#without sitting sometimes and you want me to rake for 6 hours??? what?????

[skrunksthatwunk]

jumpscared by least favorite seasonal chore

[caramelcal]

His Favorite Secret.

“I’m tired of being your secret.”

You can find the rest of the prompts here.

i really took this and ran with it huh...IT’S 4.3K WORDS

warnings: mentions of sex, gangs, alcohol, bondage

kinda obsessed with this gang!luke idea. also, i’m not sure if i wanna make “bambi” the reader or an oc, it works as either i believe? bambi is a nickname btw and i honestly feel like making more parts based on this concept tbh 

kinda wanna make another part LMAO idk what i’d do it on though </3

Luke was better to her than anything you could possibly expect. He was surprisingly gentle when it came to her, hugging and caressing her that seemed impossible for the way he was and the life he lived. People saw Luke as the 6-foot-odd man that could rip you apart without an issue, without even breaking a sweat but he was so much more than that.

He was so much more than the leather jacket-wearing gangster that everyone depicted him as; heartless and stoic. He was a great lover if he let people in, and she had never been loved that way with anyone before. Surely though, with his life, there were complications to their relationship.

He was different from other people, more violent, more dangerous. The gang, which was run by Luke and three of his closest friends, Calum, Ashton and Michael, was well-known and feared among many, but they were left alone by the police. The police were aware that they existed, but they didn’t do anything about it. There were more cons to arresting them than there were pros.

Luke’s life made everything very interesting. He was rich, of course, and after a while of them dating she had moved into his condo. It was massive, bigger than any house she had ever lived in before and it was just for the two of them. It was a luxurious life that she had not experienced before, and she was still getting used to it.

If there was one thing about Luke that she had learned, it was that buying her things was his love language. He never had been great at the romantic side of their relationship considering he hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time and normally just had one-night stands, but he tried his best. That didn’t meant that he ever softened up during sex, though. 

Another thing about his life that made stuff interesting was that Luke had to drop things for work. Sometimes stuff would go wrong on a run, or other gangs would try stuff with them and he would have to leave. It was understandable, but still frustrating for her, especially the one time where an emergency had occurred right in the middle of them having sex.

Luke had been very busy the past few weeks, having to deal with numerous issues with the gang and barely having enough time to spend with the needy girl who craved his attention. There had been issues in the club, that was what he had said, but he didn’t go into much detail on the matter, he never did. He liked to keep his relationship and gang life very separate from one another. 

A lot of the mornings this week she had woke up alone, void of the warmth she liked to cuddle into in the morning. At least she was getting him all to herself this weekend, she thought. After barely spending anytime with her that weekend, Luke had promised they would spend the weekend together, even if the club was set on fire. Calum, Ash and Mike will deal with it. 

“Bambi?” The nickname fell from his lips when he stepped in the front door. She brought her eyes up to look at him, happiness filling her features. She hadn’t been expecting him home for another few hours, but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

Running over to him, she jumped, knowing full well that he would catch her as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her head snaked into the nape of his neck, comfortingly taking in the scent of her favorite person, his arms holding her protectively close to his body. They were alone, thankfully enough. After all, she really hadn’t thought out her jumping hug because her short skirt had ridden up, showing off her underwear which Luke most definitely would be furious if anyone but him saw.

“Welcome home,” She whispered into his neck, hand coming up to play with the hair on the back of his neck. Her eyes fluttered, eyelashes tickling the skin on Luke’s neck as he rubbed her back, taking in the comfort of having the smaller girl in his arms.

He walked forward so that he was fully in the house, using his leg to kick the door shut behind him before walking towards the middle of the room near the couch. He slowly lowered himself until he was sitting down on the plush cushions, the girl now in his lap, still being held closely.

“Bambi?” Luke started, making sure that the girl was listening, to which she hummed into the side of his neck, not willing to move just yet, “I know you wanna hug and kiss and stuff right now but we don’t have much time to pack your bags, you have to stay at the safe house for a few days.”

Almost immediately, the warmth of her face was gone from his neck, and her hands were no longer playing with his hair. She was still held tightly on his lap, mostly because he held her there with a semi-firm grip, her looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows and sad eyes.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. In fact, it had happened quite a few times and each time it made her rather frustrated. She had to remove every single piece of evidence that she even existed in the apartment, and get hidden away in a safe house for the entire weekend, on the edge of town, where she wasn’t allowed to leave until Luke got her himself.

She hated the safe house.

“But you said-”

“Bambi,” Luke cut her off rather firmly, sending her a look which she knew meant that there were no arguments in this. She almost wanted to whine, to argue with Luke and tell him that he said this was going to be their weekend together, just them, no gang stuff, but now she wasn’t even going to get to see him at all this weekend, “I need to have a few low levels over to go over plans, and they’ll be over tomorrow which means we can’t let them know you’re here or that you exist. They still can’t fully be trusted yet, which means that they could be moles and I’m not putting you at risk for that.”

His speech was ended in a soft tone, looking down at her with a small amount of sadness for the girl. His hand comfortingly raked through her hair, piercing blue eyes looking at her but her eyes stay looking down. Slowly, without saying anything, she climbed off of his lap and started to retreat to their bedroom.

“Bambi? Where you goin, baby?” He called out, looking at the girl who stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder.

“I’m packing. That’s what you wanted me to do, was it not?”      

Not many words were exchanged afterward with the girl silently packing away every aspect of her life into two duffle bags. She wasn’t even allowed to properly live in her own house, no decorations, photos in frames, nothing. Everything she owned had to be easily removable so it looked like she didn’t even exist in her own home.

Luke watched her from the bedroom door, leaning against the frame coolly as he analyzed her movements. He knew she was frustrated, but she had to know he was doing this to protect her, she should have anyway. Rather harshly, she finally zipped up the duffle bags, throwing them over her shoulder and walking straight past Luke without acknowledging him.

He understood that she was frustrated, but was she really angry at him?

She was quickly at the door, grasping at the handle when Luke had snapped out of his thoughts, walking over to her quickly with ease, taking a grip on her arm.

“You okay?”

“Dandy,” She replied bluntly, looking away from the slightly concerned man, almost as if she was itching to get away from him. Normally, even if she wasn’t happy about being sent away to the safe house, she still gave him a goodbye kiss, but it appeared that he wasn’t going to get one of those tonight, “Gotta go. Wouldn’t want to keep Jacob waiting, would we?”

She walked out of the apartment without another word, but Luke’s eyes were on her retreating figure, “We’ll speak about this on Sunday, okay baby?”

He barely even seen the nod that she sent him before she disappeared down the hallway.

. . . “Please, Jacob,” She pleaded with the driver, with puppy eyes and everything but he tried his best to remain stony-faced. Jacob was the only driver that Luke trusted Bambi with, he had grown up with the boys too, childhood friends with Michael apparently, who Bambi had never even met before.

Jacob was the leading driver for the gang, one of the getaway drivers for bigger and more important heists or events, but normally he just got called in for private transport of any important members of the gang. He, as well as practically anyone who had ever met the girl, had a soft spot for her, and she knew that.

“You do realize if I take you there that I am directly disobeying orders of the leader of one of the biggest gangs in California?” He asked ridiculously, shaking his head with his hands placed firmly on the wheel.

“Jacob-”

“No,” He replied firmly, looking at the girl through the rearview mirror, seeing her begging eyes and sad face.

The man knew that everything was frustrating for the girl, especially when she had to get up and move out of her own house just so that Luke could host meetings and debriefings for the gang.

“Please, Jacob. I’m going to be cooped up in a safe house for three days without talking to anyone, at least let me go to Anna’s for a few hours. She’s been my best friend since I was three, she’s trustworthy.”

The black-haired man didn’t reply for several moments, and a frown fell onto the girl’s face before he started to signal off the highway. It was a familiar road, the one that she had taken many times before to her best friend’s house, and honestly, she had never been happier to see it. At least she would get some enjoyment this weekend.

“Thank you so much, Jacob, just tell me how I can repay you,” The girl said once she was out of the car, bouncing lightly in excitement while she stared at the man who was still inside the car.

He gave her a small smile, one that showed he knew how much appreciation she felt towards him before his eyes turned to the door behind her, “Just enjoy yourself and make sure he doesn’t fire me for this.”

“Consider it done.”

It was nice to see Anna again, it had been two weeks since their last meet up and they had both missed each other greatly. Anna was drinking alcohol, but the smaller girl wasn’t. It wasn’t like she was afraid of what Luke would say if she did, because she certainly wasn’t afraid of Luke, but even though she was angry she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Not that she had exactly abided by his rules anyway, considering she was with Anna right now instead of locked inside the safe house. The safe house had slowly become the girl’s own personal prison, it was bare, bland, and had nothing for her to entertain herself, and there was no company. That’s what she hated most about it, the lack of social interactions she could have while she was in there.

“-we were talking about the weather and shit right? Then he asked to see my tits! I was like are you being serious right now?” Anna rambled on, talking about another failed love interest that had been using her for her body. Anna never seemed to be lucky in the dating apartment of life, but she was a successful girl, and a beautiful one at that, she would get there. 

“Was he?”

Anna scoffed, taking another drink of her alcohol, “Yeah! He blocked me after I sent him pictures of minecraft chests and asked him what ones were his favourite.”

The smaller girl let out a laugh, looking at her best friend who had a sly grin on her face, trying to hide it with the glass in her hands. 

“Speaking of guys though, how’s Mr. Hemmings then?” Anna jokingly asked the girl, cocking an eyebrow with a smirk on her face, swaying to the music that was loudly playing in the background.

“He’s good, I mean he’s doing good,” The smaller girl quickly corrected herself before her dirty-minded friend could make a joke about their sex life or ask about it. Anna hummed lightly, still smug and still swaying to the music, “I was supposed to be going to the safe house, but I’m here instead, I don’t think he’s very happy.”

“Girl, you’ve been here for nearly two hours!” Anna cried out in shock, eyes wide at the clear defiance that the small girl had for her 6-foot-odd gang leader boyfriend.

“And?”

“He’s bound to know by now! He’s not going to bust through my doors with his gang and shoot the place down is he?”

The girl shrugged lazily in reply, letting some of her hair fall in front of her face as she smiled at her friend, “Yeah he does know, he’s been blowing up my phone for an hour and a half.”

Anna fell dramatically against the back of the couch, hand still tight around her glass of lemonade and pink gin. Her free hand was laying across her forehead with her eyes shut, “Oh please tell me you’ve replied.”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on, I really like my door, believe it or not, I don’t want him or any of his gang members kicking it down!” Anna cried out, giving her best friend a pout to which she just laughed lightly in response.

“He won’t knock your door down, he probably won’t even come. He’s too busy debriefing his gang to even spend time with me and instead shipped me out of the house. Why does he care whether it’s yours or the safe house?”

However, she couldn’t have been more wrong because less than ten minutes later they heard a roaring engine speeding down the road. Anna, who shared a quick look with the smaller girl, got up and looked out the window, seeing no other than Luke gets out of his very expensive sports car and towards the house, “Guess you were wrong.”

He threw the door open, thankfully not breaking it down, his eyes quickly landing on the small girl, grabbing her and pulling her off of the couch, planting her by his side. His grip was tight on either side of her hips, almost as if it was a warning to stay by his side and cooperate for once in her life.

“Anna,” His accented voice wrung through the room as he gave the blonde a curt nod. She waved back awkwardly, maybe too hazed by the alcohol in her system to stay anything intelligible back, and Luke seemed to realize this, “don’t stay up too late, get a good sleep, okay?”

“Aye captain, yes sir,” She saluted him back with a smile on her lips, almost diffusing the tension in the room but it was barely a second later where Luke’s grip retightened on his girlfriend’s hips.

“Okay, good night.” He bid her farewell, walking out of the house with his slightly anxious girlfriend behind him. It seemed as if suddenly she was filled with regret and guilt, especially after seeing how angry Luke was with her.

“It isn’t Jacob’s fault I-” She started when the door shut behind them, the cold wind of the night surrounding her.

“Don’t,” He spoke gruffly, turning around to look down at her with angry blue eyes before grabbing onto her wrist and dragging her over to his car.

Luke hadn’t even locked his car when he had rushed inside to Anna’s house, not that he would be too bothered anyway, it wasn’t like anyone was going to steal the gang leader’s car, especially not in this neighborhood. He didn’t speak another word to the girl as he took her around to her side of the car, letting her get in before he leaned over and strapped her in, closing the door without a single word and getting in his own side.

He started the car up and the only noise heard in the car was the engine as it roared to life and they began to speed down the street. His blond hair was messy, jaw ticking with his eyes glued to the road, never once straying to the girl in the passenger’s seat. Her eyes, however, never strayed from him, picking up every sign that he was furious with her. His posture was rigid, he was impatient, breathing loudly and not even acknowledging her existence beside her; he was seething.

She wasn’t sure if they arrived too fast or too slow to the safe house honestly. Luke still didn’t utter a word, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. She knew not to move already, she knew that Luke didn’t want her to move and honestly she didn’t want to aggravate him further.

True to her belief, Luke opened her car door, undoing her seatbelt before pulling her out of the car. His eyes didn’t stay on her as he stormed into the house, a tight grip on the smaller girl’s wrist. She tried to get his attention, for him to say anything to her as he entered the house but it appeared he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

The main room was still dark, but just the feeling of being in here makes her feel sick. She wasn’t overexaggerating when she said how much she hated the safe house. It felt as if she was defeated, back where she didn’t want to be, somewhere she hated, and with her boyfriend furious at her.

In the time that she had been thinking of how much she loathed the building she stood in, Luke had let go of her wrist and wordlessly made his way towards the front door again. The thought of him leaving her here, frustrated and alone all weekend made annoyance bubble in her stomach and before she can help herself she’s shouting over at him, “So that’s it? Are you just going to lock me in here and leave again?”

Luke stilled, but he doesn’t bother to reply or even look at his girlfriend, just standing there like a statue. She can’t find it in herself to regret the words that come out of her mouth, especially after she awaits the nonexistent reply, causing annoyance to bluster in her stomach. Her eyes roll and her arms flail slightly before they slap against her thighs with a low scoff falling out of her lips, “Typical.”

“Excuse me?” Luke turned around, his voice hard and powerful, one that would normally make her shake, make her look up at him with wide eyes unsure of what to say. Their eyes meet, his blue piercing into hers. He took a step forward, tilting his head slightly with an eyebrow raised, almost as if he’s encouraging her to repeat what she had said moments before, “What did you say, Bambi?”

Her mouth was agape as she stuttered lightly, any feeling of bravery that she had mere seconds ago fizzling away into nothingness. Her eyes darted from one of his eyes to the other, looking at the expectant and slightly smug face as he looked at the stuttering girl in front of him. She tried her best to find the right words to say but she had, ultimately, been rendered speechless.

“Come on, if you’re so big and brave, baby, why don’t you speak up a little? Tell me what you said.” He walked towards her until he’s right in front of her, chests barely ten centimeters apart. Two of his fingers make their way under her chin, pushing her face up until she had no other choice but to look him in the eye, holding her face in such a way that she can’t move easily.

Silence filled the room once more, simply with the two of them staring at one another. Luke stared down at her with a slight smugness and with her looking up at him still frozen almost. When he does talk next, he muttered quietly, almost condescendingly with anger trailing in his voice, “You ruined an important meeting tonight all because you couldn’t follow a simple instruction-”

“Well, believe it or not, I don’t like to be locked up in a house for days on end like a caged animal,” She doesn’t even register that she’s speaking until she’s finished, the words flowing out of her mouth cutting off Luke’s lecture.

“This house is to keep you safe,” His grip on her jaw doesn’t loosen at this point in time, blue eyes swimming with rage. In all of their time together, he doesn’t remember his Bambi giving him this much attitude or a time where she’s tried to argue with him like this. Sure, there were times where they had disagreements or times where there had been a little bit of attitude but he had quickly sorted that out.

“I was safe at Anna’s and I was happy. Isn’t that what you want? For me to be happy?” Her voice is quiet, bottom lip threatening to quiver. She hated how she cried whenever she got frustrated, and right now she’s barely holding back from her eyes becoming glassy. She’s frustrated and annoyed, but she doesn’t want to look like a baby right now, especially when this was her first fight with Luke.

“Don’t try and guilt trip me now, Bambi. It isn’t going to work tonight.”

“I hate it here! I hate constantly having to move into this stupid fucking house where I have nothing to do and no one to talk to! It doesn’t even fucking have wifi or anything! It’s dumb and all because you’re paranoid!” After she finished shouting, she ripped her head out of his hold, standing back and away from him, back coming in contact with the marble counter of the kitchen island.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and as Luke processed her words, he shook his head. His next words are low, like it’s a warning, “Don’t shout at me like that.”

“I’m not-”

“Listen here, doll, because I’m only going to tell you this once,” Luke doesn’t even let her finish before he’s talking. His voice is forceful and strong, something he normally reserved for when his men do something stupid like ruin a drug run, “You don’t call the shots here, I do. I’m in a gang and there are a lot of people that would put a bullet in your pretty little skull just to get to me,” He pressed a finger against her temple, hard enough for her to feel the pressure but not enough for it to hurt her, “People die in this lifestyle and I send you here so it doesn’t happen to you. Don’t tell me that I’m paranoid because I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I get it, I do-”

“Then why won’t you just do what I say?”

“Because I’m tired of being your secret.” She whispered, looking up at Luke’s blue eyes sadly, tears gathering in her own eyes. His head dipped a little, shifting his weight onto his hands which are on either side of her, trapping her against the kitchen’s island counter.

It took Luke a few seconds to finally muster up words, and just from his tone she can tell that he’s disappointed, maybe in himself, maybe because of how she thought of their relationship, “You aren’t my-”

“Then why have I never met Cal? O-Or Mikey? Why is the only time I’ve ever met Ashton an accident? And why do you constantly send me away even if it’s only people you trust going to be there? And-”

“Bambi,” Luke groaned lightly but got cut off straight away when the girl continued to rant, barely even realizing that he had tried to cut her off.

“This was supposed to be our weekend and you just sent me away. I was so excited to finally get a whole weekend of you to myself but no, I was shipped off to this shithole again-”

“This was all because you just wanted me to yourself?” Luke asked incredulously, an eyebrow raised at the girl whose eyes snapped up to meet his.

“That’s what you want, Bambi? You got it.” Luke said, his eyes staying on hers, never wavering as he commanded. He pushed back, hands off the counter and now standing at his full height, towering over her with his eyes never leaving hers, “Hands out. Now.”

“Luke what-”

Her eyes frantically search his face, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She can feel her heart rate pick up, beating loudly in her chest.

“No, Bambi. You’ve done plenty talking tonight. No talking unless I ask you a question, got it?”

She nodded her head, gulping down the thickness in her throat as a thick leather wrapped around her wrists, constricting them. Her mouth parted slightly, she hadn’t even seen or heard Luke take off his belt, but now she can’t even part her hands anymore.

His head dropped to her neck and she can feel her stomach flutter simply by his breath fanning over the skin on her neck. His hand made its way up to the nape of her neck, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking on it so her neck is fully exposed to him, “You’ve me all to yourself tonight, Bambi. And you’re all mine.”

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 6

TW: None

Words Count: 2.1k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 7

You shower quickly that morning, springing a little in your steps as you make your way to your closet, picking an attire for that day. Today, you have an interview for one of the many secretarial positions that you apply for yesterday. You choose a beige pencil skirt and a white blouse. Your wounds are still visible but nothing that can’t be covered with makeup. You do it minimally, just so you don’t look sick or too pale.

You stare at the large signboard saying ‘Bangtan Inc’. Taking a deep breath, you enter the building. Within half an hour, you’re escorted to the fifth floor of the company and you’re waiting in line to be interviewed by the Human Resources manager after filling up several documents. There are quite a number of interviewees and you’re slotted as the last one.

An hour later, you’re done with your interview with the manager and then you’re asked to wait again at waiting area. The manager who introduces herself as Irene approaches you after a while.

“Miss Y/N, you’re going to have the second interview with Mr. President. Are you ready?”

Nervousness begins to fill you up. You didn’t know that there would be two sessions for the interview. Nevertheless, you nod and follow after her. She leads you to the seventh floor and the hallways look even more lavish at this floor.

“You can come in now. Mr. President’s ready.” She leads you in and you enter together with her. “Mr. Park, Miss Y/N is here.”

Mr. Park…? It can’t be the Mr. Park that I know.. right?

When the man sitting on his desk at far end of the room looks up, things can’t be more fucked up than this.

It was him. His. His fucking company.

He raises from his seat and freezes when he sees you too. His eyes rake you from top to bottom and this has to make the list of top embarrassing moments in your life. Should you run away now?

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” Irene interrupts. It’s too late to run away now, right..?

Your eyes widen as you stare at Jimin. He seems to regain his composure and leisurely takes his seat again, crossing his legs and starts playing with his fingers in what could be such intimidating gesture.

You swallow and slowly takes your seat and fixes your skirt to prevent it from riding up, missing the way his eyes travel down your legs for a split second. You watch as Irene hands him documents that you assume contains your information.

Oh no. You haven’t been entirely truthful with your information…

“So Miss Y/N, you’re single?” He asks casually, no doubt having read the part in your file. You pray that the ground swallows you whole.

You fidget with your hands, swallowing hard. You’ve grown used to playing with your wedding ring on your finger but you purposely take it off today since you’ve so conveniently mention your status is single. He looks down at your hand and you miss the way his expression becomes stern when he sees your empty finger.

“Y-yes.”

For a moment, he just looks at you and you think you’ll melt under his stare. Jimin always stares at you like he’s able to see you through and every time, you’d ask God to grant you a mind reading ability just so you can know what he’s thinking about.

You know everything’s already gone into a mess today. This interview session is basically moot now that the person interviewing is actually your own freaking husband. You’re ready to turn on your heels at any second. You’re literally just waiting for him to utter words like ‘get out’ or ‘get lost’.

Yet he excuses you and you stand waiting outside as he speaks to Irene. She emerges not long after that, a smile plastered on her beautiful face.

“Miss Y/N! I’m pleased to inform that you’ve been hired!”

What on actual earth.

“You must’ve caught Mr. Park’s interest. We usually filter most of the applicants again and this would normally takes about another week before we can give results but Mr. Park seems satisfied with you.”

You did not expect this turn of events at all.

“So, even though the position is secretarial position, the job scope is actually kind of wide. You will mostly be attending to Mr. President’s needs but you will also be helping several bits here and there with the office people there. I’ll introduce you to the office mates in a while.”

So you spend the rest of the day being led by Irene everywhere as she tells you most of the things you need to know and introduces you to other personnels in the office. Your brain can’t really focus on Irene’s words as you assume you’re doomed once you’re home with Jimin.

Should you quit that instant? Don’t come for work tomorrow?

But that would be the most unprofessional thing to do. You groan.

“Oh, Miss Y/N. It’s almost five now. You don’t really have much to do anyway for today so you can just head home today.” Irene tells you.

You automatically looks up at the double door that leads to Jimin’s office. Should you be going home with him..?

You shake your head immediately. It’s best if this is kept a secret from everyone for now. You don’t feel like he’s going to head home yet since Jimin usually comes home at about 7PM so you rush to pack your things and quickly heads home.

You pace back and forth in the kitchen. Your head had been playing a thousand different scenarios with how Jimin would react once he’s home and you can’t help feeling more anxious by the second. You hear the door opens then and your pulse quickens. You don’t dare to meet him at the door so you just remain in the kitchen.

You’re so immersed in your thoughts that you don’t hear him come down a while later.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” He growls and you jump. You turn to see him looking extremely pissed off.

“Jimin- I’m sorry- I wanted to tell you last night but I- I forgot.” You say as he takes his seat on the dining table and you rush to tend at him. He doesn’t seem impressed at all.

“My company? Are you fucking kidding me?” He hisses and you recoils slightly.

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know it’s your company. The last time I saw you was at Parks Corporations and- why were you-“ You stop mid sentence. All of a sudden it makes sense. You remember Mrs. Lee telling you that Jimin will be inheriting his father’s company and it must’ve been Parks Corporation while Bangtan Inc is the tech company that he builds together with his friends. Suddenly, you feel stupid for not making your research. On top of it all, it’s about your husband. You, above all, should know about it. “I- I just feel guilty staying home and- I just thought I should help with the finances as well.. after all you’re not really my husband.. you’re a stranger.. it’s not right to just leech off you and do nothing-”

“So your ego is wounded?” He scoffs.

You sigh. You don’t want to argue with him. You don’t like arguing with him or making him angry. “You could’ve not accepted me..” You mumble.

“The fuck did you say?” He snaps and you immediately straightens.

“C-can we remain discreet though? I don’t want to tell anyone. We-we can take separate rides to the office.”

“Whatever you say.”

The next morning you wake up earlier than Jimin. It feels weird to actually see him lying on the bed, the same freaking bed with you. Though the bed is large enough for the both of you to come nowhere near each other, it still feels strange. You get ready quickly then heads downstairs to prepare breakfast for your husband.

Waiting on the toast, your fingers play with your necklace. Yesterday, you went to some cheap jewellery store and buys an empty silver necklace. Then, you put your wedding ring as the pendant and happily wears it. You can’t put it on your finger while at work so you resolve to use it as your necklace.

You don’t wait for Jimin to come down for breakfast and you feel sorry for that but you don’t really want to arrive at work at the same time Jimin does.

At work, contrary to your assumption, your work doesn’t really involve you to speak directly with Jimin as you mostly arrange his schedules and keys in things in the computer, deals with people asking for appointments and most of your time is taken by helping colleagues at the office as well with minor tasks like photocopying or sending fax. Any direct information that needs to be conveyed to Jimin is mostly done by Irene. Perhaps, she thinks you are not up to the task yet. You’re secretly relieved though.

Days passes quite quickly and before you know it, about a week has passed since you’ve started working at Bangtan Inc. Now that you think about it, working here doesn’t seem so bad. You don’t see much of Jimin these days, only on certain days when he comes home early and has his dinner at home.

You somehow make a promise to yourself to make the best of this marriage so you take special care of Jimin’s meals and what he wears to work everyday. To be honest, you don’t have to. Mrs. Lee can make anything and everything if you ask her but you refuse to. Making meals is probably the only thing you can do for your very self sustained husband even if he’s just a temporary husband, you did promise yourself to do it so you did.

You wake up early to prepare breakfast, goes to work and rushes home to prepare dinner almost every day. Most of the time though, you’re already asleep by the time he comes home so you’ve grown used to leaving sticky notes on the dining table, telling him to reheat the dishes you cooked if he wants to eat.

You don’t really expect him to eat the dishes you made but much to your surprise, he still eats them everyday without fail though sometimes he may not finish them but the thought still makes you smile.

It somehow exhausts you more nowadays with your packed schedule so you almost always fall asleep as soon as you lay on the bed at night.

You also slowly grasp your job scope at work. You learn a lot of things about Jimin as well. His schedule is always packed with meetings and when he isn’t in them, he’s busy discussing with the staffs to prepare for the next meeting. You somehow feel sorry for him. That’s also one of the reason why you couldn’t miss preparing his meal everyday although you’re tired. You learn that he tends to forget to eat whenever he’s too caught up in work.

That night, Jimin comes home early. You jump when he enters the kitchen while you’re still preparing his meal. He’s freshly showered and he smells so tantalising. He always smells good, you think.

“I’m sorry. I came home late. It’ll be ready soon if you can just wait for another.. 5 minutes?”

He walks to the fridge then takes a glass of orange juice. “If you don’t have time, we can just order take out next time. You don’t have to cook everyday.”

But you want to, your mind says. But you don’t say it out loud.

He takes his seat on the dining table and you feel his heavy gaze from behind you, making the hairs on your skin stand. You wish he’d look at something else instead.

You hover around once you set the table for Jimin which you notice is an occupational hazard of yours just in case the other party still needs you to amend anything so you would usually wait until that said party is satisfied.

Jimin wastes no time snapping at you. “Won’t you sit down and eat?!”

Flustered, you quickly take your seat, shaking your head for making him angry again. You eat in silence then.

“How’s work?” He asks after a while, taking you off guard.

You blink rapidly and stares at him for a few moments before answering, “It’s fine.” You hesitate to continue yet you can’t resist it. “I can’t really say no when the boss is right in front of me, right?”

Upon hearing that, he smiles.

He freaking smiles.

It’s so blinding it literally renders you speechless. He has this adorable eye smile and it makes him look like a total softie, none at all the one that is always intimidating and scowling at you.

And maybe, just maybe, something flutters in your stomach at that time. But you’re too blinded to notice.

Link to Chapter 7

Posted on 210409 9:00PM

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 6

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

The next chapter is the last part. I'm truly sorry.

In case you missed it: Chapter 5 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 6

“Cas, you’ve got to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, miss, I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Agent Michael Jagger.” Castiel’s bewilderment is so endearing and familiar that Andy nearly loses her composure.

She grabs his hand, pulling him uncomfortably close, and she can see suspicion dawning amidst the confusion. She tows him to the back area of the restaurant, technically for staff only, but she doesn’t figure petty rules like that matter just now.

“Listen, Miss, you’ve shown interest in my partner and scheduled time to socialize with him later. While I do understand that you are traditionally attractive, I really-“

“I need you to listen, and then I need you to look. Do you understand?”

“Not even a little.”

“That’s okay, hun, neither do I.”

And then she tells him everything. He can only stare at her silently afterwards, his mouth working as if he’s lost the ability to speak.

“Read me, Castiel. You can see if I’m telling the truth. Hell, go deeper and see what I’m telling you. Please, it won’t hurt anything if I’m lying, and if I’m telling the truth, you and I can save them. Please, please, I’m literally begging you. Just look.”

Castiel gingerly slides his fingers into her hair until the heels of his hands are resting on her cheekbones and his thumbs rest on her temples. His eyes slide shut, his face going just a little slack, and then he’s there with her in the memories, memories that faded with the sunrise but seared themselves permanently on her brain the second she saw the three of them again. She knows the moment he sees his own death because his body convulses ever so slightly, but he holds on until the scene plays out and she takes her last breath in the dream.

His eyes snap open and unerringly find hers.

“How is this possible? Who are you?”

If she didn’t have those weeks of memories, she might be afraid of him right now.

“Cas, you know who I am. You saw me. I have no more idea why this is all happening than you, but we’ve got this second chance, and we have to take it.”

He eyes her cautiously, but his mistrust is beginning to fade. “I’ve been fooled before. You could be hiding something, I suppose, but...I don’t think you are.”

Relief floods over her, though a bitter tinge underlies the sweetness.

“You believe me?”

He nods reluctantly, his dry lips thinning unhappily. “I saw your plan. Are you certain this is what you want to do? Do you think it will work?”

“Well, Cas, you can see I don’t have the best track record with plans. Can you think of anything better that leaves the world intact and you, Sam, and Dean all standing?”

Even though she knows what his answer will be, her stomach still drops a little when he shakes his head.

“Yeah, me neither. It was worth a shot.”

He searches her face without suspicion this time, only a deep, genuine sorrow. “I wish I could have had those weeks with you, Andrea. In the vision, you were a good person to spend time with.”

“Call me Andy, Cas. I swear, I never could get you to call me Andy.”

“But your name tag-”

She cuts him off with a kiss to the cheek. She holds back everything else she wants to say to her friend-that-never-was. It wouldn’t make any sense to him now, on this side of their non-existent time together, and it wouldn't make either of them feel any better. She hands him a piece of torn paper from her order pad, this one larger than the one she gave Dean.

