#I buzz my head every summer then grow it out through the cold months

[prettyboysdontcry]

Late December (flashback to late June)

As I stand there next to Corvid on the bridge, the dusk around us gently folding into night, I find myself reminded of the first time I saw them. Six months ago, almost to the day. Only later did I realize that I’d been marching at their side without ever really seeing them for hours, but the first time I looked in their eyes was right after they were filled with pepper spray.

It was only my third night protesting, and I was out there alone. The two nights before, I’d had Eddy with me, but he had a date that night. He’d told me not to go without a buddy, but I assured him I’d be okay. Besides, I reminded him, you’re never really alone at a protest. Everyone there is on your side, part of your community, fighting at your back. Eddy kissed my forehead and my eyelids and the left side of my jaw, so very close to my mouth, so very tenderly, and told me I’d better come home safe, and I tried to push down the sick, jealous feeling that came with every second date he went on, and the guilt that accompanied that feeling.

At the protest, a few hours in, we were standing outside of the newly erected chain-link fence at the aptly but unofficially renamed InJustice Center. I was starting to get sweaty and bored, that feeling that comes with protesting for far too long with no results, with being deprived of water for hours in the heat of an Oregon June night. I was starting to drift away from my surroundings, falling into the pleasant memory of the way Eddy’s face, stubbled with seven months of testosterone, scratched along mine when he kissed me, daydreaming about tilting my face so he might kiss my mouth instead.

All at once, with no warning, there were shouts and flashes, metallic clangs as grenades hit the hoods of parked cars, and I was shoved to the ground as the crowd around me pushed, some forward and some back, reacting to the cops finally bursting out of the building and into action. I heard paintball gunshots and the sinister hisses of flashbangs, and someone turned up the Childish Gambino song booming from their car radio, the bass thumping through my skull, making my eyes buzz in their sockets.

I hadn’t been expecting this tonight, here alone, later than I’d ever been. I didn’t have the experience that these people around me did, having been quarantined on suspicion of COVID for the past two weeks (false positive, turned out to be a fluke summer cold). I scrambled up and tried to run for cover in the park across the street, but tripped over an empty spray paint can on the sidewalk and went sprawling on the hot pavement. By this point, tear gas had been deployed, and I started to pull my respirator up from its resting spot on my chest, but one of the straps was caught on something under me, and I felt myself begin to panic. I spluttered and coughed in the growing cloud of gas, but couldn’t force my way back to my feet through the push of the crowd and my teary, stinging eyes. I placed a hand on the sidewalk to push myself up, and someone in heavy combat boots stomped hard on my exposed fingers. I yelped in pain, but they had already morphed back into the crowd.

Suddenly, graciously, I felt a pair of strong hands grip my shoulders from behind. I looked down to fingernails painted shimmery pink, and turned around to wide, dark eyes fixed on mine. The person shouted into my ear, “You okay!?” All I could do was shake my head in shock, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to clear them from gas and tears. I held up my mangled hand so my new acquaintance could see the damage. I couldn’t understand how this person could still see clearly without goggles, their eyes didn’t even look red. Understanding me without words, they reached for my good hand and pulled me up, half-carrying me to the cover of the trees at the park.

As we stumbled away from the action, I noticed that my savior was wearing blackbloc: black skinny jeans, black Doc Martens, a black beanie, a black hoodie with a red duct tape cross on the front, and a black Jansport bearing the same cross. Immediately, I relaxed into their touch. A medic had found me. A medic with the clearest, kindest eyes. A medic whose strong, pink-painted fingers took over the place in my mind that had been filled with Eddy’s stubble just moments ago. With dark, shiny hair that cascaded over their shoulders, gauged ears, and a long nose with a bump pronounced enough to see under their blue medical mask. By the time we got to the cover of the trees and had found a clear patch of ground, I had forgotten all about the pain in my eyes, throat, and fingers.

Once the gentle medic had treated me as best they could (pouring cold milk, then water, into my stinging eyes and mouth, stripping my gassed outer layers, washing and dressing my fingers), they just sat across from me, tucked into our quietish spot behind the park bathroom, holding my hands, and watching me. I had asked that they sit with me for a bit, and said that I might not go back out. They had told me that was a good idea, and agreed to sit and talk to keep me from panicking again.

They gave me a nervous once-over, then laughed breathlessly and said, in a mock-cheerful voice, “Hi, I’m Corvid, I use they/them and she/her pronouns, what’s your name?” tilting their head to the side like a curious puppy at the end of the sentence.

Their voice, I realized now that I had time to process it, wasn’t what I’d been expecting. It was rough and gravelly, yet also somehow sweet and melodic, deeply androgynous, and (I found, with a jolt of embarrassment that I hoped didn’t show on my face) very attractive. They sounded genuine, even mocking a meet-cute. I tried to laugh in response to their irony, but it came out as a dry, pepper-filled cough.

“I’m Fifty. I use he/him.”

We were silent for a moment, my face growing a bit hot, then I asked, “How the hell are you not wearing goggles out there? Or a respirator? It's my third time out here, so I don't know the rules, or the tips, but you seem so confident. How are you not in the same boat as me right now? And how did you become a medic?” The words just tumbled out of me, until I finally trailed off.

They were quiet for a moment, then, “I guess I've built up a tolerance. I’ve been out here every night since the first time. May 28th.”

My brain, panic-addled and exhausted, processed this answer slowly, then the realization hit that it was June 24th, meaning that Corvid had been out every night for almost a month. I let out a sharp breath. I blink in surprise as I feel a cool, calloused hand slide over my right shoulder and nestle into the buzzed hair at the nape of my neck. A soft gasp breaks from my winter-dry lips as my mind comes back to where my body still stands, leaned against the north railing of the Tilikum Crossing Bridge, the toes of my Doc Martens pressed to the cold beam, steel against steel. My bleary eyes focus with some difficulty on the orange city lights reflected on the surface of the dark, rippling water. My love moves their hand gently from the back of my neck to my shoulder again, hiking my scarf back up toward my cold cheeks. They murmur a question into my ear and I nod gratefully. Their hand shifts once more, floats down towards my own. Our numb fingers instinctually interlace upon their gentle impact and we turn as one, the orange lights now at our left, and stumble towards home, not saying a word, each of our minds lost in the haze of our own memories. We still don’t talk as, together, we board the 6 bus northbound towards home, letting the city speak our minds.

