in sheets, sunlight and each other, you snooze every alarm.

[chrisjake-cp]

History 3 Trapped Filming Diary (full English translation) - Days 61-66 (final part)

Masterpost here.

I don’t own the book so I can’t post my scans of the pictures that came with it. So I posted some other pictures of the scenes that were being filmed. These pics belong to LINE TV or Choco Media, or I’ve taken screenshots.

Read days 61-66 (final day) under the cut. 

Day 61

In the final days before the end of shooting, we were finally scheduled to film in Zhaozi’s house. 

Zhaozi’s house basically only exists to let him and Jack be able to court each other. Every scene is just sweet and unbearably cute. In the drama, Zhaozi’s house is one that his late grandmother had left him. Mounted on the wall was a small framed picture of an older lady, and the protagonist of this picture was really Tingxuan’s [Kenny’s] living (maternal) grandma. His grandmother is already over 90 years old but she keeps in very strong health and can walk around in the park without having to use crutches. Kenny has a good relationship with his grandmother. When he took this photo out and introduced her to us, his eyes were full of happiness that we didn’t see at other times.⁕ 

An apron-wearing Jack is like the embodiment of a handsome chef coming to your house. Even if what he prepares are only super simple instant noodles, he could flirt with Zhaozi (and the hearts of many girls). 

I don’t know if Zhaozi’s grandma, looking on from the picture frame, would be satisfied with this young idol wearing her apron though. 

⁕ Kenny, why so cute? 😭

Day 62

That’s right. Today was also a whole day of kissing, hugging and rolling on the bed (I’m flustered) in Zhaozi’s house. The Sanzhi Little White House B&B has featured as the location for many famous commercials and idol dramas. The inside of the house feels warm and sweet, which is why it was selected as this drama’s setting for Zhaozi’s house. 

Zhaozi’s room is located on the second floor. Young people have good physical strength, because they had to kiss from the first floor all the way up to the second floor (if I’m not careful almost all of today’s pictures will be kissing pictures, hahahahaha), then in the room on the second floor they were rolling around in the bed and then back to the first floor to roll on the table. 

When you look at the pictures of the table scene, maybe it was cut to a short moment in the show, but the positions and the movements for this scene were rather complicated.  The two needed to first practice the chemistry between their positions and the camera, and many different camera angles as well as bloopers happened during filming. The two of them lingered at the table half the night, their rolling around started from dinner and went on until they had a midnight snack. We really can’t but admire the two’s good core strength. 

Day 63

Actually, the fighting scenes in the car and after they get out of the car after Tang Yi and Shaofei are being seized were filmed on different days. Therefore, what was filmed today was after Shaofei pulled the handbrake (right, I use this as the dividing point [between the scenes]) and the two of them rushed up the mountain. The weather that day was really cold, so it was also a test for the crew to go shooting in the mountains. 

That same day we also shot the plotline of how Shaofei fantasizes about how to get off the mountain. The crew used branches to make a scarecrow for Tang Yi and Shaofei to hang their clothes on. But during the filming process the art team made a total of three scarecrows. When asked about it, it was not because they wanted to have a back-up prop, but because one of them was snatched away by a dog from the mountains to use as a toy.

The art crew went: “Doggie, you bastard, come back here” (in Shaofei’s elevator voice)⁕ 

⁕  When Shaofei was cuffed to the handrail and Tang Yi stepped out of the elevator, Shaofei said almost the same thing to Tang Yi. (”Tang Yi, you bastard, get back here.”)

Day 64

It’s two days before the end of shooting, and I already can’t think anymore about how many times these two have kissed. And today was another whole day of kissing. I’m not exaggerating. Early in the morning we filmed that Shaofei grabbed Tang Yi’s hands when they got to the courthouse. When Director Qingrong arranged the scene, she figured that the plot allowed for them to kiss again, so a kissing scene was added on the spot. 

In the afternoon we switched sets and went to the balcony at the hospital. On the balcony Shaofei confessed his feelings and also stealthily kissed [Tang Yi]. How could someone confess like that and kiss straight after? Our boss Tang hadn’t even responded [to the confession] yet! Counting on my fingers, one camera angle takes 8 takes on average, and for one scene we would approximately change angles four or five times. So for all the scenes from morning until in the afternoon, they at least kissed 70 times, and that’s only today. ⁕ 

⁕ Listen, I need to see aaaaaaaallllll the taaaaaaaaakes.   

Day 65

Tang Yi and Shaofei have finished filming! 

They spent 68 days of wind, sun and rain together, they went through being chased by men in black and hit by bullets, together they spent [a night] in an abandoned cabin on fire, the two went from being strangers at the acting and martial arts classes to gradually developing a deep connection with each other and hand in hand, they overcame all kinds of difficulties. 

Different from the other “HIStory” series we have made before, <Trapped> was the first story to break free of having a school campus as its setting. The plot was much more complicated and the actors were faced with more and bigger challenges. Regardless of whether it were psychological challenges concerning their acting, or psychical challenges of being involved in numerous fights and constantly sustaining injuries, it was all very tough on them. The last day of filming, with good weather, was also spent in a fight. They fought 8 hours straight, from 9am in the morning until the sun set in the mountains, which was a major test of physical strength. The sun shone brightly, there were high temperatures and the rays of the sun dazzled the eyes. Tang Yi fought bravely in a suit and leather shoes, and Shaofei’s left eye was hit during the fighting process. He immediately returned to a state of readiness for war after a quick break to apply some ice to it. Thank you, all actors, for your dedication and the beauty of each frame that you presented, and thank you to the crew members behind the scenes for their hard work. You can leave the rest up to us now. 

Boss Tang was finished with shooting a little earlier than Shaofei, because in the evening, Unit 3 continued their scenes in the restaurant. Unexpectedly a group of people arrived earlier at the restaurant and waited for our arrival. It turned out to be our senior colleagues from <Crossing The Line>, Yanze (Zach Lu) and Menglin (Nick Yang) who were visiting the set. When they saw their younger ‘brothers’ working hard to film this show, and them being riddled with scars from filming, the original mood of being there to supervise softened. Senior Zach patted junior Jake on the shoulder, saying, “Seeing you taking this so seriously, I can pass the baton to you guys with an assured mind.”

Day 66

On the last day of shooting, the crew was divided into two groups to carry out the work. One group was responsible for returning to the international conference office and for going up the mountains to shoot some more final material to fill up some gaps; the other group in turn stayed behind at Zhaozi’s house to shoot scenes for the final episode, namely the fight and bed scenes after Jack took Zhaozi home on his motorbike (or should I say ‘transported’ home?). The evening’s bed scene called for Jack to do a lot of push-ups. Each time after “Action” was yelled, Jack huffed out sounds like “Ah” and “Huh” while doing his push-ups, which rendered the crew at the scene unable to stop laughing. After shooting the ‘official’ scenes, to increase the sound effects from under the covers, the two actors were asked specifically to use the blanket to create some more needed sounds for the show. After confirming that the sounds were okay, Director Qingrong yelled “We can pack up! <Trapped> has finally finished shooting.” Because there were other houses in the neighbourhood of Jack’s house and it was night time, everyone cheered a little bit but immediately said “shhhhhh”, reminding each other to be quiet. 

To be frank, practicing how to say goodbye is definitely not a simple thing. When you continue doing the same thing for 21 days, it would slowly become a habit. But with <Trapped>, from when shooting started until we finished filming, we went through 66 work days together. We were used to getting along with everyone, we were used to getting up early and eating breakfast together, or eating a snack in the middle of the night. Meeting with this whole team every day had become a kind of habit. In these 66 days, we experienced Yilan in 10 degrees and 30 degrees, we climbed mountains together and jumped into swimming pools together, we may have accidentally slipped on the mountain and gotten injured, we were shot at by airsoft guns (BB guns), and the thick smoke in the abandoned cabin made our nostrils turn black. All of that will become memories now. Finishing shooting [a show] is like the feeling of attending a graduation ceremony when you are a kid: you look forward to it, but the closer to the day it gets, the more you feel like you don’t want it to end. We hope that everyone who reads this diary will feel the warmth brough by the crew of <Trapped> and we also hope that these memories that left a deep impression, will forever remain in everyone’s hearts.