“Check the memories you read off me to be sure, but I remember the ritual starts at midnight tomorrow night. They took me from the Brass Monkey not long before then. You can investigate if you need to, but I would bet that they’ll be at the first address I gave you a few hours before then, say eight or nine o’clock, getting everything set up before they come to snatch me. You know what you and the guys will need to take them out; without my blood and the ritual, they’re still dangerous, but they’re only human. Tell Sam and Dean whatever you need to get them there, but...I don’t think you should tell them what you saw. I think everything would get too muddled, and we’d end up right back at the same crossroads with Crowley.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to still meet up with Dean tonight? What if-”

“Everything has happened the same way so far, Cas, down to Sam nagging Dean about vegetables. And I’ve got to give myself something,” she says, her laugh a little more desperate and hysterical than she intended. “I can’t just...Look, just give me this one night, okay? I think I deserve that. I think Dean deserves that.”

He glances from her to the scrap of paper in his hand. She notices that his lips move a little when he’s reading, and she thinks that little quirk suits him just fine.

“Why is there a second address?”

Thanking whatever higher power gave her this second chance and the ability to keep the fallen angel out of even a few of her thoughts, she turns away from Castiel, moving towards the sink to start on some dishes that someone has let pile up. She’s under enough strain right now that she can’t disguise her expression anymore, and she honestly doesn’t think she can handle the sadness in his eyes for one more second.

“I’m going to keep myself out of the way this time; I have no intention of starting another apocalypse. I’ll stay in tomorrow night and triple lock every entrance to my apartment until you tell Dean to call me and give me the all clear. That’s where you’ll find me when the job’s done. And, Cas?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at her with a tortured expression she never sees.

“Remember, we can’t leave any loose ends this time. That’s how you get more apocalypses.” ...

She’s ready and waiting for Dean when he walks in the bar. She can tell he’s taken a little effort with his appearance: his hair is freshly styled, he’s wearing a button-up that isn’t a flannel, and - wonder of wonders- he actually shaved. Having spent an extra minute or thirty on her own primping, she is pleased when his eyes go a little wide as they rake over her seated form.

“I already know I look good, but damned if you didn’t just make me feel edible,” she quips.

She is rewarded with the warmth of his smile as he takes the stool next to her. She’s pleased (but not surprised) when he brushes a kiss on her cheek in greeting. She sips her drink as he orders one of his own, and then they turn on their stools to survey the crowd. He leans a little closer to say something, and she hears him inhale when he gets near.

“You smell amazing. What is that?”

She grins behind her glass. Dean Winchester is not one to comment on a woman’s scent, at least, not in such an innocent, non-sexual way. And yet, both times around, he does just that.

“Lavender and clover blossoms from some boxes on my balcony. I clip some fresh bits sometimes and rub them on instead of perfume. Smells cleaner, less suffocating.”

“I like it.”

They talk about little nothings and nonsense for the next few minutes, favorite bands and movies and foods and anything she can think of just to listen to him talk, to experience him a little more. She doesn’t remember being able to make him laugh this much before, and she thinks maybe she’s doing just a little better time around.

“So, what’re you gonna wow me with?” he asks, gesturing towards the stage with his half-full glass.

“I was thinking ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All,’ but you could probably talk me into ‘Lonely Is the Night’ or even ‘All out of Love’ if you get me tipsy enough.”

He laughs, a bright, weightless sound that cracks her heart in half. She can’t help leaning in and kissing him then, and he leans right back, blissfully unaware of the burden she’s struggling more and more to hide. She pulls away, and he opens his mouth to say something, but she pecks him on the lips again just long enough to stop him speaking.

“You don’t. But you could.”

There’s that smile.

They sit in companionable silence for several songs, sipping their drinks and listening to the other singers. She’s just about to go put her first song request in when he looks over at her, freezing her utterly with one side-long glance.

“How long?”

She can’t have heard him right.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

“How long have we got? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, or can I keep you out later?”

Oh. Oh, God, Dean, why?

“You know what? I think I might actually go for some Bob Seger. Come help me pick one out.” ...

Chapter 7 (end)

[myheroacademiashorts]

i think i’m in love w his blog 🥺💞 (1) how about a scenario during UA where bakugou ends up coincidentally wearing a coat that looks almost identical to that of his fem!crush. she’s more nonchalant about it and like “hey! we’re matching!” with this adorable little grin on her face that makes him blush almost imperceptibly, which his friends tease him for mercilessly—

(2) sometimes they end up accidentally swapping coats and although he’d never admit it, seeing her in his slightly larger coat with a sheepish smile on her face is completely worth the embarrassment of his friends. he’d take this to the grave, but he may or may not leave his coat around on purpose from that point on just to see her in his clothes and pretend they were together. and tho she might not admit it, she likes the sweet smell that lingers bcuz she has a not-so-little crush on him too?

Hiya! Thanks for the request... Soooo I sorta needed to split it up. I have ideas for this fic. ;) ... And I also kind strayed from the original request. I’m sorry! /)-(\ Here is part one!

Title: One Size Too Big (Part 1)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Rating: Fluff, sorta angst?

Words: 3,456

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You had never been a fan of the cold, and this was further proven as you were forced to trudge from class to the dorms. You groaned to yourself, shivering despite the jacket and other layers you had on as a particularly strong gust of wind swept by. “Wow, it’s pretty chilly!” Uraraka sounded happy, and you shot her a glare as she stared up at the gloomy sky with a smile, mittened hands cupped together. “I know, and I hate it.” You grumbled, only earning another bell-like laugh from your bubbly friend.

“Oh, it’s not that bad!”

“I can barely feel my fingertips.”

She rolled her eyes at you, tugging one of your cold hands from the pocket of your coat and enveloping it in her own. Somehow, she was warm, and before you could ask her what her secret was, she was dragging you across the frost-covered school grounds, her giggling rising up with every complaint that escaped from your lips. “If we run, we’ll get back faster!” She said, and you weren’t able to argue back due to the heavy chattering of your teeth.

However, she had been right, and a minute later you were standing in front of your dorm building. Uraraka looked unfazed, her smile still glued to her face, while you looked like you had gone through hell; your hair was a mess of tangles, cheeks red from the cold and running, and a slight shiver clinging to your body as you forced your way inside. “Ta-da! That wasn’t so bad, right?” You settled with a playful glare in your friend’s direction, deciding to stay silent.

Uraraka had wanted to study in the library after class, and like the good friend you were, you followed. You hadn’t expected the weather to become worse, and didn’t realize it had done so until the two of you had stepped outside after hours of studying. The rest of your classmates were already inside, most of them in the living room and kitchen where the heater worked the strongest. Even stepping inside you could feel the difference in temperature from outside, and quickly stripped of your jacket before becoming too warm. You let your eyes stray to them, from the few goofing off in the kitchen while making hot chocolate to the group planted in the other room, a video game screaming at them from the television screen. Bakugou was on the couch, arms stretched over the top cushions and a bored expression on his handsome face as he stared at his friends blankly. It was then that you noticed a familiar article of clothing on the blonde boy.

“Hey, we match!”

At the sound of your voice, Bakugou’s attention was immediately on you, not understanding who you were speaking to at first. Then, his eyes drifted from your bright (E/C) gaze and goofy grin down to your extended arms, where an eerily familiar jacket hung from your frame. His brows furrowed for a moment, before letting his eyes dart from his own body back to yours, mouth agape in surprise. “We’re like twins! Or couple-matching!” You continued, laughing slightly at the comparison between you and the hotheaded boy as two identical sweatshirts were on both of you; sliced right down the center, the left black and the right bright orange with an x-eyed happy face decorating the back of it. You even turned around to show it off further, and Bakugou nearly choked on his own air as the realization sat in. Holy crap, they were the same. Yours, of course, was just a bit tighter since your frame was smaller than his own, but that didn’t stop Bakugou from continuously letting his eyes rake over you.

Your other classmates swarmed you before you could add on any further, pulling you towards the kitchen as they begged you to make them your infamous hot cocoa, and with a short laugh you let them drag you. You stripped yourself of the sweatshirt first, setting it aside on a lone chair before getting to work. Bakugou’s attention on you, however, stayed steady even without you noticing, eyes wide and mouth still hanging open slightly. Your teasing replied in his mind, and finally he forced his jaw shut, teeth clenched as he fought the blush rising up his cheeks to no avail. His right-hand man noticed his expression, toothy grin already placed before he could speak. “What’s got you frazzled, bro?” Kiri asked, and Bakugou immediately controlled himself, instead shooting a glare towards his friend. “Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair. I’m not frazzled.” He muttered, and he let his eyes stray back to the kitchen when your familiar laugh rose up. Kiri caught the look.

“Oooh, is Bakugou frazzled?” Mina’s voice floated in as she plopped into the empty space on the other side of Bakugou, a knowing grin on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows. At this point, all of Bakugou’s friends had their attention on him, and he felt his face redden. Not entirely from embarrassment, although part of it was, but also from frustration. “I’M NOT ‘FRAZZLED’, ASSHOLES!” As if to prove his point, he sat upright to yank the cursed sweatshirt up and off of his body, cheeks bright as he avoided their gazes.

A few beats of silence passed, his friends trying to smother their teasing giggles to not anger him further. Instead, Bakugou abruptly stood up, fists clenched as he stared down at his giggling friends coldly. “I’m going to bed.” He muttered, and none of his friends mentioned that it was only 6 o’clock in the evening as he stalked off upstairs. You popped your head from the kitchen, eyes finding the troublesome group in the living room with an innocent smile. “Everything okay?” You asked in a soft voice, missing the mischievous looks that Kaminari and Sero exchanged to one another.

Oh, they were going to have fun with this.

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The next day, you were found scurrying through the kitchen by none other than Kirishima himself.

He heard the clatter of pans first, then your frantic footsteps soon after. He peeked his head out from the bottom of the stairs, looking past the wall to see you scrambling for… well, something. He wasn’t quite sure what. “Hey, you alright?”

You jumped at the unexpected bright voice, but quickly relaxed after spotting the redhead as he emerged closed to you. “Kiri! Jeez, you almost scared the quirk out of me.” You pressed a hand to your heart as you laughed, an easy smile flitting to your lips. “I’m fine, but I forgot my sweater down here and can’t find it. Do you remember if you’ve seen it recently?”

Kiri’s brows rose, a strangely secretive smile on his lips as he recollected the actions of the night before. His friends had filled him in on their plans to shove you and Bakugou together, and he was more than happy to help. It was better than hearing Bakugou pretending to complain about you. “Actually, yeah!” He practically bounced to the couch, where Bakugou’s familiar sweatshirt still sat from the night before, long forgotten by the fiery blonde. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the faint scent of cologne and caramel lingering on the piece of clothing.

“Someone probably moved it, but here you go!” He thrusted it into your hands, and you sighed in relief as you grasped the sweatshirt. It was a bit cool from sitting out, but you didn’t pay attention to it as you instead shuffled it on, wiggling your arms into the sweater with a satisfied noise. The plush inside immediately calmed you, but there was something different about it… Were the sleeves always this long? And the hem? Maybe someone had accidentally stretched it out? And when did it start smelling like caramel?

You turned to grin at Kiri in thanks, picking up your backpack and swinging it over your shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, Kiri. I was worried I’d have to freeze out there.”

“No problem! Want to head to class together?”

You and Kiri had always gotten along, both of your personalities being particularly bubbly and bright as you chatted during the short walk to class. However, he had broken off as soon as you found yourself standing in front of the 1-A door, mumbling something about an errand to run before turning and high-tailing it down the hallway.

You shoved the door open, grunting slightly at its heavy weight as you slid inside of the familiar classroom. The chatter continued as you sneaked in, Uraraka brightening when she noticed you. “Y/N!” Her melodic voice rang out, beckoning you forward as she stayed perched on top of her desk. “I still can’t forget about that hot chocolate from last night. It was so good!” Uraraka looked as if she were about to drool over the mere imagination of the rich beverage, moving her gaze to instead stare off at the wall mindlessly. You dropped your backpack onto the empty desk beside hers as she continued. “Man, if I could make hot chocolate like you, I’d make it all the time. I’d drink it every day! All year long!”

You laughed at her small obsession, and she seemed to want to continue monologuing before being cut off by the door slamming open. It banged against the wall, and in trudged the little gremlin everyone had become so accustomed to during their time at U.A. He kept his glare on the ground as he entered, muttering some curses under his breath for an unknown reason, before finally lifting his gaze upwards. “What the hell are you looking at-?”

And then Bakugou Katsuki’s eyes landed on you, and he froze.

Almost on instinct, you mimicked his action, eyes wide as you waited for his next move. In the short years you have attended the school with the blonde, he had never just… Stopped. And why was he staring at you so blankly?

Bakugou, however, had way too many things flitting through his mind to even think about doing anything else than just freezing mid-sentence. Holy fuck, is that my sweatshirt? I was wondering where the damned thing went. Why is she wearing it? God, it looks fucking hot on her. The last thought had a faint redness rising to his cheeks, more prominent on his ears as he tried to cover his expression with one hand and biting down on his lip to keep his jaw from dropping. Fuck. FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK. The words were a mantra in his head, constantly repeating until he felt a soft hand wrap around the wrist hiding his embarrassed expression.

“Bakugou? Are you okay?” For a moment, he hated how soft and sweet your voice was. It just wanted to make the hard-headed boy melt to the floor. You were close enough that he could smell you; old and new books, perfume, even the faint scent of your shampoo. And you weren’t loosening your grip on him. Instead, you were tightening it, and tugging at his arm in a weak attempt for him to drop it from his flustered face. Meanwhile, the rest of the class was quiet, shocked at what they were seeing from the infamous, easily-riled pomeranian in front of them. You didn’t even seem to notice, instead leaving his arm to instead press your palm on the exposed skin of his forehead. He couldn’t see your expression, but based on how much he watched you without your knowledge, he could guess that you were frowning.

You were, by the way.

“Your face feels hot! Let’s go to Recovery Girl, maybe you have a fever?” Your voice held a slight edge of panic, not noticeable to most but making Uraraka quirk her brow in curiosity. Of course, she also knew about your not-so-little crush on the guy.

She waved her hand, breaking the awaiting tension that filled the air. “Go ahead and take him, Y/N! I’ll let Aizawa know what happened!” You didn’t look at your friend as you nodded and, grabbing Bakugou’s free arm - he was still covering his face with the other - you dutifully yanked him down the hallway and towards the healing Pro-Hero.

It wasn’t until the two of you had successfully left the immediate area that Aizawa, who had been secretly napping underneath his desk, finally crawled out of his sleeping back with a grumpy expression. He didn’t say anything -  just scanned the classroom knowingly - before huffing slightly and returning to the floor, waiting for the final bell to ring before beginning class. Luckily, he still had a handful of minutes left.

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

“You can drop your arm now, you know.” You grumbled, after walking in complete silence for a few steps too many. All you could think about was how he was acting like a girl from a damned shojo manga. He stayed quiet, keeping his large palm over his face dutifully, and you reached up to tug at the offending wrist until finally his hand landed at his side.

Then, you stared.

If you thought a quiet Bakugou was rare, nothing could prepare you for a blushing one; flawless skin erupting with a dark blush, ruby eyes lowered, and - was he biting his lip? Even his ears were scarlet. You stuttered for a moment, mind blanking on what you had been prepared to say, and instead stood there gaping like a fish out of water. His gaze shifted towards you, and your heart nearly stopped.

“What are you looking at? Dumbass…” Despite his harsh words, his tone was full of embarrassment, and he quickly shifted his attention elsewhere. You were still clutching to his arm and, as if it had become scalding hot, you dropped it. However, you didn’t move away. Instead, you chose to stand a little closer than you usually would to the hotheaded boy, peering up at him as if he were a quizzical math problem. It seemed to only redden his face more, if that were possible. “H-Hey, cut it out, weirdo!”

He reached an arm up to try pushing you back a few steps, but this only resulted in you stumbling further than anticipated. You could feel yourself lose your footing, and just as a gasp escaped your lips as you tensed your body to meet the hard linoleum floor, the same arm wrapped around your waist and hoisted you upright. The arm was warm, and the pads of his fingers had accidentally found their way to the bare skin peeking at your waist. The scent of caramel became stronger, overpowering all of your senses as you stared up at Bakugou with wide eyes and lips open, a flush rising to your cheeks. Your breathing was a bit labored, gaze searching the red, blank expression presented to you. “Mine.”

You blinked up at him. The hold he had on you tightened, and you felt your mouth go a bit dry. “H-huh?”

“That sweatshirt. It’s mine.”

Oh, the sweatshirt. For a moment there, you had thought… You gulped, pushing your thoughts to the farthest corner in your mind as the blonde released you from his grip. However, you could still feel the imprint of his warmth on your body, as if it had been tattooed onto your skin. Luckily you were able to stand up straight with your face stoic, although the bright red on your cheeks showed your true emotions all too clearly. It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed, either, as Bakugou raised one brow upwards. Then smirked.

“What’re you getting so red for, huh?” He leaned in a bit closer than you would’ve thought he would, vermillion eyes blown wide and glinting mischievously at you. It was a bit cute to see him so cocky yet embarrassed, the blush just as prominent as before. “Got a fever or something?” As if to push it further, he placed his palm on your forehead. At that, you squeaked, causing that damn smirk to only widen further.

With every step he took forward, you took one back… Up until you were pressed against the wall, his hand still attached to your forehead as your cheeks darkened further. His free arm found its way next to you, palm flattened right beside your head, and the other soon followed until you were stuck in a kabedon position. And despite having no where else to go, he only seemed to inch closer.

His lips were hovering mere centimeters away from your own, ruby eyes staring into your own as you waited with bated breath on what was to happen next. There was a surge in the air, as if the two of you had just been zapped by Kaminari, but more tense. There wasn’t really a way to explain it. Was he playing with you? Was this just a joke? Was he going to kiss you like you thought? Like you hoped? The last thought made you suddenly suck in a deep breath as you squeezed your eyes shut.

And then the bell rang.

You nearly groaned at the sound, and opened your bright gaze just in time to see Bakugou move a step away from you; still close, but not as much as before. You stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something, anything. He wouldn’t just act like nothing happened… Right? Because something had happened, right?

Instead, he raked one hand through his spiked hair, the other burying itself in his pocket as he glanced away from you and back down the hallway, where the classroom was. The one you two had escaped from only a few minutes ago, although it felt like much longer. “We should get to class.” His rough voice came out more like a cough, and his eyes stayed away from you as he waited. You pursed your lips. So it looked like he was going to pretend nothing had happened. That just made your blood boil, and you didn’t even remember the reason as to why the two of you were out in the hallway to begin with as you shoved past him and made your way back to class. You didn’t get far, however, before stopping and twisting around, yanking the sweatshirt over your head roughly and throwing it in his direction. Then, you were back to storming down the hallway, hands balled into fists and frustration written all over your face.

Meanwhile, Bakugou stared at your retreating figure, eyes comically wide and a mixture of confusion and regular Bakugou-level anger on his features. “What the fuck was that about?” He mumbled to himself, the sweatshirt gripped in his hands as he frowned. He was just about to ask you on a date right after; not a date-date, of course, but out to that ramen place you wouldn’t stop yapping about with Round Face and Frog Girl. Did he do something wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t have shoved you against the wall so roughly… He saw it in an anime once, and the girl seemed to like it. Maybe he did it wrong? He hummed to himself, brows furrowing. He was a tad bit angry, but he was always angry, to some extent.

When he got back to the classroom, Aizawa had already passed out some worksheets and was dead asleep on the floor, per usual. Bakugou’s gaze first moved to you, and he was able to catch your gaze for only a second before you swiveled your attention elsewhere, your lips pressed into a firm, harsh line as you kept your face blank. From the corner of his eye, he could see Round Face glance at him in confusion. Yeah, me too!, he wanted to yell out, but was smart enough to grit his teeth and plop down in his chair. If he needed to, he’d find your friends later and ask them what the fuck was going on. You didn’t look like you’d be in the mood to talk to him for a while.

“Yo, Bakubro! What’s up with you?” Kirishima had an impish smile, but Bakugou didn’t question it. Instead, he shot his friend a harsh glare, cold enough to make even the bubbly redhead shrink back a bit, grin dropping down a level of its brightness.

“Nothing, Shitty Hair. I’m fucking fantastic.” Bakugou’s voice wasn’t its usual boom, instead barely a murmur, and Kiri almost strained to hear him. Well, that was an unexpected reaction. He glanced at Mina and the rest of the Bakubro group, who all met his gaze almost instantly. They all had a look of worry on their faces as they glanced at their mutual, usually hotheaded friend simultaneously, then towards your stiff figure. Something had definitely gone wrong in the last few minutes.

Crap. They needed to fix this, and fast.

... Is it that obvious that I read shoujo manga? And do i think Bakugou would read it and watch it too for romance advice? Fuck yes.

[tigerseye46]

I don't know if you're still taking prompts, but is you are how about #6 with Freenoodles?

Prompt List

Yep! I’m still taking prompts. Sorry to everyone who had to wait for me to complete their prompts. I lost my motivation for a bit but it’s back now!

6. “That… That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

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

 Tang burst into tears at Pigsy’s statement. His hands trying desperately to wipe the tears away. Pigsy patted his back awkwardly, trying to ignore the stares of customers in the shop. “That… That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me,” he sobbed.

 “Tang, babe, calm down.”

 “Oh Pigsy, I love you too.” He placed his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, the pig felt tears roll down his boyfriend’s neck.

 “Uhhhh, I love ya? Tang, people are starin’.” Pigsy didn’t get what the big deal was. It wasn’t like what Pigsy said was a big deal. He was just showing Tang some affection, it was rare for him to do what he did but it wasn’t that far fetched. What had Pigsy even done to make Tang cry like that? It wasn’t like he had said “I love you” for the first time, they said that all the time to each other. So what had he done? The pig stared Sandy for answers, his eyebrow raised, Sandy simply shrugged and went back to what he was doing. The pig’s mind flashed back to the past hour.

 An hour ago

 Tang grabbed Pigsy’s arm, pulling him out of the way of some wreckage thrown their way. They were fighting the DBK family again. MK and Mei were confronting the three. MK pointing his staff at them while Xiajiao was on her motorcycle, her green dragon aura surrounding her. The pig turned to his boyfriend. “Thanks, Tang.” Tang nodded with a smile.

 “Too bad Sandy isn’t here. We could use some help.”

 “We’ll be fine. I needed someone to watch my shop.” Unfortunately, the family had attacked when rush hour was starting, Pigsy wanted to help his kids but he couldn’t leave the place unattended so he had Sandy do it. Sandy wasn’t a perfect cook but Pigsy had taught him enough in the past that he could make decent noodles.

 “Yes, that is totally important when it comes to the end of the world.”

 “Hey! I’m the only one payin’ the bills!”

 “I help!” Pigsy shot him a glare. “Sometimes…”

“Yea, sometimes.” They were cut off from their conversation when they heard a hiss come from Xiaotian. “KID!” Pigsy and Tang rushed over to him. MK rubbed the side of his head. “Are ya okay?”

 “I’m fine, Pigsy.” MK instantly got up and continued fighting.

 “We need to help the kids,” the pig stated and began bashing his way through the minions with his rake, Tang trying to help him. Tang wasn’t a fighter but he still wanted to help his family the best way he could. He was getting a little banged up through the entire thing. At the gasp of pain, Pigsy turned to his boyfriend. “TANG!” He hit the minion hurting Tang with such powerful force. He ran over to Tang. “Are ya okay?”

 The scholar held his arm. “Yea, just a little hurt.” Pigsy’s heart broke at the sight of seeing Tang with such injuries.

 The pig stepped in front of him. “I’ll finish this. Stay behind me.” Tang nodded. Pigsy fought the robots with burning anger, taking down the last of them while their kids had finally driven the demons off. His kids came up to them, small injuries on their body, aside from the tiredness visible in their eyes, they were grinning. “Good job, kids,” he congratulated.

 “Thanks, papa!” Xiaotian shrunk the staff and placed in his ear.

 “We did amazing!” Xiajiao exclaimed, wrapping an arm around MK’s neck, her fist pointed towards the sky.

 “You most certainly did.” Tang adjusted his glasses and rubbed his arm.

 Pigsy kissed his cheek. “Come on, kids. Let’s go.” He gestured for them to follow him into the shop, they complied.

 They all went into the back while they passed Sandy who was stirring the pot. Pigsy got out a first aid kit and began bandaging their wounds. “Ya all okay?” Pigsy asked, wrapping some gauze around Xiajiao’s wrist.

 MK said, “I’m okay!”

 Xiajiao agreed with “I’m okay too!”

 Pigsy stroked his boyfriend’s cheek. “Tang, ya okay?”

 Tang placed a hand over Pigsy’s. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

 “Okay…” He looked back at his kids. “Xiaotian, ya can have some time off.”

 “You sure, Pigsy?”

 The pig smiled at him. “Don’t make me change my mind, kid. I can run things without ya for a bit.”

 “Okay, papa! Let’s go Xiajiao!” He exclaimed then ran out of the store with the dragon girl.

 Pigsy shook his head and pulled Tang up from the box he was sitting on. He placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Come on, my little freeloader.” Tang rolled his eyes and let Pigsy pull him out of the back room into the main part of the shop. He kissed his forehead. “Sit down, alright?”

 “Yes, Pigsy,” he replied and sat on the stool. Pigsy went behind the counter, nudging Sandy to move a bit. He grabbed a bowl and scooped a soup and noodles into it. He made his way to his boyfriend, placing thee bowl in front of him. Tang glanced at the bowl with a raised eyebrow. “Just like that? Are you actually giving me a free bowl?”

 “Yea, Tang, it’s a free one. Enjoy.” He kissed the side of his head and gestured for him to eat. Tears welled up in the scholar’s eyes then he burst into tears.

 Pigsy blinked at the realization. “Wait… why did me given ya a free bowl of noodles make ya start cryin’?”

 “Because it’s the first time you’ve ever done that. Oh, Piggy, you’re just a big, old softie.” He finally wiped his tears. “I love you.”

 “Tang, you’re a dork. I love you too.” Tang bent down and pressed a kiss against his boyfriend’s lips with some customers, including Sandy, cooing at the cute couple.

[dalgikiss]

Lonely Hearts Club // k. bakugou

index

part 6

a/n: in response to this ‘dynamite’ whatever name he got going on, i have finished writing this chapter but let’s be honest w/ ourselves, we do not know a ‘dynamite’ we know ‘ground zero’ only 

Your Saturdays no longer consist of waking up in the late hours of the day and spending more time on the floor of your bedroom watching various netflix shows until Midoriya reminded you to eat. 

Your Saturdays were now made up of Bakugou barging into your room at 9am (10am if you were lucky) and forcing you awake. You have long forgone locking your doors on Friday nights simply because it was easier for Bakugou to come inside without waking up the rest of the hall with his explosive knocking. 

“Yo, get the fuck up”

You curl into a ball when he jerks the covers off of you, whining at the harsh awakening. You throw your hand over your eyes when he pulls open the blinds and harsh sunlight suddenly floods your room. 

“No,” You pout stubbornly, covering your eyes with one hand, “Leave me alone, it’s saturday” You punctuate your sentence with a loud groan that transitions into a yelp when he grabs you by the ankle and yanks you half off the bed. 

“Don’t fucking make me repeat myself,” He practically barks at you and you wriggle in his grip, kicking at him. 

You finally pull away from him with a hard tug, panting from the effort while he stares at you completely composed. You flop back onto the bed, closing your eyes and fumbling for your blanket. Before Bakugou can reprimand you again, you sit up abruptly and grab his wrist, fingers barely able to curl around his arm completely, and tug him onto the bed with you before he can register what was happening. 

He falls onto your bed, a tangle of limbs as you’re barely able to roll away from him collapsing on top of you in time. He stares at you, wide-eyed and breath quickening. You shift to give him more space, pressing yourself against the wall so he has more room and he waits for you to say something, anything at all. 

You roll over onto your back so you can face your ceiling, green and pink stars greeting you. “Look,” You say softly, letting your hands fall to the side, “You have your room and I have mine. I won’t touch you so just…” You turn your head a little bit to face him so he no longer can see the way the sunlight falls onto you and turns your eyes a softer shade, the way your skin practically glows under the light like you were supposed to be under the sun forever. You rake your eyes over the marred lines of exhaustion that have settled into the corners of his eyes, the eyebags that are ever-present on his face despite him sleeping earlier than your own grandfather and gently reach out to stroke his cheek but you let your hand fall before it reaches him. 

“Just rest for a bit,” You swallow your heart that had found a new home in your throat, “You don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time and pretend like you’re fine” 

You return your attention back to the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut. The room is filled with your soft breathing and Bakugou soon realizes you have fallen asleep despite his efforts to wake you up. The electronic clock on your bedside changes numbers as the minutes pass by. True to your word, even unconsciously, you stay on your side of the bed, pressed so far against the wall Bakugou can see your cheek smushed against it. 

He laughs, soft under his breath to make sure you stay asleep before grabbing your wrist. You wrinkle your nose at the sensation before relaxing and he takes the opportunity to gently turn you around so you are both face to face. 

Bakugou watches your eyelashes flutter in your sleep, the soft curve of your lips as you breathe softly before shaking his head as best as he can without disturbing you. You shift in your sleep, moving closer towards him, looking for the source of warmth and he lets you with an arm draped over your shoulders. 

He pulls you in closer, eyes drifting shut as you tuck yourself under his chin. “You really are such a strange girl,” He whispers to no one, “For a girl nicknamed ‘Sunshine’, you really don’t act like it sometimes”

For the first time since Bakugou has made his presence known on Saturdays, you are able to sleep to your heart’s content. 

x.

You wake up sweating. You swore you turned your fan on before you fell asleep last night, so why was it so hot? You kicked the blankets off, struggling to turn around in order to get away from the heat but your foot connects with something hard and then you hear

“What the fuck” 

Bakugou cracks his eyes open slightly and you stare back at him, dumbfounded. He presses himself closer to you, rolling the both of you closer to the wall until you are pressed against it with nowhere else to go, arms wrapped loose around your shoulders.

“Go back to sleep,” His voice is rough in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “Don’t wake me up again”

You open your mouth to protest, put a little more space in between the two of you because your heart should not be racing this quickly, your cheeks are red and your skin is tingling under your clothes from where his hand is resting. 

You raise your hands to push him away from you but you hover, unable to wake him up- not when you see how relaxed he is. 

You let your hand gently trace over the curve of his cheekbone, fingertips gently brushing against his eyelids. He twitches in his sleep, moving closer to press you tighter against him. Bakugou was really pretty when he didn’t have his signature glare on, the marred lines on his face relaxing into something a little smoother. 

He smells like citrus, you realize when he somehow rolls on top of you, citrus and a little bit of…. Is that caramel? You can’t help but find the irony in the sweet smell he holds, a large contrast from his sour (is that the right word to describe him? You’re not quite sure) personality. 

He somehow presses himself closer to you, breath warm against your neck and you can’t help but squirm when it tickles you. Bakugou grunts, pressing his head closer towards you. 

“I said not to wake me up again. Go the fuck back to sleep”

You let out another soft burst of laughter when he speaks, warm air tickling the side of your neck. “I can’t help it!” You cry out, laughing a little harder when Bakugou skims his fingers down your ribs to poke into your sides, “I’m ticklish!”

He’s saying something you can’t quite hear over the giggles he pulls out of you, writing against the sheets as he shoves his fingers in your side. Bakugou barely gives you a chance to breathe, pressing your shoulders into the mattress as he hovers over you.

You can’t find it in yourself to turn away when he lowers himself closer towards you, noses brushing. “Are we about to-” You swallow the dryness in your throat, “Do you want to-”

The corners of his lips turn upwards as though he’s amused by your nervousness.

Are we going to kiss?

The smell of citrus fruits and caramel flood your senses, unable to tear yourself away. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to” Bakugou interrupts your train of thought, close, close, close to your lips, “I won’t ever make you do anything you don’t want to” 

He stares straight into your eyes and you can make out your reflection “Do you want to?” 