[johnbazley]

I can see how time has passed, I haven't been myself

On consciousness of change and Bellows’ “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter”

There isn’t very much sunlight in the new apartment. The windows in our new place face east, with maybe four feet of alleyway separating our windowpanes from our next-door neighbors’. All of the natural light in our little place is gone by ten AM or so. Once the sun peaks in the sky, the apartment grows dark. One morning a few weeks ago, I got out of bed at three in the morning, as soon as I had accepted the fact that I wouldn’t fall asleep at all that night. I rubbed my eyes and put on a pot of coffee and sat on the couch and I watched the sunlight as the hours past, as the sun rose, shone briefly in through the windows and sheer curtains, and finally vanished.

Bellows’ 2016 album Fist & Palm is my favorite album. I think I’ve listened to it more than any other. The first song that got me was “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter,” a lush pop track as square as the bedroom where it was recorded. My favorite enormous tiny song. All of the drums are mixed low in the instrumental, which makes every big moment sound soft. It feels massive without sounding threatening. There is a homemade-sounding trap cymbal that stutters beneath the lazy plucking of guitar strings in the chorus, while the baritone Kalb sings “Through spring, summer, autumn into winter, / I’m not comfortable at home, / or relaxed around my friends.” 

One facet of my anxiety that I often wrestle with is the impulse thought that every year of my life has been worse than the last. Surely, I think, my life used to be better. Surely, at some point, I used to be happy. I see the new lines on my face every few months, the new notches on my belt, the declining balance of my bank account, and I remember some imagined past where I wasn’t worried about the way I looked, my direction in life, how many good friends I had left, or how much money I wasn’t making. Sometimes, in the early mornings especially, I think about the person I used to be, all of the jobs I’ve had, every college I attended, every party I’ve been to, everywhere I have lived. I think about past miseries and consider my victories. The other day, at the start of August, I put my favorite pair of jeans on and thought about how much time has passed since COVID-imposed quarantine began, how it was at one point cold enough to go out for groceries in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a mask made from an old dinner napkin. 

That’s the part of me that “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter” activates.  It is a song about the consciousness of change, about growing into a new self with each passing season. There’s a slight unease, a small pang of anxiety in Oliver Kalb’s voice when he sings, “Through spring, summer, autumn into winter, / I can see how time has passed, / I haven’t been myself.” In the video for the song, which Kalb filmed over the course of a year, he invites you to watch him change along with him. He stands in the same part of the same park at different times throughout the year, the camera cutting to a shot of each new season with each word that leaves Kalb’s lips: spring, summer, autumn, winter. The weather changes along with Kalb’s clothes, the length of his hair, the number of leaves on each tree in the background and their colors. 

When quarantine started, I needed a haircut. My girlfriend cut it for me at the end of March, buzzing off everything but the thick, overgrown flap of hair on top of my head, a DIY undercut. In the four or five months that have passed, my hair has grown back out, almost back to the length it was when all of this began. I’ve grown a beard, which I do every year or so when I need  to see a different version of myself in the mirror each morning. I’ve gained twenty pounds or so, and my body looks different, my chest broader and more pronounced, my waist thicker at my belt line. 

“Spring Summer Autumn Winter” offers no reassurance. There’s no point at the end of the song where Kalb returns to a former self, or accepts that former selves are simply lost to annals of time. The chorus only offers a brief admission of discomfort and an acknowledgement of change. 

Still, I’ve been wearing jeans lately. I’ve been taking long walks on the boardwalk, around the lake in Spring Lake, through the woods at 80 Acres Park. When the motivation strikes, I go for a run around town, listening to old favorite albums like Fist & Palm in my headphones to distract me from the burn in my calves. I’ve been trying to make coffee the way I used to, before I resigned myself to the ease and price of the grocery store variety. I haven’t shaved my beard yet, but I’m sure I will soon. I haven’t cut my hair again yet, and I probably won’t.

Most importantly, I’ve been waking up earlier. I try to catch the sunlight. Sometimes I oversleep, exhausted by the daily grief of the current moment. Sometimes, I catch a ray of light through the window, and I watch it as it rises, extends across the floor, and eventually disappears.

[ghostlyfoliage]

The Lacy Tree Philo and this Monstera are duking it out for my heart. They're both in the same building too, though on completely opposite sides. This is my favorite building to work, not just because of the incredible plants (the Philo has two new leaves and they're so soft!!!), but also because it has a bunch of chalk and white boards (which, ngl, I feel a bit guilty about cleaning). Sometimes people write things that remind me that humans can be good too... and I need that in my life (though a Monstersa I couldn't fit through my front door wouldn't hurt 😅).

[ddarker-dreams]

Out With the Old. Yan Childe x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury and blood, typical yandere undertones. Word count: 3.2k. Notes: i absolutely loved writing this!! i never realized how badly i needed a yandere childe that’s so obviously whipped for his darling. :’))

i.

“Dearest [First],

I can only imagine the look that must be on your face as you read this. Don’t be too harsh on me for saying so, but I promise not a day goes by where I haven’t thought of you. Now stop scowling at the letter, it won’t do any good, after all; it’s just a piece of paper. I’d hate to come back home to see that you’ve aged from all that frowning at parchment.

Somedays I wake and fail to notice I’m in Inazuma instead of Snezhnaya. The scenery has its differences, of course, but it’s only when I realize I can’t see you that it truly sinks in. Writing this, I realize your judgment about my honesty only appearing in written form rather than in person is true. You’ve always had a penchant for keeping me in line, haven’t you?

Not that I can blame you.

You’ll be relieved to hear that the reason for my being here turned out to be a simple misunderstanding. There’s no grand coup d'état waiting to unfold amongst the lower ranks, so, unfortunately for me, it turned out to be a waste of time. On the bright side, that means I’ll get to come back home all the faster.