[spidersfanfics]

Fairy Lights and Mistletoe

‘Tis the season! So here’s a short holiday themed fic I wrote last year. Another Christmas-y one will be posted on Christmas as well ^-^

Hermione x Female!Reader | Fluff 

For the first time ever, Hogwarts is hosting a Yule Ball separate from the Triwizard tournament. Most of the school couldn't be more excited but one Hermione Granger is more preoccupied with studying than she is with dancing. Will you be the one to convince her that everyone needs a break every now and then?

"Candygram," You say cheerfully as you slide into the chair next to Hermione.

A member of the Golden trio and your not so secret crush since year one, she was seated in the library studying frantically. She looked up at the sound of your voice with mild annoyance.

"Ron and Harry told me I'd find you here, I brought you a hot chocolate," You slid a mug carefully towards her and she took it gratefully.

"Thanks, [y/n]," She said before taking a sip and turning back to her books.

You huffed in frustration and leaned forward, "So, have you heard the news?"

"What news?"

"You know, the Yule Ball, first time without a Triwizard Tournament!"

"Oh that," Hermione shook her head, "I'm not going."

"What?" you shouted, causing several people to turn and shoosh you. You ducked down sheepishly and whispered, "What do you mean you're not going?"

Hermione looked up and frowned, "Keep your voice down, will you? I'm not going because I've got work to do. Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me out of bed all week while I had the flu and I need to catch up."

Your rolled your eyes and scoffed, "If there's anyone who doesn't need to catch up after being sick it's you, you're brilliant anyway. I'm sure it's nothing that can't wait."

Hermione sighed and pushed her chair out, "If you don't leave me alone, I'm going up to my room."

You pouted, "Aww, don't be like that, I was just hoping you'd go to the ball with me that's all. It would be the best Christmas present a girl could ask for."

"Fine," She relented, a half smile on her lips, "If you let me study now, I'll go to the ball with you, okay?"

"Yay!" You cheered leaping to your feet and another chorus of shushing rang out. "Sorry," You whispered then smiled giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"You're the best Hermione, does this mean we're finally going on a date?"

Hermione laughed, "Yes [y/n], you've got a date to the dance, now shoo."

You clapped and gave her a quick hug before running off excitedly, "Good luck with your studying! I can't wait for the ball!"

A week later, the ball was upon you and you were about to lose your mind. You were at the ball before Hermione had gotten there and minutes had gone by with no sign of the studious girl.

Harry and Ron had been by to reassure you that she would be there soon but you were starting to get impatient. Then, at last, there she was.

She took your breath away.

Hermione was wearing a gorgeous [favourite/colour] dress that seemed to flutter in an invisible breeze. She looked like a goddess.

You walked up to her shyly and took her by the hand, "You look beautiful," you say smiling brightly.

She blushed slightly and smiled back, "Thanks, so do you."

This made you glow and you pulled her towards the dance floor, "Come, let's have some fun!"

As the band began a new song, the two of you began to dance. You moved in perfect synchronisation. It was a sight to behold and everything you had dreamed of. But it was missing one thing, a touch of Christmas.

As the ball drew to a close you started slowly guiding Hermione to the door, hoping she wouldn't notice. However, being the clever person that she is, she picked up on it rather quickly. "Where are we going?"

You cleared your throat, "Well umm, the ball is almost over and I wanted to uh, show you something."

She looked at you suspiciously for a moment then shrugged, "Alright, your ideas are usually fun, let's go."

She thought your ideas were fun? You suppressed an excited grin and led her out to an empty corridor. Once you'd gotten here, you began to wander, your eyes scanning the ceilings.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, laughing a little at how silly you looked.

"I'm just uh, oh there, come on," you'd found what you were looking for. You started humming [your favourite Christmas song] and slow dancing with Hermione, gradually making your way over to where you were looking earlier.

Soon you were right where you'd planned, underneath the mistletoe. You pointed up, a hopeful look in your eyes.

Hermione followed your gaze and blushed. "Really? Talk about cheesy."

You opened your mouth to stammer out a reply but Hermione cut you off with a finger to your lips. "Don't talk," she said rolling her eyes, but her smile gave away her enjoyment of the situation. "I take it back, it's not cheesy, it's cute."

Before you could even think of a reply, she was kissing you. You melted into it with one single thought running through your head, 'Merry Christmas to me'.

[vanchlo]

Green Eyes

*Thanks so much for reading! c: There are now several parts you can read here:   2    3    4 

I’m so happy to share that I won a fiction writing award for this short story through my college’s art journal! c: 

Blurb Synopsis: You had been subbing for Mr. Styles for the last couple of months, but you’ve yet to meet him. The notes you leave for each other have sparked a friendship, leading you to want more, and you wonder if he does too.

Genre: Teacher Harry, lots of fluff, friendship, and maybe even some romance? ;) 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Green Eyes by Coldplay (click to listen)

*

His shelves were full of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rumi, and Charles Bukowski. His desk was covered in scribbled Post-It notes, Bit-O-Honey wrappers, and empty mugs of tea. 

This is what you noticed the first few times you subbed in his classroom. 

These were the only details you knew about the man whose face you’ve never seen. As you gradually began to substitute for his high school English classes more and more, you learned about him more. This was due to his students, and his personal belongings. 

What he didn’t and didn’t like: all the way from no fringes on a notebook paper, no red pen ever because that was his grading color, no using the word ‘can’t’ in his class, and students can eat all the snacks they want as long as the trash goes in the bin where it belongs. 

The CDs in a stack on the shelf told you which ones he actually listened to because they were the ones that were on top and without dust. 

You learned that the pristine book on his desk was never the one he was reading. No, it was the weathered and used copy beside his mug with dog-eared pages and penciled notes. 

His drawers told you another story with their contents: boxes of teas ranging from peach to vanilla macaron, journals filled to the brim with words, adult coloring books with tv show themes, and books on Van Gogh and Monet hinting at his artsy background. His students slowly warmed up to you, and through them, so did he. 

At this point, you’d only been subbing for Mr. Styles the last five months, racking up around two and a half weeks worth of subbed days. He always left precise and concise lesson plans for you. The books were where he said they’d be. The webpages he mentioned were bookmarked on his desktop. The teacher copy of the textbook and current group book were on his desk. At the beginning, his desk looked like a professional organizer had gotten their hands on it. Slowly, as you came to sub more for him, it grew messier, albeit you kept it tidy during your appearances. As the first few months passed and you became one of the few subs in his room, you started to find notes. They weren’t just any notes. They were more than the straight forward sub notes for the day’s agenda. No, they weren’t that simple. You can still remember the first one you found on a Post-It note - it went like this: 

Y/N, peanut butter on your waffles or syrup? 

It took you by surprise, but nonetheless, you answered his call. Each time, you’d find a contrasting pen color and scrawl your answer underneath his. Then leaving it somewhere he would find it the next day. They were one-liners at the beginning, and always interesting. Walking to his classroom from your car on those mornings, you’d fill with excitement at the anticipation of finding the next one. Sometimes it took you the entire day to find where he had hidden them. 

In the closet. 

In a nook in a drawer. 

Under the chair. 

On the backside of one of his books. 

Hidden in plain sight amongst his current choice of notes and lists. 

They never failed to spark a smile on your lips, whether it was quirky, confused, astounded or humored. 

Guitar or piano?

FRIENDS or The Simpsons?

Vanilla or Chocolate?

Would you rather become a superhero or a wizard?

The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

Slowly, the questions became more personal, and more than just ‘this or that.’ His questions became longer, and so did your answers.  

What was the moment that made you decide to become a teacher?

Is Donny a good student for you, or is he lying to me about that?

What color are your eyes?

What book/film do you believe had the largest impact on you while growing up?

What is the one meal you always order at a restaurant?