“I uh-” You can feel his warm breath spread across your lips, “I think I-”

“Sunshine!” The door slams open and Bakugou immediately drops himself onto you, knocking your forehead in the process when Midoriya opens the door to your room, “Did you forget to eat agai- Bakugou?”

“Ow!”

“Holy shit, Kacchan I didn’t know you were in here”

“Why the FUCK are you walking into her room?”

You whine underneath Bakugou, forehead throbbing as Midoriya sputters out some kind of excuse, freckled cheeks turning a flaming red under the malicious gaze Bakugou was throwing his way. Bakugou rolls off of you, slamming your door shut and forcing Midoriya out of the room as you try to still your thundering heart. 

You press your hands onto your cheeks, feeling the heated skin underneath your palms as you try to process the events that happened. 

Did I… Did I want to kiss him?

[poppykru]

This is a collection of my favourite canonverse fanfiction. I actually started reading bellarke fanfiction last year when season 6 premiered so a lot of the fanfics you see are old and popular within fandom. Nevertheless, I love them and they deserve the recognition for how awesome they are. 😊 I went through my bookmarks twice and I am sure I still missed some, but this is getting really big and has now taken me so long to compile so this is the list. I’ll update it once the show is over. For now though, enjoy! 

To all the writers, thank you for your beautiful works! I appreciate you so much! 💖

Most are one shots because that is just my preference for format. Some fanfics are within the universe, but not part of canon (e.g. Ark AUs) so I have put at at the bottom under Canonverse AUs. I tried to list them in order of time in canon but some were difficult to classify. 

One more thing, this is a Bellarke fic rec. If it was a general the 100 fic rec, this would include some great non-ship fics I’ve read or other ships. I might do a mini fic rec with those. (Also, I’ll probably post a big AUs fic rec, because my true love is AUs and i have read some masterpieces everyone needs to read!)

With that I am done. I hope you enjoy my collection and please don’t forget to show all these amazing fanfic writers some love - give kudos, bookmark, comment! Let’s support our content creators! 💖

Single Chapter

Inconceivable by @johnnyjaqobis​

Explicit | 8,798 words

Bellamy and Clarke have to perform a ritual to seal a grounder aliance. It’s unconventional.

Just the Beating of Our Hearts by @hiddenpolkadots​

General Audiences | Fluff | 4,683 words

He leans into it, tilting his body towards her where she still stands between his legs, and they’re so, so close, breathing in each other’s air before his eyes flick up to meet her gaze and then— Abby opens the door and steps out of the supply closet. “Clarke.”

or, 3 times Bellamy gets hurt and one time he isn’t.

Strong as an ox by @wellsjahasghost​

Season 1 | Teen and Up | 5,399 words

Clarke tries to rescue Bellamy from some Grounders holding him captive, but things don’t go quite as planned

Here we go Season 1 The line between love and lust does not exist.

Meet me in the Morning by @argyledpenguin​

1x03 | Explicit |Time Loop AU | 25,375 words

“I guess one of us is messed up,” he said, “and it’s part of our hallucination that the other is, too.” He paused. “Seems appropriately hellish that my mind sticks me with you.” She pursed her lips. “Likewise.” Clarke is trapped in a stupid time loop, and guess who’s trapped with her?

Sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles by @viansian​

Season 1 | Mature | Angst | 10,858 words

“I have spent my entire life afraid of men thought to be gods,” he finally says. “I’ll tell you a secret, princess: these men? The ones who claim to be deities? Their blood isn’t ichor. They bleed red like the rest of us, and sometimes they need to be reminded of that.” or Clarke is abducted by the grounders. Bellamy freaks out.

and just as the sun chases after the moon (i will always chase after you) by @viansian​

Post season 1 | Teen and Up | 12,013 words

He had once gone into hell for Octavia. He wonders at what point he had begun to love Clarke as much as his sister.

In the Silence Between Worlds (that’s where I’ll find you) by @viansian​

Season 2 | General Audiences | Fluff | 12,647 words

It’s a goddamn tragedy that both of them could be so incredibly in love with each other and yet neither could notice it.

aka everyone knows Bellamy and Clarke are in love except for Bellamy and Clarke.

I loved him first by emmaofmisthaven

Season 2 | Teen and Up | Unrequited Love | 1,306 words

Clarke is missing and Bellamy is going after her. From Octavia’s POV.

Eight Minutes Against a Tree by @cupcakesandtv​

Season 2 | Explicit | 2,320 words

Clarke and Bellamy use each other to relieve tension.

The Mating Habits of the Earthbound Sky Person by @ponyregrets​ 

Season 2 | General Audiences | Fluff | 2,320 words 

Clarke and Bellamy don’t know how to relationship.

Here be Dragons by ms_scarlet

Post 2x08-2x09 | General Audiences | Hurt/Comfort | 1,121 words

“Well, here we are.” She gestures towards the space beyond the electrified wire in front of them. “We fell from space only to find a pit full of monsters except they didn’t warn us that we’d find them in ourselves.”

All You Have is Your Fire by @hawthornewhisperer​

Post 2x09 | Teen and Up | Angst | 2,402 words

Bellamy didn’t think he could survive Mount Weather. But he did, and somehow the aftermath is almost worse.

Do you look like me? Do you feel like me? by heroic

Post 2x16 | Teen and Up | 511 words

There are some selfish wants Clarke will not allow herself, even when everything is dirt with decomposing bodies.

Gifts by winterwaters

Post season 2 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 4,154 words

Bellarke are at a grounder festival. Clarke is pretty and Bellamy is flustered. Fluff.

What We Have to Do  by ms_scarlet

Post season 2 | Teen and Up | Hurt/Comfort | 4,910 words

As the air turned cooler, the forest burst into color and the leaves started to fall, and all Bellamy saw was death and decay. He realized that Clarke had been gone longer than he’d known her. He’d lived most of his life without knowing her, so it didn’t seem like it should be such a striking realization, but crashing to Earth was such a cataclysmic event, he realized he’d been thinking of it as a new life beginning and now she’d been out of it longer than she was there.

This One’s for the Faithless by @argyledpenguin​

Post season 2 | Explicit | Angst | 22,645 words

“He couldn’t worry about her, about how she’d fare, and whether she’d find her way home eventually, or make a home with strangers, learning to forget the friends she’d killed for. He needed to worry about those friends, to look after their people like she’d asked him to. “She doesn’t need us to go after her,” Raven said. “She knows how to survive.” They’d trust her to return when she was ready, and to look after herself in the meantime.”

who cares if we're trashed by @probably-voldemort​

Season 3 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 2,180 words

"Propose to Bellamy." Murphy said it like it was easy, like she wasn't drunk off her ass, like she wasn't hopelessly in love with him. "Unless you're chicken."

The End Where We Begin by katebishoop

Pre 3x06 | Teen and Up | Kid fic | 10,553

Clarke and Bellamy are tired of war and bloodshed. So they run.

Hungry Hearts by @insideimfeelinpurrdy​

Post 3x16 | Explicit | Hurt/Comfort | 5,663 words

We all swallow lies when our hearts are hungry.

Field Medicine by storyskein

Post season 3 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 3,558 words

Clarke decides that Bellamy needs to learn first-aid because his bandage wrapping technique is pitiful.

I’ve Got You Here by ms_scarlet

Post Season 3 | Explicit | Hurt/Comfort | 18,383 words

“Here.” He thrusts one of the cups at her and she sets the rake aside to accept it. “You owe me a drink.”

Five Years Later by storyskein

Post Season 3 | Explicit | Fluff | 6,845 words

Five years later, and everything is finally right

To the Order of Night by storyskein

Post season 3 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 2,620 words

Bellamy and Clarke hang out after a long day of preparing for Arkadia’s exodus. Drinking, poker, and cuddling ensue.

Soap by @verbam​

Post Season 3 | Teen and Up | 3,571 words

Perhaps because of the late hour, or the heat limiting most duties to half day shifts, the hammam is surprisingly empty when they reach it, their voices going hushed in the echoing room. Clarke realizes as she glances at Bellamy that they’ve never been entirely alone here together. They’ve rinsed off here together before, but that’s easier when they’re surrounded by their friends: Bellamy distracted by Brian snapping a towel at him and Jasper splashing everyone in cold water. Clarke tends to sit with Raven, stretching their legs out on the warmed metal after they’ve scrubbed down and enjoying the steam and hubbub of Arkadians around them.

Right Within Your Heart (This is How It Starts) by @prosciuttoe​

Post Season 3 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 6,270 words

Bellamy has never had a enjoyable Christmas. Clarke seeks to rectify that.

Cold Bones by @insideimfeelinpurrdy​

Season 4 | Explicit | Major Character Death | tw: depression | 4,152 words

The world dies screaming, protesting violently at every turn, fighting for survival. He dies silently, whispering reassurances into the radio, walking fast and with purpose but without hope. The apocalypse can’t be stopped, and there aren’t enough lifeboats. Bellamy decides to take himself out of the equation.

if it was safer underground, we wouldn’t be on a boat  by heroic

Season 4 | Teen and Up | 1,005 words

Did you feel it, too? Clarke wants to go back and ask, lean herself against the bark and look at Bellamy in the night. Do you miss this too, when everything hurt and we still thought we could be better than we are?

And If My Heart Should Stop by @octannibal-blake​

4x06 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 1,905 words

The one where bellamy decides it’s time to tell Clarke how he feels.

Whenever the End by @sometimesrosy​

4x11 | Mature | 2,173 words

It’s the night before the conclave and the end of the world is nigh. Clarke and Bellamy needs to sleep and Clarke convinces him to share her bed. But waking up in his arms crosses the distance they’ve kept between them.

How I learned to stop worrying and love the apocalypse by @kindclaws​

4x12-13 | Explicit | Time Loop AU, Exes to Lovers | 16,407 words

Bellamy and Clarke keep reliving the last few hours before Pramfaya.

Just enough, but not enough by @rycewritestrash​

Post Seaosn 4 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 1,173 words

They’re leaning against the rover, sharing an apple, back and forth, discussing their plans for the day when Bellamy says, “We should get married,” in the same tone he’d use if they were talking about what’s for dinner.

The Silence by @sometimesrosy​

Season 5 | Teen and Up | Reunion fic | 5,872 words

Clarke and Madi stumble upon spacekru, finally returned. Everyone greets her, except Bellamy.

Think of Me as Time of Day by @octannibal-blake​

Season 5 | Teen and Up | Reunion fic | 5,872 words

Three times Bellamy misses Clarke and one time he doesn’t have to.

You’re Just Another Recovering Heart by @prosciuttoe​

Season 5 | Mature | Pining | 10,814 words

Bellamy gets into the habit of writing letters to the girl he left behind in the six years they’re apart. But as it turns out, Clarke’s alive, and she’s read them. Or: the fallout of a love confession six years in the making.

Forty Yards by @the-most-beautiful-broom​

Season 5 | Teen and Up | Angst | 3,825 words

Bellamy and Clarke are caught in the crossfire of an Eligius/Wonkru battle, and in the fury of it all, Bellamy refuses to leave Clarke behind.

I’m so fucking happy you’re alive/swear to god I’m down if you’re down  by heroic  

5x13 | General Audiences | 679 words

He wants to go back there, to press his hands against the bare skin of her back, to breathe her in.

I Feel Like We're as Close as Strangers by @eyessharpweaponshot​

Season 5 | Explicit | Angst | 7,277 words

“This isn’t about Madi," Bellamy tells her, voice even and certain. "It isn’t about me leaving you on Earth." Clarke’s expression is steel but he can read the discomfort off her a mile away. She’s holding her arms too tightly, her teeth clenched like she’s said too much. "This is about Echo." Even though he knows it is, his heart is still belting in his chest while he waits for a response. The knowledge is overwhelming - because if this is about Echo, it means Clarke might…she might… "Why would this be about Echo?" Clarke says blankly, like she’s bored - like he’s way off the mark. He’s not. "You tell me."

Astra inclinant  by @hermesmultivitamins​

Post season 5 | Not Rater | Sharing A Bed | 1,814 words

The inevitability of Clarke and Bellamy is obvious to everyone except themselves. Or, the story of how it took 130 years and two planets for Clarke and Bellamy to realize what everyone else already knew.

Do You Feel the Way We’re Falling out of Touch? by @eyessharpweaponshot​

Season 6 | Explicit | Time Loop AU, Angst | 13,279 words

Clarke and Bellamy are over and he has moved on, it’s just something Clarke has to accept. They have a job to do and that’s what is important now. They spend the entire day at odds with one another, being distant and lying about their true feelings. When they’re stuck in a time loop because of their inability to be honest though, it’s time to start admitting some things - and it turns out to be a little harder than expected.

Bad Moon Rising by @bettsfic​

6x02 | Teen and Up | Angst, Hurt/Comfort | 1,700 words

Afterglow by @queenginnys​ 

Post 6x10 | Teen and Up | Love Confessions | 1,085 words

Bellamy and Clarke have a lot to discuss after Clarke survives Josephine.

Sick of Losing Soulmates by @pawprinterfanfic​

Post 6x10 | Teen and Up | Hurt/Comfort | 4,884 words

Clarke and Bellamy talk after the events at Gabriel's. After almost losing her again, Bellamy intends to not let emotions go unspoken.

Our Own Stars by bellofthetolppl

Season 6 | General Audiences | Angst | 3,477 words

Bellamy gets hurt when he tries to find Octavia after she disappeared in the Anomaly and once Clarke finds out, she goes crazy. Kind of like 6x10 but the roles are reversed and she's worried sick about him. 

feet on the ground, head in the sky by fathomless

Season 6 | General Audiences | Hurt/Comfort | 2,547 words

three times Bellamy kissed Clarke's forehead and one time she kissed his.

Like Being Submerged in Your Contradictions by WelpThisIsHappening

Season 6 | Explicit | Fluff | 4,491 words

She supposes she's not surprised.

Clarke probably should have expected it. After all, her romantic track record is not really all that impressive. But. She hoped. And to say that she's a little disappointed to find out sex with Bellamy is not as great as she wanted it to be is an understatement.

So now he wants to talk about it. Figures.

The House Don't Fall When the Bones Are Good by @ponyregrets​

Post Canon | Teen and Up | Afterlife | Crossover with The Good Place | 6,019 words

Clarke wakes up and has a conversation with a man wearing a bowtie.

We Burned Bright by @marauders-groupie​

Mature

Collection of canon-compliant drabbles

Multichapter

Small Favours by @kay-emm-gee​

8 chapters | Season 1 | Teen and Up | Fluff | 24,203 words

Small favors born out of sheer necessity (part I, part II) forge a unique intimacy (part III, part IV, part V, part VI) that brings forth intense chemistry (part VII, part VIII).

 Or, how Bellamy & Clarke take their time falling in love.

Survivor’s guilt by @wellsjahasghost​

4 chapters | Post season 3 | Explicit | Angst, Kid fic | 102,671 words

“There’s no one else to live for anymore.” Clarke utters those words without too much emotion. They’ve had time over the years to reflect on all the people ripped away from their lives. It’s no longer a fierce, stabbing pain, just a kind of endless ache that surges and subsides with every breath they take. After all their efforts, they failed. The story of the SkaiKru would die with them. “We’re the last of our people.”

Bellamy finally looks up at her tone of voice and after a pause he says, slowly, “We don’t have to be.”

Hold me Still by bellofthetolppl

9 chapters | Season 4 | General Audiences | Angst | 45,863 words

“I can’t see, what’s happening to me?” or Bellamy is blinded in an accident.

The Twelfth Level by @jemleofan​

13 chapters | Canon-compliant until 4x03 | Explicit | 62,085 words

The death wave is rapidly approaching. Clarke and Bellamy make a startling discovery: Cadogan’s cult has survived underground and is willing to shelter Skaikru from the impending disaster. But at what price?

This one’s for you by @andthelightbulbclicks​

48 Chapters | Post season 4 | Slow Burn | 60,535 words

Ficlets glimpsing at those 2,199 days, and after…

The Price of Peace by @chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky​

18 chapters | Season 6 | Teen and Up | Angst, Hurt/Comfort | 11,0987 words

Upon landing in the new world, it seemed like humanity finally had a chance at peace. When suddenly something is taken from them, Bellamy and crew must find a way to navigate this new world when it feels like it’s falling apart.

Bury A Friend, Try To Wake Up  by @talistheintrovert​

7 chapter | Teen and Up | Angst | 75,289 word

A few weeks after settling in to the new planet, Clarke seems to be acting strangely. Almost like she's two different people. Bellamy is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Canonverse AUs 

Single Chapter 

Winners Don’t Always Get Lucky Breaks by @cupcakesandtv​

Explicit | Ark AU, Arranged Marriage, Domestic Bellarke | 23,501 words

Bellamy and Clarke are roped into Abby’s political games and have to get married. 

Just as You Are Mine by @prosciuttoe​

Explicit | Arranged Marriage AU, Grounder!Bellamy | 23,637 words

In hindsight, marrying a total stranger may not have been one of Clarke’s brightest ideas. (Clarke seals an alliance with the Broadleaf clan by marrying Bellamy Blake.)

Darkest of marks by @important-metaphors​

Explicit | Ark AU, Angst | 21,162 words

After Jake Griffin’s prediction about the system failure turns out to be wrong, Clarke is given a second chance on the Ark. Janitor Bellamy Blake may or may not complicate everything for her.

Shadows Run From Yesterday by @important-metaphors​

Explicit | Ark AU | 14,053 words

Thirteen nations have operational space stations at the time of the bombs and Clarke Griffin is among the survivors. When she loses those dearest to her, she finds an ally in the person she least expects.

In My House on the Hill (there is room for you still) by @argyledpenguin​

Explicit | Ark AU, Angst | 24,066 words

“There were nights when the clinic was busy, forcing Clarke to scarf down a snack in between patients. But those nights were rare. Usually, there was time to take a break for lunch, to sketch for an hour, to talk to Bellamy, or to try to. It turned out that Bellamy wasn’t a talker. Or a friendly, pleasant person in general. But she got used to it. To him.” Clarke meets Bellamy on the ark.

Multichapter 

How You Stay Alive by @wellsjahasghost​

3 chapters | Explicit | Reincarnation AU | 88,303 words

You and him will live again by my hand. But whether you fall in love again is entirely up to you.” Nine lifetimes where Clarke and Bellamy meet again, and again, and again.

In his heart of hearts by @bilexualclarke​

2 chapters | Explicit | Ark AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers | 12,808 words

She looks at him expectantly when he walks in, daring him to say something. His interactions with Clarke since their first day have consisted of “hello” “goodbye” and the occasional glare when he scoffs at something corny she says to a patient. But right now, he can’t help but take the bait. “Mommy pull some strings for you, Princess?” Clarke deflates a bit, and for a second it dawns on him that maybe she was waiting for him to congratulate her? But then, “Go fuck yourself.”

Bound by the secrets we share by troubledpancakes

4 chapters | Explicit | Ark AU | 48,523 words

Ninety-seven years ago, a nuclear apocalypse rendered planet Earth unlivable, leaving only the four-hundred people on the twelve space stations as its survivors. Over three generations, these twelve nations joined together to form the unified Ark Station. To preserve the human race, the leaders of the Ark implemented strict measures including: capital punishment for anyone over the age of eighteen, a ration system based on job placement, and the arrangement of marriages based on genetic compatibility. If the human race was to return to Earth, it had to be strong to survive. Clarke Griffin turned eighteen and celebrated her birthday with a marriage ceremony.

[vanchlo]

Guitar Talk

Blurb Synopsis: Although thousands of miles away, you wouldn’t give up guitar lessons with your boyfriend, Niall, for anything. Even if he can be a little shit.

 Genre: Lots of fluff, although a little sad. 

Word Count: 4.5k words 

Pairing: Niall x Reader

*

The red circle blinks in front of your eyes. Your eyes flit to your hands that begin to move effortlessly, music coming from them. Well, actually it’s coming from the guitar strings you play. Picking the strings, you play a D suspended chord before moving to the G major 7. A smile bends your lips when you play the next chord, B minor 7 without a hiccup, and the A suspended chord too. But when you get to the G major 6 chord, your fingers struggle with where to go on the strings. You stop there and make a funny face at the camera. The red circle stops blinking and you exhale, feeling the nerves worsen. 

Now your fingers tap along the screen, a message composing before your eyes. 

Does this sound better?

With the guitar sitting in your lap, you hit the send button. Saving the message, you swipe over to the home screen. After viewing a few snaps from friends, you reply with random selfies and messages. When you return to the home screen, the arrow in front of his name is empty. Opening the conversation again, his little brunette haired bitmoji pops up. A white cloud above his head with an ellipses appears too. Niall is typing, it says. The sound of a bubble popping greets your ears and new words appear. 

sounds good luv. but looks like ur struggling with that last chord. here’s a tip - the 2nd time u play the lil sequence through, use the same finger to press down for the same two notes on that string. way easier than adding another finger to the mix. does that make sense ? xx

Your eyebrows knit together over your tired eyes. Rubbing them doesn’t help, because the words in front of you still don’t make sense. Holding your thumb down on the message, you tap Save. It’s always annoyed you how you can never remember what was said last time in a snapchat conversation, if you don’t save it. Exhaling, you try to read through his message again, but the second time isn’t the charm. No, not when Niall starts talking in guitar language. One you’ve just started to learn, with his help. But it’s always been easier for him to teach you guitar when it’s not over fricken Snapchat, you think to yourself with a silent groan. You’re tempted to go and put the guitar back on the stand in the corner where you’ve wanted to leave it since he left. But you try to play that sequence over again, but once again you mess up. Your phone chimes again with the popping noise. 

Snapchat from Niall 

Dragging your thumb across the screen, you sigh from frustration. 

hello luv ? did u try that ? xx

Tossing your phone onto your bed, you set the acoustic guitar on the mound of bed covers. Padding out of the room in your fuzzy socks, you turn down the hallway. Even though it’s been almost two weeks, you still can’t get used to how quiet the house is without him. 

Usually there would be a football match on the tv, his singing or guitar playing echoing throughout the house, or him blasting music while working out or cooking. Your most favorite of all is how he could never fail to scare you. 

Whether it was walking into the study while you’re doing homework, and giving jumper cables to your sides. 

Yelling ‘boo!’ when he walked in on you cleaning the kitchen, making you drop the cleaning spray. 

Opening the door to the shower quietly and whispering something into your ear.

Suddenly saying ‘ah!’ while grabbing your side in the middle of a movie - a horror movie or not. 

Whatever he did, you always jumped to high heavens with a scream. Although it got on your nerves sometimes, and almost made you cry when you were half asleep or the movie was scary, you miss it. You miss him. 

His contagious laugh. Those wicked blue eyes. The empty cans of sparkling water sat around the house, although they annoyed you. Him yelling at the referees on the tv, even though he knows they can’t hear him. His sometimes annoyingly loud singing. Even if he always left the seat up on the toilet, but to his defense he kept saying he’d remember next time and that no, you didn’t need to get one of the fancy seats that lifted itself. You missed well, everything. His advice, that of course, you can still get, but it’s not instantaneous anymore. You can still see his smile over FaceTime or through pictures, but that’s delayed too. So is saying goodnight to him, because you have to figure out the time zones and his schedule. Getting his help on something, whether it’s figuring out where he put the strainer for the pasta, or his advice on an essay you wrote. Now, even his guitar lessons that he insisted you continue while he’s away are even harder with his absence. Although they’re frustrating and his guitar language is unintelligible at times, it’s made you feel closer to him. And that’s not something you want to give up, especially now. 

You’ve kept telling yourself that it will all be over soon. He has a few more shows until he’s done with this leg of his tour, and then he’ll be home. Well, just for a few weeks before he goes out again. But then you can join him, because your courses will be done for the semester. You would have tagged along with him in a heartbeat, like you so often do. But two of your classes this semester were only offered on campus, and with the end of your degree nearing, there wasn’t any way to get around it. As you wash your hands after using the bathroom, you recall the look on his face when you told him last November. He tried to hide his disappointment, but after he asked you why you couldn’t take them online or wait on them, he found it impossible to mask any longer. 

Shaking your head of the unpleasant memories, you turn off the bathroom light. The memories you shared in there still linger - Niall’s first bath bomb that left glitter on him for days, messing each other’s shampooed hair up into different dos in the shower, and the Eagles picture he has framed above the toilet that you still laugh at. Only he would hang that picture there to look at while he takes a leak. But the memories are whisked away when you hear your ringtone, a recent favorite song of yours. Then your Macbook chimes in as well, receiving the call too, because it’s synced to your phone. 

Rushing to your shared bedroom, you plop onto the large bed. Huffing, you find your phone in the sea of covers after a few seconds. Your rapid heartbeat from the fear of missing the call only increases when you see the name. Or more like the picture lighting up your screen. Your heart warms at the smiling picture of a brown-haired little boy. And then it aches.

“You’re supposed to be getting ready to leave for the arena, you said,” the words fall from your lips in an annoyed sigh. 

“Oh, t’anks. Jus’ wanna talk t’ me lovely girlfrien’, but guess not. ‘ll jus’ go then,” Niall responds sarcastically. 

“No don’t. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to make you late.”

“Ya won’. Jus’ answe’,” he replies, knitting your eyebrows together. But before you can ask what you’re supposed to be answering, your phone twinkles, and then your Macbook. 

You can’t stay upset as you see the message flash on your screen. Ni wants to FaceTime. 

“Ni,” you begin, trying to sound stern. 

“Jus’ answe’ tha bloody FaceTime befo’ I change me mind,” he tells you, his words ending in a laugh. “C’mon, love, I don’ got a lotta time.”

“Okay.”

Pressing the green Answer button, you let your phone fall into the cream covers once again. Criss-crossing your legs, you drag the laptop over to sit in front of you. A hum leaves its speaker as Niall’s image materializes on the screen in front of you. A warm smile paints his stubbly face as one soon covers yours. 

“Hi, love.”

“Hi. Why the FaceTime? I mean I’m not complaining, but I thought we were going to wait until tonight,” you say, confusion rolling off of your words.

“Grab yer guitar,” is all he says, his favorite Lowden guitar suddenly appearing in the frame. “‘m gonna help ya wit’ dat part befo’ I hafta go.”

You try to hold back the smile inching up your lips, but it’s hard. You’re sure some body part of yours fills his screen as you lean over the laptop to grab the guitar. 

“Oi! I thought ‘d brought t’ose shorts wit’ me. I see where they’ve gone now, ye li’l thief!” Niall exclaims from the computer. Giggling, you sit back down, the bed moving as you get comfortable. “Wha’d ye go in me suitcase befo’ I left an’ take what ya wanted?” he guffaws in his famous laugh, it having been too long since the last time you heard it. If only a couple of hours. You try not to think of how many days it’s been since you heard it without a phone in between you two. 

“No!” you scoff in disbelief, settling the Gibson G-45 Studio on your lap. A present from Niall for your birthday after you agreed to let him finally teach you how to play guitar. You told him again and again not to spend a lot of money on it for you. Unbeknownst to you if he did, he only said that he wanted to get you something of quality. And he said something about how there’s no point in playing something lousy that won’t hold up to the music. Then he wouldn’t shut up about how good Gibsons are and how many guitars of theirs that he has. 

“Sureeee. Now le’s jus’ try dat first verse yer learnin’. See how I can help. Oh an’ fo’ tha record, ‘m goin’ through yer drawers when I get home t’ see what else ye took o’ mine,” he smirks, shaking his head as he mutters your name. 

A red blush covers your cheeks, giving him the guilty verdict he was looking for. Rolling his eyes, he rakes a hand through his flat brunette hair. He tugs on the collar of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, the frame of his hotel bed behind him. “Ye li’l shit, you,” he mumbles affectionately with another shake of his head. Sticking the white guitar pick between his lips, he holds onto it there before moving something out of frame. 

Thoughts of missing his lips and what they could be doing to you right now muddle your thoughts. They cause you to fudge up the very first chord you pick. But with encouraging words from him, you carry on. It happens again when you get to that dreaded G major 6 chord. 

“‘Kay, since ye ignored me Snapchat ‘bout tryin’ it wit’ tha same finga, watch me,” Niall insists, humor sticking to his words. 

“I didn’t ignore it! You don’t make sense when you talk guitar, you know that? I told you that you have to dumb it down for me. Plus, I had to go pee, so there were more important matters,” you argue, resting your hands on the top curve of the natural colored wood. 

“Oh ‘m sorry, love. Yer right, I gotta rememba dat. ‘Kay, so watch me now. Watch how I use tha same finger t’ play tha next note on dat string. So I pluck tha fifth string wit’ me finga on tha second fret. Then next it wants me t’ pluck tha same string, but on tha third fret,” he explains, looking back and forth between the guitar and you. He walks through every step as he plays the two notes slowly. “So ‘m gonna use me pointa finga, coz tha’s what works fer me. ‘ll play tha first note on tha second string, an’ then almost drag it down t’ pluck it again, but on tha third fret. Make sense wha’ ‘m sayin’? You try it now.”

Your head goes up and down at his words, mumbling an ‘okay.’ Hands leaving your guitar, you drag Niall’s image to the side of the screen. The note showing the guitar tablature Niall wrote comes out of hiding to help you. You scroll down until you find the G major 6 chord. With Niall watching, you nervously try the technique he showed you. It’s rocky at first, because the fingerpicking is different from the previous chord, but soon you hear applause. 

“There, tha’s it. Yer gettin’ tha hang o’ it, love. I really t’ink that’ll be easier fer ye. Jus’ keep tryin’ dat technique I taught ye. An’ go slow, ye don’ need t’ speed up ‘til yer comfortable playin’ dat. Ye start off slow ‘til ye can start t’ speed up. T’ink o’ it dis way - if yer makin’ too many mistakes, then yer playin’ it too fast. But if yer not makin’ any mistakes, then speed it up a li’l,” Niall narrates, almost losing you for a second with the guitar talk again. 

“Okay, I get it. Thanks, I’ll try that,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the screen awkwardly. 

“Wha’? Why ye bein’ all shy, love? ‘s jus’ me, nobody else ‘s here wit’ me.”

“You know it’s hard playing in front of you,” you begrudgingly reveal, repeating this for perhaps the hundredth time. 

But it never makes you settle, because it’s just as nerve-wracking each time you play for him. Or send a snapchat recording. Or when you know that he’s listening in the next room, well because he used to make comments, but that was until you got annoyed and he stopped. Or when you’d play outside in the garden to escape his ears, sure he’s eavesdropping somewhere. You know, because he did the same thing before with your singing. He’d crack the bathroom door open just to hear a hint of you singing in the shower. Or stop just around the corner from the kitchen when you sang along while cooking. 

“I know ‘s nervewrackin’. It was fer me when I first started, an’ sumtimes it still ‘s when ‘m ‘round otha guitar playas. But, babe, ye gotta let dat all go. Coz ‘ve learned if ya don’t, yer not gonna get anywhere. Hey, look at me, will ye?” Niall coos from the screen of your laptop. Lifting your eyes from the covers, they return to his smiling face. “An’ I hope it counts fer sumthin’ dat ‘m yer numba one fan.”

With that, all of your nerves go out the window. He puts a smile on your face and you can’t help but nod in response. “And I’m yours,” you respond, immediately seeing his head go up and down. 

“Believe me, I couldn’t forget. I know ye always will be, darlin’,” he smiles, his bubblegum lips spreading to show his straight white teeth. Memories flash in your mind from the hundreds of songs you’ve watched him perform with his guitar. On stage, and well, on the couch. “Now, will ye try it once mo’ fer me, my love?” 