Tonia tells me that you’re doing well and I’m glad to hear it. I know your parents aren’t that fond of me, which is a smart call all things considered, but I hope they’re both in good health. Let me know if they need any help with their shop and I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t let them know it was from me, or they might blow a gasket.

When I come home, I wonder if I’ll see your face among the crowd on the pier this time.

At the very least… consider not discarding this letter like the others. Really, I can’t tell who is more stubborn, me or you.

-Yours eternally, Tartaglia”

This is the first letter of his that you’ve bothered reading in some time, as he made a point of mentioning. It’s difficult to identify the exact feelings his handwriting and characteristic word choice inflicts upon you, ranging from relief to exasperation. He has some audacity, refusing to see you in person for months on end, only to carry on as if nothing happened between you.

With the letter in hand, your mind wanders back, hoping to find some hints of where it all went wrong.

You remember the words said to you on that late, fateful winter evening. The confident timbre of his voice then still resonates in your head at random, never muffling despite the years that have passed, ringing as clearly as a bell. Does he ever think about it? It’s hard to say.

“One day,” Ajax, or Tartaglia as he claimed his new identity to be, had told you, “I’m going to conquer this world.”

His breath materialized in front of him as white, vaporous wisps. There’s something about that particularly frigid season that felt like magic, more so than the Cryo Vision wrapped snug around your neck. You bit back a scathing remark and instead focused your energy elsewhere. Your gloved hand raised and hovered just above his split lip, a prominent frown etched onto your face at the fresh wound. Likely the first of many to come, you lamented.

Your Vision pulsated with life and light blue shone through at your command. The tender, bruised flesh on his lip began to close, before it faded away altogether. Tartaglia raised his hand to gently touch where it had been, now nothing but a faint memory.

With that out of the way, you placed your hands onto your hips and gave him a stern look. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. It’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

He laughed and waved off your concern.

“If only. Things have been so dull lately, I wouldn’t mind stirring up a little trouble.” Tartaglia hummed, much to your displeasure. It was no secret in your quaint hometown of Morepesok that this boy had been spiraling down a dangerous path. Your parents said as much and even encouraged you to break off ties with him. This just won’t do, you thought.

“Ouch!”

You flicked his forehead and offered up your most intimidating glare. “So you are capable of feeling pain, huh? Good. If it keeps you out of fights, then I won’t heal you anymore.”

Tartaglia rubbed the spot and smiled sheepishly.

“You say that, but I’m sure you’d change your mind if I came to you all bloodied and battered. You’re just that kind of person.” When he paused to reflect, you raised an eyebrow and challenged him.

“Now what’s this? I’m what kind of person, Ajax?” You pinched his cheek, much to his vocal displeasure, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “Say it loud and clear this time.”

“The kind that always looks out for others, even those who don’t deserve it.”

Your arms fell limp by your side. At that moment, your heart twisted in a way it never had before. It could only compare to how it felt when Ajax had stumbled back home after missing for three, long days. You weren’t sure if you had heard him right — his eyes widened as did yours like he felt equally surprised — and he rushed to save himself. The flush that dusted over his face was most certainly not from the cold weather.

Tartaglia shot up and made way for the door at a record speed. “I told my old man that I’d be home before dark. He already worries about me enough as is, so... I’ll be on my way. See ya around.”

Your rebuttal was slow as your tongue felt frozen. Tartaglia waved to you over his shoulder and took off, leaving you to wallow in your muddled thoughts. What exactly had he meant by that? Why did his gaze soften and his usually boisterous voice drop in volume?

Questions flooded your mind, questions that wouldn’t be answered for years to come.

ii.

You’ve always found this area of Morepesok to be serene. There’s no buzz of the community gathering, chattering about the latest gossip and notable news, no vendors vying for people passing by to purchase their fresh early morning catch. The surroundings are nothing but peaceful, and most importantly, silent. In the summer, there’d only have been the sound of the rushing rivers that are now frozen over and humming insects.

Twigs and dry leaves crunch behind the tree stump you’re hanging out at, signaling an approaching figure.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Tartaglia sits down next to you, blades of grass rustling against him as he did so. You don’t bother to look up, instead feigning interest in your fingernails, staring at them intently. Anywhere other than his face, which most likely than not would be boasting his trademark grin. Seeing the fake expression that he plasters on daily would only add fuel to the fire that rages inside.

Your lips part after an uncomfortable silence settles in, the atmosphere growing tenser by the second. “So you’re a Harbinger now, huh?”

“You don’t look impressed like everyone else,” He notes, his language notably more tentative than usual. It strikes through your heart, piercing flesh and blood, your fingers curling painfully tight. If he notices, he decides not to comment. Tartaglia gives you the time to process your overwhelming thoughts as if it’d make any of this easier on you.

“How could I possibly be happy about that?” You snap your head, catching how he’s momentarily caught off guard before it’s covered up just as fast. “This… this is going to be the death of you, Ajax. And Archons, the worst part is, I know me saying that won’t matter in the slightest. That death would just be the result of a fulfilling fight to you.”

Your breathing grows erratic, to the point you’re forced to stop speaking to regain yourself. He doesn’t dare utter a single word — uncharacteristically silent — watching your every movement with calculating precision. It’s taking all your strength to keep yourself together, not wanting to come undone in front of him, feeling weak just for showing this much. This is why you were hoping to avoid him, but figures he’d go out of to seek you out.

“And if I don’t die? Would that make a difference in how you feel?” He challenges, tilting his head, voice dipping in volume. “You can be honest with me, [First]. It’s not just that you’re upset about. No, there’s something else.”

He knows you too well and it’s beyond frustrating. Your body language might be difficult for others to read, but not Tartaglia, who picks up on every little nuance with ease.

Your lower lip trembles. “I hate that this is what you’ve become.”

“So that’s it then,” Tartaglia nods his head, once, coming to terms with it as soon as the words left your lips; like he already knew it all along. “I figured as much, but to hear you say it… haven’t you heard of mincing your words before?”