Do you have a family?

Should I splurge and buy a new desk chair?

What book should I buy for my classroom you think I need to have? Why?

Why don’t you have a classroom of your own?

When is your birthday?

Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?

They were never a chore for you, or tedious. No, they were fun and you felt as if you saw a little sliver of who he really was with each note. After a while, you started to write and leave your own notes for him to answer. At first, many of them were similar to ones he had left you, because you wanted to hear his responses, too. 

*

The newest one stares back at you, his half-cursive registering in your eyes.

What’s your favorite part about subbing in my classroom? Don’t say the students, that’s what everybody says. 

Giggling to yourself, you reach over to his Pink Floyd mug to pull out a green pen. You take a moment to think of your answer. This time you found the note peeking out from behind the smart whiteboard. The sounds of the end of a school day tickle at your ears as you scribble down your answer. Pressing it to an open square of wood on his desk, you turn back to the royal blue pad of Post-Its. Peeling one off, the green pen hovers over the paper, but you can’t get yourself to write the question you’ve been wanting to know all along. 

He didn’t have a Facebook, or an Instagram. 

The high school doesn’t have a wall of staff pictures like others you’ve subbed at do. 

It’s late winter, so yearbooks are still a ways off. 

For all you know, you could have seen him here before in the halls when you subbed in another classroom. 

Exhaling, you press the pen to the paper before you can convince yourself to stop. Unlike the many times before when your fears got the best of you. 

What do you look like?

With a proud but nervous smile you stick it to the desk, layering the first note on top. It sticks to your lips as you bend down to reach your hand into your bag. The glossy bag greets your hand, and you pull it out to set down beside the note. 

A small bag of Bit-O-Honeys. 

Looking up, your eyes scan the empty classroom. Few footsteps, voices, and lockers slamming trickle in from the halls. You suddenly realize that this is the same view he sees, these are the same sounds he hears, and the same place he sits in every day. Well, when he’s not away on personal days, sick days, on holiday, and at workshops, hence your appearances. The thought knits something together inside of you, making you feel just that bit more closer to him. Something that’s been slowly happening over time since you first stepped foot in his classroom. 

One of the first things that did this was the posters scattered across his walls. A poster from the 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby, The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover, a cartoon of William Shakespeare, a unifying print of Keith Haring’s art, and several posters of quotes from famous books - To Kill A Mockingbird, the Kite Runner, Of Mice and Men, The Life of Pi, and even The Hunger Games. It delighted you watching him add some of them to the walls since your time here, and you’ve been itching to purchase him one as a gift. You’re unsure of what he would like though, and the fear of failure has held you back from doing so. 

A bleep! catches your attention. Casting your eyes to the dormant desktop screen, you wiggle the mouse. A red circle has appeared on the title of a tab opened to your professional email. Clicking over to it from a YouTube video he had you show the class, you find you have a new message. At the sight of who sent it, your heart skips a beat: harry.styles@isd . . . . . . . 

Hi. I reckon you’re still sitting at my desk this moment, now that’s a funny thought. I wanted to ask you a question while I remembered. I have to go out of town on Friday for a funeral. Believe me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but these things are a must. I apologize for it being short notice, but I thought I’d ask you if you would like to take it before I posted it to the sub database. Please let me know either way by tonight, so it has a few days to sit on the website to be claimed. Also, I wanted to say thanks for everything you do. My students really love you, and it makes me wonder what I’m missing. Enjoy your night! 

Sincerely,

Harry Styles

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. - WW”

A smile warms your cheeks as you finish reading his words, and the familiar poem that ends every email of his. You quickly type up a response to him, agreeing to take the job on Friday, thanking him for thinking of you. A new email appears in your inbox shortly after from another colleague, which occupies you before you lose yourself in your thoughts again. 

Perhaps your favorite addition in his classroom is the Fender acoustic sitting on a stand in the corner. Of course, you’ve yet to see it move in the last five months. The stories his students have told you in a way have given it legs of its own in your mind. Much like the little notes you’ve been leaving for each other, something you dread ever ending. 

*

It was a Wednesday. You’re convinced that Mrs. Watson’s Pre-Calc class is surely the bane of your existence. You keep cursing yourself for taking sub assignments for math classes. Seeing that you’re terrible at the subject, you vowed you’d never take one of her assignments again, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You found your respite in the cozy staff lounge. Couches lined two of the walls, along with an arrangement of tables on the other side of the room. 

As you walk in, you see that one of the ancient history teachers has nodded off again on the plaid couch. Otherwise, the room is empty, and all to yourself. If that didn’t make you happy before, the assortment of food on the counter definitely does. 

Voices float in through the open door as the plastic lid to the cupcakes opens with a pop! 

“Ah, looks like ya got tha last chocolate one. I was savin’ that one fer me,” a voice comments from behind you. Turning, you find a tall man in his late 20’s walking towards you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can have it,” you volunteer, holding the blue-iced cupcake out for his taking. 

His blush lips curl up with an amused smile. Dimples fall neatly into his cheeks covered with thick stubble. Its deep brown color matches that of the short quiffed curls atop his head. Misty green eyes stare back at you in the middle of his round, but sharp face. “‘m only joking. Go ahead and have it. I already had one earlier. They’re quite good actually, but I dunno ‘bout tha vanilla. Never really cared fer tha flavoir when it comes t’ cake and ice cream,” he comments, passing you to stop at the nearby sink. 

“Yeah, I like to forget vanilla exists half of the time,” you remark, peeling away the paper liner of the cupcake. 

Leaning against the counter, you watch as his ringed hand grabs a red coffee mug from the cabinet. “So do I. ‘s ratha boring, if I do say so meself.”

Nodding to yourself, a silence follows your words. The sweetness of the cupcake is shocking when you take a bite. It makes you wonder how you devoured these sugar bombs as a child. A few beeps and a hum from the microwave echo throughout the room as you check your phone. 

“Y’know, I haven’t seen ya here at tha school befo’. Are ya new dis year or a sub?” he asks, bringing your eyes back to his lean figure. He pulls a yellow square packet from his tight-fitting black slats, a blush button-down tucked into its waist. 

“I started subbing here this year,” you answer before taking another bite of the cupcake. Half of it consists of the sickeningly sweet frosting that makes your teeth ache. 

“Mmmm I see. How d’ya like it so far? Are ya a new teacher, ‘s that why yer subbin’?” 

“Yeah, I went back to school kinda late in the game after doing something else. I figure I’d sub for a little bit for some experience, because what’s another year of waiting by this time?” you comment, observing how he fiddles with his black tie while searching in the refrigerator. 

“Well, congratulations. ‘s a big step t’ go back t’ school fer sumthin’ ya love. ‘s a good profession, I reckon. I’ve been teaching fer 7 years, and here at dis school fer 5. Sumtimes schools even hire subs they’ve had when a position opens, so keep yer eyes open,” he tells you, turning to you with a smile, a yogurt in his hand. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, returning the smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Sure thing. I know it helped loads when I was a newbie. ‘ll see ya around, I gotta get back t’ class befo’ me students do first. Have a good one!” 

Walking towards you with the steaming cup of tea in his hands, he pats your arm with his other hand on the way out. Nodding at your ‘thank you’, a small ‘you’re welcome’ falls from his lips before the door closes behind him. Eating the last bite you can muster of the cupcake, you toss its remains in the bin. A thought worms its way into your mind as you sit down at the table. 

Wow, I wonder who that guy was? And is he married, because shit, he was handsome. 

*

The smell of orange essential oil greets you when you stepped foot into his classroom the next time. The state of his desk made you frown, and made you want to scratch the itch to clean it. You resisted it and didn’t, and that thought was taken away when his students began to find their desks. 