Nodding, you hear him cheer which sends you into a fit of giggles. Soon, his loud laugh pours from the speakers to grace your ears. One of your own trickles from your lips as you find your fingering on the guitar. He counts you off to 4, and then you take your time fingerpicking the chords. The G major 6 appears out of nowhere, but you use Niall’s trick again this time. The next words out of his mouth echo your thoughts. 

“I t’ink dat went betta dat time too. Good job, love. Yer jus’ gettin’ betta an’ betta. Really, I mean it. Ever since we started t’ese lessons a year ago, yer doin’ so well. ‘m so proud o’ you, bub,” Niall grins, scratching his beard before his chin settles in his palm. 

You’re choked for words, unsure of what you could say that could express your gratefulness. But you feel rest assured, knowing that he knows how much he means to you. As well as how grateful you are for him for teaching you how to play. 

“Why d’ya wanna learn dis song o’ mine anyways? Neva gotta ask ya dat bit,” he questions, twirling the pick around in his finger. Absentmindedly, he kind of chews on it as he waits for your answer. 

“I dunno, I’ve always liked it. It sounds so pretty, and you said it would be fun to play together since it has two parts,” you reply, the words finding their way. 

“Mmmm, I see. So yer gonna finally let me play a song wit’ you, huh?” 

“We’ll see,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’ go on teasin’ me. Wait, ‘s dat gray Eagles jumpa o’ mine yer wearin’? I was lookin’ all over da place fer dat when I was packin’!” Niall exclaims, his face getting closer to the camera. 

“Um no, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hurry, pushing the laptop screen back to raise the camera away from your chest. 

Shaking his head, he tsk-tsks your name once again. “Ye li’l bugga, you. I dunno what ‘m gonna do wit’ ye when I get home. Well actually, I might ‘ave sum new ideas since ye keep stealin’ me clothes,” Niall winks, a sly smirk sticking to his lips. His eyebrows dance amongst his forehead, sending your lips into giggles. 

“Hey! They were still in your closet, so they were fair game!” you counter, inching your head forward. 

Pressing his lips together, his head shakes fast. “No, no, no. Tha’s not how it works, an’ ye know it, love. Said ye can go bloody wild wit’ knickin’ me clothes, afta I packed me suitcases. I swear t’ God dat jumpa wasn’t in me closet when I went through grabbin’ stuff t’ pack. An’ it just so ‘appened t’ end up on yer body now, afta ‘m gone. Hmm, I can only wonder how dat ‘appened,” Niall quips, a smile soon peeking at the corners of his lips. You both try to hide the laughs you’re suppressing, but soon they fill the ears of the other. “Bloody hell, ‘m really gonn’ get ye when I get home soon. T’ink I might tear dat off ye soon as I walk in da door.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” you admit, a blush warming your cheeks. You savor the sound of his laugh in your ears, and the smile spreading across his face. 

“An’ ‘m hidin’ it afta dat. Coz tha’s one o’ me favourite jumpas, an’ ye know dat, too!” 

You try to act all innocent, but he knows you’re guilty as hell. He knows you. From how much milk you put in your cereal, what kind of clothes you like for when he brings you home new merch of his, what new song of his you’ll love before you’ve even heard it, often why you’re crabby although sometimes he claims not to know, and while he’s gone he always knows what time you’re doing homework or when you go to bed. He never forgets a goodnight call. 

“What am I gonna do wit’ ye, bub,” he sighs, scratching at his stubbly neck. Although he tries to act annoyed, a smile finds it way back onto his face as he stares into the camera. “How’s yer day been since I talked t’ ya dis mornin’? Well, mornin’ fer me.” 

“It’s been fine. It’s gross here - it’s all rainy and cold,” you explain, the words guiding your eyes to the misty windows. “It kinda makes for a good studying day, though. I got a few assignments done, and then I was going to make some dinner soon, seeing it’s half-past 6.”

“I s’pose I shouldn’ be sendin’ ye photos o’ tha hot an’ sunny day we’re ‘avin’ here, then,” Niall chuckles, a teasing gleam in his eye. “But tha’s good ye got sum stuff done. Whatcha gonna make fer dinna? Did ye eat up all t’ose frozen meals I made fer ya befo’ I left?”

“No, I still have a few left. That’s a good idea, though. I didn’t really want to cook,” you smile, watching his soon mirror your own. Fuck that few second delay, you think to yourself, finding it hard to ignore. 

His face freezes for a few seconds, making you sigh. The picture grows blurry but then he starts moving again. “Sorry, love, connection got bad fer a bit there. What’d ye say ye were makin’ fo dinna?” he repeats, his voice sounding far away, reminding you that he’s halfway across the world. In your chest, your heart squeezes at the thought, one that you can’t push away as well lately. 

“Oh, nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. I wanna know. I like t’ hear all t’hese li’l details, coz they make me feel like ‘m there wit’ you,” Niall insists. You swallow, feeling emotions come back up. Yeah, no thanks, you say inaudibly to yourself. 

“Um, I guess one of the lasagna pieces you froze. It’s been sounding good to me lately.”

“Mmmm, ye it does sound good. Maybe ‘ll ‘ave it fer dinna tonight, too. Can be like we had dinna togetha,” he says in his Irish lilt. 

This time, the words hit you harder, and it’s hard to hide the effect they have on you. Tearing your eyes away from the screen, you try to focus on your breathing to will the feelings away. 

“Ye holdin’ up okay, sweetheart?” Niall ponders, once again proving how well he knows you. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence, bad timing, or he’s feeling the same way. 

Exhaling slowly, you swallow past the lump in your throat. Returning your eyes to his inquisitive blues, your insides tighten at the sight. One that is so comforting and relaxing, but at the same time, it can be so painful you can’t bear it. 

“Yeah, I’m doing fine,” you mumble, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Ye don’ gotta lie t’ me, y’know,” he almost whispers, before his bottom lip comes between his teeth. “T’ese guitar lessons ‘ave made it a li’l easier fer me dis time ‘round. I mean, fook, ‘s neva easy, but it takes me mind off it. I hope it does fer ye too, bub.”

You can hardly see the tip of his nose as his head has fallen. The plucking of strings follows the sound of his voice, but you’re unsure if he’s distracted by his guitar or if he’s doing it on purpose. “I feel like I always come t’ love ye a li’l mo’ when ‘m away, but now teachin’ ye guitar makes me love ye a li’l more too. Didn’ even t’ink dat was possible,” Niall admits with a small laugh, his striking blue eyes returning to yours. 

“Okay, you’re really going to make me cry now, so stop it,” you confess in tear-choked words. True to your word, tears obscure your vision within seconds. You laugh, but you know it sounds fake and out of place. 

“Ye betta not start cryin’, or else ye know I will too. So ye knock dat off right now, young lady,” Niall says firmly, but you hear the wavering of his voice. “‘Kay maybe dis will stop yer cryin’. Imma hide all me jumpas when I get home so ye stop bloody stealin’ ���em, maybe me gym shorts too. Ye think I don’ know, but I know where ye hide ‘em, love. Know ye hide ‘em in da linen closet. Found sum ‘d been searchin’ all ova fo’ when I went t’ put new bedsheets on da last time. So yer secret’s out.” 

His bright laugh licks your wounds, but the effect doesn’t stay. Because then you hear him sniffle, and your eyes drop to your lap. “‘s hopefully da last time we’ll hafta do dis, with ye ‘avin’ t’ stay back when I go on tour fer ye courses, but-.”

“Yeah, I registered for the fall and my advisor worked with me to be online for the rest of my degree. I just spoke to her yesterday about it,” you reveal. Lifting your eyes to his reddening ones, a smile splits your lips as you deliver the news. 

“Aw, babe, tha’s wonderful! Couldn’ ‘ave heard betta news today than dat. T’ink ye jus’ made me whole bloody day!” Niall grins, pumping his arms in the air with a cheer. But as his laugh fades away, you watch him wipe under his eyes. “I know it doesn’ take ‘way da pain right now, tho’. Coz I feel meself hurtin’ everytime I wanna tell ye sumthin’, show ye sumthin’, or when I reach for ye in da middle o’ da night. Even miss ye on t’ese video calls.”

His quiet sobs accompany yours as tears trail down your cheeks. Hiccuping, you let the feelings out that you’ve been packing away for a rainy day like today. With your heavy workload this week, you didn’t want to distract yourself with the tears. You left them until nighttime, lying in your cold bed with his side empty. No laughs heard under the covers, or his fingers dancing across your ticklish ribs, or waking up to kisses along your jaw with his voice floating across your skin. None of that. You think that although the house is empty and you can hear his voice over the phone, you feel the most lonely at night and waking up alone. 

“Niall,” you barely get out in between tears, and heavy thoughts. As a tear spills onto your cheek, your eyes focus on his head of hair bent over his guitar. 

“But I told meself dis’ mornin’, only five mo’ days, Niall. Then tomorro’ it’ll be four, an’ then t’ree an’ befo’ not much longa, ‘s zero. Then I getta t’ come home t’ ye wearin’ me clothes, dat I know I bitch ‘bout, but I really do love,” he divulges, guitar notes floating in the air amongst his words. “Five mo’ days ‘til I can slobber ye all ova wit’ kisses, an’ fall asleep wit’ ye in me arms.” 

“And steal your clothes back, and play guitar together,” you hum, watching a tear splash onto the shiny surface of your guitar. 

“Mmmmhmm, an’ ‘til then ‘ll keep teachin’ ye ova FaceTime an’ bloody Snapchat,” he guffaws, pulling up the corners of your lips happily. “An’ maybe if ‘m lucky ‘ll get sum otha pics on Snapchat.”

Shaking your head, you can’t hold back the laugh behind your lips. His loud one echoes yours soon after, your cheeks growing red. 

“Oh God, only five more days,” you sigh, clucking your tongue. He lifts his head, and although he’s on the other side of the planet, somehow you can feel his eyes glassy with tears stare into your soul. 

“Ye, an’ yer gonna get sick o’ me with how much ‘m gonna be lovin’ on ye.” 

[jubilantwriter]

Jaspvid Week 2020 Day 7: Free Day

(AO3)  @jaspvid-week

fuckING DONE AAAHHHOOOOOOOO.  time to work on that fucking SECOND PART to DAY 6 SEE YA GUYS SOON enOUGH!!

The Man Who Sits on the Bench

Summary: There is a bench that sits alone in the park. No one knows why it tends to sit empty, but sometimes, a person or two will occupy its seats to have a conversation. To sit and remember. To sit and think. For that's what benches are for, yes?

Today, someone sits on the bench. He lets his thoughts overrun him as he counts every regret he holds with clenched fists. But luckily, as a soft hand takes his and a gentle smile greets his sad eyes, he finds that he won't have to sit alone any longer.

Word Count: 9854

What makes a human life, if it is nothing more than a collection of regrets?  Experiences missed, chances forsaken, memories shattered, and relationships lost - to say one's lived a life worth living would suggest that all such regrets were settled, accepted, and taken as is, so long as the life nearing its end is satisfied with the ending they received.  

To say one has no regrets would be a lie.  

But to come to a state of acceptance, perhaps that's what makes a human life more than a culmination of past regrets too far gone to resolve.  

Ah, to be that lucky.

So then, what becomes of a human life, if it becomes nothing more than a collection of regrets?

What happens when all of those regrets come crashing down all at once?

...The sky is a beautiful shade of blue today.

Clouds, white and fluffy, pass by him as if mocking the heaviness in his chest, the weight of his regrets keeping him pinned down as they continue to float by without a single care.

And it all comes crashing down around him.

I shouldn't have said that.

Why did I do that?

I wish I could go back in time.

I wish I said "I'm sorry".

I wish I said "I love you".

I wish I wish I wish I wish-

And in that moment, a second lasts a minute, a minute an hour, and then that hour becomes nothing more than a single moment in the past that he can't take back.

He reaches his hand up towards the sky and sobs.

The sky.

It's so beautiful.

I wish I said "goodbye" before I left.

And then a gentle hand grabs his.

////

There's a man who sits on the park bench.  Every day, without fail, he sits down on that same bench, looking up at the sky with a pensive look as he waits for someone to join him.

Everyone walks past him, minding their own business as he continues to sit all alone, eyes distant with thoughts too far away for a single person to grasp in that moment.

And then.

When he blinks, he suddenly finds himself in familiar company.

A gentle smile.

Soft, green eyes that are a shade too light for his liking.

And a dress the color of precious emeralds.

"Good afternoon, Jasper!"

"Ms. Clementine."  He nods to her and turns his gaze to the people walking about in front of them.  Sunlight beams down brightly as the summer graces them with its last fading breaths.  A gentle breeze reminds him that fall is coming as the leaves continue to fade the green from their visage.

"How are you today?"

"Not too great, to be honest."

"So about the same then?"  She chuckles to herself, her Southern drawl softening her voice.  "What's on your mind, if you don't mind me askin'?"

"The usual, I guess."  He sighs as he leans against the bench's armrest.  "...I just miss him."

"Your fiance?"

He flinches.  "More like... my ex, right?"

"If that's what you make of it, then sure.  Your ex."

A fight flashes in his mind.  Raised voices.  Clenched fists.  Tears streaming down someone’s face.  His face?  Or David's?  Perhaps both?

It was a dumb fight.

Stupid, dumb, awful fight.

What were they even fighting about?  Why did it get so heated?  Was it even worth all of that anger?

It feels like it's been so long.  But yet, the feeling remains.

He brings his hands up to his face.

"I messed up.  So bad."

"Hm."  A gentle hand rubs a comforting circle into his back.  "What could you do to make it better?"

"I could say sorry."  He wipes his eyes uselessly.  "I want to say sorry.  Sorry for yelling.  Sorry for getting mad.  Sorry for everything.  But will he even hear me?  It's too late, right?"

"I'm sorry, Jasper."  She smiles sadly as she keeps her hand in place.  "I wish I could help you there."

"Me too."  A weak laugh.  "I wish I could help me too."

They both look up at the sky, the clouds weightless and free.  How he envies the clouds above them.

"Do you need more time?"

"...Yeah."

But then again.  He has as much time as he needs, doesn't he?  He closes his eyes and feels the breeze brush past him.  

Maybe, when he opens them, he'll see their smiling faces again.  Hear their laughter.  

"Why don't you tell me more about them?"

But her soft voice breaks his daydreams, and when he opens them, he sees nothing but the passing faces of unfamiliar strangers.  A moment passes between them as he tries to catch sight of a familiar shade of red, a head of thick, curly black hair.

But no such people pass by this spot he sits in.

"...Do you think that'll help?"

"It might.  Sometimes, people just needa get some things off their chests.  Remember the important things."  Clementine places her hand over his and squeezes gently.  "And I'm a mighty fine listener."

"So like," Jasper gives a dry chuckle as he looks at eyes the wrong shade of green, "do you moonlight as a therapist?  Is that what this is?  A therapy session?"

"'Fraid not.  I don't really have the credentials for that."  But the smile she supplies is almost as bright as the ones David used to wear all the time.  "As long as it can help you in the end, I don't mind listening to a few tales or so."

"...Why are you doing this?"

Clementine's eyes soften as wisps of her hair blow gently in the wind.  "Because pullin' people up is my job, sweetheart.  And I ain't aboutta leave ya to drown just yet."  She turns her attention to the passing people in front of them, a distant look in her eyes as she keeps her hold on Jasper's hand.  "What's the point of helpin' someone up if you don't pull them all the way up to their feet, right?"

Jasper gazes across the street and stares at a flickering pedestrian light.  Idly, he thinks that David and Clementine would have gotten along quite nicely.

And quietly, the two of them watch as the light switches to red.

\\\\

He cups his hands around his mouth and breathes out.  White puffs of warm air blow out from his hands as he waits for a familiar weight to settle besides him.  It's the chill that reminds him of piles of raked leaves, jackets dug out from the closet, and laughing boys as they chase each other to hear the crunch of the fallen leaves.

Clementine sits down quietly besides him and watches the beginning of fall with him.

For a moment, neither of them choose to speak, leaving Jasper content to just blow puffs of air as a brash voice from his memories yells with excitement, Look, Jasp!  I'm a dragon - ROAR!

"Lovely weather, don'tcha think?"

"Yeah."  He lowers his hands and looks up to the sky.  It's clear and bright, but the chill refuses to be chased away by the sunlight as it begins to bite at his nose.  He turns to face the woman besides him, and notices that she's changed her summer dress for something a little thicker.  More suitable for the weather they're fairing.  However, despite the slight change in wardrobe, he finds that the long coat she dons still shares the same hue as her summer dress.

He looks away and pretends that the green reminds him of the grass in spring.

"You look like you've got somethin' on your mind."  She nudges him gently, a soft smile on her face as she gets his attention.  "Mind tellin' me your woes?"

"Oh, they're not like, woes."  He smiles awkwardly as he runs a hand through his hair.

"What is it then?"

"I guess..."  He looks out to their surroundings and sees the familiar buildings, the bustling townsfolk who ignore the pair on the bench, and realizes that he's imagining a place quite unlike the town they live in.  "I guess this kinda weather just... reminds me of stuff."

"Stuff?"  Clementine hums thoughtfully before snapping her fingers.  "Stuff... as in, a thing?  Or stuff, as in, someone you don't wanna admit to be thinking of?"

A blush rises to his cheeks as a familiar guilt settles in his chest.  

"Ahhh."  She doesn't say anything else after that.

Instead, the two of them sit in silence as Jasper lets the guilt eat him through.  Memories of warm smiles in the chilling cold flash through his mind, and the words tumble out with a thought attached to them as he imagines a familiar head of red hair bouncing through the crowd before them.

"David loves the fall, even if he won't say it."  

Leaves drift down around them as people continue to rush on by to get home and away from the cold.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah.  When we were younger, he used to jump in piles and piles of fallen leaves.  It didn't matter if they were moist or dry, or if the ground was dirt or concrete.  He just loved falling into piles of them, to watch as the leaves would fall around him and cover him up.  He'd laugh and laugh and laugh, and then he'd tug me down with him.  And we'd lay down and pretend the leaves were snow."

He can see it as if it were just yesterday.  Two boys, one a brunette and the other a ginger, laughing as they laid sprawled out on the ground.

Leaf angels.  That's what David called them.  When they would pretend the fall was winter, and they wanted to leave their mark on the world in any way they could.

And then they got up with leaves in their hair to admire their handiwork.

It always felt like it was just them two.  And when David would point and laugh and clap his hands because the leaf angels came out looking so dumb?

God.

He's sure he had the biggest, dumbest smile on his face when he laughed with him.

And then David would reach over to pluck a leaf out of his hair, admire it, examine it, really scrutinize it, and then proclaim that this leaf, the one in his hand, the one from Jasper's head, was the best leaf because he plucked it from the best tree in front of him.

And Jasper would do the same.  Pick the biggest, prettiest leaf from David, a shade of red just like David's hair, and he'd admire it, examine it, really scrutinize it, before shaking his head and proclaiming that no, he found the best leaf because he plucked it from the best tree in front of him.

And they'd laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh.

Water drips onto his hands, even though the sky looks so clear today.

"Fall was my favorite season too."  Leaves the color of David's hair fall all around him. 

He holds his hand out to catch the prettiest one that floats down in front of them.  

Bright red.

Like from the bestest tree.

The bestest tree that isn't in front of him anymore.

A gentle hand takes his and squeezes it tight.  He turns to Clementine, a soft smile on her face as her hair sways in the wind.  Neither of them say a word as he lets that leaf go.

And the sound of childish laughter fades in the wind with the leaf.

////

The weight in his chest is heavier than usual.  As he kicks at the fallen snow, he wonders if David and Max are keeping warm.  Their little apartment - David remembers where the space heater is, right?  Max never liked the cold, so they bought him a space heater for the winter since the apartment's heating system wasn't the most reliable thing.

Are they managing okay?  He wishes he can visit them.

But.

Would that be right of him?  After he left them like that?

It feels as though he’s tied down in this spot.  He can't move from the bench, so here he sits.  He kicks at the fallen snow, the sky looking cloudier than usual.

"Evenin', Jasper."

"Hi, Clem."  

"How're you feelin'?"

"Not great."

"So the usual, then."  She sits down next to him, smoothing out her dress, now thick and woolen to combat the cold, but still that lovely shade of emerald green.  "What's on your mind today?"

"The cold."  Snowflakes begin to drift down around him as he speaks.  "Max doesn't like the cold.  But Davey's pretty chill with it, if you catch my drift."

She chuckles but makes no move to speak, so he continues.

"You know, I hope the kid is getting used to living here.  It was a process to adopt him, just to get him in our care, y'know?  But Davey fought tooth and nail for him.  Max has the same kinda funky spunk that Davey had when we first met.  So it made sense."  

He imagines seeing a head of curly, black hair bobbing among the masses as he hangs onto the hem of David's shirt, angry tears in his eyes.  But relief was apparent in how he held himself.  Like, even if he didn't want to admit it, he was glad to be around David.

That was how he first met Max.

A kid filled with so much hurt and anger and pain.  A pain that was different from David's when they were kids but so goddamn similar that he had to fight the urge to bend down and hug him.  But he smiled, kind and welcoming, as he helped Max unpack his little backpack filled with just enough things he deigned to call his own.  Slowly, the couple would help fill up that room that Max could finally call his own with things that he could proudly say were his.

Max didn't like him at first.  Hell, for a while, he didn't think he liked David either.  But the thing about similar people- sometimes, not always, but sometimes, you can approach them the same way.  So he would be on level with Max, crack a joke or two, and offer him a silent understanding that gave the boy room to breathe.

Just like he did with David all those years ago.

Because, despite all those layers of hurt and anger and desire to prove himself, there was a layer of something that needed to be understood.  Something that desired a patience that Jasper was willing to give.  And he gave and gave and gave until Max was ready to smile that small, secret smile that would show up once every blue moon.  And then it'd show up every once in a while.  And then every so often.  Until the small, secret smiles weren't secrets anymore, and he could grin loud and proud as he kicked through piles of snow with boots David helped him pick out, and oh, the joy they both held as two similar souls found a little bit of solace with each other, an understanding, a lasting connection.

And so they found themselves a happy, little family.  One where Max could feel truly loved, truly wanted.  And the little space they gave him?  Filled with laughs and memories and new beginnings and smiles and joy and so much healing.

They were supposed to be there for Max.

But now, that all hinges on David now, huh?

He wonders if Max hates him now.  For leaving him behind.  For leaving them behind.

He wouldn't blame him at all.

"I hope they're making snowmen right now.  That kid deserves all the good in the world.  It'd be nice to see him having fun again."

"Would that make you feel better?"  Her hand lands on his shoulder with a comfort he's forgotten he's allowed to feel.  "Knowing Max is okay, that David is alright, would that help you feel better?"

"...I don't know.  Maybe."  He turns to face her and sees only that quiet understanding and patience that he's come to expect from her.  "I just.  I wish there was something I could do.  Something that said, I'm sorry, you know?  Even if it's too little too late.  I just.  Want to give them something.  Even if it's not enough."

Even if it can't undo what he's done.

The snow continues to fall.

But he can't feel the cold anymore.

////

The blossoms push through the ground with an ease he wishes he could experience.  These little flowers, they get to experience something new before they wilt and die.  They'll never know of the pain regret brings, or of leaving people behind, or of broken relationships and snap decisions that he wishes he could take back.

He stays seated on his bench as he stares at the flowers in the distance.  The melody of a nearby street performer catches his attention and brings a faint smile to his face.  David always liked idling by them, listening to the music they could produce before dropping a dollar or two and continuing on their way.

He loves music.  That was why Jasper picked up the ukulele.  Small and portable, he could pull it out easily and pluck out some chords and entertain David with some musical nonsense.  But David loved that musical nonsense.  He'd laugh and clap his hands and smile that beautiful, lovely smile that Jasper loved to see.  And maybe Jasper didn't have words to accompany his music.

But he could hum.  

So he'd make a little tune, a little rhythm, and he'd hum.

And oh, David loved every minute of it.

The only downside was that he couldn't hold David as he played the ukulele.  Couldn't hold him and dance with him, hips swaying to whatever nonsensical tune that Jasper could produce, foreheads pressed together as they hummed together and held each other close enough that it could be a waltz, but really it was just a simple side step back and forth, a one-two one-two to a melody produced from Jasper's love.

He wonders if David kept that mixtape he made for him when they were teenagers.  It was filled with songs from their youth, songs that reminded him of David, songs that they would belt out together in the summer heat that made them feel alive in spite of the shitty world.  Songs that made them feel real, feel connected, feel understood.  

He hums to himself as he kicks at the ground.  There was one tune that David loved to hear when they were alone together, one that didn't need a ukulele, just Jasper's throaty hum.

He had wanted to make a song of it.  Something that was more than a few seconds long, a few chords on repeat.  But Jasper was never a lyricist.  So he just added chord upon chord until he had something that sounded right.

Lighthearted, gentle, sweet.  Something to sway their hips to.  Something to hold each other to.

He meant to play that song for David on their anniversary.  Maybe record it.  Maybe let it play on his computer or stereo or something.  Because if it was a song meant for them to dance to, then he'd need his hands free to hold his Davey close, so that he can press his forehead against his, look into those beautiful, shining, precious emerald greens that light up with joy and love with every passing minute, and together, they can forget about the world around them for a few minutes.  So that they can sway and hum and feel each other's warmth.

As if they were the only two in the world.

But he never finished his song.

Just like he never said he was sorry.  Or goodbye.

He buries his face in his hands and lets out a shuddering sigh.  A familiar hand lands on his shoulder.  It's a shame that her hand is the only one he can feel nowadays.  But it makes sense.

When he laid there on the asphalt, staring straight up at the sky, his blood pooling around him as people screamed for help, he wished for the pain to stop.  To not feel anything.  To feel numb.

And in that moment, his wish was granted.

But it could only do so much, he found out.  It doesn't stop the pain in his chest when he looks up and meets eyes a shade of green that looks just a bit off.  A reminder that seeks him out everyday.

How he misses David's eyes even now.

"Heya, Jasper."

"Hey, Clem."

"Stuck in your past today?"

"No, not today."  

She takes her hand back to clasp them both together in her lap.  Quietly, she hums thoughtfully as she stares up at the sky.  "Almost been a year, huh?"

"Yeah."

"But I'm guessin' you're not yet ready to go, aren’t ya?"

"No, ma'am."

"Don't worry."  She ruffles his hair affectionately with a soft smile.  "Take all the time ya need."  

A sorry laugh escapes him as he shakes his head.  "I don't really want all the time I need."

"Maybe a talk?"

"Isn't that all we can do?"

"If that's what you believe."  Clementine turns her attention away from him and towards the crowd.  "You humans are such silly creatures."

"What do you mean?"  He follows her gaze out into the crowd and wonders, for once, what it is that she sees.

"Y'all think so lowly of yourselves that it's so easy to forget the amazin' feats y'all manage to pull off everyday, dead or alive."  Clementine's hand reaches out to grab at nothing, at something, at everything, before pulling back and revealing to Jasper a plucked flower sitting simply in her hand.  "A flower never had so much meanin' before someone came along and thought, 'Ah, perhaps, this one will be enough to represent my love.'  A plucked flower can only be considered dead, until someone comes along and makes it a gift instead, or turns it into a crown, makes it into an arrangement, tucks it away in someone's hair as an accessory."  She tucks the flower against Jasper's ear and giggles.  "A plucked flower is a beautiful, dead thing.  But sometimes, it becomes more than just a beautiful, dead thing.  Sometimes, there's a meanin' to it.  A symbol.  A somethin'.  An anythin'."  Her hands settle on her lap as she closes her eyes, strands of her hair flowing freely in the still air.  "It's what you make of what you have.  So tell me, Jasper, what can you make of you?"

"I..."  He touches the flower lightly with his fingertips and feels the softness of the petals.  "I don't know."

"Hmmm."  Clementine's eyes remain closed as she continues to smile.  "Maybe give your memories a little bit of a ponder."

Jasper blinks.  Looks up at the sky.  And remembers.  

It was a clear day, just like this one.  Slowly, he lets his eyes drift close, like he did on that day.

And ponders.

What can he make of him?  What can he make of a dead existence that serves nothing more than a reminder of what used to be?  Was his death supposed to be meaningless?  Does he want it to stay meaningless?

Does he want to be meaningless?

...No, of course not.  But then, what does he want to do?  What can he do?  

A bird sings beside them, the welcoming chirps beckoning the arrival of spring.

...Sing.  Or rather, hum.  He can't sing very well but- well, he had that little tune.  That tune for David.  Their anniversary.  A song for them.

But... it's too late, isn't it?  Too late for him, too late for their song.  Too late to make it up to David.

Except.  As he listens to this bird, this bird that sings a song that holds a meaning only to itself, to other birds, until someone else comes along and stops to listen, and really listen to this song it sings-

Isn't it just another tuneless melody?

Until.

Someone.  Or something.  Puts meaning to it.

He opens his eyes and looks at the bird.  It continues to sing, sweet and sure as it calls out to another to listen.  Meaningless until meaning is made.  Maybe... just maybe...

"I," he weakly begins, catching Clementine's eyes as she turns to look at him with that knowing look of hers.  "...I, um."

"Yes?"

"I..."  He scratches at his cheek, looking from the bird to Clementine and reading the patience that's etched into her very being, and knows, simply, as he relaxes, that all she's made of is kind understanding.  "What if... I was a bird?"

"A bird?"  She tilts her head to the side.  "Why?"

"Uh.  This might be stupid but, I thought- you know, maybe."  He stops to take a steadying breath as he squeezes his fists against his lap.  "It's just- I had this song, right?  A song for Davey.  For our anniversary.  I never got to finish it, before I uh, got totally wasted by that car but- you said I should make the best of what I had and- maybe, maybe that's all I have left."

"Left for what?"

"Left... left to give."  A death is nothing but a reminder.  A stopping point.  A memory that serves to put an end to more memories.  

But.

If he could take one thing of his, just one, and make it into something, anything.  Anything to make them smile.  He would do it.

Make meaning out of something meaningless.

"I want to give them something happy.  Even if it's small.  Or for a moment.  I don't... want them to leave them on that sad note forever."  

And Clementine's smile brightens.  "Of course."  And she reaches into her pocket.  And pulls out a something.  An anything.  And she takes Jasper's hand, and gently places it onto his palm.  "I can't make living things, but sometimes, it doesn't have to be living to look alive."

A small, mechanical bird sits motionless in the palm of his hand.  He closes his hand around it carefully and thinks.

He thinks he can finish that song now.

////

...It's been a year, David thinks.  A long, painful year of realizing what it's like to lose the person who had warmed his side for so long.  A long, painful year of realizing that a single, missing voice is enough to create a vast silence that he can't tackle by himself.  A long, painful year of coming to terms with how sudden endings can come about, whether he wants them to or not.  

It's been a year.

Max tugs on his sleeve, frowning as he drags David out of his thoughts.  "...Come on, we're here already."  

And David looks over to where they're heading.  Oh, right.

To get to the park, they'll need to use the crosswalk.  The very crosswalk that he...

He squeezes his eyes shut as a shuddering sigh runs through him.  Even after a year, he finds himself unable to forget about the fight that started it all.

Of course Jasper would be opposed to inviting Mr. Campbell to their wedding.  It didn't matter that Camp Campbell was how they met, or how David was able to meet Max, or that Mr. Campbell had changed.  Jasper hated the man for personal reasons, something David had easily forgotten in pursuit of his own wants.  

It was a stupid, dumb fight.  He's replayed the fight over and over again in his mind.  What he said.  What he should have said.  How he should have kept Jasper from walking out, kept him from shouting that he needed to leave and get his chill back, kept him from crying, kept him from losing his temper, kept him kept him kept him-

Kept him in his arms before Jasper could have walked across a crosswalk too late, when the lights stopped blinking in his favor and a speeding car trying to turn a corner missed the sight of him at the last second, and all he got as an answer to Jasper's retreating form was a stranger's voice calling from his phone.