Hugging your knees to your chest, you internally plead with yourself not to let the nonchalant words get to you. It’s his way of dealing with strife to act unbothered, you know this, and still, it strikes deep. What if this isn’t a façade, but who he really is now? That boy you knew and grew up with — Ajax, your dearest friend — he may be physically sitting next to you, but his soul is gone. Whatever happened in those hellish three days changed him forever. Now his flesh and bones are nothing but a vessel urged on by bloodlust.

How ironic, you think. That your Vision lets you heal physical wounds, but not the unseen kind, which runs deeper than any gash could hope to. Maybe you were a fool for thinking you could fix him, revert him to how he used to be like nothing ever happened. Or maybe he let you try just to earn more time together for whatever twisted reason. Knowing that once reality settles in, you’ll go someplace far out of his reach, where he can never get you back. Sitting here, you realize that it won’t just be you losing him. He’ll also be losing you.

Is that why he is sticking around? To prolong the inevitable?

“When I look into your eyes,” you clear your tightening throat, not willing to let yourself cry. “There’s… there’s no light, no humanity, and you know it. That has to be why you chase all those stupid fights, all so that you can feel alive again.”

Tartaglia allows you the room to ramble without interruption, your venomous feelings that have long festered gushing out. When you work up the courage to look up, you find Tartaglia frowning, staring far off but at nothing in particular. So even he can sometimes be rendered to a loss for words, huh?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, the chilly air invading his lungs. “You’re wrong about one thing.”

Another cautious pause. He’s giving this a lot of thought.

“My fighting is not for the sole sake of the adrenaline rush, as enjoyable as that is,” he scratches the back of his neck and forces a laugh. “It’s so that I can get stronger. I told you, didn’t I? That I intend on conquering the world. To do that, I need to be the strongest, or else I can’t fulfill my promise.”

Your lips part, eyebrows furrowing together in irritation, but he places a finger to your lips before you can tear into him. The leather feels cool against your skin, and it’s just now that you realize how close he is to you. Having been so absorbed in your emotions, you failed to notice his stealthy movements, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder. Your heart thrums, reminiscent of that day ages ago.

“When the entire world lays defeated at my feet, what I want is to have you by my side. Until that dream of mine comes true, I’m afraid I’ll have to continue making you sad, but know that it’s for a reason.”

Tartaglia pulls his hand back, his finger lingering just a second over your bottom lip, finally allowing you to speak your piece.

You’re drawn like a moth to a flame to his lifeless eyes, which have seen more bloodshed in the past few months than you could ever fathom. Murmuring, you find it within yourself to respond, albeit so quietly he has to cant forward to hear. “If you accomplish just that… who’s to say I’d want to be by your side? The side of a killer?”

“Hm? Did I ever say you had a choice in the matter?” Tartaglia returns your inquiry with a bold one of his own, one that sends you recoiling in astonishment. He lets the words settle like fresh snow on the ground before laughing them off. You cross your arms over your chest, making your displeasure over his comment evident.

“Please, I’m kidding! Don’t look at me like that,” he puts his hands up in mock defense. “Ah, it’s suddenly feeling colder than usual. You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? I never thought that humble [First], the child of the town’s apothecary at that, would be so bold as to freeze me to death.”

Your nose wrinkles up and you hold back a laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “Yeah, right. Like I could ever stand a chance against you in battle.”

“You might be surprised! I could make a warrior out of you yet. Think about it, Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa saw fit to bestow a Vision upon you, didn’t she?” He accents his words by pointing to your neck, where you prefer to keep your Vision. Subconsciously, your hand raises, delicately touching the icy gem.

“I’m not like you,” you shake your head at his jest. “Hurting others is the last thing I’d ever want to do, trust me.”

He hums, your words taking him back, memories flashing in his mind. “I know, that’s why I’ve always done it in your stead.”

“Whoever would’ve thought fending off bored kids with a wooden sword would escalate into you climbing the ranks of the Fatui.” Had it not been for the final part of the sentence, you would’ve found it endearing to reminiscence back to your early childhood together. Still, the frost around your heart melts at the sweet memory, despite your attempts to keep it hardened. This goes to show how much I cherished it, you muse.

Lips curling into a smile, you take him by surprise and lay your head onto his shoulder. His muscles go tense, body unresponsive to the affection you used to bestow upon him in heaps. It’d been so long that he forgot the warmth you radiate like you were the sun incarnate. He had once commented that he expected a Cryo user to be cold, only to be delightfully surprised by how warm you were.

“Maybe I was always terrible, and you just didn’t notice?” He proposes, to which you snort.

“That most certainly is not the case. I’m a better judge of character than that.” You scoff at the mere idea. No, little Ajax had been nothing but a darling, there’s no doubting it. Wherever you’d go, he’d follow as if his life depended on it. There was hardly ever a time where the two of you wouldn’t be seen paired together.

“You’ll get no argument out of me there,” Tartaglia rests his head on top of yours like he used to. The circumstances have undoubtedly changed, but it’s nice to feign ignorance for a few minutes. “Say, you remember when we used to sneak off and meet here, right?”

“How could I forget?”

Tartaglia nods his head in agreement. “I was always dragging you into trouble, even then. I’m not one to dwell on the past, but I guess it’s hard not to when we’re here.”

Now that he mentions it, it wasn’t an immediate shift into his now unhinged personality; like all things, it began as a gradual descent. You should’ve noticed something was awry with how frequently he’d come to you, boasting injuries of all sorts. Each was accompanied by a rehearsed explanation as not to alarm you. Unfortunately for him, in a small town such as this, word travels quickly. It was inevitable that you’d find out the bitter truth behind his wounds.

Maybe you always knew but didn’t want to face reality.

“There was this one time in particular that always stuck out to me,” he closes his eyes, reflecting. “When I said I intended to marry you when we got older, or whenever you’d have me.”

You’re amazed at how Tartaglia recounts it without so much as stuttering, the humiliating memory sending your head spinning. There were so many memories he could’ve mentioned and that’s the one he decides to go with? You’re certain he’s messing with you at this point.

“I-I thought we swore never to mention that again!” You exclaim, blood rushing to your cheeks.