Another day of 7 classes came and went. 2 classes of Introduction to Creative Writing. 3 classes of American Literature. 2 classes of World Literature. Amusing YouTube videos broke up the monotony of your day, and those of his students. The lesson notes he left for you had become more concise as the months have passed, and as you learned from each other. The same couldn’t be said for the dish of Bit-O-Honeys on his desk that he’s kept stocked for your appearances. You’re just glad he’s put the bag you left for him to good use. All throughout your day you had been looking for his newest note, but this time it wasn’t in any of his usual spots. After correcting some quizzes from today, you finally found it in the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. Stuck to a tall can of Coke, your favorite drink of choice. 

I’m sorry it’s warm, although I’m not sure how you like to drink it. I just find warm soda to be rather nasty. The answer to your question is I have green eyes, brown hair, I’m rather tall, and I like to dress up. Is that good enough for you? Now, what do you look like, love?

Your insides melt at the sight of his answer, but then you groan at the vagueness of it. Off the top of your head, you know there are at least 10 male teachers here at this school with brown hair, maybe more. Maybe even with green eyes, too, and you know that because you’ve seen them in the staff lounge or in the halls. The thought only grows worse when you lose count of  how many teachers there are here at this school. Let’s just say, there’s a lot. Yeah, that sure helps a whole lot. Annoyed, you pluck a pen from the green mug and answer his question with as little detail as possible. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself as you sigh. 

If you could have a jam session with any musician, dead or alive, who would it be?

Sticking the new note where its corner peeks out from under his tabletop calendar, your eyes return to the Coke. It’s undeniable, you feel a little less perturbed at him just at the sight of it. Only a little bit, that is. Sure, you’ve subbed for a countless number of teachers at this school, and more so in this school district. A few of them are even friends or relatives of yours, but you’d never connected with one before like you have with Harry. You just wish more than anything you could find out what he looks like and what he’s really like. Continuing to take his sub jobs doesn’t really help with that. It only drives you crazier wanting to know the other side of this fascinating human being. 

*

There he was, snoring on the couch again, tv remote in hand. The weather channel is playing, surprising you very little. Snickering, you yank open the door to the black refrigerator. After retrieving your striped black and blue lunchbox, you place the container of leftovers in the microwave. A laugh is heard over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Green Eyes from the other day. 

Tittering as the door closes behind him, he says, “No fail, John ‘s always passed out on dat couch, I swear.”

“I know, it’s every time I’m here. Maybe he should just retire already so he can take his naps at home. Then maybe we could watch something on the tv for once,” you comment, shaking your head. Unpacking your lunch box, you take out a clementine, vanilla yogurt, and silverware. 

“Nah, he loves it too much. I don’t see him leavin’ anytime soon,” he remarks, walking past you to search the shelves of the fridge. “What’re we having’ t’day? Couldn’t find any cupcakes dis time?”

“No, those ones were too sweet anyways. They gave me a stomachache,” you complain with a grimace. The beeeeep! of the microwave interrupts your thoughts. 

“Mmmm, I dunno, I thought they were pretty good.” Rubbing his tummy, he pulls a breathy laugh from your lips. 

Your steaming container of leftovers almost burns your hands, and you dread trying to eat it within the next 10 minutes. Setting up for a lesson in Mr. Harrison’s classroom was a pain, making you wonder why you take any sub jobs besides Harry’s anymore. 

“No free food fer us t’day,” he pouts beside you, closing the fridge door before venturing to the vending machine in the corner. Your eyes drift to his outfit choice today - a white button-down topped with a buttoned vest the shade of ochre, all tucked into brown slacks.

“That’s why you pack a lunch. I thought you’d know the drill by now, since you said you’ve been teaching for a while.”

“I do, but sumtimes I forget. Yer already ahead o’ me with dat part, love,” he who doesn’t have a name answers with a short laugh. Sliding a leather wallet from his pocket, you see him type in a number before you sit down at the table. “Who are ya subbin’ fer t’day then?”

“I’m on the west side in the Science wing for Harrison. Bloody Bio.”

“Ugh, I neva cared fer science. Where were ya a few weeks ago when I last saw ya?” he questions, sliding out a chair across from you. An assortment of vending machine food hits the table with a slap - peanut M&M’s, a nutrigrain bar, and a bag of Sun Chips. 

“Upstairs in Watson’s Maths class. Remind me to never sub for her again, because I can’t understand Pre-Calc for the life of me. I never could in high school so I don’t know why I thought I could know,” you chuckle. A warmth fills your cheeks at the sight of his lips spreading into an amused smile. 

“Yeah, I neva cared fer Maths meself eitha. Numbas neva made a bit o’ sense t’ me, words were always betta,” he explains. You nod along with his words, your mouth occupied with a bite of spaghetti and meatballs. “What subject would ya like t’ teach once tha year’s ova an’ ya go searchin’ fer a job o’ yer own?”

“Um, probably something in English since that’s my focus area. Dabbling in History has been fun, though. I enjoy learning about it myself, and I always have a better time subbing in either of those classes,” you reveal. 

“I see,” he replies, his head going up and down. The crinkling of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence between you before he takes a bite. Crumbs pepper his chin, but he wipes them away from his thin beard. “How often d’ya sub here then?”

“I’d say probably 3 days a week typically, but some weeks are 4. Otherwise, I sometimes sub for a friend or somebody I know over at the middle school.”

“Ah, so yer license is sumthin’ like 8 - 12, ‘s it?” he inquires, picking up the black mug you hadn’t noticed he had. 

“Yeah, I thought that would give me a good range for those grades. With my experience now, I think I’d like to stay at the high school level though,” you continue, twirling you fork around in the noodles covered in tomato sauce. Crossing your legs, the satiny fabric of your black dress pants moves with you. 

“We could always use anotha good teacher here. Ya neva know what’ll happen,” he smiles, standing to his feet with his snacks held in his large hand. Returning his smile, he adds his mug to that hand, patting your back once on his way out. “See ya next time, love. Keep yer head up, it’ll get betta.” 

“Thanks,” you automatically respond with. When you go to say his name, you’re lost for words, because you suddenly remember you’ve never gotten it. Now, he’s already too far away to ask for it. 

Shrugging your shoulders, you stab a meatball with your fork, wondering when the next time will be that you’ll see him again. Because, he sure is nice to look at, and he’s nicer to you than anybody else here. 

*

Stevie Nicks or John Lennon, it’s a tough call. Okay, I’m doing two questions from now on, because you ask such good ones :( Who would you jam with then? Question #2: What was the last concert you went to?

This time, you found the Post-It before the school day even started. It was on the seat of his chair, making you think he wanted you to find it right away. You’re thinking maybe he remembered one of the last times you complained about how hard he had made it. Sometimes you worry about how excited you get to look for these each time you sub in his classroom, but then you remember it’s only once every few weeks. 

That can’t hurt, can it? 

That day the hallways were louder than they usually were after school. You attributed that to the boys’ semifinals basketball game set to be played tonight in the gymnasium. The school’s home team against a nearby rival school. Students couldn’t stop talking about it all day, and many of them shared they’d be sticking around after school to attend. Checking your watch, you note that you should have enough time to stop at home to eat dinner before coming back for it. Even though you hadn’t even known about it before today. 

The Sufjan Stevens song floating from his desktop fills the room as you get out books for tomorrow. Your hands are full with copies of The Kite Runner, making you feel grateful again to Harry- Mr. Styles for picking a decent classic for the class to read. Although you’d only read it a few years ago yourself, and it broke your heart, you’re excited to sub next time to help his World Lit class with it. 

“Oh hey, be careful there, yer gonna slip and fall with all o’ those,” somebody says from behind you, distracting you from your mission of bringing the pile of books from the closet to a desk. 

Don’t I know that voice? Turning your eyes to the doorway, you find Green Eyes walk in with a coat slung over his arm. Wait a second. 

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, but your actions that follow negate your words. Your eyes run over his familiar features, and slowly the puzzle pieces start to click in your head. Harry? A thought bomb explodes in your head, and the books tumble from your arms. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yer okay,” he murmurs, stopping in front of you. Kneeling down, you both begin to pick up the books, stacking them on top of each other. “Thanks for gettin’ me set up fer t’morrow though. I appreciate it.” 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can say, because any words that want to come out can’t get past the lump in your throat. One that’s there because of the realization you just had.