Funerals are expensive.  He used to wonder if weddings would be more expensive.  But between the burial’s costs and the empty side of the bed, he realized that, without a doubt, funerals were much more costly.

And now, today, after a year of empty beds and chairs at the dinner table, he promised Max that he would walk with him to the park.

"We don't have to do this."  Max stands firmly where he is, eyes flicking to David and the crosswalk and back with a nervous energy.  "We can just not go to the fucking park.  I don't even like parks.  I don't even like nature!  Let's just go home and watch shitty movies or something."

"...I know you don't like this but."  He looks down towards Max with a sad smile.  Of course, he wasn't the only one still grieving Jasper.  Maybe Max didn't know him as long as David did.  But he still heard the sniffles.  The little hiccups and whimpers that Max pretended weren't coming from him as he locked himself in his room.  To have finally let another person into his life, only to have them dashed away because of a fight he wasn't involved in.  For a while, he was sure that Max hated him for being the reason why Jasper left in the first place.  "Nikki wants to play with you in the park.  She can only be cooped up for so long, and I think we both know she's reaching her breaking point."

"I guess, but..."  They both turn their attention to the crosswalk.  "Is this really the only way to the park?"

"It's the closest for sure."

"We can always take the long way around."

"But then we'd just be avoiding the whole thing."  David squeezes Max's hand.  "And we can't keep avoiding it forever, no matter how much it hurts."

"Are we still talking about the same thing?  Because I'm pretty sure I'm talking about the damn crosswalk."

"Of course, kiddo.  Come on, we'll do this together."  He plants a hand on Max's shoulder and realizes how much the short boy has grown.  Thirteen years old, and he's finally hit that start of his spurt.

Though, Jasper would have still picked the boy up to spin him around for fun.  Even if Max would yell and claw at him for doing so.  Max stares up at him with a worried frown as David squeezes.  

One year.  So much happens in one year.  And yet, would Jasper have known what he missed?  Of course not.  David squeezes his eyes shut.  He's thinking too much again.

"David..."

"You know you can call me 'dad', right?"  Although, not much can change in a year either.  He feels Max shrug as David breathes through his nose.

"Let's just get to the park already."  Max leads the way as David opens his eyes, watching as the crosswalk signal changes from red to white.  He doesn't look at the ground as his gaze focuses on the trees in front of him.

It's a short walk.  Not much to think about.  Not much he wants to think about.  Or remember.  He doesn't want to focus on how heavy his steps feel, or where he's walking, or how the crosswalk looks so completely normal, as though nothing happened here.  He doesn't think about how there's a stinging at the corners of his eyes, how he needs to take deep breaths through his nose, how Max tenses up with shoulders hunched as he speeds up his pace.  

They make it across like everyone else.  The crowd moves around them as David drops his hand from Max's shoulder.  It's just a crosswalk.  David's hand squeezes his chest as he focuses on the view of the park in front of them - how the tree branches with their newly grown leaves swaying in the wind, children laughing as they play on the open field with vibrant green grass, and he wonders and thinks and muses over how many people use this crosswalk to get to the park, walk over the spot where he was hit and left to bleed out by a driver too scared to stop, and wonders and thinks and muses over if they know they're walking over the spot he died on-

It's just a crosswalk.

He takes a deep breath and looks over at Max with a smile that barely lifts.  "See, bud?  We're fine!"  He's fine.  He has to be.  His thoughts spin for a moment, repeating over and over again like a record he's forgotten he left on the turntable.

He's fine.  He has to be.  He's fine.  He has to be.  He's fine he's fine he's fine he's fine it was just a fight he'll come back-

Max grabs his elbow, and the record scratches to a stop.  The permanent frown on his face twitches near the corners as he sighs.

"Yeah, sure.  Whatever you say."  He nods over to the path along the park.  Despite his trudging steps and begrudging stare, Max pushes them onward along the park.  There's no rush to his steps - he keeps his pace even, slows down even to glance back to see if David is invested in nature as he normally is.

But the path along the park isn't much of a gander.  Trees don't border so much as dot the area in a uniformly sparse manner.  Every once in a while, a bush comes into sight as their shoes step along the sidewalk's cement.  It's the kind of nature that cities allow - one that has to satisfy him until he has enough money for a house out in the country.  One that borders a forest maybe, or just far enough away from the city that David can step out and look into the night sky to lose count of all the stars he can see.  That was their-

Well.  It's just his dream now, isn't it?

Gwen says that grief affects everyone differently.  Some grieve for a year or more.  Some may grieve for a year or less.  Others may grieve until the end of their life.  But the feeling lasts until he's ready to move on, so she said.  So what keeps him spinning in place?  Unable to move forward, the same song on repeat, too hurt to change the record and needing someone else to put a stop to his thoughts for just a moment.  How much longer does he have to grieve until he's ready to stop the record himself?

"David."  And here comes Max again, lifting the spindle himself with that same, pained frown.  He shouldn't be putting Max into this position.  He's just a kid.  A kid who lost a dad he barely got the chance to know.  But here he is, tugging on David's elbow with that knowing look in his eyes as they come to a stop in front of an empty bench, and he points up at the branches above them for a distraction.  Green leaves.  They were just as green the day Jasper left too.  "You uh, you know about birds, right?"

And David smiles.  Because faking it until he makes it was how he managed to get through the rough patches of his life.  So maybe he just has to do it again.  Smile until it hurts just to smile.  Smile until the pain replaces the ache in his chest and he forgets why he was trying to smile in the first place.  Smile bright and the people behind the camera are none the wiser.  

"Of course I do, Max!  I am part of the online bird watching society, after all."

"Like a fucking nerd."

"Now, what did we say about language?"

"That your shitty attempts at trying to censor my language border on stupid and annoying, and is useless at best?"  The boy rolls his eyes as he points again with greater emphasis.  "Just tell me what kinda bird that is before I lose interest."

Given the bored stare Max has directed at the bird, David already knows that Max never had any interest to begin with.  But he'll keep standing here, staring at the little brown bird above them until David tells him what it is.  David's not sure where Max got all this patience from, but...

A familiar laugh rings in his head.

"Guess you've really rubbed off on the kiddo, huh?"

Of course.

He studies the bird as he bites his lip.  It's not easy, given the fact that he doesn't have his binoculars, and his vision is just a tad bit watery, but he makes out familiar white speckles on the wings, a bright, yellow beak, and a light grayish brown underside.  "Oh, that's just a house wren!"  The bird looks down at him with a slight tilt of its head.  "They're pretty common around the States, but they have a very nice song that they sing during the nesting seasons!   Although..."  He frowns as he looks around the area.  "Usually, they prefer areas with more trees in them.  Better for nesting, I'd say." 

"Cool."  Max shrugs and turns back to the path before them.  "I think that's enough nature talk for me.  Let's get some ice cream or some shit."

"Wait."  There’s something odd about the bird.  The way the sunlight seems to give it a little glint in its eyes as it studies David with its little eyes full of... birdy goodness!  "I want to hear its call!"

"No."

"Please, Max?"

"No."

"It'll just be for a minute!"

"Uuuuuaaaaaughhhhh."  Max slowly tilts his head back as the groan continues.  "Fucking- fine!"  His head snaps forward as Max jabs a finger into his chest.  "But only for a minute!"  With that, Max flops down onto the bench as he's texting away on his phone.  

David remains where he stands as he stares up at the bird with a smile.  It's just a tiny little creature, looking down at him curiously before fluttering its wings and looking over at Max.  A series of chirps erupt from the wren as it begins to sing its song.  The short, staccato-like notes are sweet to David's ears as it distracts him from his thoughts, but Max lets out a soft gasp before cursing as David looks over in surprise.  Max fumbles with his phone as his eyes are caught in a wide, startled look when he finally catches it mid-air and jumps to his feet.  He turns to look up at the bird and points at it with a yell.  "What the fuck!"

"What's wrong?"

"Why does it know that song?!"

"Song?"  David looks between Max and the bird as it continues to sing.  He listens closely and... it just sounds like the same notes being repeated over and over again.  "I mean, all birds have their own songs they sing.  Or sometimes similar songs!"

"No no no, I'm not here for your nature lecture bullshit, I mean-"  Max quickly pulls up an app and types in a song title, grumbling as he screws up a few times in his frantic typing.  "...This!"  A picture of a yellow star with eyes greets him as a fast-paced, upbeat tune plays from the phone.

David blinks slowly, the tune reminding him of when he and Jasper were younger, and Jasper was showing off the raddest game he owned.  

"Is that... Mario?"

"Ye- wait, how the hell do you know?"  Max looks between him and the phone suspiciously as David shrugs with the memory biting at his heels.

"It was one of the games Jasper used to play when we were kids."  The sound of childish laughter echoes in his ears as a bit of sadness melts back into his smile.  He turns to stare back up at the bird as it tilts its head at him.  A shuffling of feet alerts him to Max's presence, and he knows for sure that the bird has his attention as well.

"Weird that it'd know that song."

"Some birds are good mimics!"  But this one isn't.  The fact that it chose to sing that song is... strange at best, but he doesn't want to question it.  It was probably by coincidence - the song is fast-paced, with the only variation being the occasional note changes that the bird could make with little to no difficulty.  A song like that could hardly be difficult for the normally verbose songbird. 

"Still..."  Max doesn't sound convinced as David looks down at his son.  The boy's eyebrows are crinkled together, eyes focused on the bird as he frowns in thought.  "I dunno, it's just that- you know, Jasper used to play Mario Kart with me, remember?"  His green eyes flick to David, and the emotion hiding there nearly startles to David.  "It's- it's fucking weird, right?  Like, it's weird that it knows that song, and it's from Mario, and Jasper played Mario Kart with me, and he played Mario with you as kids and-"  Max pauses for a moment, his eyes searching this way and that before he looks down at his hands and clenches them into tight fists.  "...It's weird, right?"

David wants to say that no, it's a coincidence.  That no, it could just be Max thinking that's the song that he heard.  That no, Max is just wishing that's what he heard, because he wants to talk about Jasper, because he still misses Jasper, because they don't talk enough about Jasper anymore and try to pretend that they're both okay when they're really not, and he wishes David would just talk to him, please, please just talk to him because they need to talk-

But instead, he closes their conversation with: "Maybe."

And that's all Max needs to look back up at David.  With large, shining eyes of a hurting kid, because he's just a kid who lost a dad, and he needs his remaining dad to be there for him but.  

But as Max stares at him with those big, shining eyes, a part of him goes numb.  Distant, even.  

Because he's not ready.  He's not ready to talk more with Max about Jasper, about their feelings, about their hurt.  David is better at repressing things, at pretending he's okay until he breaks under pressure and collapses into an emotional heap that someone needs to come and sweep up.  And he swears that Max can see David pulling inside himself again.  Curling back up into a ball so that the memories won't flood him again, and the broken disappointment is already settling on Max's face before the tears even fall-

The bird starts to sing again.  David blinks, and turns to stare up at the bird.  It continues to sing as if the notes it sings are completely harmless.

Which... they are, aren't they?

It's just a bird.  

A bird that's... singing something awfully familiar.  

It sings notes it shouldn't know to string together - what should be short, almost staccato-like rapid fire chirping comes out instead as lingering notes with pauses that form a rhythm that he recognizes.  Short notes that swoop up and down, sometimes even lowering in pitch as it sings a song that belongs to a tucked away ukulele.

It sings... it sings a song it shouldn't know.  With every note it sings, a little bit of the past pools into the corner of his eyes.  

A smile.  Blue eyes like sapphires.  Brown locks soft like a familiar comfort.  Hands strumming gently.  Fingers plucking strings of a stickered ukulele.  A voiceless thrum.  Hips swaying. Foreheads pressed together.  A song without words.  A dance without movement.  A love without end.  

A song.  It was a song Jasper would pluck out for him every once in a while, always a little different, but always so much the same.  "It's not finished yet," he had said with an embarrassed blush, the Jasper in his mind grinning bashfully as he held tight to his ukulele, "but I promise it'll be done soon.  A baller song for an even more baller person!"

But the song never got completed.  At least.  At least that's what he thinks.

The bird continues to sing as familiar notes float through his mind in a different sound, recognizable in how the bird sings with a light dip to its voice, notes held and blending together instead of becoming a staccato.  Smooth and steady, with a gentle rhythm.  There's a little tremble to the bird's singing, a tremble that can't be made with a ukulele, but instead, with a voice.  It makes sense, he thinks, since the bird is singing, but it feels... different.  Like its voice belongs to someone else.  A someone who knows exactly how this song plays, and in turn, David's own shaky voice hums along.  Because he knows this rhythm.  He knows what note comes next, what it sounds like in his head, how he tries to match the song with his own accompaniment because he doesn't know how to play the ukulele, but he can hum.

He can hum along to a strum of a song that neither of them can play.

It's a wordless song.

Jasper was never a lyricist, so all the songs he made were made for humming and mindless strumming.  But maybe because it's wordless, because there's no need to strive for rhymes and messages when the meaning is clear in the expression, and he knows by the sound alone that the music sings of "I love you", over and over on repeat.  He closes his eyes and hums along, repeating the "I love you"'s over and over again.

Soon, the bird sings notes he's never heard of.  Notes he never got to hear Jasper play.  A hand takes his as the song turns somber.  Wistful.  There's no more lilting high notes, just steady, lingering chirps that peeter out to a soft quiet before picking up again.  Even the singing of the bird softens, as though the bird loses a bit of the power it once had behind its previous chirps, now releasing softer tweets that only David and Max can hear.  The song ends on one sustained chirp, the tremble clearer now than it was before.  He opens his eyes to see the bird staring down at him, head tilted to the side as it watches him.  A gentle squeeze draws his attention, and he meets the watery eyes of Max.

"What."  Max's voice cracks, making the boy frown as he takes a deep breath and tries again.  "What the fuck was that?"  A flutter of wings takes their attention, but by the time David looks back up to the bird, the little beauty has already flown off somewhere.  Still, he smiles up at where it once was before leading Max back to the bench to sit down.

"That," he squeezes Max's hand and wipes away the boy's tears, "was a house wren."

"No but-"  Max swats away David's hand half-heartedly as he uses his sleeves to wipe the rest of his tears away.  "You knew that song.  You hummed along like it was some dumb tune you listen to in the car!"  The boy hesitates for a moment, green eyes searching David's in confusion before speaking in a hushed tone, "How did you know that song?"

It's David's turn to blink in confusion.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Max shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket and kicks at the ground, "I mean, yeah it took me a while but- Jasper would- sometimes, he'd just start playing this tune when you weren't home, and I'd hear it, and he'd always pat next to him and ask me how it sounded, and I would always say it sounded like hot fucking garbage but-"  Max's lip trembles before he bites into it roughly, frowning as he curls forward in his seat.  "But I didn't mean it.  It, it sounded okay, but it wasn't a fucking masterpiece.  It was like, decent but.  I mean he'd laugh it off but it's like, I dunno, did he actually know?"  Max turns to David, his eyebrows furrowed together as he chews at his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.  "Did he know?"

David blinks slowly as he wonders if Max means the song or... but the answer is simply obvious, isn't it?  Gently, he ruffles Max's thick curls and drops his arm down to pull his son closer.  "Of course he knew."

"You think?"

"No one knew Jasper better than I did."  Even though he thinks idly, he should have known better at times.  "I'm sure he knew."

The soft chatter of passersby fills the space between them as David stares at the crosswalk.  He almost misses Max's words if it weren't for the fact that he's remembering how to pay attention again.

"I wish..."  Max pauses as David looks down at him, watching as he bites at his lip.  "I wish I called him 'dad' once."  Max doesn't look at him as he kicks the sidewalk.  "I dunno I mean- I feel like I should’ve."

"Well," David takes in Max's furrowed brows, his slouched appearance, and how he struggles to keep up his confident act, "I think, Jasper wouldn't have wanted to rush you into saying it."

"It's not like I didn't want to."  

"It's just that you couldn't?"  Max looks away ashamed, but David simply ruffles his hair with a smile.  "It's okay if you weren't ready to say it."

"Yeah but..."

"I found out, pretty late into my life, that 'dad' is just a title that people can use."  David thinks back to his father who left, and the man he ended up looking up to, and how they both failed him.  And how he wanted so badly to call them "dad", even though the title never rang true for either of them.  "It has about as much meaning to it as you can put into it.  Sometimes, we call people 'dad' when we don't mean it.  And other times, we call people 'dad' when they don't deserve it.  But there's plenty of people we don't call 'dad' who still feel like one."  He thinks back to the kindly neighbor who helped him with his camping skills after school, and treated him with a kindness he saw only in his mother.  He thinks back to Jasper's dad, and how the man's boisterous laugh always managed to cheer him up whenever he came over.  "Maybe you didn't call Jasper 'dad', but that doesn't mean you didn't see him as one."  He nudges Max lightly.  "And did you see him as one?"

Max scoffs.  "Hard not to."

"Then I'm sure you made him feel like one."  Max blinks and looks up at him.  "I think he already knew you saw him as a dad."  David feels a familiar worry bubble up, and he almost hesitates when he asks, "...Do I feel like a dad to you?"

He expects Max to hesitate, to really consider it, but instead he just.

Looks away and nods, almost embarrassed to admit it.  And then softly, he adds, "It's not like I have much to go off of, though."

But it's enough.

David tries not to cry as he takes a steadying breath.  "Of course, kiddo."  Quietly, he stands up and pats Max's back.  "Why don't we get some ice cream?"  Max nods and jumps up, already marching ahead of David as he makes a beeline towards the ice cream parlor.  David spares a glance back up at the tree, to where the wren used to be.  

And he squeezes his fist before relaxing it.

All things take time.  Max calling him dad will take time.  David moving on will take time.  And the two of them healing from Jasper's death will take time.

"David, hurry the fuck up!"

"Coming!"  He turns back to his son and trots to keep up.

It'll take time before the spindle is lifted completely.  

But until then, they can both take turns bringing the record to a stop.  Until they can both lift it together.  And fill the void with music of their own creation.

Until then, they have all the time in the world.

////

Jasper cradles the mechanical bird in his hands and cries.  He smiles as he watches his little family walk off into the distance and blend into the crowd.  A gentle hand rests on his shoulder, giving him a moment to look her way.  Clementine smiles, and her green dress reminds him of his two favorite people.  

"Did that help?"  

"It did, yeah."  He tries to hand the bird back to her, but she shakes her head and keeps his hands closed over it.

"Consider it a present."

"I dunno what else I'll use it for, but thanks."

"Of course, sweetheart."  She steps back and makes a motion with her arm.  Jasper shields his eyes before a soft light opens before him.  When the light forms a door, he looks to her and back at it.  She nods towards the door.  "Are you feelin' ready to go?"

"I..."  He looks down at the bird, and then towards the space his family just left.  They walked away looking lighter than before.  David was smiling and Max- well, the kid rarely smiled, but he looked at ease at the very least.  He hugs the bird to his chest, thankful for letting it lend its voice to him.  "Yeah, I think so."

"Glad to hear that."  Clementine offers her hand to him, and he takes it gingerly.

"Will I... do I get to watch over them?  Is this like a heaven kinda biz, or..."

"It's the afterlife!"  She chirps happily and opens the door for him.  "I can't say I know what it's like over there but."  She hums softly as Jasper hesitates at the threshold.  "I've heard that some people wait, or others move on.  It's up to them to decide."

Jasper looks down at the bird cupped carefully in his hands and nods.  "I see."

"Whatever choice you make, I'm sure it'll be the right one."

"Yeah.  Um, Clem?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks."  He turns to give her a smile, watching as her gaze softens.  "Thanks for... giving me all this time to think."

"Of course, Jasper."  She watches as he walks through the threshold, the door closing behind him.  With a little skip, Clementine hums a little tune as she continues on her path, the color of her dress turning to a light purple.  As she looks down at a list in her hand, she blinks in surprise and giggles.  "Oh, silly me!"  She looks back to the empty bench with a content smile.  "I forgot to ask him the name of his lil ol' song."

////

There's a man who sits on the park bench.  He visits everyday without fail, always content to gaze at the passersby going about their lives.  Normally, he sits by himself, as if waiting for someone to join him.

And today, that someone finally does.  A young woman in a deep, blue dress smiles at him.  He smiles back warmly.

"Oh, hello.”

"Afternoon, may I sit with you?"  

"Of course." 

She sits down next to him as they take in the light of the summer sun.  He speaks up again, closing his eyes as the wind gently ruffles his grayed hair.  Without a hint of resentment, he asks, "I take it you've come to take me away?"

"You're a bright one!"  For someone who works for the dead, her voice is so full of life.  "Are ya already ready to move on?  Or would ya like a moment to yourself?"

"Whichever you please."

"I hope you don't mind me indulging in a bit o' conversation then."  He turns to her as her eyes shine warmly.  "Humans are always so full o' regrets, so I find it kinder to try an' resolve what I can before helpin' 'em move on.  Is there anythin' on your mind?"

David looks down to his hand and plays with an old ring.  "...Nothing I don't think you'd be able to help me with.  I'm sure his spirit is long since passed."

Clementine looks to the two rings on his hand and gently covers them.  "Maybe not, but I would like to know the story behind these two rings, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not."  He smiles as the memories wash over him.  Tapping on the older ring, he says simply, "This was given to me by my first love.  He died before we could get married, but I couldn’t get myself to take it off even as I learned to fall in love again.  And this one," he taps on a wedding band gently, "was given to me when I finally let myself love again.  It wasn’t easy- my son, it’s not easy for him to open up to others but...  Well, he was willing to try again too.”  The older man gently spins the second ring as he feels just a bit younger from the memories.  “And then he had another dad.  They’re both still alive, and I’m worried how my son is taking my death, but I know he’ll get through it together with my husband.  He… when my first fiance died, my son took it hard but.  He healed from the experience.  I’m just hoping my death doesn’t open up that old wound."

Gently, the woman taps the first ring.  "Why did you keep this ‘til the end?  Did you regret not marryin’ your old fiance?"

"...A little bit.  But," he holds his ringed hand close to his chest as he remembers two smiles, so different yet so loving, that bring a familiar warmth to his chest, "I don't regret loving either of them.  I just wish..."  He blinks slowly, looking back up to stare at a familiar crosswalk.  "It's just a little wish, but I wish my parting words to my fiance were... nicer ones."  He shakes his head.  "But that's already too late, and I know nothing can change the past."

"You're right."  The woman stands up and offers her hand to him.  "But the dead don't have to worry about that.  Time is meaningless when you have no body to constrain it to.  Make it meaningful until another door opens for you."  She gestures with her arm, and a soft light nearly blinds his eyes.  "I'm sure you can find someone to spend it with."

A familiar bird flies out of the door as a figure turns to look at him in surprise.

"...Davey?"

"Jasp?"

There once was a man who sat on the bench.

The two embrace in the light of Clementine's door, laughing through their tears as the brunette cups the ginger's face lovingly.  

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you more!"

"Then tell me everything I've missed."

"Of course I will."

There once was a man who sat on the bench.

Every day.  Without fail.

But now the bench sits empty.

And empty it shall remain, until another day.  Until another man.

But for now.  

There is a bench that sits empty.

[megalodon-writes]

Misunderstandings

Pairing - Akaashi Keiji x F!Reader

Word Count - 1.8k - Part III

Warnings - slight unwanted physical contact

Synopsis - Reader asks Bokuto for advice and decides to take action against Tozen.

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

a/n: huh I guess I don’t have anything to say here except that for the 6 days of writing and editing I had one sentence constantly going through my brain. “None thoughts but for Akaashi Keiji” so I mean n i c e 

Thankfully, you hadn’t been scheduled with Tozen in a while, but every time you had a small chance to say something, you would chicken out. You would text Bokuto about it and he was as supportive as ever, but he always recommended you say something sooner rather than later. He became a best friend, and you would go over to their place all the time to hang out. Through seeing so much of the two of them, you had quickly developed feelings for Akaashi. He was so kind and every time he looked at you, your heart beat so fast you wondered if it was going to explode. 

Bokuto had invited you to go to one of his games, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited. You didn’t really know what to expect from watching a professional volleyball game, but you threw on your favorite blouse and pair of high waisted jeans. You passed by your mirror and had to do a double take because you thought you looked so great. Hyping yourself up quite a bit, you couldn’t help but laugh as your front door opened.

“Hey, it’s me. Are you ready?” Akaashi called. You rounded the corner and actually had to catch your breath from how great he looked with a simple black t-shirt on.

“Yeah.” You grinned and grabbed your keys. Because you were distracted, you missed the fact that his eyes raked over your body. However, when you turned back to face him you did notice the slight pink to his cheeks. “Hey, are you feeling okay?” 

“I feel as great as you look.” He muttered.

“Well in that case we should go. Bokuto probably wants to see us sooner than later.” You laughed, not really hearing what he had said other than he felt great. 

The game was really entertaining and you loved seeing Bokuto's face every time he scored a point. You could see how people enjoyed his presence on the court. Not only that, but his teammates were all extremely talented as well. Every so often, Akaashi would look over at you. You thought it was sweet he kept making sure you were having fun. During one of the set changes, you stood up and yelled at Bokuto, who grinned and waved frantically. You turned around to face Akaashi and leaned against the bar, welcoming the feeling of how cold the metal was.

“Do you miss playing?” You asked. He looked at his hands and stood up, leaning on the bar so you were facing opposite directions.

“I miss playing with Bokuto.” He sighed. “We still play sometimes, but it’ll never be exactly how it was in high school.” His smile was so soft it made you wish you could have seen some of those games in person. Both he, and Bokuto always spoke very highly of their time at Fukurodani Academy.

--

Good morning, Y/N 

You smiled at the text from Bokuto and responded with ‘It is indeed a morning.’ Tucking your phone into your back pocket, you smiled, remembering the night before. You had gone over to the guy's apartment and had a movie marathon of Disney movies. It started with Finding Nemo and ended with Oliver and Company. Of course, in between those two movies you watched several princess movies, including Tangled, in which Bokuto sang every single word of all the songs. It wasn’t very beautiful, but Akaashis laughter made it all worth it. 

You turned around to make your bed, but as you did you smelled the most comforting smell in the world. Grabbing your shirt and holding it up to your face, you inhaled the scent of cedar wood and oranges. You had fallen asleep during one of the movies and about 2 am woke up to discover your head resting on Akaashis shoulder. Since you had been pressed against him for so long, his smell lingered on your clothes nicely. You had left their place around 3 in the morning and was glad that neither of them had noticed you cuddled up on Akaashi, or if they had they didn’t mention anything about it.

Looking in the mirror at yourself, you wondered if you should talk to Akaashi about how you felt. Your phone buzzed and  you pulled it out to see Bokuto send a smiley face. You still had about an hour before you needed to leave for work, so you debated whether or not to ask Bokuto for thoughts he had about the situation. Tozen flashed across your mind and you shook your head. You had decided today was the day you were going to confront him. Biting your cheek, you typed out a quick message, hoping that it would take your mind off of your manager for a while.

‘Hey, can I ask for some advice?’ Your phone buzzed almost immediately in response.

Always. You looked at the text and took a deep breath. He was so calm when you guys texted, unlike how he was in person.

‘What if I really like this guy and I want to tell him?’ The response wasn’t as immediate and for a moment you wondered if you were wrong in asking.

If that’s your way of telling me you like me, it was horrible. You laughed out loud and shook your head.

‘I don’t like you, ya dummy.’ You typed. This time, the pause was longer than before. You brushed off any negative thoughts and started curling your hair. After you were completely ready for work, your phone buzzed and you let out a small sigh of relief.

Who do you like? You stared at the four words and wondered if you should really tell him. 

‘It’s just someone from work.’ Your fingers hovered over the send button before pressing it.

Just tell them. Your brows furrowed together at the response. Before you could type out a reply, your phone buzzed again. I can’t talk anymore right now, but have a good day at work. You huffed and threw your phone into your pocket. 

“Best advice ever.” You said dryly.

--

The end of the work day was approaching rapidly and you started to get more nervous with every passing moment. You had seen Tozen earlier and told him you wanted to talk after work. You felt like a robot, giving random information out to the children and families. No one seemed to notice your mind was somewhere else, but that probably was because you had so many useless facts stored in your brain from years of study that they came out naturally.

You gathered your things and sat in the break room, waiting for your manager to join you. Without anyone else in the building besides the janitors and Tozen, you contemplated whether this was actually a good time to talk or not. You pulled out your phone hoping to miraculously see a text from Bokuto but before you could see, you heard footsteps up the stairs. Once Tozen appeared in the doorframe your heart stopped completely. Your hand started shaking again but you were thankful you had the support of the chair beneath you. He smiled and went to close the door after him.

“Please leave it open.” You squeaked. He looked surprised and furrowed his brows before sitting down next to you. Scooting a few inches away from him, you looked at him in the eyes.

“What’s this about, Y/N?” He asked.

“I think there are some undiscussed feelings we need to address.” You placed your hand on the table, but immediately drew back when he went to grab it.

“You’re looking more serious than I thought you would be.” He mused. Your insides churned and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“I am very uncomfortable with how you treat me.” You said flatly as his eyes grew wide. “I’ve had several friends say that I should report you for sexual harassment.” He laid a hand across his mouth and looked at the floor. Saying all of this to him had your entire body shaking and you felt tears pricking at the edge of your vision. “Before I did that I wanted to talk to you to let you know my side of the situation.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” He muttered, making you gasp slightly. 

“Are you just saying that because you were caught?” You said quickly, almost regretting your words. He looked up at you and after seeing the look on your face he shifted farther away from you. Your palms were sweaty but him moving made you feel a little less nervous.

“No. I am genuinely sorry.” He laid his head in his hands. “I feel so guilty right now, I actually thought you liked me. I had no idea you didn’t.” He said quietly. Hearing that made your mouth drop slightly open. “I read the situation so wrong.” You both sat there in silence for several moments. “I respect you as a person and as an employee. I had a friend get sexually harassed at work a few years ago and I saw what happened to her first hand so I know how uncomfortable it can be. I am so sorry that I put you through that.” He spoke with such pain in his voice that you had no idea what to say. After a deep breath you folded your arms.

“I want to continue working here.” You said. He looked up at you and nodded. “But I need some time away from you so please schedule me as opposite from you as you can.”

“I’ll make the changes immediately.” He said seriously. “I will respect your space and if you need to talk to me about work things, I will make sure there is another person present.” You exhaled and could feel your throat start to tighten up. “It’s going to take a while for you to forgive me, and I understand that. Please take all the time you need.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, don’t feel like you’re required to forgive me, because you’re not. The way I acted was not okay.” He stood up and headed towards the door. “If you need more parameters or anything please let me know.” 

“Thank you.” You said. You felt like there were cotton balls in your mouth and tears definitely were threatening to spill out.

“Thank you for telling me. Again, I apologize for my actions.” He left and you waited a few moments before quickly going out and getting into your car. You sat there, your mind buzzing with what had just happened. You grabbed your phone and dialed the person you had texted last. When you heard the tone of the answering machine on Bokuto's phone you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Hey, I hope you’re home right now.” Your words came out a bit shaky so you paused before you continued. “I - I need to not be alone.” You hung up and before you knew it, you were standing on their porch.

taglist: @doctorcelina @my-neighbor-todoro

[roses-ruby]

Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea

Namjoon x Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Sugary Fluff, Humor if you squint, Smut but it’s ugly, and the teeny tiniest angst

Warnings: curse words, sex, orgasms, oral (female receiving), choking kink, daddy kink, hot biker Namjoon, sex with clothes on, might make you hungry (i’m not sure about everything that’s considered a warning sorry! If there’s something you want me to add, tell me)

Word Count: 8,196

Summary: You’ve got feelings for my man Namjoon, the scary looking dork that drops by where you work. But how will you relay them?