He blinks when you abruptly lift your head and shrugs off your concern. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to that. It was you who kept insisting to take a vow of silence on it, for whatever reason. Personally, I find it cute, you were so eager to accept my proposal then.” 

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This irksome teasing quality had reared its head alongside his other new shortcomings. The best way to deal with it, you’ve learned, is to keep the conversation going. Dwelling on it for too long never ends well.

“So, Liyue, huh?” You recall the gossip from the marketplace earlier. Some locals were fussing over the news that the Fatui’s latest Harbinger, Tartaglia, would be sent abroad for more work. There were murmurs of excitement over how a child from this seaside town managed to make it so far up the ranks. And to think they used to bemoan Ajax’s violent streak, you remember. Now that it’s beneficial to them, they sure have changed their tune.

“I wonder what it’ll be like,” he muses. “Anthon seems to think the people there eat rocks, for whatever reason.”

“Kids always say the craziest things unprompted.”

He seems agreeable to that statement. Neither of you utters another word for some time, instead thinking of both the past and the future. It’s not a comfortable position to remain seated in, yet neither you nor he complains about it. For a few brief, glorious seconds, everything almost seems normal again.

“Hey, [First].”

You hum in response. Tartaglia’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. In the silence that follows, you swear you hear a sound akin to electricity crackling, the hairs on the back of your neck standing from the drastic shift in atmosphere.

“I meant what I said. Someday, you will be by my side. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll make it happen; even if you come to hate me.”

“Because once you make a promise… you keep it.”

And he intended to do just that.

[butgilinsky]

someone will ache for your soul // np

warning; a lot of language i’m sry, argument btw best friends, talks abt a shitty ex bf but there’s nothing explicit

summary; in a world where you acquire tattoos across various parts of your body once you fall in love with someone, you have to hide yours from your best friend. 

word count; 6.7k+

a/n: kind of a soulmate au but not really i guess? i saw this prompt somewhere online and idk where it’s from so the general idea of gaining tattoos from those you fall in love with is not mine but the rest of the fic is. okay thx bye(:

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

When you were younger, you loved it. You loved looking down at your ankle and seeing the small butterfly just beside your ankle. You’d had it your whole life, though you still weren’t entirely sure how a tattoo grew up with you, but you accepted it. After all, it’s all that you knew. 

Everybody’s born with a tattoo on their ankle, a small tattoo that has theirselves embedded into it. However, the older you get the more you realize that it’s not the tattoo you’re born with that makes the biggest impact on you, it’s others’. Every time you fall in love with somebody, your skin makes room for their tattoo on it. Your mom’s tattoo, a small star on her left ankle, shined bright from its place on your father’s wrist, somehow separate from the couple tattoos he collected over the years. 

You remember the day you found out about the tattoos, perched in your mom’s lap and listening to her talk to your aunt about it. You remember tracing their tattoos with your small fingers while they told you various stories about their loves and how they grew up collecting tattoos on their skin. You were scared, asked your mom what happened if you never got any more than your single tattoo on your ankle. She told you that you would, that anybody would be lucky to collect your small butterfly somewhere on their body. 

You remember the day you got your second tattoo, the paper plane that sat on the back of your left shoulder that now held the role as a painful reminder of your first love. You loved Cory, but the time for the two of you had come and gone. The paper airplane, though never in your line of sight, was still a painful reminder of the times you shared with the boy and how he broke your heart at the end of it all just before moving to college. 

You had to go through senior year alone, newly broken up with and with your best friend hours away from home. You couldn’t blame Nolan, not when he was out doing the thing he loved so much. Being in Brandon was good for him, it was all that he wanted, and it wasn’t all that far away from Winnipeg anyways. You still drove out to see Nolan’s games, even if it ran up the miles on your car and had you spending late nights driving back home by yourself. You would’ve done anything for Nolan, and it truly showed during your senior year. 

Nolan’s draft day was a rude awakening for you. You jumped up when his name was called, hugging him as tight as you possibly could before hiding your giddy expression behind your hands. You were excited for him, even if he was going all the way out to Philadelphia. You wanted him to be happy, and you could tell within seconds of his name being called that he was going to do just fine in Philly. 

You didn’t notice until you got home and your heart sank into your stomach. Your adrenaline high had worn off, and the reality of everything around you began to sink in. You knew what it was the second you laid your eyes on it, black lines etched into the skin of your sternum. You thought it was an odd placement, though it was hard to miss it when you stepped out of the shower and it stood tall and proud and ready to be found. 

You knew what it was, you’d seen the shape etched into Nolan’s ankle far more times than you could count. It mocked you, the snake coiled up the same way your memory sketched it out in your brain, and now it was imprinted perfectly into your skin. You touched it, rubbed it, tried to wash it off. You had just taken a shower, just washed the day off of you and down the drain and now you were standing in the middle of a hotel bathroom, rubbing at the spot between your breasts mercilessly. This couldn’t be happening, not to you, not when Nolan was about to move thousands of miles away from you. 

But it was happening, because the black line that followed no real pattern never faded, despite the skin around it turning raw from your insistent attempts at washing it off. It was here to stay, no matter what happened in your life down the road. It didn’t matter that you had no heads up, no warning that you were falling head over heels in love with your best friend. 

You knew it wouldn’t wash off, but that didn’t stop you from trying. These tattoos were forever, you knew that. You learned from a ripe, young age about obtaining your love’s tattoo. You learned about it growing up, you talked about it with friends and family, hell this wasn’t even your first tattoo that wasn’t your own. You knew the drill, you knew the routine, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. 

You were 18, watching him sign contracts and make agreements of his big move in a few short weeks. You couldn’t believe it, that you were losing him in a time like this. It made dropping him off at the airport all that much harder, cheeks wet and eyes bloodshot as you clung to him for dear life. You knew his parents wanted to say bye, that his sisters were waiting patiently while you cried into his shoulder, but you couldn’t let go.

He didn’t know about the snake on your sternum, nor did you plan on telling him. You couldn’t drop a bomb like that on him just before he moved to a different country, finally living out the dream he’d had ever since you could remember. Nolan wasn’t Nolan without hockey, and you were aware of that. You were painfully aware of that. 