Green Eyes and Harry are the same person. 

How did I not figure this out sooner? 

“So, ya must be Y/N, huh?” he giggles, his head bent down as he helps you pick up the books. 

“Y-Yeah, surprise,” you admit, and your laugh soon joins his. Before you know it, the both of you can’t stop laughing. 

“Here,” you hear him say. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you holding his hand out for you to take. A cozy looking maroon sweater covers his upper half, and blue jeans don the rest. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he jokes in between laughs. 

“You’re right about that,” you answer, taking his hand. He helps you to your feet where you smooth down the violet skirt of your dress. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots.”

“Yer not tha only one, love,” Harry comments, bending over to grab a stack of books. He begins to set one on each desk as he walks down the aisles of them. “But I s’pose there wasn’t any way t’ know.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you on Facebook,” you confess, cursing yourself for the slip up a few seconds later. Lifting your head from the book you just set on a desk, you find his amused eyes on you across the room. 

“Ah, so ya were stalkin’ me, were ya?” he smirks, his delightful laugh following his words. 

“No, I wasn’t! You’re just one of the only colleagues I’ve subbed for who I’ve never met, or like don’t know what they look like.”

Your small stack soon disappears and when you return to the pile at the back of the room, he does too. 

“So, what d’ya think? Are ya disappointed then?”

“No,” you say automatically, lifting your eyes to his green ones that land on you. His cheeks lined with a thick, neat beard crease with dimples as he smiles at you. 

“Neither am I . . . .  Ms. Vance Joy fan,” he returns, holding your gaze. The sincerity in his words gets under your skin, going straight to your heart. The sarcastic joke inside of them makes you giggle. 

Clearing your throat, you look away with what you’re sure are blushing cheeks. Most likely, an entire blushing face. “What are you doing here, anyways, if you were gone for the day?”

“I can’t miss me boys’ big game, a few o’ me students are on tha team. I thought I’d catch up on sum emails and grading befo’hand, but didn’t know ya’d still be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just leaving, anyways,” you mutter, your movements stilling. 

“I didn’t mean it dat way, love. ‘m glad we finally met, it was about time, anyways,” Harry insists, and you nod before continuing to place a book at each desk. “Hey wait, you said you were short and all plain in yer note. No, yer not, ya fibber.”

“Oh like your description was any more accurate,” you scoff lightheartedly, setting down a book before grabbing another from your dwindling stack. 

His rich laugh meets your ears, and you can’t resist looking over to him. “Ya didn’t give yerself enough credit, ya know,” he almost coos, and you swear your heart melted into a puddle right then and there. That’s if it hadn’t done so already when you realized he’s Green Eyes. Swoon. 

It’s hard to hold back the excitement curling at the edge of your lips. Soon, you run out of books again and when you take a peek at him, so has he. 

“Were ya gonna go?” he questions, and you deal him one when you look at him confused. “T’ tha game, I mean.”

Your body feels like jello, and that any move you make would be sloppy. Embarrassing. That’s the last thing you want to look like in front of him. With his dazzling smile, adorably dimpled cheeks, and the cozy vibes he’s giving off. Not to mention, the clean citrus scent wafting off of him. A smell you certainly would be okay with smelling for hours on end. If only. 

“Well bloody Rob around tha corner bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket now. Would ya like t’ join me? I was thinkin’ o’ grabbin’ a sub from ‘round tha corner befo’. Concession food ‘s always too expensive, and never worth tha lines at halftime,” Harry suggests, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. One corner of his mouth climbs up his cheek, making you feel like maybe you’re not alone in these jumbled feelings. Or in the fun you’ve had carrying on this blind relationship with him. 

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better than the few words Post-It notes can hold.”

Slowly, the other corner of his lips curls upwards, making the dimple fall into his cheek once again. Nodding, his lips split into a full-fledged smile, singing with a chuckle. “I’d really like that,” he reveals before venturing to the door and shutting off the light. Extending an arm, he waves a hand towards himself.

“Hold on, let me get my things.”

“No rush. ’s not like ‘ve waited seven months fer dis or anythin’,” he quips. By now, you’re certain your face resembles a tomato. You hope that in the muted light, perhaps he won’t notice. 

Hurriedly, you slip on your light coat and drape your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes catch something as you’re tucking your phone in your pocket. Grabbing one last thing, you turn to find him watching you from the lit doorway. 

“What?” he wonders aloud, still with that smile etched onto his face. One you’re fairly sure you could get used to seeing. 

“Here,” you tell him, placing the Post-It note in his palm. His fingers dotted with dark hairs brush against you, just for a second longer than need be. 

“Ah, can’t forget dis now. Important stuff here.”

“Indeed,” you note, stifling a laugh as the sarcasm floats in the air. 

You observe his eyes flit across the paper holding your cursive as your steps echo down the empty hallway. 

“Hmmm, funny. It says ‘would you like to meet up sometime’ on here,” Harry reads, casting his twinkling eyes to you. Green eyes. “I was jus’ ‘bout t’ ask ya tha same thing on me next note. But I had sumthin’ that woulda took tha cake fer sure.”

“What’s that?” you remark, wondering how that could be. Those thoughts fly out the window when you feel his arm come around your shoulder. A squeal sounds inside of your head, but hey, at least that’s far less embarrassing than doing it out loud. 

“I was gonna tell ya dat Tracy across tha hall from me ‘s leavin’ afta dis year, and I may have recommended a certain sumbody t’ tha principal t’ replace her,” Harry hums, a knowing glint dancing in his eyes as they hover over you. “What d’ya say t’ bein’ colleagues instead o’ bein’ me sub?”

“I think I could get used to that,” you answer, letting your smile take over your entire face.

“So could I, love. So could I.” 

[boydidthatgowell]

the two times ethan yelled at mark and the one time mark yelled back

requested: no

pairings: amyiplier, platonic crankiplier

summary: ethan begins to over think and doubt his abilities to meet mark's expectations after he notices how quickly tyler learned to edit. he expressed his emotions in an unhealthy way, in the end, mark is there to reassure ethan that he is good enough.

this takes place in february of 2017

shit shit shit

ethan was on the brink of a meltdown.

the editing program had crashed before he could save the file. and when he opened the project after restarting the monitor, the gameplay timeline had removed all of the splits and zooms. this meaning: nothing was lined up. the gameplay was longer than the actual facecam video.

ethan could feel his heart begin to sink. out of everything that could have happened, this was the worst.

after tyler's first edit, ethan thought that if he perfected the video that mark assigned him, he could prove to mark that he was worth keeping around, that he didn't deserve to be replaced.

something that ethan learned that day, is that apparently the type of monitor he used didn't work well when rushed. evidence being that the second he started rushing to check if there were any old copies in the auto save folder, everything froze.

everything.

the mouse, the keyboard, the entire system just ... stopped.

and of course, there was no use in worrying about it. to his knowledge, there was nothing he could do to fix it. the situation should have been fairly easy to explain to mark, amy and kathryn.

... should have been.

it was about the time that ethan was going under the desk to unplug the mouse and keyboard when mark and tyler walked up the stairs, coming from the main room.

tyler stopped mid - sentence when he saw ethan. yet, he wasn't the first one to speak.

"hey man? did something happen?" mark questioned, walking towards the desk and crouching down.

ethan was startled, he whipped his head around to see a confused mark and tyler's legs. he couldn't quite see all of tyler since he was still under the desk.

ethan crawled out from under the desk, unable to explain himself. mark stood with him, face to face.

"what happened?" mark repeated, crossing his arms nonchalantly.

" ... uhm, okay, so everything was fine!! i was close to rendering it and the video was perfect, you would have absolutely loved it, but, but it uhm, it crashed!! everything went down and when i went back into post, i tried to see if there were ... if there were any auto saved copies because all of the splits had been removed for whatever reason but when i went to check for copies, it all froze!! everything!! i'm honestly so sorry i don't know what to do and it's just so ... i'm so sorry, mark. this is one hundred percent on me and i promise i’ll fix it somehow."

mark smiled in a bewildered manner and cocked his head, "ethan, it's fine man. it wasn't your fault, no need for stress. how can i help?” he offered, uncrossing his arms and shooting an empathetic expression at ethan.