A/N: My first story! Omfgsfkhbifb I’m nervous so please leave a kind word, I’ll love you forever. Might have mistakes cause i’m an idiot. None of this would have been possible without the great @countrysundae she’s my darling and inspiration and I love her sooooo much and you should too!!! Please appreciate her Pisces ass, and send her some love! Oof anyway, please enjoy

10:30

Originally set for 8, 10 fucking 30 is when the bells of your alarm informed you to awake for maybe the 99th time that morning. Groaning in displeasure you move your stiffened muscles to shut the damn thing off. This is a process that’s become a routine; waking up way later than originally planned, no matter how many timers set, or reminders kept. Even though you admit you are sleep deprived constantly, it doesn’t make you a heavy sleeper habitually! You wake up to the tiniest noises at night, from your roommate trying to sneak back into the shared room in ungodly hours of the night to the leaking tap in the bathtub. And yet your phone’s alarm is your placebo-it does absolutely nothing for you.

Though you do try. You keep about 5 alarms on at once, to your roommate’s expense who somehow is both a night owl and early bird all at once. Speaking of which-

“So, the witch finally sees daylight,” snickers Sana

“what the fuc--how long were you there?!” You rasped, grabbing at your erratic heart

“Just got in 5 minutes ago, that was my first alarm and trust me when I say I would’ve strangled you if I heard another.”

It’s true, she’s done it before. Your poor roommate was an occasional victim of your ruthless sleeping habits. You’d sometimes slip into conscious from slumber to hear her whine about your blaring alarms in her own sleeping state. Other times you’d wake up from a pillow landing on your face from a girl who’s had Enough.™ But you didn’t feel too bad for her, since you’ve given her the option of waking you up herself and she’s proven frivolous far too many times for such a simple task. Lowkey? She deserves it.

“Ooh another fun night, huh?” You grin in your sleepy state

Sana giggles “Mhmm, think Mark’s in love with me the poor chap,” she mocks his English accent making you both laugh at yet another fuckboi who’s become a victim to Sana’s lethal looks. Giving her a glance over, from her messy hair and smeared lipstick you conclude she indeed had a very fun night.

Sana came from a well-off background and had it all. Good-looks, smarts, the money, and a very good heart. She didn’t have to go to university, but her mom was not having it. The whole ‘be grateful for the opportunity people suffer to receive’ speech led her here. A parent’s guilt tripping wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. You considered yourself an average person. Kinda cute, smart, headstrong and half of a pretty good character…Your parents on the other hand, were really wimpy.

“We always thought you’d go to the neighborhood community college”, your dad remarked in horror holding the prestige upper state university’s acceptance letter that arrived recently.

Your dad, who thinks jaded denim vests are cool.

“You’re too young to be living on your own, you’re still a bird who can’t use her wings correctly, not ready to leave the nest!” Said your distressed mom, who’s solution to all bad food was to put more cheese on it.

Don’t like your chicken curry? Pass on the parmesan sprinkler!

You hear the bang of hands on the table and a chair screeches, “let her go, she’ll come back with her tail between her legs”, your little brother who plays fortnite all day and is going through his ‘I hate feelings but secretly cry every night’ faze shouts before storming off towards his room.

All you do is sigh and roll your eyes, picking at your over-parmesaned chicken curry with your naan as your parents continue to nag, cause after this whole fiasco your mind was certainly convinced.

You’re going to the university.

_

Now that you are here, nothing was easy even for someone as headstrong as you. You were smart enough for a scholarship, but living expenses were something else entirely. Which led you to seek employment at a small café, a few miles from your university. It wasn’t the most bustling of places as it drew in a handful of consumers a day, even your fellow students chose the McDonalds right across the street. Everyone enjoyed the quick coffee and frozen fries, rather than your place’s slightly pricier fresh brews and handmade savory biscuits. Alas, you considerably appreciated the quiet composure your café provided. From the dim soft white lighting, to the 60’s slow jazz-which you routinely exchanged with a Studio Ghibli playlist from YouTube discreetly, blended well together. Gave you time to catchup on your schoolwork. Your boss was a chill 42-year-old who won the lottery a few years back, and let you clock in any time before 12, even if your morning shift began from 9. Maybe it had something to do with how the last waitress quit to work at McDonalds.

And he was always there.

Kim Namjoon. The quiet stud that had captivated your heart without even trying. Also, the fucking reason you wanted to get up earlier in the mornings damn it!

Namjoon was a psychology major who was always reading a new book. Mostly from his favorite author Haruki Murakami. And he always stopped by at the place you worked to indulged them. Parking his Harley-Davidson Softail outside and softly walking in with his old school leather jacket and gloves, ripped jeans, a book in his hand, his huge hard…helmet forgotten on the bike’s handle. He’d gently relay his familiar order of cherry muffins and lavender tea, raking his hair back with those beautiful black gloves, and striding to his usual seat in the back of the café.

He’d grace your presence 3 times a week, usually at 9:30 before his 10 am classes; another early bitch bird. All you wanted to do since then was to be able to take his order.

You had met Namjoon at the beginning of your first semester last year. But he hadn’t harbored much of your attention until that fateful day. Chilly winds and frequent rain were what you were adjusting to, as fall was in its peak with every other color on the leaves a vibrant orange, grabbing at your focus. Having arrived on time for once, you were engaged in your workspace. The co-owner and your co-worker of the small café, the boss’s niece, had taken a day’s leave, and you knew she’d beat your ass if you were late. Tray in hand, you served a bacon quiche and caffé americano to the table refuging a girl in an infinity scarf and glasses who didn’t bother to look up from her phone, when the door chimed open

It’s him again, you thought at the tall stranger you’ve seen around your campus in all black stepping towards the counter. He had small droplets of water on his leather jacket and hair from the rain. You didn’t realize you were staring until he awkwardly looked directly at you, standing with an empty round tray at the side of the table of the occupied girl, who you know is also taking a secret glance at him, and shyly smiles.

Cute.

You walk yourself behind the counter and smile, “hey there”

“Hi, um two cherr-“

“-y muffins and lavender tea, right?”

He nods

“Why don’t you just say the usual?” You laugh, wringing up his order in your old school register

“I didn’t think you’d remember me out of all the customers,” he states bashfully, dimples on display

“‘all the customers?’’ you laugh louder, “we get like 15 a day, I’m sure I’ll remember you”

“Oh, I thought I just came too early”

“You definitely do! I don’t have the energy to get up and comb my hair at 9 in the morning, much less bike to a café for cherry muffins”

“You like it?” he grins “it’s a Harley-Davidson, my dad owned one”

“It’s as pretty as you sweetie,” you don’t know where that confidence was coming from, because you’ve definitely haven’t talked to a boy like this before. Blame it on the chilly weather.

“oh, thank you,” he rakes his leather gloved hands through his hair, looking down at his shoes

Stepping towards your tea station, you grab open the bag of loose organic dried lavender buds, on the shelf above. Picking up a measuring spoon, you scoop and slide in some buds in the French press. You grab the boiling water on the electric stove, next to your station and slowly pour it onto the herbs. You close down the French Press and set a timer for 6 minutes.

Taking a breath, you look around the café. Namjoon stands there as towering as a tree, looking at his book, ‘Women who Run with the Wolves.’ Most people would go sit down if it wasn’t pickup, but he always stood right at the registrar. Strange. Unsurprisingly, you remember being intimidated as hell in the beginning. Usually people that come to the café are chill in the ‘harmless millennial hippie’ type of way, dressing themselves in mutable colors. But he looked like he would yell if you even slightly messed up his order or gave a ‘wrong look’ to his bike. You loosened up when his order was always so easy, and his book choices always so cute. You almost bust out laughing when he came in with ‘A fault in our stars;’ especially when he sat at his table with glossy eyes, trying to finish the last pages. His smile also melted all worries away.

Infinity scarf girl gets up to leave (but not before giving Namjoon a longing look), leaving you both alone in the balance of your heartbeats. There was slow piano from Kiki’s delivery service filling up your café’s background. The weather still faintly drizzling, the soft gray clouds seeping through the broad windows, making the café’s wooden brown hues a tad bit dimmer, yet the fairy lights radiant. Pedestrians with transparent umbrellas in beige coats and red hats pass by every so often, not a care in the world. Smells of fresh scones and cinnamon filled your nostrils, making you remember holiday nights at home. Though your thoughts often redirected themselves towards the handsome stranger and the harmony of the quiet fall day.

The timer dings and you get back on track, using the handle to press the floating buds down to the bottom of your French press. You head toward the counter’s display case. Below is a steel countertop with coffee/tea cups, silverware, small plates, trays and a set of tongs. You grab a cup and plate, fixing them properly you pour the tea. The steam drifts towards your face, an amazing aroma that complimented the purple complexion of your brew. Grabbing a set of tongs, you take out two large cherry muffins, placing them on a tray, along with the tea. You decide to grab a chocolate chip cookie as well from one of the clear cookie jars set on the wooden crown of the display case.

“Here ya go,” you place the tray in front of him. He places his book and gloves onto the tray and gets out his wallet from his beautifulbooty back pocket. After paying he picks up the tray and halts

“Cookie?” He holds up the chocolate chip cookie in his hand, a bit confused

“It’s on the house, they’re the best thing in the café, but I end up eating most of them, so might as well give ‘em out”

He smiles, “thank you, it looks delicious”

“No problem, anything for our loyal customers,” you both laugh, “it’s beautiful out today”

“Hm, not as much as you,” he states, walking away from you towards his usual seat. Now, he turned around very quickly after he said that, so you didn’t really get to see his face after such cheesy words, but the tips of his ears were red. Oh.

He’s cute cute.

Stunned, you stand there for a moment or two, just wide-eyed; staring at nothing, until you spin on your spot and head back into the tea vicinity of the café. You feel your heartrate rise and alarms go off in your head. But not the loud intrusive kind. The kind where a baker knows his three-layered chocolate fudge cake is ready. The ones where a mom takes freshly baked cinnamon rolls out in the morning. The ones when the apple pie is prepared to be sliced. Those kinds. Covering your extremely warm face with your hands, you muffle a squeal.

Since then, you’ve started paying close attention to Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t know what it was, his tall broad frame and long thick legs, which you wanted to be choked with. His large hands in those chunky leather gloves or when he took them off, to handle the pages of his book delicately; his long skinny fingers would graze over the soft wood, both things you wanted to be choked with. Or his keen eyes that would get larger or darker depending on what part of the book he was reading, and you imagined in which manner they would present themselves with while he’s choking y-Ok. Ok. Ok. You had a kink. Endeared was how you felt at his intimidating appearance.

You also adored how far away from intimidating he actually was. You were smitten with his gentle demeanor in dealing with people. His pacifist nature, and how much he loved tiny crabs, how he was so respectful towards everyone, younger or older, never judging anyone’s appearance or his love for characters that’re as large, and clumsy as him, like Ryan from that Kakaotalk app. And his laughed that carried large amounts of joy over cheesy, silly things ultimately making you laugh as well.

You were sure you loved Kim Namjoon, yet you barely spoke to him-

I mean who’s gonna disturb a huge scary-looking dork when he’s trying to read? Certainly not you. What you desired is a way to get close to him somehow, and for that you needed to know more about him. It wasn’t hard to pick up gossip though, when you were friends with the loudest chatter mouth on the planet.

You told Sana once about your silly crush and she shrieked so hard it sounded like a howl. The next day she had all the deets on who she referred to as ‘Hunkjoon.’ He had an IQ of 148, he hates seafood, he’s so clumsy that his friends refer to him as ‘the god of destruction,’ favorite color is black (no duh), he’s well-known, terribly smart, and to your dismay, associated with the exceedingly popular frat boys Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin.

Ugh

Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin, or who you so kindly referred to as the Seokbitches, were the schools James Dean. ‘Icon of teenage disillusionment.’ Hehe, perfect definition by google. They were notorious, for playing ghosts in their classes, throwing a party every.single.damn.day., never keeping their dick™ in their pants, and having the most obnoxious laughs on the earth…

Ok, so maybe only you knew them for that. To others they were the teenage love and rebellion dream, James Dean. They never attended classes, because they were fuckthesystem peeps, threw a party everyday so the poor souls stuck in an endless cycle of capitalist warfare aka their fellow students could enjoy the more fun things life has to offer, indulged in every part of youth-including the 24/7 horny part, and had the most beautiful laughs in the damn planet.

How were they Namjoon’s closest friends…How? Anyone with a functioning brain can tell the vast difference between the trinity. Namjoon attended all his classes (yet fate didn’t give you a class with him, the bitch), he actually read books, and he wasn’t hooking up with 2-3 girls every night, unlike certain people.

You heard from a classmate a while back that ‘bout two years ago Namjoon had a serious girlfriend. Since their breakup, he hasn’t been with anyone else. It’s good that he’s single but you’ve still only talked to him here and there. A few shy glances, a few awkward touches. Nothing more, but lord do you want more, alot more. What if a girl more daring gets him first?  Do you really need angst in your life? NO! but you are still at a loss of what to do. You had one boyfriend so far, and it was one of your worst experiences.

The guy was a total creep. And the worst part? You asked him out. All your friends had relationships and he was someone who rode the bus with you, making you laugh here and there. So, being the usual teenager, you thought it’d be a good idea to date him, like a fool. Who knew he wasn’t just being charming, and making fun of people (trying to be edgy as you now know) was a hobby for him? You did. Right after you overheard him announce the fact that you look like a winged bat when you suck dick just to make his jerk-ass friends laugh. It was so humiliating, as you never did something of the sorts with him, yet his friends would stick out their teeth in a ‘vampire like manner’ whenever they passed you in the hallway, as well as your first heartbreak. You got him back by filling his locker with Limburger cheese, from your mom’s collection of cheeses. His gym clothes smelled for a month, and people called him cheeseboi for the rest of the year.

You shed your blind innocence that day and knew that men are trash. Namjoon isn’t like that though, and you’re surer of that than anything. He’s special for you and you want to be the special one for him. Sadly, you just didn’t know how to start a conversation with Namjoon, without looking like you jumped in boiling water. I mean you had hook-ups in college. Who doesn’t play around here and there? But fuck-this is definitely the first time you actually like someone. Like really like them, so you just clam up and don’t know what to do. That’s where you are today.

You bounce from your bed, heading towards the bathroom. “I’m late again,” you mumble.

Sana hears that (at this point she could have better hearing than dogs)

“Hunkjoon, huh?”

“That’s not his name Sasha”

“Listen, why do you even spend your time trying to get with him in that boring café?” Sana shouts, hopping off her bed she makes her way to the bathroom and throws her hands around you who’s brushing her teeth. “You should ask him out, maybe to a club. A little booty popping, ear sucking, mouth licking, and he’s yours”

“Please don’t ever use any of those words in that way ever again.”

“I’m serious!” Exasperated she throws her hands in the air before resting them on each of your shoulders together and squeezes you. “You just need a change of scenery, that place is no hook-up central for us modern kids. Just one party, and he’ll be all over you.” You tug her off your back and narrow your eyes-looking at her through the mirror; you continue to brush your teeth. She knows you want something far from a hookup with Namjoon, yet she-

“And then,” she smirks, “maybe your mouth would be full of his cum-not toothpaste”

You choke.

“Sana what the fuck,” you rage running after the laughing vixen with your toothbrush as a makeshift knife

“Don’t act like it’s not what you want!” She cackles as you tackle her onto the bed ready to stab her eyes out when your phone rings. Oh shit. You know exactly who that is. Picking it up, you run to the bathroom, spitting out your toothpaste

“H-h-hello?”

“Where. in. Jesus’s. name. are. you?!”

“O-oh, coming Linda, I’m in traffic” Sana proceeds to imitate a car beep sound at that-“and I’ll be there in 5 minutes!”

“If you aren’t, I’ll personally serve your head as our main dish this afternoon!” She screeches before hanging up

“Shit,” you catch your breath, “I gotta go,” scrambling around, you find something appropriate to wear in late April weather. You brush your hair in a hurry and throw on a high ponytail. Sana just watches you the whole time, staring at you up on her elbows from her bed looking deep in thought. Grabbing one of Sana’s car keys and your purse, you rush out the door with a quick bye to Sana. She doesn’t reply back but after you are out the door she flings back onto her bed, arms expanded.

“I’ll ask Hobi,” she says to herself

_

Parking in the small lot behind the café, you run inside the back door. You gather yourself, fixing your hair and your fast heartbeat, you wrap on an apron and head to the front.

Linda spots you right away.

“You’re late,” she grits

“Yeah, traffic sucks,” you grin awkwardly, praying she’ll believe you.

“Just get to work, the pound cakes are almost ready to take out,” she points toward the oven. You nod, heading into the vicinity of the oven in the back next to the stove.

“Hey Linda,” someone shouts making you turn, “the person at table 3 wants some sourdough starter”

Linda acknowledges, moving into the back storage where the starters where kept.

You spot a girl. A new girl. A very very pretty girl, with long light brown hair up to her waist, and a delicate body. She meets your eyes and smiles and you return the gesture before looking away like you didn’t momentarily become gay looking at her soft features.

It’s good to have her around, you conclude. Usually you worked the morning shift with Linda 3 times a week, taking afternoon classes during those days. (coincidently when Namjoon comes by) You know there’s a girl who works the afternoon shift, but you never really ran into her. And since you do come late 1 out of 3 times, Linda ends up doing most of the work herself, including making all the café’s delicacies. You’re so very thankful to Linda and her uncle for not firing you, and very glad that Linda has some actual help now.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when the oven timer dings and the door chimes open.

The new girl greets the customer cheerily while you concentrate on taking an enticing whiff of the vanilla pound cakes, about to pull open the oven’s door when you stop dead in your tracks. You’d recognize that deep voice anywhere.

Turning your head so fast, you feel your neck burn from whiplash you spot your Namjoon finishing his order to your co-worker. He meets your eyes for a moment, and god you’re sure you look like a fish.

“Would you like anything else? We have really good chocolate chip cookies,” pipes the newcomer

“I know, they’re delicious,” he catches your eyes again, “but no thank you, not this time”

“Aww, well I love them a bit too much. Even though I’m new I’ve had quite a few,” she starts ringing up his order

“I thought I haven’t seen you around here”

“Moved in recently and kinda have trouble unpacking…I need a stronger body ya’know”

“Is that so,” Namjoon quirks a brow and you feel like you’ll throw up. Why is Namjoon late? Catch 22 didn’t seem like his style of book? Why the fuck is she giggling so much? Who let her steal all your cookies? And why is his hair so much messier than usual? He looks so cute omg?... What’s that burning smell?

…Shit

You gawk at the oven in horror as Linda shouts your name from a mile away.

_

Sana’s scrolling through her phone on her tummy when you bonk her head with your purse

“Ow, what the fuck-”

“When’s the next frat fiasco? I need to relive some stress”

She smiles, “I knew you’d come around, and that’s why I went ahead and asked Hobi to bring Hunkjoon tonight.”

You beam at the mention, “Sana you angel!” Then immediately scowl, “Wait at a seokbitch party? Just fucking great”

“Don’t be so sour,” Sana sighs, sitting up, “Namjoon doesn’t go to many parties anyway so his best friend was the only solid way to bring him.”

Giving it a thought, you beam again, jumping on Sana

“Sana you angel!”

“Whatever’s up with your hair by the way, looks like you’ve been pulling on it.”

“Don’t ask…long day.”

_

Arriving at the party, you grimace at the smoke of marijuana blanketing you as soon as you enter.

“Alright, Hobi should be around here somewhere,” Sana looks around,” standing on the tippy toes of her heels, trying to look past the frisky bodies, but it’s of no use with the amount of people in the room.

The room was packed with tipsy children. There was barely any elbow space even though the frat house was huge as you and Sana squeezed through hot, sweaty dancing bodies. Some unbalanced drunkards clumsily pushing into you every now and then and you wondered how anyone came to these things. It’s hot, and everyone smelled of axe and sweat. Parties would be much better with just a modest group of people you know, or maybe that’s the small-town girl in you speaking.

No! You cringed internally. You must forget about your outdated methods and passive behavior. Tonight, you will become someone completely new. Someone who takes action.

“Oh there!” Sana shouts over the music, waving furiously to someone by the stairs

Soon after you hear the jubilant voice of Jung Hoseok as he comes into view to greet Sana with a hug, and after being temporarily blinded by his smile you give him a once over or call that twice, because fuck He looked good in a simple white tee, tight blue jeans, dark brown Timberlands and his hair pushed up with what seemed like some gel and messy fingers (think back to Gayo Daejejeon 2018 mic drop)

“This is the girl I was telling you about,” Sana points at you

Hoseok joins in on your shameless gawking and grins

Embodying you was a baby pink thin strapped mini dress, and when you say mini, you mean your black Chantelle Présage lace thong is showing mini, but you’re a woman on a mission, and you didn’t care if you were naked at this point. Your hair was thoroughly straightened, and you went for a glossy cherry makeup look, courtesy of Sana. You weren’t trying to look like a cherry muffin, buuuut you didn’t mind if that’s what people thought, specifically one person.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he extends his hand, eyes duskier than a moment ago

You should wear shades in front of him or you’re sure you’ll go blind.

You shake his hand and give him one of your most forced friendly smiles, trying not to make much conversation as you just wanted one thing. Though that shiver upon your spine at his grip tells you otherwise.

Hoseok motions for you both to follow him and you pick his trail

Sana elbows you

“We talked about this! You’re supposed to be acting like a lamb, ready to be jumped on at any time, not a fox,” she whispers at your obvious display of wanting nothing to do with the Hyena

“I’m being nice! I am! This is how I’m nice!”

Sana rolls her eyes, and you sulk. It’s not your fault she is a master seductress, and you just don’t know how to be kind to the guy who’s trying to undress you with his eyes when he knows you’re here for his friend. She told you two things about seducing men, act completely incompetent and laugh at all their lame jokes. The more you feed a guy’s concocted ego, the more you feed his desire for you. And well, a way to the man’s heart is through feeding him…or something right?

But all your thoughts disappear into nothing once you lay eyes upon the man you’ve been wanting for almost a year.

Kim Namjoon, holy fuck.

Never has a loose black tee and oversized maroon velvet bomber’s jacket looked that good on anyone before. He commands your undivided attention with that low-neck line and gelled up hair. Healthy, glowing skin spread out like a canvas. His jeans ripped in all the beautiful places around the man’s thick, strong thighs, and black derby’s? Classic, yet defiant as always. He was fucking beautiful and you were awestruck. Hoseok says something to the group of 3 guys standing by the back sofa, including Namjoon, most likely about you, but you don’t hear anything once Namjoon locks eyes with you. There’s evident surprise in his eyes, which dims into concentration at the dress you’re wearing.

“So Namjoon,” Hoseok interrupts your thoughts, “I heard you both’ve met before?”

Namjoon doesn’t break away from you for a moment, smiling slightly “we’ve met, it’s nice to see you here”

He was being strangely vague. “You too,” you mutter

You could physically feel Sana scoff at the virginity act.

“Alright, I can use a drink-Ali, Jason, Sana let’s go get them”, Hoseok works fast to evade the intrusive attention on the both of you

“Why do you need 3 people to help you with drinks”, says a confused Jason

Flustered at the man’s impaired ability to read between the lines Hoseok scrambles for another excuse, “um…uh, I don’t know what you want? And uh there’s a lot of people, so uh”

Jason stubborn as ever quirks, “well I can just tell you what I wan-”

“JASON! ALI!” Sana shouts and everyone, aside from Namjoon, who won’t turn away from you, glances at her, “be a darling and pour my drink for me,” she uses her sultry voice, throws a sly smile, and they all get led away by her, even Hoseok, looking hypnotized

Watching them walk away you let out a sigh. This is it. This is your moment. You really should’ve had a shot before this. Drunk you wouldn’t clam up and clench her buttocks that sober you is doing for some reason. Clearing your throat, you start blurting out the first forms of conversation that settles in your mind.

“Nice to see you here, finally away from the café-not that I don’t like seeing you there…I mean I do, but this is nice too hehe”

You mentally slap yourself for the worst beginning. When have you ever been this quiet? Sana couldn’t get you or your alarm to shut up most of the time and this is the moment you choose to get awkward? Maybe this is it. He’ll just walk away now and you can wallow in self-pity.

“It’s great to see you too, out of that café…not that I don’t like it as well” he smiles

Your whole form relaxes, and you feel the knot of pressure in your back coming undone. You know you’re overthinking, know that your mind is self-sabotaging you, so it can get out of this hellhole back into its safe space between your bedsheets. So, you take a breath and focus on his eyes, trying to bring back the confidence of an 80’s café waitress. “You got yelled at pretty hard this morning, were you ok?” He asks

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I kinda deserved it and Linda’s the biggest sweetheart, she would never actually hurt me.” Minus where she almost tore your hair out in the backroom

“…speaking of which, why were you late this morning?” You slapped yourself again

He gave you a look. Shit. “You track me?” he grins

“No-no, nonono…n-yes. I track all my customers”, you smile awkwardly, “they keep me on my toes ya’ know the little bastards” If only you could forever tape your mouth

It was a bad joke but he lets out a chuckle where his eyes turn into little crescents and his dimples poke through his skin

“Well, I missed my alarm this morning, so I was too late to arrive on time…but I still wanted to come…”

“…Why?”

“I just,” he stares at you, “did”

“I see. It’s our tea isn’t it.”

Both of you share a laugh

“You look beautiful by the way”

“This little thing?” you twirl your hips, “just found this in the back of my closet”

The brag was true because you never fucking dressed up for anything, yet always shop like you do.

When you look at him again, you see his eyes dark at the move you just did, which you’re sure exposed your ass

Gathering courage, you start walking toward and up the stairs not giving Namjoon another glance. You could feel his bewilderment through your exposed back, as he follows you like a lost puppy. You hide a smile. Heading into an open room, you find its balcony. Outside, the spring wind picks up your hair and you take in a deep breath, letting go of all your nerves that tense up once you feel the balcony door open and close and the presence of another person in the little island.

“Are you alright?” You feel his breath on you, and you barricade a shudder

“I’m fine…I just couldn’t breathe in there with all the weed,” you turn and smile at him.

“I hate it too,” He smiles back

There’s a moment before you both break eye contact and he’s stepping up beside you

Looking out from the balcony, you pander in the serenity of the dark night and silent winds. The music is still mutely conscious in both your eardrums, as well as the laughter of kids who came here to forget tomorrow. There’s always a calmness you feel with him, no matter the weather or locality. The tips of your arms are touching and the barring heat your entire left side simmers in provides you with the translation of your need to be closer with him.

“I’m sorry I’m not good at small talk”

You turn your face to him as he takes a breath before speaking again

“I’m very awkward, sorry about that”

“You aren’t the one who’s awkward, you raise a brow, I’ve been making bad jokes all night. And well, who’s good at things like small talk?”

He smiles at you, “Your jokes aren’t bad,” he says bringing his face closer to yours, “and I love hearing you talk”

“Thank you” There’s another silence before you ask, “started a new book recently?’

“I did!” He quirks, “‘Yellow Wallpaper’ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, it’s disturbing yet addictive. Like an Edgar Allen type you know. The increasing dread creates a form of suspense, which feels like a drug. Even though you can tell the ending won’t be good, you carry on led by a strange empathy as if you’ve become the character and it-“

Namjoon stops suddenly and stares at you smiling. “Um…sorry I got carried away, I’m probably boring you”

“Nuh-uh” you stop him immediately, “You aren’t boring at all. I love hearing you talk”

There’s a radiant blush on his cheek as red as your cherry lips, and you just want to devour him. “When I,” he begins looking away, “When I come to the café, you always seem so interested in what I’m reading. Most people don’t really care about that from me. They care that I ride bikes or about my popular friends. Not that I mind. I’m fine keeping them on a surface level. But,” He looks at you, “I want to know you better.”

“Me too” you blurt out very quickly

Your faces are so adjacent you can smell his soft mint toothpaste from his steady breathing. He’s staring at your glossy lips, your whole form is covered with his warmth, fluttering your senses leisurely

“Want a taste,” you whisper just for him to hear

“I bet it’s as delicious as it looks,” he lets out a heavy breath

“Well lucky you cause tonight I’m serving them specially for you”

You close the distance between your mouths and take in his plump lips. It wasn’t rushed, yet it wasn’t slow. It felt like the most perfect kind of kiss in the silent spring, the one that’s described in timeless romance novels. The one that you tell your children to look for, if they’re fortunate enough in their youth. That they’ll know it’s from the one.

He brings his hand upon your cheek and rubs it tenderly with his thumb. You both move back and stare in each other’s eyes.

“Well…was it delicious?”

“Better than cherry muffins,” he licks his lips to taste your cherry gloss on them

You crinkle your eyes to cringe and giggle

“You’re so cute,” he says and he’s kissing you again

This time he slips his tongue in your mouth and you hum in content, grabbing at the back of his blonde hair. Your tongues dance wildly, and Namjoon reaches for every nook and cranny of your wet cavern. Immoral sounds are escaping you both as your closed eyes burn in delight. Putting your legs on each side of his torso, he hurriedly picks you up from under your thighs and easily carries you inside the room, towards the bed.

You both break off as soon as he lands your bodies on the spring. His body still contains the heat from your thighs, and he’s pressed so close to you, you can feel your nipples against his rock-hard chest as well as the tent in his jeans. Breathing heavily, you stare in his starry eyes, filled with so much lust it feels like they’re dripping.

With a shaky breath you try to melt his lips onto yours again, just for him to shift back.

“Do you want this?” He asks, determined to move off if you refuse him

That would be a sin. “Yes.” You speak clearly, “I always wanted you, since I first saw you, Namjoon.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, before he’s on you again like the kindest, warmest deity he is.

He’s back into exploring your mouth as your hands find their home roaming his broad back. As he moves his hips up and down your wet entrance, a heat shoots up through your spine. His hands are kneading your ass, and everything is moving in slow motion for what feels like forever. Breaking off your mouth, he moves his kisses along your neck down to your cleavage, sucking hickeys on sensitive areas you moaned around. Growling at the invasive flimsy fabric surrounding your chest, he begins to tear it apart. His hands pulled down your transparent bra. You gasp at the intrusion of air surrounding your upper body.

“Mmm, fuck yes baby,” you could feel yourself soaking his cloth covered crotch as you fuck yourself upon his restricted dick.

Namjoon smirks reaching towards your back to take off your bra, letting his warm fingers tickle your skin as you lift your back to help him remove it and discard it to the side. Namjoon takes you in, caressing your face and you feel like he’s going to compliment you before he’s spitting words in your ear

“You little slut, you came here just to be fucked didn’t you”

Flustered you splutter, “Yes, ah please”

“That’s yes daddy for you baby,” he uses his large fingers to take hair off your face and removes his jacket and shirt

“Yes daddy, please,” you eye his tan muscles and broad chest. He noses your jaw and takes his mouth around your areola. You immediately run a hand through his golden locks, your mouth hangs open as he flicks your nipple with his tongue. Around his arms was sunken skin, in the form of muscles and you run your hands through every cervix.

Your breathing is labored

He moves back, moving your thong slightly to the right as he dips two fingers into you,

“Drenched and shameless muffin,” he mutters scissoring your entrance slightly, staring at you darkly

You are sprawled out for him like an unwrapped muffin. One leg hangs off the bed, while the other is desperately wrapped around his torso as if you’re scared he’ll leave. Your breasts are exposed and wet with saliva, and you’ve just handed him your cunt for the taking. You’re high off his soft sandalwood scent, as he takes your chest in his large hand, rolling your nipple in his thumb and index finger, pulling it slightly. His fingers are wet from your juices and you’re embarrassed you’re this wet. Vulnerable, you shut your eyes and look away before he grabs your cheeks with his hand and brings your face back towards him, hitting a certain spot that has you arching your back and knitting your brows.