So you didn’t tell him. 

You spent too many nights curled up in your bed, clinging to your pillow to muffle the whimpers and whines that pushed through your lips and out into the air. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest at any given moment, and you did everything in your power to keep everything under wraps. You couldn’t tell anyone, no matter how bad it hurt to be in love with your best friend that now lived so far away from you. 

It was hard, hiding it. You had to hide it from your family and friends, and sometimes that was easy. During the cold months you were seemingly off the hook, but when summer rolled around and your friends dragged you out to the lake every chance they got, you were in a bit of trouble. You had to carefully choose what bathing suits you wore and had to make sure nothing slipped or faltered throughout the day. 

You’d made it three years without a slip up. Even on nights when Nolan came home and you were mere inches away from him, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him. Even when he was curled up into your side and holding you against his chest in the most comfortable way, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t make a move on him. 

And now you were in Philly, standing in an arena that had you shivering but smiling brightly from the opposite side of the glass. You smiled every time Nolan skated by, even more when he assisted Travis in the first goal of the game and scored one of his own late in the second period. You were buzzing, adrenaline pumping and excitement shining deep in your chest. Watching Nolan do what he loved would never get old, not when the smile he wore was enough to wash away any fear or worry you’ve ever had. 

You remember nights when you couldn’t sleep and Nolan would hold you. You remembered nights when you were crying over the phone to him and he snuck out of his room and into your own. You remembered fights you had and the way he made you walk home one night after one of your bigger ones. 

You were walking out of TIm Horton’s, mere feet away from Nolan’s car before you tumbled into an argument you’d been trying to avoid for a few days now. You were dating Cory at the time, and Nolan couldn’t believe you were telling him that you couldn’t go to his game on Friday night, regardless of the fact that you’d promised him for weeks now that you’d be there. It was hard for you to catch games during the week, but this one was on a Friday night with plenty of time for you to finish the school day and drive over to Brandon. 

But now you were telling him that you couldn’t go, and no matter how sorry you were, Nolan couldn’t forgive you. He said you’d blown him off for Cory more times than he could accept anymore. You had to call your sister, figuring she was the only one that would pick you up and give you a ride home without threatening to leave you in the parking lot in favor of beating Nolan to a pulp. 

None of that mattered though. None of it mattered when you were faced with the boy you’d fallen in love with doing the thing he cherished most. When he left the locker room with a smile brighter than any of his teammates had seen in a long time that was directed straight at you, you knew none of it mattered. 

Your feet left the ground, hanging in the air while your best friend clung to your frame tightly. He thanked you for coming, told you that he scored the goal just for you, that he scored every goal for you. You figured it was the adrenaline talking, that he was just basking in the big win against their biggest rivals. That plus the fact that Nolan could barely come to terms with the fact that you were here all for him. 

You’d been in Philly before, had visited Nolan a few times over his years with the Flyers. You’d met practically everyone there was to meet and had gotten fairly close with his closest friends by default, seeing as they were always around when you were. Everything was going well this time around, everyone was having fun and getting along and it almost seemed like nothing could fall out of place. 

You were standing in the kitchen with Nolan and Travis when Nolan’s name was called, beckoning him out into the rest of the house while you and Travis rallied drinks for the group. He tried to ignore them, tried to help you pile up on wine and beers for the rest of the group but Travis practically kicked him out of the kitchen. Travis said he could help you, that the two of you didn’t need Nolan’s help and that someone else clearly did. 

It took all of five minutes for Travis to spill red wine all over your shirt. Thankfully for him, the few glasses you’d thrown back throughout the night washed over any sense of anger or annoyance you’d usually pick up and you simply laughed it off. He felt so bad, begged you to forgive him and let you buy him a new shirt, but all you did was insist that he find you a new one for now and that you could figure out the rest of it when the two of you weren’t tipsy and surrounded by your friends. 

Travis ducked out of the kitchen for a second before turning back up and leading you into a hallway on the other end of the house. He told you that Claude never really let them wander his house without a little supervision, claiming that they break everything that they touch, but this was a special case. Claude loved you, and he wasn’t going to let you walk around with a wine stained shirt for the rest of the night, especially when it’s Travis’s fault in the first place. 

You laid back on the bed in the room you were unfamiliar with, smiling up at the ceiling and humming to yourself while Travis dug through Claude’s closet. 

“I know Ryanne has a stack of those shirts somewhere.” he spoke gently to himself, refraining from throwing clothes all over the room and instead digging for one through multiple piles. You laughed to yourself, not even sure if he knew that you could hear him. 

“Just pick one, Teeks!” he huffed and chucked one at you, laughing loudly when it landed directly on your face. 

You whined and sat up, reaching for the hem of your shirt without much thought surrounding the subject before peeling it off. All you could think about was how sticky your stomach had gotten from the red spot. 

It was the small gasp that got you, the one that brought you back down to Earth and tore you out of your wine-induced haze. It was Travis’s eyes locked in on the spot in the middle of your chest that triggered every panic siren in between your ears. 

“Is that-”

“TK you can’t tell him.” you rushed out, pushing yourself to stand up as you pressed a bright orange Flyers shirt against your chest. Your hands were shaking, and Travis’s eyes were glued to the spot of the tattoo even without being able to see it anymore. He knew what that snake was, he knew it all too well. He’d known Nolan for a long time now, and he’d seen the snake enough times to commit it to memory. 

He was sure you had Nolan’s snake in the middle of your chest, and now Travis knew you were in love with Nolan. 

“Trav, I’m serious.” he shook his head, trying to clear himself of the intrusive thoughts and nodded gently. He couldn’t tell Nolan. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to keep that from him, especially when he had been looking for your tattoo on Nolan’s skin for years now. 

Travis wasn’t dense. He saw the way that Nolan looked at you, heard the tone he used when he talked about you. He saw how excited Nolan got when he knew you were about to fly into Philly, and he saw how upset Nolan got when you left. He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew that there was something lying under the surface of you and Nolan’s friendship. 