“i don’t ... i don’t need help, mark,” ethan plopped himself back into the white chair, pressing restart on the computer for the third time, “i have it under control, it’s ... everything’s fine!!”

the harsh tone caught the other two off guard, given, this was ethan ... ethan never raised his voice unless he was kidding around or excited about something. mark shared a similar concerned look with tyler, and opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by ethan’s trail/mumble of nonsense that sounded something like: 

“it’s okay, it’s okay. the video should be done within the next couple of hours if i can get this damn thing working again.”

ethan sighed briefly as he was finally able to type his password in again and the system began to gradually come back to life. he soon became fixated on replacing the cuts that had been mysteriously trashed.

“ ... alright, man. if you need anything, tyler will be at my desk. i have to run up to best buy for another memory card ... for the uh ... the live stream on friday.” there was no point in mark wasting his breath, as ethan wasn’t paying an ounce of attention to what was being said.

tyler mouthed something to mark, and mark gave a reassuring nod towards him, gesturing at the youngest of the three.

------

thursday, eight fourty seven in the morning.

amy, mark and kathryn were all in the parking lot, chatting about preparation of the upstairs office, booting up the power strips and marking things off the checklist for the charity live that would be happening the next day.

“wait, why ... why is ethan’s car here? he usually comes in at nine fifteen.” kathryn pointed and chuckled at the dark blue four door sitting at the end of the lot.

mark approached the front door and pulled his keys out of his pocket, “it seems it’s unlocked, too.” mark ignored kathryn’s observation and huffed. “the door?” amy felt the need to clarify.

no one clarified though.

the girls dropped their bags at the front of the bottom floor, making their way to the right of the building to gather camera equipment to move it to the computer room.

mark didn’t follow, though. he calmly walked up the stairs, and to no one’s surprise, ethan sat at his work space, clicking away at some video timeline. the lights were off, so the only thing illuminating ethan’s face was his screen. mark didn’t even bother circling around the railing. he stood on the second to top step and rested his elbows on the white rail, holding three to - go cups in one of those cup carrier thingies.

“morning.” mark stated, more to get ethan’s attention than anything. “oh, good morning!! weird, i uh ... i didn’t even ... come in ... hear you - hear you come in.” ethan smiled half - heartedly. he pulled sweater paws over his hands and  tiredly rubbed his glassy eyes, adjusting to the morning light spilling through the windows. mark sighed and furrowed his eyebrows, finishing that last step and walking over to where ethan was seated. the older male reached over the younger one’s shoulder and dangled one of the cups to the left of ethan’s face.

“here, coffee, bud.”

ethan blinked through the sleepiness, “hey!! thanks mark.” he yawned mid - sentence.

mark set the cup reserved for tyler on the table in the center of the room, taking a cautious sip of his own coffee. he, at last, dropped his bag at the foot of his desk and leaned against it, practically sitting on it. he observed the obviously exhausted boy as he hurried to render a section of the project he was working on. ethan shook his head dramatically and spun his chair towards the one standing, “so!! did you get the chance to check your business email this morning? i sent you the finalized video that i exported yesterday evening. i was gonna have you review it and give me some feedback? i was just curious if you’d gotten it yet because i worried it would’ve had some trouble getting to you because of the computer problems yesterday that did get worked out, by the way - “

“and by yesterday evening you mean a quarter past four o’clock this morning, right?”

ethan shut his mouth quickly, turning his attentiveness near his screen once more, “ ... mhm.” he bit his tongue, shifting it around his mouth a bit.

mark really didn’t have the energy to watch a stressed ethan ramble, it was a pain for both of them. he liked to think he’d known ethan long enough to pick up on the fact that if ethan was hiding something, no matter what it may be, he’d purposely talk a lot to cover it up.

mark sipped at his beverage again, twisting the cup in his hand, “did you sleep at all last night?”

ethan pepped up his attitude slightly, “no, but you can get so much done if you don’t sleep. it’s fine, it’s not like i’ve been up for three days straight.” he chuckled lightly, scanning his eyes over the fourth bar in the timeline, double checking subtitle checkpoints.

mark stopped his meaningless hand motions and squinted. he clicked his tongue, “but you have.”

ethan frustratingly lifted his hands from the keyboard and folded them under his chin, turning his neck to look up at mark, “i’m sorry?”

mark placed his half empty coffee cup on the edge of his desk and placed his hands back on the surface, using it for balance, “almost every file, email, whatever, that i’ve received from you in the past ... not only three days, but almost week, i’m pretty sure, has come in at anywhere from one to five a.m. i’m not saying you haven’t slept in a week, but if you’re sending me messages in the dead hours of night, and then spending ... what? eleven? twelve hours a day here at the office ... when do you have time to sleep?”

ethan couldn’t speak. he’d been called out. there was nothing else to it.

“no, really ethan, tell me. i want to know. tell me when you have time to sleep.” mark pushed, raising his eyebrows, watching as ethan’s eyelids drooped.

“like ... seven to nine. usually. sometimes less.” he muttered, not bothering to make eye contact.

“two hours?”

ethan huffed angrily, “yes!! jesus fuck, mark, yes. yes. i have a horrible sleep routine. but look, man!! i’m here, right? i’m alive ... right? great!! no reason to fucking worry.”

i will make mark proud of me. i will complete more projects than tyler will ever even be able to comprehend. he won’t replace me. i’m a great editor.

ethan’s hands were practically shaking, and he hadn’t even had any of his coffee yet. however, he removed his hands from his face and hovered them over his keyboard again, thinking about what he was going to do before clicking the tab button a few times.

mark groaned in a fed - up manner and reached out to use his foot to drag ethan’s chair towards him.

“mark, what’re you - “

mark placed both of his hands on either arms of the seat, trapping the younger one and looking down at him, “first of all, do not raise your voice with me in my office. secondly, i need you to go home.”

ethan gritted his teeth, “you what?”

“i need you to go home and sleep or i need you to sleep on the couch. you will not work today.”

“you’re being ridiculous, just let me - “ ethan attempted to push himself back towards his work space. the attempt failed terribly, though, as mark just gripped the seat tighter, “you will not work today, ethan. that is an order. as your boss, i am telling you that you will take a nap today, and you will not work again until i see that you’re well rested. do you understand?”

“i don’t need a nap, i can push through it.” ethan protested, choosing to fixate his stare at mark’s torso rather than his face.

“do you understand me, ethan?” mark repeated, uplifting his eyebrows and making his voice quieter, yet clear somehow.

ethan thought for multiple seconds and gave up. he wasn’t going to win this argument, no matter how badly he wanted to. mark was his boss, and he couldn’t risk losing his job when that was the last thing he needed. he shut his eyes momentarily and nodded, “yeah. okay.”

mark grinned approvingly, “thank you,” he let go of his grasp on ethan’s chair and stood up straight, “there should be a blanket on the couch ... the yellow one.” he watched as ethan pushed himself from his spot and weakly trudged to the couch, where he collapsed. within minutes, he was out like a light.

------

ethan fluttered his eyelashes, chatter awakening him.

“hi tyler!!” was all he could hear faintly. at first, he was sort of confused and his mind was cloudy with exhaustion. a few seconds after becoming aware of where he was and what had happened, he rubbed his forehead and sat up on one elbow. he glanced around the room, no one was on the second floor other than him.

what time is it ...

he glanced over to the wall clock.

two p.m.

it was two p.m.

he had wasted five hours of precious work time, all because mark had ordered him to.

i should have argued more.

he shot up off the couch swiftly, barely making it to his computer in two steps. he desperately slid his mouse around the mouse pad, remembering he hadn’t actually shut his computer off, and just let it fall into sleep mode. the first page to pop up was the file folder for all of the projects he was in charge of. he sped through all of them until he found the one he’d been working on that morning. he needed to finish it before lunch so he could start working on a markiplier makes around four p.m.

just his luck, lunch was an hour and a half prior to when he’d woken up.

great, i’m behind.