“Don’t close your eyes baby girl, I need your focus completely on me”

“Then no more teasing,” you pout

Namjoon chuckles as he brings his fingers dripping with your silk into his mouth; looking straight into your soul he licks around his fingers in the lewdest way possible. “Sweeter than cherries” he mutters, slowly unraveling your wrapped leg and caresses the inside of your wet thigh, never letting go as if reassuring you that he’s right here. Languidly, he noses down your navel and further below until he’s lined with your aching core

“Daddy” you whimper

Giving you kitten licks around your folds, he licks a long strip before placing his tongue slightly inside your walls and suckles your juices. Your legs were on each side of his head, and you pulled at his hair out of frustration. The higher your voice went, the more he licked, bringing his tongue around your bundle of nerves and gently rolling the nub around. His hands traveled from your thighs to your waist, and slowly towards your breasts and kneaded. He flattened his tongue against your folds again, to take a finer taste of you, as he hummed knowing you were close. He took his right hand off your chest and used it to slide two fingers into your inner depths.

His mouth then went back to your clit, slowly rolling it around his tongue in a circular motion as his fingers drilled into you faster and faster. You let out a string of curses as your thighs began to shake, and the knot in your stomach becoming undone. You came with a yelp as your eyes began to see stars and vision whitened.

All your sudden adrenaline left you and your limbs limped onto the bed, fingers no longer in Namjoon’s hair. Letting out heavy breaths you saw Namjoon slowly coming out of your legs to face you. His thick lips were wet with your juices, and he licked through them and smiled.

“You’re so beautiful baby girl,” he said before kissing you again. Your tongues danced through your exhaustion, and you moved your hand towards his hard on. You felt him hiss into your mouth as you slowly rubbed him through his jeans. Backing off his mouth you smiled, it’s your turn daddy, and undid his zipper. You felt his hard dick in your hand, blessed in length. Spreading precum around his shaft, you watched him twist his expression. He reached into his back pocket and took out a condom, tearing off the wrapper with his teeth and handing it to you.

You gave him a smile as you rolled the condom onto his length and lined it with your entrance-giving him a hand job as he gradually moved into you. Once he was fully sheathed, he took a moment, before pulling out a slamming into you again

You let out a gasp at his pace, still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm. He was relentless and pounded into you over and over again, as the whole bed shook at his force.

“F-fuck dadd-y ooh” you cried as the same knot appeared inside your stomach. You grabbed his hand on the side of your head and brought it up to your face to give it a kiss. Light headed from the force of his thrusts, you could still feel him looking at you as you brought his hand upon your neck and laid it out flat

He cursed at your submission, and lightly put pressure on your neck “You’re such a good girl, daddy’s good girl, good girl fuck,” his paced faltered and you could feel your orgasm approaching with the pressure around your neck. With his other hand he stimulated your clitoris and that’s all it took to have you cuming once again.

Your mind travels back to how much you’ve wanted this-wanted him. His strong arms are no longer hidden under his bulky jacket, his fingers no longer clean with traces of paper fiber, but with your juices. How the hands you’ve wanted for so long around your neck, the eyes you waited to be filled with just you, the moans you suffered to hear from his luscious lips. It’s all happening. It’s all yours and no amount of overthinking will take this away.

With a few more thrusts he reached his own peak with a grunt, flopping down on you shortly afterward. You could feel his heavy, hot breathing on your neck and you wrapped your hands around him. You take a few more huffs before talking to him.

“I really like you” you whisper

“So I’ve heard,” he chuckles moving off you, he picks you up to move you upright in the bed with your head on the pillow and your arms still around him. He lays down next to you. “I’m not going anywhere baby. I really like you too. You didn’t really think I came for the tea did you”

Your heart soars and you meet his dimpled smile, He looks so youthful with his after sex glow, “Hey I make that tea with a lot of love and care!”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he laughs

“I didn’t know you liked me, your head is always in your books”

“Well originally, I came to chill and read. Until I found the cutest waitress that makes amazing tea-“

“-Shut up,” you jab him with a giggle

“-and I didn’t want to seem creepy, so I just payed attention to my books. But I did try to talk to you. I would stand as still as a tree next to the registrar trying to think of something to say. You tended to look intimidated of me, so I always froze up and just sat down. I asked my friends how to talk to you, and they kept giving me strange advice. I don’t think they know how to get a girl without sexual innuendos. They didn’t know how you looked, just knew you as café girl. If Hoseok found out you were café girl tonight, he’d probably try and do something stupid”

You took in the information he gave you and put the puzzle pieces together. You both were huge overthinking dorks. “I was only intimidated in the beginning,” you begin, “even if I was I still found you hot and probably would’ve jumped on your dick had you asked”

He suppresses some coughs while turning red

Smirking you lead him on, “Oh, so you’re shy now but wanted me to call you daddy just a few minutes ago”

“T-that’s” he begins, and you laugh out loud thinking this is definitely your Namjoon

“What about your choking kink? That was cute and unexpected” he gives you a sly grin

“Wait, shut u-that’s not…it’s your fault with those leather gloves, and leather jackets”

You poke his dimple out of mock anger and he tickles you. The rest of the time is spent by talking out your feelings, your dreams, favorite books, and desserts until you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

_

You wake up by what you believe is your alarm. Opening your groggy eyes, you look up towards the ceiling of a room that wasn’t yours. After a minute more in conscious you realize it’s not your alarm ringing, but a pounding residing from the closed door of the stranger’s room.

“Can you guys please give me my room back now,” shouts a frustrated Hoseok

That’s when you remember the nights events and look at a sleepy Namjoon next to you. After checking the time of 7:41 shining through the digital clock on the nightstand next to what you now know as Hoseok’s bed, you smile and cuddle up to the warm body.

“Go away Hoseok,” Namjoon groans, “My baby’s trying to sleep.”

Both of you ignore Hoseok’s whines of protest as you whisper to Namjoon

“It’s fine, I’m glad he’s here so I can get to work on time for once. My alarm never wakes me up”

“Babe don’t worry, from now on I’ll be your personal alarm. As long as you can be my cherry muffin”

“I’ll do you one better and make one for you at the café”

“Those cherry muffins taste good,” he looks at you, “but you taste better,” and winks

You giggle until you hear the disturbed voice of Jung Hoseok behind the door,

“You guys are disgusting and have no idea how to whisper”

...

“GET OUT OF MY ROOM”

[ghostburs-blue]

Lost and Found

Part Seven

“Tom!” Tony calls out, and the group’s attention shifts to the person sitting in the booth behind them. He had curly brown hair, and a playful smile danced across his features as he turns to see Tony.

Aiden already knew that he was a player, and he had definitely glowed up since the last time she saw him. She never googled him and never paid attention when people at school talked about him; it hurt too much. Low and behold, he had a gorgeous blonde woman sitting across from him.

Tony noticed too and smirked. He gestured towards her, saying “How long have you been with this one, Tom?”

Tom just gave a little laugh and grabbed onto the woman’s hand, caressing it. “This is Carrie! We’ve been together for a little over 7 months now.”

Tony raised his brows. “You’re settling down, huh? Good for you Tom,” he stated, smiling.

Tom returned the smile, eyes raking over the group until they landed on Aiden. He froze, and immediately pulled his hand from “Carrie”. He stood up abruptly, walking closer to the group.

Everyone frowned, following his gaze until they realized he was staring at Aiden. Aiden’s arms were crossed, and a death glare was plastered on her face. If looks could kill, Tom would be dead ten times over.

He reached his arm out to her, starting with, “Addy-,”

“Don’t.” She cut him off, stepping forward to match his gaze with an even colder stare. “8 years, Tom. 8 fucking years. Hundreds of speeches, not one mention of us. 7 years of no ‘happy birthday’. 6 years of heartbreak before we learned to move on.” She paused, taking a second to compose herself. Then, she said, “And, finally, 5 years. 5 years of your little sister sobbing every fucking night because of you. AND NOW YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TRY TO MAKE UP WITH ME?! Mom and Dad have gotten worse, you don’t even understand. They treat me like a piece of shit because of you, and they praise Adam, the other sibling you left behind. I have trust issues because of what you did all those years ago. I don’t even think our parents love me anymore.” At this point, both Tom and Aidens’ eyes were filled with tears. “I loved you, Tom. You made me feel special and loved when Mom and Dad were too busy to give me attention as a 3-year-old. And then? And then you just left. After everything we did for you. Did you know our parents wanted to disown you? I begged them not to because I thought you were coming back. I knew you were coming back. Do you know how absolutely heartbreaking it is as a 9-year-old to hear that your own sibling forgot about you?” She had lowered her voice, only enough for the group around them to hear. “You don’t deserve shit, brother.” Aiden spat out the last word with venom laced and dripping in her voice. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, heading to the one place she knew she could get out all of her anger. The gym.

After a quick stop at her room to take off her makeup and change into a sports bra and a pair of athletic shorts, she reached the training room and made her way over to the punching bag.

Similar to that first morning, she didn’t put on gloves to truly feel her punches. Aiden punched and kicked and screamed until she was about to drop from pure exhaustion. She knew that the rest of the group were smarter than to come after her; they would let her fizzle out and then try to make conversation. However, Peter didn’t seem to get the memo to leave her alone.

Once Aiden felt relatively calmer, she headed back to her room and opened it, brows furrowing when she saw a figure sitting on her bed.

Seemingly lost in his thoughts, Peter jumped when Aiden called his name.

“Peter? What-,” she paused, lips forming an “O” shape as she realized why he was probably here. “Oh.” There was a brief pause as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m going to go shower and when I come out can you just-” Her voice broke a bit and she forced herself not to cry. “Can you just be here for me, Peter? Please?”

Peter’s eyes immediately softened and he practically sprinted to her with his arms open, wrapping her sweaty body in a hug.

Aiden didn’t protest, but when he didn’t let go, she let out a muffled, “Peter, you’re amazing, but I’m tired and sweaty and really need to shower.”

He quickly let go with a sheepish smile and sat back onto the bed while she grabbed a spare change of clothes.

Disappearing into the bathroom, she quickly showered and wrapped a towel around her body and hair before stepping back out into the room.

Peter was lying on the bed with one arm draped across his midsection and the other lazily covering his eyes. Aiden fell down next to him on the bed with a thump, still in her towel, as she was too lazy to change.

Uncovering his eyes, Peter rolled to face her on his side, eyes going wide as he realized she was only in a towel. “He- Hey Aiden!” He squeaked out, blushing profusely. She rolled to face him, laughing as she saw his red face.

Lightly punching his shoulder, Aiden whined, “You’re so immature! At least I have a towel on!” She gestured towards the material on her body. Peter rolled his eyes and remembered what he was originally here for.

“So do you want to talk about what happened? If you don’t want to that’s fine too but it seemed like there was a lot of pent up anger in there,” He stated, frowning a little.

Immediately, a sad look grew on Aiden’s face and she shifted to get closer to him, placing her face in Peter’s chest and cuddling into his body.

Lifting her head, she shook it, saying, “I don’t really want to talk about it. I should, but I’m not ready yet.” Her voice started to shake and Peter wrapped his arms around her small warm body, practically engulfing her.

“It’s okay to not want to talk about it, it’s normal, don’t worry.” He murmured, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she silently shook with sobs. And so, they stayed like that until they fell asleep, comfortable in each other’s arms.

Around 3 in the morning, Aiden woke up, startled, to see Peter twitching and mumbling under his breath beside her. She knew he must be having a bad dream, and reached out to try and shake him awake.

“Hey, hey Petey? Wake up please, you’re having a bad dream. It’s going to be alright, just wake up for me, yeah?” She spoke, her voice loud in the quiet of the night.

Suddenly, Peter’s eyes flew open and he started to shake violently. His unsteady gaze was filled with fear and pain as they focused on Aiden, reaching for her. Aiden was terrified; she had no idea what was happening or how to stop it.

Peter started to whimper, making her heart break. “Make it stop, please, make it stop!” He cried out, one hand gripping Aiden’s wrist. Tears started to fill his eyes and Aiden felt truly hopeless, not knowing what to do. Peter’s cries got louder and more tortuous to listen to, and Aiden realized she needed help.

Looking over to the bedside table next to her, she saw a small button that said “emergencies only” on it. She had gotten it from Tony; it was only to be used if she needed help and was in an emergency situation. Without a second thought, she pressed the button. It emitted a soft beep.

Within the next minute, all of the Avengers were at her door, with Tony at the front. They looked like they were ready for battle, suited up with their best weapons. Tony practically busted the door down, causing Peter to scream even louder for reasons unknown to Aiden.  They didn’t even take a second look at Aiden still wrapped in a towel as they focused on Peter’s cries.

She looked up with a terrified look on her face and said one word. “Help,” she cried out softly, Peter’s grip on her wrist starting to bruise a long time ago. Tony immediately stepped out of his suit and ran to Peter’s side, checking his pulse and breathing. The shaking and crying Peter didn’t exactly make his job any easier.

Tony looked up, making eye contact with Bruce and gesturing for him to come in. Pointing at Peter, they both seemed to understand what was going on, and Bruce pulled out a light blue liquid in a syringe, Tony holding Peter’s arm down so he could inject him.

Within a few seconds, Peter’s body stilled and his eyes closed, breathing becoming regular. The only sign of what had just happened was Peter’s still red tear-stained cheeks. His grip finally loosened on Aiden’s wrist, and she pulled it back immediately, cradling it near her chest.

Looking up, she saw the obvious relief on the two older men’s faces. “What just happened?” She asked, confused. Looking past them, she saw the same confusion mirrored on the rest of the group’s faces; they were just as clueless as she was.

Tony sighs, running his hand over his face. “Peter- when Peter was bitten by the spider and got his powers, it’s like his senses were immediately dialed up to 11. He has nightmares sometimes and when you shook him awake, his brain was already active, causing a sensory overload. It’s like everything rushes at him at once, it’s extremely painful and is terrifying for him. To wake him up, you need to slowly get him used to the world around him. Light touches on his arm, a little massage, something like that will wake him up. His suit helps with the sensory overload when he’s fighting; he has glasses that I made for him to help him with that too. You couldn’t possibly have known this, so please don’t blame yourself,” He added hastily when he noticed that Aiden was frowning.

She slowly nodded, and everyone slowly filed out of the room, Bruce softly closing the door behind him. Aiden slowly laid down next to him, his steady breathing lulling her to sleep.

Waking up a few hours later, the clock said 10 in the morning and Aiden decided it would be good to get out of bed and get ready for the day. She thought it best to wake up Peter too; he might get scared to wake up and find that she wasn’t next to him.

Remembering what Tony said about waking him up, she gently threaded her fingers through his soft brown hair and trailed her fingers down his arm. After a few seconds, he started to stir, and slowly opened his eyes to see Aiden watching him carefully.

He immediately sat up and stared at her, hesitantly reaching his hand towards her face as if to check if she was real. Aiden leaned into his touch, and he slowly caressed her cheek before he pulled her into a tight hug.

“You’re here, you’re really here,” he whispered, and both their eyes filled with tears.

If it was even possible, Aiden hugged him tighter. She cradled the back of his head as he pushed his face into the crook of her neck. “I’m here Pete. I’m really here,” she softly kissed the top of his head. They stayed like that for a few more moments until they both broke apart and gazed at each other.

Aiden leaned forward, brushing a piece of hair out of his face and gently kissed his forehead. Peter’s eyes closed and he inhaled, trying to remember as much of her scent as possible.

His eyes fluttered open again when he heard her talking.

“Petey, what do you remember? From last night,” She asked.

He winced, the memory coming back to him. Glancing down, he saw her attempting to hide her wrist and reached out to stop her. He grabbed it, gaze softening as she winced when he touched it. Peter gently picked it up and immediately noticed blue and black bruises dotting the skin, obviously painful to the touch. He gasped and looked up at her.

“Did I do this?” He asked in disbelief. Aiden hung her head and nodded slowly. Tears filled his eyes once again and he held her wrist to his lips, softly kissing each bruise. She smiled and shook her head.

“It barely hurt Petey, I’m fine,” She murmured, trying to pull her arm from his grasp.

He looked up, and Aiden could see the obvious pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. You don’t deserve this, I shouldn’t have done this, it’s not your problem to deal with-” he was interrupted by another hug from Aiden, and she clambered off the bed. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him up with her and smiled.

“If I have to put up with this to be your friend, so be it. You’re my best friend Petey, and I would do anything for you.” Unbeknownst to her, Peter’s heart sank when he heard her say “friend”. A playful glint entered her eyes and she ran out the door, screaming, “I’m HUNGRY!”

Peter couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh, running after her.

--

a/n - i’ve honestly forgotten how long these chapters are and I don’t care anymore tbh. I put in a little Aider (their ship name? Yes? no?) moment there <3. I wanted some kind of Tom confrontation moment and i (hope to think) that I didn’t disappoint. Anyways, my soft fluffy heart forced me to write this chapter and I can’t complain lolol! Hope you’re enjoying the story so far!

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [10]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9]

The day rushed by, as Scully drowned the uneasiness in workload, grateful that she was still able to focus on her patients' problems instead of her own. Mulder texted her around 5pm, saying he was done with the tests and that his invitation still stands, and she realised, that somewhere between exams and paperwork, the thought of facing him again, didn't paralyse her anymore. She still didn't know how to tell him about Will, or had any idea how he might take the news, but the truth settled in.  

Charlie was right, he really was a great guy after all. If she ever wanted a father for Will, Mulder would pretty much fit the bill, smart, funny, kind and as far as she could tell, steadfast. He would be the kind of dad who never forgot to pick him up from school, was there for the baseball games and swimming tournaments. She could see herself sharing couch with them on Saturday evenings, eating popcorn and watching macho-movies. Though it was dangerous to hope, if fate allowed she might still have that.

She went to see Will at the end of her day, pausing by the door to watch him for a second through the window. He was reading, curled up on his side, earbuds in, completely enthralled, and now when she knew, she couldn't help but notice the similarities. The chestnut mane, the tall and lean frame, high cheekbones, and finally, definitely, undeniably, Mulders' mouth. That pout that usually got him his way, the smile that brightened her day, is was Mulder all over again. Will must've felt her gaze because he glanced up from his book and smiled, sitting up. He looked pale and tired, but his eyes were bright. "Why are you staring at me?" He asked, when she came in and dropped a kiss on top of his head. "I just got here, you must've sensed me coming." "Spooky," he grinned and scooted over, letting her sit beside him. "What are you reading?" "Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy," he said, closing the book to show her the cover, "uncle Charlie brought it." "And the t-shirt?" "Aunt Missy," he grinned pulling at the hem of his new PJ's, on it, planes were chasing UFO's around the world, the words Foo Fighters written across the front, "she remembered the UFO's, but Emily said, she didn't have the heart to tell her it's a band." "Be glad it's not a tie-dye," Scully laughed. "Yeah, aunt Melissa, the last hippy on earth." "Will," she nudged him lightly making him laugh, and it was the warm honey sound she loved most. "Mom?" "Yes honey?" "Doctor Skinner was here to see me, too." "You had a busy day," she said, keeping her voice light. "Does that mean, he found someone?" "I don't know," she said, kissing his temple, "these things take time." "Because I wouldn't mind getting out of here." "And I wouldn't mind taking you home, either." A knock made them both look up and a second later, a young girl came in, her red hair cut short almost like a boy's, piercings catching the light from the fluorescents overhead. "Emily!" "Hi, aunt Dana," she said, kissing Scully's cheek before ruffling Will's hair, "told you I'd come back." "You got it?" Will perked up. "Yup," she plopped across the foot off his bed, dropping a small box between them. "Cards?" Scully laughed, letting go off Will, who reached for the deck and immediately started shuffling. "There's only so much TV I can stand." "Why didn't you tell me." "Haven't thought of it until I saw this one here," he chuckled, jerking his chin at Emily. "Right, because I'm known for bringing up base instincts in men." Scully felt slightly uncomfortable, Em was 24, but in her eyes, she was still that teenage girl who watched cartoons sitting on the floor with her son. "How's Palo Alto, Em?" "Dry, I miss Boston," she sighed picking up her cards, "and this little one." "If you didn't give up that scholarship at MIT and sell out to the blue chips," Will said. "I wouldn't have that house with a pool I just sold, to move back here." Will's ears went up so fast he almost jumped. "You're coming back?" "Yup," she grinned and he threw himself at her, both of them laughing. Emily held him tight and Scully heard her tone change, "so now you have to get better, you hear me?" "Yup," William said, letting go off his childhood best friend. "What does your mom think about this?" Scully asked, proud of her brilliant punk niece. "She's not thrilled," Emily sighed a little sad, but then smiled at them both, "but that's what I want to do, so it's happening." "Well, if you need a place to stay in the mean time." "Thanks," she smiled brighter, fixing the sheets Will kicked over, "I'll come to you when Charlie grows tired of me." "Or his next girlfriend shows up." Will said, then picked up his cards. Scully played three hands with them then kissed the kids goodnight.

A nurse came by with Will's meds and took a few notes on his chart, while Emily paced the room, noticing the pile of books on his nightstand. "Visiting hours end in one hour," she reminded and left, and Em was back, sprawled at the foot of Will's bed. "What's this?" She said, showing him one of the books, the one with the UFO on the cover. "Extra reading for my psychology class." "It's signed." "Yeah, the guy's my professor and he kind of dates mom." "Why kind of?" She asked, looking at the photo on the back. "You know, not like Charlie dates girls, takes them out a few times and you know they'll disappear, mom and Mulder, I think they're past that." "You don't like it?" "It felt weird at first, but then I saw her coming home from seeing him and wow, I don't think I ever saw her that happy." "Really." "She doesn't hum show tunes to anything, she just sort of, glows." "Hmm, she didn't seem glowing to me." "That's because you didn't see her a week ago, heck, last Thursday even, I'm telling you, that guy is different." "He is cute, and," she held up the book, looking first at the picture then at Will, then at the picture again, "he sort of looks like you." "What?" "I mean, if you skip the eyes and the nose," she covered half of the picture with her hand and glanced at Will again, "yeah, definitely." "I don't think that's why she likes him." "No, I think it's the glowing part," Emily said, wiggling her eyebrows and Will gaged. "Ugh, let's not talk about my mom and that." "Why?" She laughed, stretching out like a cat, and if he didn't know his cousin since before she had tits, he'd find the sight very attractive. "Let me give you a piece of advice, you want to keep a girl, be that guy, one who makes her glow." "That's it? Sex? What about connection, shared views and mutual trust?" "That's when you're looking for a friend, and believe me, it's even rarer than great sex." "Well, I'll have it both." Will sighed, shuffling the cards, looking a little embarrassed and she covered his hands with hers. "You will," she said without teasing, "you just have to get out of here."

Mulder decided on the epitome of comfort food, chicken casserole, but the longer they sat at the table, in the warm light of his kitchen, the stronger was the sense, that something bad was about to happen. Scully kept smiling letting him fill silence with chatter, but her eyes were unusually present, fixed on his face as if she was looking at him for the last time, determined to learn his face, before she told him goodbye. Fear, uneasiness, long silences, he could understand, but at the same time, he itched to touch her, just to make sure she wouldn't push him away. They moved to the couch after dinner and when she folded herself against his side, the relief was instantaneous. "The dean wasn't too pleased when I asked for the week off," Mulder said, drawing her closer. "But Skinner said I should avoid public places, so I wouldn't pick up any infection, in case the tests came back positive." "Walter knows what he's doing, you're both in good hands." "You haven't told Will yet?" "No, I don't want to scare him," she said, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his, "he keeps joking and teasing, but I know it's an act." "That's him, being your son," he said, kissing her temple, "you're both so careful not to show weakness." "You say it like it's a bad thing," she sighed. "There's time and place for everything, and Will knows what he's up against, there's just nothing he can do about it, and goofing off is his defence mechanism. I think he's scared just like everyone else." "Why are you doing this?" She asked quietly, stroking the back of his hand. "Why help us?" "Because I can," he said simply. "Because you got dealt this shitty hand and I wouldn't be able to live with myself, if I just stood idly watching a great kid fade away, while his mother fought the fight alone, for both of them. Even thinking about it makes me wanna kick my own ass." "So you feed me and fuck me and let me stick a needle in your butt," she said, turning in his arms, and cupping his cheek, drawing his lips down, "because you can." "There's no endgame for me here," he smiled, feeling her warm breath, "you might as well ask me why I breathe." "Why do you breathe?" "So I we can keep having these talks, apparently," he said and let her kiss him, because that was what she needed from him.

They moved slowly, bodies wrapped around each other, arms and legs and mouths drawing lines. In the dim light he held her gaze, luminous blue beneath delicate skin and lashes, with every stroke bringing her higher and away from her problems. A moment of release was all he could offer, but he made damn sure, the moment was worth it. Her eyes locked on his, lips parted, heart pounding, his, hers, he didn't know anymore, didn't care. She bit her lip, he caught it, freed it, soothed it. "Don't hold, back, let me, do this." "Thank you." "What for?" "Everything," she breathed, raking his back, drawing him in. "Shhhh," he kissed her neck, lips against her ear, "don't thank me, feel me." And for a time, that was all she did.

Scully woke up sometime past midnight to moonlight filtering through a crack in the blinds. The light cast a blue glow over his face, drawing the story of his life in a secret language of lines and cracks. How would they look like, if she was there to watch them grow, would there be less of them, or more? How many cracks formed, because there was no one to hold him, which lines were ruts, carved by the same old jokes. She touched his cheek and he shifted, arm falling around her without thinking. "I hope you'll forgive me," she whispered, brushing his lips lightly and the arm tightened around her, drawing her in.

[hyunnie-bunches]

Bloodsuckers II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Genre: Supernatural AU, angst?, fluff?

Pairing: Vampire!Baekhyun x Reader

Word Count: 2007

A/N: Graphic depictions of blood and violence, including self-harm.

Blood. That is the first coherent thought I have. I wanted it. I needed it. I couldn’t think about anything else. The taste. The feel. The color. The smell. I could smell it. Right now. I don’t know how I knew what it was, but it was here. It was right next to me.

I am biting into flesh before I am even fully awake. It feels so good. Like I’m tapped into the source of life itself. Like I’m intaking liquid power. I can feel the blood flow starting to slow. My senses are looking for another source instantaneously. I hear heartbeats off to my left. I realize my eyes are still closed. I don’t know if it’s from the bliss or because I have been so focused on drinking that I haven’t even considered any other action.

The first thing I notice when I open them is the clarity. I can see everything. It feels like I’ve been blind the rest of my life. I want to take in the details of the room I am in, but my body betrays me and my eyes have only one destination. The body.

The second I have the thought to go towards it, I am already there. My teeth-my fangs- slipping into its neck effortlessly. I don’t look at its face, I don’t even know its gender, all I know is that it tastes heavenly. I drink and drink, until there is nothing left. The bloodlust is still there. I want more. But it’s faded to the background. That is when I notice him sitting at the bed. A wave of emotion hits me. The need for him is as strong as that for the blood.

I have to be closer. The next second I am sitting next to him. He is leaning away from me. I don’t even realize I’m leaning in until he gets up from the bed.

A shudder goes through my body when he speaks. “Don’t come closer. It’ll just make things worse.” His voice is the more beautiful than any symphony I have ever heard.

I don’t think before moving towards him. I can’t think. I don’t have the time to. My body is too fast. But I still don’t know how to control it. And he’s been doing this for years. Decades, for all I know. He’s already out the door before I reach him.

I bang against the door. My hands come away burnt. Vaguely, I know this means the door is steel. But that doesn’t stop me. The pain in my hands is nothing compared to sheer hollowness and bitter despair I feel at Baekhyun’s absence. I need him. I need to see him. Hear him. Feel him. I rake my nails against the door. Beat it. Kick it. Every inch of my body is flaming with pain before I give up.

At some point, I had started crying. Unadulterated sorrow hits me with the realization that maybe he doesn’t want me-doesn’t need me-like I need him. I want to kill myself at the thought. I look everywhere for some form of a weapon. But there is nothing. He has taken everything out of the room. I resort to pulling my hair out and scratching at my own body. Existence without him seems pointless. The pain is a distraction from the turmoil in my mind.

Eventually, the anger hits, and I start breaking everything in the room. I destroy the table and the bed until they are nothing more than splinters. I rip the sheets into shreds. When there is nothing left of the furniture, I take to the two dead bodies still on the floor. I tear them apart like the sheets.

That is how Baekhyun finds me the next day, or at least I think it is a day later- bloodied and burnt, lying amongst pieces of ripped skin and broken wood. I think I am asleep when he comes in. But it doesn’t matter. The second I feel his presence, all my senses are fully alert. The only thing that breaks through the haze is the need for blood. He has brought food. I go to the body first and by the time I’m done, he’s gone again. That triggers the cycle of emotions from the day before again.

It is another 3 days before some semblance of rational thought comes back to me. My crazy emotions have calmed a tad by now, or maybe I am just getting used to the pain and hollowness. He shouldn’t be here. I remember tying him up-torturing him. The memory makes me nauseous. But I push the nausea away and try to focus on thinking. How was he free? And why was he here? Why didn’t he just leave? I am determined to ask him the next time he comes.

But the clearness of mind doesn’t last in front of him, and definitely not in front of blood. It’s only hours after he’s left that I remember about the questions again.

A week passes. This time when he comes, I don’t go for the blood. It is my way of showing him that I can control myself. That he can stay, that we can talk without me acting like a complete maniac. My whole body is itching with need. I just want to bite the stupid body. But I focus on getting the words out. “Why…are…you…here?” The strain of holding back makes my voice weak, and the heartbeat of the body he’s brought is ringing in my ears. I don’t even know if I’ve said the words out loud or not. But he responds. “You’ll feel better in a few days. Then we can talk.” I take an involuntary step forward when he speaks. It’s been so long since I heard his voice.

He leaves again. But I make myself stand there and not bang at the door again. I don’t even go to the body. I wait. I was not some animal running on base instinct. I would control whatever the fuck was going on with my body. I don’t know how long I wait. But when I pounce on the body finally, there is satisfaction in knowing that I did wait. I do that for the next few days. Eventually, I train myself enough to act nonchalant and not even look at Baekhyun when he drops the bodies off, even when the strain sometimes makes me light-headed. I don’t think he comes as frequently anymore but there is no way for me to tell how much time is passing.

One day, he says my name. I can’t help whip my head around at that. There is heady pleasure in hearing him say it. I grip onto the vestiges of my act as I say, “Hmm?” I can’t trust myself to form words.

“How are you feeling?”

Depressed. Destroyed. Depraved. Damned.

“Fine.” The word comes out as a breath.

“I’m sorry for putting you through this.” He comes to sit near me. My thoughts scramble at the proximity. I am arching toward him. I feel like a fucking sunflower. And he is my sun. My creator. My life-bringer. I would do anything for him.

I am so distracted by his presence that it takes me a while to process his words. I frown when I finally do. He was sorry? “No.” I am incapable of forming longer than single-word answers with him right there.

He gives me a small smile and I get so dizzy I miss what he says next. It takes all my effort to force myself to tune back in. “…your fault. I did warn you this was a bad idea.”

He turns serious again and gives me a once over. “I didn’t think it would be this bad though.” He mutters it under his breath but with my new hearing, he might as well have been yelling it.

“What…” are you talking about? Come on, Y/N. You are better than this. They’re just words.

“All new vampires go through this phase.” He explains. “The insane bloodlust, the obsession with your sire - it’s normal. It fades.” Most of me is disappointed. I don’t want it to end. I want to love him like this forever. But the small bit of my brain that is coming back realizes that this is a good thing. It means I will be normal and in control of my body and mind again.