He tried to have this conversation before, had tried more times than he could count at this point. The only difference now was that there was hard proof, there was evidence that he was right all along. But now he couldn’t use that evidence, not when you were looking at him with wide eyes and begging him to keep it between the two of you. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this before you go back home.” you nodded, figuring that it was good enough for you if it meant he never told Nolan about it. 

Except, there was one small problem.

The door swung open, dark and narrowed eyes landing on you and Travis, less than a foot between the two of you with you topless, a single shirt held between your hands and in front of your chest. 

“My best friend?” the disappointment in his voice tugged at your heart and punched you in the gut simultaneously. The guilt hanging in your chest was barely justified, given this was one large misunderstanding, but the look on Nolan’s face was enough to have your shoulders falling. 

“Nolan, it’s not-”

“My best fucking friend? Of all people you had to choose him?” his eyes were wide and glued to yours, anger mixing with disgust in the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe you’d do this to him. 

“Pat, you don’t understand-” 

“Fuck you.” Nolan spoke slowly and clearly, shooting Travis the sharpest glare he could produce. His voice sent a chill down your spine, unsure if you had ever heard him speak with such malice. “Both of you.” 

Nolan spun on the balls of his feet and left the room, but you didn’t let him get far before you were following him. You tugged the shirt over your head, not even bothering to turn back to Travis to apologize before you were running after Nolan, calling his name down the hallway. 

“Nolan, please-”

“I don’t want to hear it, honestly.” he threw over his shoulder, but you weren’t accepting that. You weren’t going to let him walk away right now, not when you didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Just listen to me!” you stopped walking, stopped running. You stood in the middle of a hallway that had pictures lining the walls around you. Smiling faces and cheery laughs suffocated you in a time where you stood toe to toe with your best friend, the same one who was looking down at you like he’d never known you. “You don’t get to assume things and just walk away!”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to come out here after not seeing me for six months and sleep with my best friend! You don’t get to do that to me! You don’t get to use me to sleep with professional athletes.” any words you had swimming through your mind halted at his accusation. They fizzled out, unable to produce a coherent thought after you heard your best friend accuse you of using him. 

“After all this time, you think i’m using you? You think that I came here to sleep with Travis?” 

“You want to know what I think? I think you’ve always used me. You used me to escape your awful boyfriend in high school and you used me to leave home when things got bad. You used me to get over your shitty boyfriend when he left you in the fucking dust and here you are now, using me to sleep with my best fucking friend.” you were in shock, lips parted and throat constricting as you tried to let his words sit. 

“If you wanted to whore yourself out to NHL players, you should’ve just said so, puck bunny.” The nickname weighed heavily in your chest, bringing you back to a time where Nolan went on and on about how much puck bunnies got under his skin. It brought you back to a time when Nolan would never call you that, would never even put you and the name in the same conversation.

“Patty!” Nolan’s eyes left yours, casting over your shoulder and locking with another pair that he might have been more furious at. Sure, he was angry at you. He couldn’t believe you’d do something like this, not after growing up with him just a few houses down. He couldn’t believe you’d stoop this low, but Travis? Travis knew how Nolan felt about you. Even if he didn’t admit it, even if he’d never say that was all true, Travis knew. He knew better than anyone how Nolan felt, and that made it all the more worse. 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” you bit down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting slightly but you couldn’t look away from where your eye level left you. You couldn’t look up at Nolan, not when he was this angry at you, and you surely couldn’t look at Travis. You knew that’d only make things worse. 

“Now you get to tell me how to talk to her? Does that mean the two of you are a thing now? That’s funny, seeing as you have a girlfriend, Teeks. Didn’t know you were into home wrecking, y/n.”

“Fuck you.” you spoke softly, not even sure if he had heard you before he looked down at you with a puzzled look stretched across his face. 

“So I can pick up TK’s sloppy seconds? No thanks, angel.” you shoved him then, shoved him hard. He didn’t move much due to the way his feet dug into the ground and he had muscle on you, but you got your point across by the force delivered to his chest. 

“You’re a dick, you know that? You walk into a room and think you know everything that’s going on, but you don’t, okay? You don’t know what happens when you’re gone. You don’t know what happened in there or what happens at home when you’re here. You don’t know anything, okay?” 

“That’s bold, given that I just walked in on you topless, seconds away from kissing my best friend, y/n-”

“Is there a reason you feel the need to keep reminding me that Travis is your best friend?”

“Because I need you to know that you’re not.” 

The world titled on its axis then, the rude awakening you’d walked into becoming all too much for you to handle. With the realization that Nolan wanted nothing to do with you, you nodded once and walked around him so you could leave. It was only then that you noticed the audience you’d gathered, the better half of the Flyers roster circled around the room with a few of their significant others. You flashed everyone a pained smile and thanked Claude and Ryanne for inviting you before leaving the house. 

You weren’t even down the driveway when your lungs gave way, gasping for air while tears streamed down your cheeks. Your heart hurt and your stomach turned, and you knew it was going to be a long night. 

“You really are a dick.” Travis was going to walk past him, was going to avoid the lot of people and follow you outside. He knew you didn’t know where you were, nor did you have a way to get to or from anywhere else. You could order an uber to Nolan’s, but then what? Kevin might let you into the apartment but where would you stay? On the couch in a living room you weren’t welcome in? Not likely. 

“I’m the dick? You know how I feel about her!”

“Nothing happened!”

“Bullshit, TK! I know that look on your face and I know that she sure as hell looked embarrassed-”

“I spilt wine on her shirt, you fucking idiot! I knocked into her when we were in the kitchen and I made her entire glass of wine spill down the front of her shirt, so I went to get her another one. I didn’t want her to sit in a soaking wet, stained shirt for the rest of the night so I went to get her another.” 

“And she changed in front of you because-?”

“Because she was drunk and knew I wouldn’t make a move on her. Because she knows that I respect you and care about you far more than I care about making a move on her. I don’t look at her that way, Pat. You know I would never do that to you.” Nolan sucked on his teeth then, casting his eyes away from Travis’s and looking down at his feet. 

“Do I?” Travis scoffed then, not bothering to give Nolan a response before walking past everybody else and out to his car. 