“oh, you’re awake.” amy’s voice lingered.

ethan whipped around to the top of the stairs to see amy, mark and tyler close behind, “y ... yep!! i feel great, and, uhm ... i’m working on getting this sketch rendered and finalized by four, and then the markiplier makes should be finished by around - tonight. tonight, it’ll be done.” ethan smiled, unknowingly why he did. all of his actions at that moment were kind of involuntary anyways, given, he had just come from a semi - deep slumber.

“right, that’s fine. take your time with it, bud. tyler just got here to help us set up and sort cords and power strips into sections so we’re prepared for tomorrow morning. kathryn just went to the dollar store to grab us snacks for the stream. and, yes i made sure to ask for nerds, because i knew you’d want them.” amy explained to ethan. “yeah!! thanks dude. i promise that i’ll help you guys out once i’m finished with this.”

mark held his tongue whilst he and tyler started taking the camera and tripod out of their respective cases.

“of course, just, like i said,” amy made her way closer to ethan, “take your time. no one is rushing you.” ethan grinned in response, to which amy ruffled his hair and walked to the other two boys.

------

thursday, eleven fifty two at night.

all five of them were in the office, discussing their plans for the live stream.

while ethan would usually be laying face - up on the floor during these types of meetings, he was now seated in front of his computer.

the only one on their computer, to specify.

normally this would be fine, but, they were trying to talk, and ethan was clicking away like it was no one’s problem.

“and we’ll definitely play that spongebob movie game, that’s why i bought - “ 

click ... click click clack

“ ... hey bud, you can save and exit now, we’re done working today, alright?” mark kept civil, creasing one leg to rest on top of the other and looking over at ethan from the rest of the group. he beamed pleasantly, that was to no avail, though, as ethan paused for a couple seconds before tapping against the keys again.

mark had an endeavor to wrap up the meeting without being cut in on. that didn’t work out for him, regardless.

“we’ll definitely have to get the xbox out of the storage room sometime tonight though, or we’ll forget about - “

clack clack ... click ... click click click clack

“ethan, it’s okay man, you can put everything away now. you can pick up where you left off on monday. don’t worry about it.” mark didn’t show any signs of smiling that go - around. he only examined the boy once more.

“mm, yeah. okay, okay.” ethan mumbled, continuing his speedy pace of editing.

mark locked eyes with amy, expressing mild anger. amy showed sympathy towards her boyfriend, “it’s okay, pay no mind.” she mouthed inaudibly. mark suspired noticeably, “i may have to dust an old flash drive, so please stay patient with me as i - “

click

“ethan - “

“mark!! what?”

“ethan.”

“i’m trying to work - “

“ethan!!”

the yelling match was expected.

mark’s fist against the desk was not.

ethan, along with everyone else, jumped slightly at mark’s quick course of action.

the youngest of the group stood, astonishingly, tranquilly.

and just ... walked out.

he didn’t bother to grab his phone, keys, or glasses. he simply just, walked down the stairs and pushed open the front door to walk out.

mark pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply and choosing to follow after his distressed friend. he refused to look at the others as he practically sprung out of his desk chair and sprinted through the office, trying to get outside.

ethan was faced away from the building, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket and his entire body quivering.

“hey,” mark started, “i’m sorry for getting mad, i shouldn’t have done that ... but, please, what’s going on with you?”

the blue haired male turned around, laughing in disbelief, “what’s going on with me? really? so, tyler just ... walks in here one day and you guys decide to make a video where he edits some ... some shit gameplay and ... and he ... he sits at my desk and ... and uses my desktop to edit your video and then you have the audacity to say that he did better than you thought he’d do? really? without even ... and then you don’t even have the courtesy to reassure me - ... anyone that he won’t be replacing someone on the team? you can’t even take the time to say that he’s not better than me ... or amy? or ... or kathryn? seriously, mark? you are unbelievable sometimes, fucking ... “

mark had barely made it three paces out the door before his jaw hung open ever so slightly, thick eyebrows furrowed, “is ... that really what all of this is about? is this seriously a jealousy thing? if it’s a jealously thing ethan, just know that you don’t have a reason to feel,” mark stopped to take a deep breath, “ ... to feel envious of tyler. i can swear to you, you have nothing to worry about, ethan. falling under editing and film skills, he is nothing compared to you. i don’t want you to feel like you have to prove yourself to me.” he softened his voice a little, not wanting to frighten the smaller boy anymore than he already had, “you don’t have anything to prove to me.”

ethan clenched his jaw and began to shake harshly, slow, chilly wind blowing through his colored hair and putting a subtle blush on the tip of his nose. he fought the urge to cry. out of everything that could be happening right now, he definitely didn’t need his boss to see him act like a little bitch.

despite his wishes, two tears fell from his right eye as he blinked, “ ... i,” ethan looked down and gave a miserable smile at his grey sneakers as he did his best not to break out into a full sob, “i just wanted you to be proud of me, man. i wanted to show you that i could ... exceed past tyler’s abilities so you wouldn’t fire me and replace me with him because ... i don’t know, i really like this job, mark, i really do!! ... i just don’t wanna lose it because there’s someone better than me.”

mark muddled his face and shifted his stance, “i am proud of you, i am so proud of you ... what do you mean? did you see what you did in a date with markiplier? that shit was insane. i don’t understand.” he felt comfortable enough to take a couple steps closer to the other.

a twenty pound lump formed at the base of ethan’s throat, haziness overtook his vision and his knees began to feel as if they were as weak as mechanical pencil led. “i don’t deserve this job. i’m not good enough. i don’t meet your expectations, mark. i don’t work hard enough. there’s someone better out there.”

the eldest felt his chest crumble, “you’re joking.”

ethan cocked his head, and then completely understood what his boss had stated.

he shook his head disapprovingly.

“you work incredibly hard, man. are you serious? you’re so motivated and driven to create all the time. which is awesome. i’ve, honestly, i’ve never met someone as self - prompted as you. your work ethic is, most of the time, flawless. other than when you sleep for less than two hours and work for sixteen, yeah man, you’re a fucking legend in post. editing, filming, directing, audio work, all of it, you’re amazing. you are good enough, ethan. for me, for amy, for kathryn, for tyler. there’s no one i’d rather have in your place than you ... i am so glad i hired you. we’d be no where without you.”

ethan sniffed inward and took a deep breath, “can i hug you?”

“absolutely, bud.”

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (14)

Chapter 14: And So the Hunt Begins | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: I’m honestly a little worried about the story getting attention. There are times where I feel insecure and doubtful of the work I put out. A ton of questions come to me like “Has the story gotten boring?” and my answer to that is I sure hope not. If you’ve been following the story, looking forward to each chapter update, and you’re actually enjoying it, thank you so so much! That really means a lot to me. I try my best not to let the stress of work and personal life get in the way of my posting and especially my creativity. Please, guys, do me a small favor: let me know what you think of the story so far. 🙏🏻 As always, love lots 💜

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927​

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 | Previous: Part 13 | Next: Part 15 | Masterlist

15 of ?

Irele, along with HY-L33, bolted to the elevator lobby. The door opened to the hangar bay. The young girl’s strides were poised with urgency, she commanded the nearest captain to prepare her ship and a small unit of Stormtropers to accompany her.

“Ma’am, the 65th Squadron has already been deployed to Zeffo.”

“That’s Captain Kane’s squad.”

“Indeed,” the commander’s eye rolled to the side for a bit. “What’s left of them, at least.”

“Their transmissions mentioned a Jedi who cut them down by the numbers, and you’re satisfied with what’s left of them?”

“That’s… not my implication, my lady,” the commander blushed.

The commander then held his tongue. There was no way debating through that. Complacency and settling for less were neither minor or major offenses, though it makes one’s work efficiency and ethics seem questionable. The uniformed man hung his head in shame, hoping that Irele would not say another word and leave it at that.