When he starts speaking again, he sounds almost sheepish. “But-“ He looks away. “sometimes, the bond can…amplify certain feelings that already exist.”

I don’t even attempt words this time, hoping that my confused expression will be enough for him to continue.

He looks up again but doesn’t meet my gaze. “If one of the parties feels someway about the other, the bond can, uh, make those feelings much more heightened. Sometimes-sometimes it can even pass those feelings from the sire to the siree.” His voice trails off at the end. He looks at me hopefully. I don’t want to disappoint him but I have no idea what he’s talking about.

 He sighs. “I loved you, okay? Before…and-and now too.” Pure unfiltered joy spreads through my body at his words. My skin tingles with it. He loves me.

“I love you too,” I say, moving closer. My first full sentence. I don’t even have to think about saying it. It comes out reflexively.

He shakes his head but doesn’t move away. He looks so sad. I don’t understand it. Isn’t this perfect? He loves me and I love him. “No, you don’t. That’s what I’m telling you. You didn’t. And you don’t now either. The bond is just messing with your head. It’s projecting my feelings onto you. You’ll-” But he doesn’t get to finish. I’m already kissing him. I have never felt ecstasy like this before. I feel complete. Whole instead of the scattered pieces I was before. I don’t need anything else in life. I could stay like this forever. But he is pulling away already. Before I realize what is going on, he’s gone out the door.

That day is terrible. Like one of the early ones. I am back to burning myself on the door and tearing apart anything I can get my hands on.

It passes quicker this time. When I wake up next time, my head is clearer and I can actually process what we talked about last time. He loves me. I push down the wave of emotion that threatens to overcome me at the thought. How the hell did he love me? How close of an eye exactly had he kept on me? And for how long?

It is a while before he comes back. I am starving. There is nothing I want more than to sink my fangs into the body he’s brought but I hold back.

He turns to leave. “Wait” I say. My voice is stable. It takes every ounce of my concentration to keep it that way but I manage it.

He looks at me warily.

“I won’t-I won’t try anything,” I say. “Just stay.”

I don’t know if it’s my control or my pleading that makes him agree, but he does, and that is all that matters.

He leaves after the feeding but the next time, he stays without my asking.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him, a few days later. I am definitely more clear-headed now. At least clear-headed enough to be embarrassed about my actions from earlier.

He looks at me. This is the first time I’ve spoken since he’s started staying back. “About the torture and stuff. And about everything…after.” I say in a small voice.

He gives me a small smile and my whole body flushes. Clear-headed my ass. “Don’t worry about it.” he says “No lasting damage was done. On either account.” I return his smile gratefully.

We slowly start talking more after that. Nothing of importance, but it makes me feel slightly less like dying when he leaves.

[themockingcrows]

Tapping With Blue Eyes Ch. 6: Tainted

This chapter is SFW This chapter is available on my AO3

Werewolves, despite their general rarity, are not to be trifled with.

     “You going to tell him?” Dirk asked with an amused smirk. “Or do I just get to see you every day.”

     “Depends. How long are you planning on hanging around botherin’ me?”

     “I’m not bothering you. I’m coming in when you’re not even busy and having a nice conversation instead of fighting and causing a scene,” Dirk said, gesturing to the nearly empty shop and to his cup. “And I’m a paying customer no less. Common courtesy says that some casual conversation is warranted.”

     Dave made a face at him, and went back to sweeping.

     “I should tell him about you creeping around here.”

     “He’d have a fit, and Jake would be amused.”

     “...What, does he not know you come here?”

     “Jake’s.. How do I put this,” mused Dirk, swirling the contents of his cup before taking a sip. “He’s enthusiastic, but he doesn’t plot things like this. It’s too public. Swatting at you here wouldn’t do much good.”

     “Does he know or not.”

     “He knew I came here before,” Dirk admitted. “But he doesn’t know I’m still coming by to say hello like today.”

     “Right. Say hello,” Dave muttered sourly. 

     “That’s what I’m doing, yes. It’s not often I get to speak with other taps. Especially ones that are just normal humans.. I keep expecting you to be something else.”

     Dave glance dup from his sweeping with a frown. “Why’s that? Do I give off a non-human vibe or something?”

     “More like most people would assume James’ son would wind up with a powerful tap. He’s quite special in his own right, if he taps into his potential he’d be quite a threat. ..Except for you.”

     “What do you mean except for me?” Dave asked, frowning deeper. “I’m not a liability.”

     “You’re not. You’re a limiter AND a liability,” Dirk said, sipping his drink again. “I’ll explain more another time, Jake’s going to get antsy if I’m out of range too long. Here’s my number, for if you’re curious and want to know more,” he added, taking the receipt from the coffee out and jotting a phone number down on it. “I can help you learn more about why you’re holding him back.”

     Dave took the number by crumpling it up into a ball with his fist.

     “Right. Yeah. Sure. How considerate of you,” he said, stuffing it into his apron without a second thought.

     “Hey now, I didn’t say it’d not be worth your time. There’s ways you can help him more,” Dirk said with a smirk, this time showing the pointed tips of his teeth. He looked just as angular as before, but somehow far more wild like that. It was somewhat unnerving to look at, the same instinctive fear that John’s fangs sometimes brought out in him still. The inhuman edge of it all.

     Stuffing the number deeper into his work apron, Dave sighed a breath out when Dirk finally left, rubbing the bridge of his nose and wishing he had his shades on during work hours. What a fucking mess.. Hopefully that douchebag wouldn’t be coming back every day or something stupid like that. He finished his shift up before texting John for his pickup, waiting in the back room till he got a return text to come outside. So had become their habit for security’s sake. There was a snack waiting for him, along with a bottle of apple juice, and John’s worried eyes looking him over from head to toe. He was still weak, especially with work bearing down on top of everything, but nowhere near as gray faced as he’d been in the last few days and was only getting better.

     “Have a good shift?”

     “Eh. It was a shift,” Dave said as he buckled in and cracked open the juice for a few thirsty gulps. Phew, that sure hit the spot. “Same old same old.”

     “No interesting characters come through? Must’ve been a slow day if there wasn’t at least one old person complaining that a plain cup of coffee wasn’t listed anywhere despite it being on the list,” John snickered, pulling out of the space he’d parked in, checking behind him by bracing an arm on Dave’s seat and twisting around for certainty before pulling forwards to the street. 

     The number felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket already, burning a hole through the back of Dave’s head, but he held his tongue. This wouldn’t end well.. But then again, neither would keeping secrets at a time like this. He fiddled with the window, the radio, his seat, trying to psyche himself up.

     “What’s wrong? You’re squirming like you’ve got the worst wedgie of your life,” John snorted.

     “Uh. ...Dirk. Came into the store earlier,” Dave said.

     The car screeched to a halt so quickly that Dave’s body pressed hard into the seatbelt, hard enough he’d be surprised if there wasn’t an indention in his skin of some kind even through his work clothes. John frowned and turned on him, concerned, trying to check him over.

     “Fuck, really? Jesus. Why didn’t you mention it first thing?” he asked. “He didn’t try anything, right? Jesus, if he knows where you work that’s not safe, I don’t know what to do if Ja-”

     “It’s fine. He didn’t try anything, just talked and left. Apparently Jake doesn’t know he came there, if he’s to be believed,” Dave said, sitting patiently through the literal pat down before reaching up to grasp John’s hand so he could nuzzle it. “Chill. It’s alright.”

     “It’s not alright,” John insisted, finally putting his hands back on the wheel and leaving for the main road back to Dave’s apartment, looking twice as suspiciously at passerby now that he was on high alert.

     “Okay, okay, it’s not alright. But it’s not as bad as your brain’s makin’ you think, I can guarantee that,” Dave said, watching out the window. The number. The phone number. He had to mention the phone num-

     “What did he say?”

     “...That I was holdin’ you back.”

     John looked over and lifted a brow before snorting and shaking his head. “Holding me back? As if, hah. If anything, I’m going twice as hard in everything because of you being around. Learning wards and all that.. I didn’t really have a reason to worry before.”

     “Maybe because you’re worryin’. Because I’m not able to offer much in return.”

     “If you wanna be crass, you offer tasty as hell blood in return. But you offer plenty of things in return, Dave. Don’t let him get in your head, things are fine how they are between us,” John insisted.

     “You sure I’m not like. Some weak-ass that’s just a statistic waitin’ to happen?” Dave asked, frowning. “I mean, dude’s a werewolf and that asshole feeds off him, doesn’t that give him a boost?”

     “Well.. yes. But I don’t care. Who wants to drink dog blood anyway, yuck. And you’re not a weak ass! I already know what happened when we were at Dad’s and he tested you.”

     Dave frowned at him, not quite believing, but more than happy to let things sink down and dissolve naturally rather than be propped up for another round of No, You. He sighed out through his nose and watched the scenery till they stopped at his apartment, walking into the building with clasped hands that only dropped when it came time to unlock the door.

     John strode past to go check everything out, ensuring the wards were in place still. Dave went to the bathroom and then went to go change, all the while thinking about the number and how he’d manage to talk to Dirk while under guard. Try as he might, the curiosity was really eating at him.

     What if it was true? No matter what John said, he was inexperienced in these matters, he was a hindrance no matter what he wanted to think. No amount of movie knowledge was going to help against the real deal in the heat of the moment, and even the things he’d been taught weren’t going to save him in a two on one fight. He raked his hair out of his face as he dropped his apron and shirt, pulling on a comfortable tee and some baggy sweatpants to slouch around in, wanting to get off of his feet after the long shift.

     Before he could leave the room John came in behind him and laced his fingers together over Dave’s stomach, cuddling up close to his back as he fondly nipped the side of his neck.

     “Hey. Really though, are you okay?”

     “Yeah, yeah I’m just tired man.”

     Tired and fibbing. Tired and lying. Tired and hiding potentially important information. The reaction in the car had been strong enough that the curiosity only got more intense. He knew he was going to poke the hornets nest, all for the sake of some outside information and perspective in this. Dirk, enemy or not, seemed to be the calmest person in this entire bullshit situation. Maybe vampires were just naturally dramatic and this was all more of a fucking game than it felt like.

     ...Or maybe it was more serious, and Dirk just didn’t have any allegiance to Jake beyond being his tap.

     Dave felt the pressure behind his knees before registering he was being lifted up, carried into the living room like a princess and being sat down on the sofa. “Here,” John said. “Go ahead and chill out, I’ll make something for you. Want spicy?”

     “Mm. Not in a spicy mood,” he admitted. “You’re gonna spoil me rotten at this rate though.. Wanting another meal?”

     “Not so soon, duh. Gotta build back up before even thinking of it,” John chuckled. 

     Dinner was stir fry with shrimp and plenty of veggies, heavy on the ginger and soy sauce. Movies carried Dave and John through the evening, till finally there was nothing left but bed. ..mostly. Dave turned his volume down on his phone while John was in the bathroom, added the number from his apron to his new message screen, and sent the first text before he could stop himself at a cool 11pm.

              - hey

     The first reply came when John came back and climbed into bed, left unlooked at for a while in favor of scrolling instagram for a time. They showed each other things back and forth on their screens, different memes or interesting posts, things on tumblr being reblogged one way or the other in a conga line to make sure their friends saw them. Comfortable night routines that ended with John snoring with his head against Dave’s chest, his long body curled up on his side to keep his feet from dangling over the far bottom, safely out of grasp of whatever demons decided to take up residence rent free under his bed this week Dave noted.

     Hey. After finding out vampires were real, as well as werewolves, the boogeyman and shit hiding under his bed would just be another square on the bingo sheet his life had recently become. Can you blame a guy for believing?

     The text was still waiting for him when Dave slid the screen over quietly to peek.

             - Hey. Finally get curious?

             - i don’t know you tell me

             - Are you wanting information, or to be antagonized?

             - oh wow i get a choice

             - The gist of it will be the same either way: you’re a liability. If you were anything but human, you’d be more useful than you are to your fangy boytoy.

     Dave didn’t know what he expected. The bluntness was something he could appreciate at least, instead of being babied or sweet talked. It was quick, to the point, and fairly brutal.

             - ive heard as much already 

             - you got any new info for me or can i delete your number now

             - I’ve got new information in the form of an offer, if that piques your interest.

             - offer

             - like what

             - Like the offer to help you be something more than human.

             - You seem like a nice guy, Dave. I’ve got nothing against you. This beef is Jake and John’s business, not mine particularly. 

             - All it’d take is a good infection bite, and you’d be able to be like me. Consider how useful that’d be for your partner in the scheme of things.

             - Wouldn’t you like him to be as prepared as possible, stand as good a chance as he can in this pissing contest?

     Dave frowned at his phone and glanced briefly towards John’s sleeping face before typing quickly.

             - bullshit i already know thats a lie

             - im on the up and up man

             - a bite from you would just make me a feral piece of shit not whatever you are

             - Ah, damn. Should have acted sooner than I did.

             - werent you literally just saying you had nothing against me and then you pull this shit???

             - Having you trust me would have made a lot of things easier. Namely it could have also gone a long way in making sure Jake kept you alive instead of disposing of you when the time came to get John’s food source away from him.

              - bad dog go to the yard and think about what you did

     Dave muttered to himself as he blocked Dirk’s number, hurriedly switching back over to Instagram when he felt John shifting against his shoulder. Sleepily, he cracked his blue eyes open and looked Dave over a few times, squinting against the brightness from the screen.

     “Mmn… Why’re you still up…?”

     “It hasn’t been that long since you went to sleep,” Dave said, kissing John’s forehead automatically before even thinking the action through. Felt natural, felt right, fuck it. “Go back to sleep, I’ll pass out when I can.”

     That was apt. There was a lot to digest now. He’d need to put his foot down on any future visits from Dirk, maybe alert his manager that the new regular customer was actually stalking him, avoid his presence. It’s not like he knew his entire schedule, right? He just… kept turning up on the days he was working, at the right times, like clockwork. Somehow.

     Fuck, maybe this was bad. Maybe he should tell John after all.

     Yet the idea of waking him up now seemed entirely out of the question, not now that he was cuddling up again and closing his eyes, warm and pliant and relaxed. This was the kind of bomb someone dropped when they were dealing with a fully conscious person, not late night “Oh, by the way” conversation.

     Sighing, Dave scrolled a while longer before setting his phone aside and rubbing the bridge of his nose, fending off a late night headache. Too much thinking… One more glance to John, already unconscious again and drooling on his shoulder, and he finally settled down to sleep as well.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

      When he woke up the next morning it was to John leaving his entire arm tingling like the static on a television set and an ache in his head from thinking too long into the night. Even his dreams had been stressful, and looking at a bright screen so late at night in the dark certainly hadn’t helped things settle down at all in his mind. Really, he just wanted to forget it ever happened, chalk it up as a shit experience, and deal with it later.

     First, he needed to rescue his arm.

     “John. John. John. Earth to sack of potatoes currently cuttin’ off all the blood to my fingers to the point I can’t flip you off properly, can you maybe roll your fangy ass over and gimme some breathin’ room.”

     Nothing but soft snoring.

     Grunting, Dave struggled and finally yanked his arm out from underneath John’s weight, and sat up to rub his arm from fingertip to shoulder till the stinging went away and the blood flow returned to normal. He unplugged his phone from the charger and took it with him to the bathroom, scrolling out of habit and checking his emails, continuing to do so once he’d finished and washed up. Breakfast would be his treat today, and that meant something simple but tasty. He got out eggs and had just started to fry them and some breakfast hash up when John finally made his way out of the bedroom with bleary eyes behind his glasses. The vampire sniffed, stretched, and went to take a seat at the table before splaying out over the top like a sunning seal.

     “Good mornin’ to you too,” Dave said.

     “Mmmmorning,” John yawned. “Man I slept deep last night… did you finally get to bed at a good time?”

     “Eh. Tried but it was kinda hit or miss,” he said, flipping the eggs over so the tops would cook just a little bit. Sealed and perfectly over medium, nary a runny white to be seen, Dave slid the first two eggs and some of the breakfast hash onto a plate for John with some toast. He cracked two more eggs onto the skillet before delivering the dish, rubbing John’s upper back idly. “Woke up to you deadarmin’ me though. That was fun.”

     “Ah, fuck, my bad. Thanks,” John said, realizing silverware was needed. He stood up to go get two sets, leaving one opposite of where he sat for when Dave’s food was done. “So what’s the plan for the day? You’ve got work?”

     “A few hours, yeah, but not a long shift. And it’s not till later,” Dave said.

     Things were calm, peaceful. John was awake and calm. Maybe he could just-

     “...So. Dirk came to where I was workin’.”

     John choked on a piece of hash before swallowing and dropping his fork on the plate, planting his hands on the tabletop as if he were about to stand up and… what. Fight? “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

     “A few times,” Dave said, pointedly ignoring the incredulous look John was flashing his direction in favor of trying to distinguish every last flavor in the hash. Hm. Bit too salty but it worked fine with the eggs. “Nothin’ happened though.”

     “STILL! Why didn’t you let me know, this is dangerous shit Dave! Did he say anything? Do anything weird?” John fret, mind racing a mile a minute, already trying to come up with what the fuck to do next if any number of things had happened. Dave LOOKED okay but-

     “He gave me his phone number,” Dave said.

     “...What?”

     “He gave me his phone number, and we talked briefly. Don’t worry. It was bullshit. He was tryin’ to tell me I was holdin’ you back, offerin’ to “help” me. It was a crock of shit and he dropped the act when I pointed out I knew better already.”

     John relaxed a bit, but still seemed on edge as he lowered his hands back to his lap, trying not to sulk. Something that big and he hadn’t been told about it? What else was there that wasn’t being mentioned?

     “Before you ask: I already blocked him. There wasn’t anything to gain, so… cut’em loose.”

     “Nothing to gain?” John asked, confused.

     “The way he talked before, he was actin’ like nothin’ was personal. That he didn’t have any beef with me, that this was between you and Jake mostly,” Dave said, crunching toast after mopping up more egg yolk. “I thought it might be interestin’ if he was kind of doin’ his own thing aside from Jake and your issue.”

     “I’ve got no idea if that’s true or not,” John admitted. “It might be for all I know, I don’t know how close they keep their business to their relationship or how he acts as his tap aside from being one. But it’s not just a Jake and Me thing: you’re at risk too now, remember?”

     “How could I forget. When’s the asshole gonna leave town already.”

     “When he gets bored of antagonizing us and being a dick,” John grumbled, slowly going back to eating.

     “Maybe Christmas’ll come early. I’m gonna go take a shower so I can be a lazy piece of shit around the living room without smellin’ myself till work,” Dave said as he finished up his meal and rose to deposit the plate into the sink. 

     “You mind if I get your laptop out and play a game?”

     “Knock yourself out, you know the password,” he said, gesturing a wave of his hand without looking back as he left the room to get a change of clothes before closing the bathroom door.

     The pressure in here felt different somehow, though Dave was pretty sure he was just going crazy at this point. He’d noticed it briefly earlier, and every time he’d come into the bathroom since getting back home, how different it felt… but there was surely nothing to it. John had warded everything thoroughly, right? Maybe this was just a side effect of it being in a smaller space. Still, he looked to the window as if it would betray him before cracking it open to let the eventual steam out and turning to pull his shirt off.

     The window opened wider, and Dave froze in place, arms up over his head tangled in his shirt, face covered. He heard a step, then a second one as the window creaked under someone’s weight and then eased.

     “Dave?” John called. “Is everything okay?”

     Of course he felt it too. He’d have to be crazy to not feel the presence that now filled the bathroom. Dave had already put two and two together: John had been warding in here when he’d gotten interrupted to go open the window in the bedroom. The job hadn’t been finished. He’d interrupted and bitched and now look at what the fuck had happened.

     “You know, for a human you’ve got a pretty nice figure,” Dirk murmured from behind him. “Might want to tell him everything’s okay or things’ll get messy in here.”

     “Yeah,” Dave called. “Yeah, it’s. Yeah.”

     “Points off, not convincing,” Dirk hissed softly, but John didn’t call again so perhaps things were fine after all now.

     “What do you want,” Dave said, slowly lowering his arms but not turning around, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise up as he slowly looked to the side without moving his head, trying to catch a glimpse in the mirror of what was happening. He could just barely make out Dirk’s face, the dark shades he wore, the angular nose, the front of his lips. When he smirked, he could see hints of sharp teeth.

     “To give you a fair chance to get out of this,” Dirk said. “Jake’s outside right now waiting for me to take care of business… but I don’t like taking advantage of people in the bathroom of all places.”

     “Kind of you. What’s the catch,” Dave muttered.

     “You only get a head start. If I catch you… well. Let’s just say our conversation from last night won’t matter much anymore.”

     “And if you don’t catch me with your freakish speed shit?”

     “Then this round is a draw and I’ll accept my losses.”

     “And John?”

     “You assume I believe he’d let me chase you for fun with no rebuff? Please. I know what I’m doing, Dave.”

     “...How long do I have.”

     “You had thirty seconds, you’re down to about twenty five now.”

     Cussing under his breath, Dave jerked out of his frozen state and reached for the bathroom door, launching out and past a startled looking John.

     “Dave! I was jus- Where are you going!” he called out, turning to watch him run to the livingroom and fling open the door, rushing out to the hall. A shape rushed past him then, a blur to most watching, but to John he could see clearly enough to make out the stupid shades and blonde hair of someone who had no right being in this apartment. Snarling, he took off after him. “DIRK.”

     The elevator door closed before Dave could reach it, and he didn’t trust waiting for any length of time. Instead he grasped the railing and started to rush downstairs that way, jumping the last two steps with bare feet before turning the U bend and continuing to repeat the pattern floor by floor. He could hear John’s bellow from above, and could hear something uncomfortably close behind him. Daring to look up as he ran, Dave saw what could only be the blurry form of Dirk rushing down after him, two flights up.

     John dove for Dirk when he rounded a corner, dropping several stairs at once to tackle him with his full weight against the landing wall, succeeding in latching on around his neck and shoulder hard enough to gain purchase on before starting to punch towards his face with everything he had. The impact had been jarring enough that neither of them had their full wind, but something Dirk had that John didn’t was a muzzle full of sharp teeth as he started to shift in the other’s arms. His shirt fell away as his chest expanded and fur grew, arms bulking up, hands gaining claws, feet leaving his sneakers behind as they changed. A pair of ears lifted up into view, sensitive and laid back aggressively. John got a solid punch in before reeling back and releasing his hold, startled, not wanting his hand mauled by the beast who was rapidly bending its bones into a new position with soft pops and creaks.

     Dirk snarled at him and bared his large teeth once before perking an ear up and jerking away from the vampire to look down the stairwell. Several flights down, Dave was looking up, checking for where the enemy was. He could see the color drain from his face as he jumped the barrier and leapt down with lifted arms, catching onto the rung of a nearer floor before hefting himself over. John, unwilling or unable to risk doing the same, was stuck scrambling down the stairs anew in as many flashes as he dared, shouting for Dave to keep running as fast as he could.

     Didn’t need to tell him twice. The blonde was nearing the ground floor on shaking legs and veered for the front exit, not even knowing where he’d go next. Go in circles around the building until John got done zipping downstairs? He knew he could go fast, but that had been on fairly even ground before, not on stairs. Dave knew he himself could go ridiculously fast when pressed, that had to account for something, right? Maybe he had regrets about not joining track in some other life, but this would surely make up for any lingering thoughts. He raced for the front door and threw it open, almost running face first into someone.

     “Fuck, I’m sorry, I jus-”

     “No worries, chap. I take it John’s in there still, hm?”

     Dave could feel his stomach drop when he heard John’s name. The man in front of him looked… well. He looked a great deal like John, actually. Messy black hair and tan skin, broad shoulders and long arms ending in sturdy looking fingers. His eyes were wicked green and he wore an amused expression on his youthful face, one that brought unease to Dave all anew. He took a step back, then another, peering over his shoulder to see what his options were.

     Shit was what they were. Dirk, or the pale beast he assumed Dirk was, was coming towards him with John hot on his heels. It was obvious the vampire hadn’t seen who was in front of Dirk, the beast larger than its human counterpart and hurriedly barreling along, as nobody was slowing down. Thinking fast, Dave turned and ran towards Dirk as fast as he could before dropping to his knees and ducking down when he lunged.

     The wad of werewolf and vampire hit the opening of the door at an angle, Dirk rebounding to hurry along after Dave again on all fours, while John was stuck flat on his ass in front of Jake.

     No. No time. No time, had to get Dave away from the infectious one. Could he fend off two people at the same time? Had to get back into the apartment. No, the apartment wasn’t safe anymore, how had they gotten in!

     “DAVE! DAVE GET THE KEYS! THE KEYS!” he yelled, giving Jake another look before getting up to follo-

     “Ah ah ah, where do you think you’re going cousin! We finally meet up and you don’t even say hello, how rude! I’ll have to get on your father about teaching you some MANNERS,” Jake said, having caught John by the back of the shirt before yanking him back as hard as he could. Choked into obedience, John turned, preparing to fi-

     Preparing to get hit in the nose with enough pressure he was pretty sure he heard a cracking noise. Another hit, this one to the chest, forced him back into the building at an unsteady pace. A third punch, aimed for the side of his face, was finally blocked, giving John enough time to zip back away from Jake with a hiss. He could only pray Dave was getting the keys, that he was safe, that he was faster than Dirk. Going downstairs was one thing, but going up could be exhausting.

     Dave was halfway back to the apartment and his chest and legs felt like they were full of fire, yet he didn’t dare stop. Stopping now felt like a death sentence, especially with Jake around and James’ convincing play acting before. Would getting the keys even help at this point? He knew where they were, hung on the table beside the door where John always dropped them, ready to go and ready to not get lost. It was just a matter of avoiding every single thing downstairs. He heard vicious breathing below him, barely there visible cues of where Dirk was, and Dave pushed himself faster than he’d gone before.

     The door was just ahead.

     Lunging, he grabbed the keys, and slammed the door behind himself, hearing something heavy slam into the wood, nearly buckling it. The ward held, but for how long? How long would it take him to just go to the bathroom window again? Would he leave at all? Would he just be trapped inside, waiting for John to hopefully be able to get back upstairs?

     Hyped up on adrenaline and smelling a nosebleed coming on, Dave stared at the door like he was staring down destiny. The dive had worked before, maybe it could work again. Another battering ram lunge at the door and he dared to peek out the peephole, watching Dirk size up his target for another try.

     Just needed to time it.

     Needed to time it.

     Dave picked a song out of thin air and let it play in the back of his head, a quick tempo and heavy beat to match his thundering heart. 3. 2. 1.

     When Dirk lunged, Dave threw open the door and dove face first for the were’s feet, trading places with him before trying to catch the top of the stairs. He fell, ass over teakettle, till he hit the bottom before getting up and running. He heard scratching and thudding catching up with him, but there was only so much he could do. He had the keys. He had to get to the bottom of the stairs.

     He was so tired.

     He was only human.

     Good and fast as he was, he was still only human.

     With a bark like a demon, Dirk caught up with Dave around a corner, snapping near his shoulder and startling him. A misplaced step of a tired leg, a hard shift in balance, a fall, and Dave rolled down the stairs once more. Less prepared this time, the landing was hard on his side and arms at the bottom of the current staircase, making him grunt as he tried to get up, death grip still on the keys.

     Dirk was on him in an instant, huge hands shoving Dave down and pinning him by the upper arms so he could loom over him. His lips curled back to expose sharp fangs, long and dangerous.

     “It’s nothing personal,” Dirk rumbled. 

     Despite his struggling and kicking, the teeth sinking into the section of his shoulder where it connected to his neck hurt unlike anything Dave had experienced before. It was close to the sensitive space John fed from, a place that Dave had found himself starting to be tender towards even during cuddling, and now it felt like it was being ripped apart. He could smell blood, and down below a few floors he could hear yelling. When Dirk lifted his red tipped teeth away from him, Dave felt cold in the center of his chest, chilled despite the warmth at his neck.

     “You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

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

      John, waylaid by Jake, was having a hell of a time trying to keep up with him. It was like a boxing match, something he wasn’t prepared for, and when it wasn’t up close punches being thrown, it was bites being exchanged or intimidating circling.

     Jake moved faster. He hit harder. Every time John threw a punch Jake knew how to dodge and return volley or cross punch him, undoing any bit of progress John felt he’d made. They both bore bite marks, tears in the flesh, but John was the one far worse for wear. He could feel it in his face and the swell of his eye, the way his glasses sat skewed on his face, the way his ears rang when he breathed and his nose whistled.

     It all changed when he smelled Dave’s blood, however.

     “DAVE?” he shouted, opening himself up for one more punch to the face.

     It had to be Dave’s blood, he knew it too keenly now. And the only way to smell blood was if he was hurt, or worse-

     “DAVE!” John shouted again, focusing on Jake and squinting, darting back to avoid a hit to the stomach before throwing a right hook with all he had, connecting square into Jake’s face hard enough to send his glasses flying and stagger him a few paces back.

     “Dave, hold on! I’m coming!” he shouted. Fucking daytime, of course most of the neighbors were at work, and the ones who weren’t probably were just waiting for the crazy shit to stop happening outside in the echoing stairwell. As if they had any idea of just how much crazy shit was happening in reality.

     Dirk was already off of Dave by the time he made it to the correct flight, having fled further upstairs to collect his shoes and make his way out the window the way he’d come. The apartment door clunked shut ominously out of range, but John couldn’t think about that, couldn’t remember Jake down below who might be following him at this very moment. All he could focus on was the smell of blood, the ripped shirt, the bruises. The fact he looked terrified, curled up in the corner of the stairwell with his hands around his own neck, just made his blood boil all the more.

     He’d pay for this. They both would, both of them would pay for what they’d done today and John was going to make goddamn sure of it.

     “John,” Dave finally croaked. “...John, he bit me.”

     It took a second to register what Dave said, what he meant, but when it caught up in John’s mind it made his legs go slack and sent him down to his knees.

     “It. ….No. no, no, no he didn’t,” he insisted, “let me see. He didn’t bite you, he couldn’t have, it-”

     “He bit me,” Dave groaned again, slowly lowering his hands to reveal where the blood smell was coming from. It was on his hands, on the edges of his ripped shirt, all stemming from a terrible looking bite wound.

     John’s baser instincts were warring with themselves, half fascinated by the scent and the sight, wanting to sample it, wanting to drink him dry. The other half was enraged that someone had harmed his tap, and wanted to get revenge right that second.

     “Shh…. Shhh it’s gonna be okay,” was all he could think to say. As for what to do… he spotted the keys by Dave’s feet and scooped them up before carefully picking Dave up as well. “We’re going to my Dad’s house.”

     Maybe he’d have some kind of answers, some kind of hope that this wasn’t as bad as it looked. He walked upstairs and opened the apartment, finding it empty. A quick trip to the bathroom and John sat Dave down on the toilet seat, wetting a washcloth and handing it to him while he focused on closing and warding the window thoroughly. He pointedly avoided looking in the mirror till he absolutely had to, and even then it was only to wash up and straighten things as well as he could. They bandaged Dave’s neck and got him in a clean shirt, grabbing a few things in a bag for the trip.

     The tension was gone when they locked up and left the apartment again, Dave on John’s back with one arm holding the bag over John’s front and the other holding on around his neck. Jake was nowhere to be seen, Dirk was gone, everything was peace and quiet again as if their entire life hadn’t just been upended. They made it downstairs safely, ignoring the specks of blood from the fight with Jake at the entryway that he hoped someone would be able to take care of soon, and out to the car before John pulled his phone out and dialed the familiar number of his childhood.

     “Dad?” John said when the warm voice answered. “...We’re coming home.”