A hangar operator cut in their conversation—or lack thereof—indicating that Irele’s light cruiser, the Obeisance, is ready to go. He got his unspoken wish.

“Jedi can be fools. But so is one who decides to underestimate them.” Irele lectured, serving mostly as a reminder to herself than an advice to the commander.

Nothing was further said. Irele hopped into the cruiser and her droid companion followed along. The pilot was already informed of their destination, so Irele had time to do some more “light reading.”

The small computer in her quarters provided the database of all the logs transmitted from various troopers and officers originating from several, different planets. Irele narrowed down her search about the Zeffo logs and skimmed the holos until there was mention of the Jedi.

She had a strong feeling that this incident in Zeffo has got something to do with the red-haired Jedi she eyed on during the briefing with the Inquisitors. Secretly, she had feared that one or two of them might have gotten there first, though they would have most likely gone for the more notorious survivors—Jedi masters and Padawan prodigies, for instance.

“What can be said about Zeffo, Haylee?”

“A small colony of humans reside in the continent just along the planet’s equator. Albeit a large landmass, the terrain is rather hostile—as 60% of the planet is water.”

“It is also a treasure chest of sorts—for the Emperor, at least, and other like-minded hoarders,” Irele added, the droid had nothing to comment. “Stay here in the Obeisance, Haylee, understand? I can’t have you in the line of fire down there.”

Irele was the first to alight the cruiser via her personal TIE Interceptor docked in the cruiser’s hangar. Riding behind her was the transport ship carrying the 77th Squadron. The transport landed first, melding with the remnants of the 65th, while Irele demanded the last known location of where the Jedi was found.

“Lady Irele, Captain CL-5857 reporting. Sending you the last reported coordinates of the Jedi.”

“Very good, Captain. My channel’s open for you now.”

The numbers instantly appeared on Irele’s screen and followed the navicomputer after the coordinates have been encoded. The TIE Interceptor zipped past the said colony—which was now literally a ghost town sprawling with Stormtroopers, almost like ghosts. Peeking over her window, she spotted a bleach-white mound pushed to the side along the stone cottages.

Dead Stormtroopers.

“Interesting.” Irele muttered and smirked. Not the least bit fazed of just how possibly deadly her target is.

–

At the end of the Augur Pulverizers, Cal found his way on a dangerously-placed metal balcony and startled two Stormtroopers, sneaking up on them. He stayed there to catch his breath. The roar of a TIE Interceptor’s engine caught his attention and watched the ship dart through the overcast skies like a loosed arrow.

He half-dismissed the feeling he got before the TIE flew out of sight. Irele got a quick glimpse of the other end of the pulverizers, the head full of red hair was such a dead giveaway, he stood out more than the white armor dotting Zeffo’s terrain.

On his right was a plateau where more of them waited for him, but it was his only way to get to the tomb.

Irele circled her way around the mountain. She discovered her destination when she found the monument of a Zeffonian sage standing amongst the jagged pillars of rock. She remained on the high ground, docking her TIE on a plateau that overlooks this region of the planet and sensed Cal coming this way.

Trekking through Zeffo’s steep ridges and cliffsides were both exhilarating and arduous. Fresh air welcomed itself to Cal’s lungs and the wind swept off the auburn locks from his head. He emerged from the mouth of the cave at the far opposite of the grand entrance of the tomb.

Cal scanned the area and saw that the coast was clear

Too clear.

Sitting atop of one of the stone columns dotting the courtyard of the tomb was Irele, leisurely swinging her one leg over the other.

“I’m almost hoping you’re not the guy the Stormtroopers are talking about in their audio logs,”

Her entrance startled Cal, setting him on high alert and had him brandishing his saber on pure instinct. Bemused, Irele smirked while she rested her chin on her palm.

“Well, let’s see if looks really can be deceiving!”

She leaped off of her perch; lightly did her feet touch the ground at her descent. Dust plumed over the tips of her boots, and while bent, she takes her lightsaber off of the clip pf her belt to boast a pair of red blades on both ends.

Cal tried his best to remain calm. His gloves squeaked as he tightened his grip on his own saber. He activated the second frost blue blade, a statement implying that he’s just as capable as she is.

Irele smirked and cooed, “Well now.”

They battled in the second tier landing of the tomb’s courtyard. Dual-ended blades clashing against one another. Red versus blue.

If only Vader could see her now.

Irele’s training did not betray her. Those two years of strenuous training had given her a great amount of stamina, more than enough to last her two duels against a Jedi and still have more to chase them down to finish what she started.

“Come on, redhead! Don’t disappoint me!” she snarled, taunting the boy.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find I’m full of surprises!”

“Oho!” she cackled. Distanced herself for a second’s worth of a breather, she bared her teeth in a wide, mischievous grin. “I do love surprises!”

Cal wasn’t afraid to admit that his opponent was nimbler, more dexterous, and perhaps even stronger. He could feel the hate and anger flowing in her, as if it’s replaced the blood in her veins, though he thinks she’s a fool for weaponizing those emotions—ones that only a Sith would use to their advantage.

He needed to find an opening. This girl was too strong, he thought. He rammed his shoulder to her, causing her to stumble in her footing, and then—within a moment’s opportunity—he recoiled and sprung his hands to his front: sending a wave of the Force to increase the distance away from her. Then he made a run for it—there was an opening at the side of the tomb entrance, and hurriedly squeezed his way through the narrow space between two boulders.

He managed to slither his way out, but Irele caught up to him fast. Shrapnel of stones flew and clattered behind Cal, he looked over his shoulder and saw the girl appearing from the dust cloud, her crimson blades lighting up in the middle of the fog.

“Who are you!?”

No reply from the girl.

She just kept pushing forward. Greedy to land more strikes on the boy and hopefully disarm him.

Ahead of them was another way to the lift that leads to the underground level of the tomb. The only obstacle is that a ring of rocks, spinning around the lift in great speeds, is blocking Cal’s way of ever getting into that ancient elevator.

Desperately, he slows down the movement of the stones circling the lift, and bolted through while it was still safe. Irele was at his tail. They continued their exchange of strikes until either of them could notice that the influence of Cal’s Force Slow was wearing off. He had made his way closer to the lift while they fought, but Irele was too blind to be aware of her surroundings. When the stones were gradually returning to their original speed, Cal mustered up enough energy again to push Irele out of the stones’ orbit with one hand, while the other slowed the stones but they were now at his volition.

“NO!!”

Cal hopped into the lift, his one hand relaxed and the stones were orbiting the golden elevator at cyclonic speeds. As the golden lift sank, with a heavy bell-like clang to signal its descent, so did Irele’s stomach. This is unacceptable, she knew it, she needs to find another way to the tomb and catch up with the Jedi.

Meanwhile, Cal sought refuge and rest in the safety of the golden lift. He caught his breath and shook off whatever tension and adrenaline left from that fight.

“Who was that?” he asked to nobody in particular.

“Bee-woo…” BD-1 chirped.

His comlink beeped, and Cere’s voice popped through the speaker.

“Cal? Have you found the tomb?”

“Yeah, I found it. And I also found someone interesting.”

“Who?”

“She… I don’t know if she’s an Inquisitor. I’m not even sure if she is one. Though I am sure that she’s with the Empire. I saw her TIE Fighter earlier, didn’t expect to bump into her though.”

He recalled quietly what she looked like and what she wore. Normally, Inquisitors donned armor with the Empire’s insignia on it. But Irele was fashioned differently, compared to a completely armored Inquisitor: her outfit consisted of a short-sleeved top that covered her from the neck down, a long skirt complemented by ankle-length boots. The only pieces of “armor” she has are a brown leather surcoat over her top and a belt. In her defense, she preferred less is more.

“Whether or not she’s an Inquisitor, if she’s just as bad as you say she is—then you better keep an eye out. You are definitely not alone out there.” Cere warned with a graveness in her voice.

“I know.”