After a few minutes of driving around, he found you at the park just down the street, leaning against the chain that supported the swing you sat on. He couldn’t see your tears from his car, but he could see the way you flinched when he shut the car door behind him. 

“You okay?” you shook your head, eyes filled to the brim with tears that blurred your vision and broke Travis’s heart. 

“I’m in love with him, Teeks. I love him more than anything in this entire world and he thinks I’m using him. He t-thinks- he thinks I-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Travis pulled you onto your feet and into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you in order to attempt to calm you down. 

“He thinks-” your sobs rang through the air, piercing through Travis’s heart and resulting in him squeezing you tighter, letting you get all of it out while no one else was around. 

“He doesn’t think that. He knows you’re not using him, he just can’t bear to think about you with anybody other than him.” you shook your head, not allowing yourself to believe Travis, even though he knew Nolan pretty well. If there was anything to know about Nolan, you or Travis would know about it. 

“He loves you, okay? He loves you more than he knows how to handle and he can’t handle losing you before he’s even had you.” you flinched when a car backfired, jumping inches off of the ground and making Travis laugh gently from beside you when you let out a shaky breath of relief. 

Your eyes found the familiar car drive by, slowing down the slightest bit by the park only to take off towards the entrance of the neighborhood quite quickly. You knew it was Nolan, you knew that car by heart. 

You ended up on Travis’s couch the night, wrapped in a warm pair of sweatpants that Travis threw in the dryer for you before giving them to you. You tied the drawstring in a tight knot so they’d stay up and pulled on a hoodie that he offered to you shortly after. He listened to you reminisce on all of the memories you had with Nolan. He learned more about his best friend and who he was growing up, but also learned a fair amount about you as well. 

He felt for you. He couldn’t believe Nolan said all of those things to you, but he also knew that Nolan must not be doing well right now. He texted Kevin when he got back to his apartment, saying that you were safe with him, and that he’d text Nolan but didn’t for obvious reasons. Kevin assured Travis he’d let Nolan know you were safe, despite Nolan not asking about your well being. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he figured if he asked he’d be left with a less than likable answer. 

Nolan didn’t sleep well that night, replaying how bad he fucked up over and over again in his mind. He didn’t believe you at first, didn’t even believe Travis when he told him what truly happened. He did, however, believe his captain when he said that Travis asked him for a shirt for you just a few minutes before it all happened. Ryanne brought out your wine soaked shirt after the two of you had left, and despite Nolan coming to terms with the fact that he was wrong, he couldn’t forgive himself for the things he said to you. 

He couldn’t believe he accused you of it all before going on to accuse you of using him for your benefit. He knew it was stupid, since you’d been around far before the NHL. you were there when he got drafted, you were there when he was named captain of the Wheat Kings, and you were there when he almost quit hockey when he was younger. He remembered having you by his side through everything growing up and even now, even while living so far away from each other. If he called, you answered. If he needed help, you helped him. Hockey had nothing to do with that. 

He looked down at the butterfly on his thigh, the one that took residence right beside another one of his tattoos, one that he had to keep hidden from you for well over two years now. He traced his finger over the small image, let his mind wander over all the possibilities of where yours could be if you had a snake somewhere inked into your skin. It’s a thought he often had, wondering where you’d want it, if you’d want it. 

By the time Nolan came to his senses, it was too late. He’d already gotten through an entire practice and by the time he got back, by the time he got home, he realized you were gone. Your things that were piled into a corner of his room were gone. The jersey he’d given you for the game against the pens was folded up nicely on the pillow of his bed and a sticky note with your unmistakeable handwriting on it left a hole in his chest. 

I’m sorry I ever made you doubt me. 

He couldn’t reach for his phone fast enough, couldn’t call you enough times to break your voicemail box. He called Travis, pained to hear that you were already on a flight back to Winnipeg. He wanted to leave, wanted to drive to the airport right this second and catch a flight back home to tell you he’s incredibly sorry, but he couldn’t. He had a roadie in a few days and a game tomorrow night and he couldn’t just leave. 

He did his best to contact you, tried to call every person in your family and was disappointed every time. Even when both of his sisters sat down and called him to collectively tell him that he was the biggest idiot either of them had ever met. Nobody could believe Nolan blew you off like that, not even Nolan himself. 

He knew he fucked up, but he hadn’t realized how bad he fucked things up until one of your friends from back home posted a picture of you on social media a few months later. It had been at least four months since he’d spoken to you, since he saw you. It had been too long of him having nothing but the sliver of content he got from social media. He hated that his friends had chosen your side in the thick of it all, though he guessed it was easier to do that with him in Philadelphia and the rest of you in the same place. 

But it wasn’t until a picture of you with a wide smile and a new bathing suit popped up on his phone that he knew the true weight of the situation in front of him. There you were, in a baby blue bathing suit that showed the same shape between your breasts that he’d grown up with beside his ankle. His tattoo was committed to memory, ingrained into his brain with no room to forget about it, especially when he saw it on you, etched into your skin the same way it had been etched into his. 

He thought back to the paper airplane on your shoulder, the mark that had haunted him for years. He hated your boyfriend, hated the sight of his tattoo on your skin. He hated everything that had to do with the sheer thought of you with somebody else, even if he didn’t know how to deal with that. And now, with his thumb sitting on the butterfly on his thigh and his eyes on the snake on your sternum, he knew he had to fix this. He knew he had to fix things because these tattoos, though permanent themselves, didn’t guarantee him a life as your boyfriend, nor your husband. 

Nolan remembered a time when he thought these tattoos were stupid. He remembered when he thought it was a thing for soulmates and you told him that thought was wrong, that it just reminded you of a love you felt, even if it was eventually lost. He remembers you telling him that you were scared you’d never be loved forever, that you were scared to only be loved momentarily. 

But that wasn’t the case. Nolan would never stop loving you. He couldn’t forget about the way your laugh brightened his day without question, or the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. He couldn’t forget about the way you bugged him for ice cream on a bad day, or how good you looked with his name and number stretched across your back. 

He couldn’t remember a day he wasn’t in love with you. 

So Nolan flew to Winnipeg the second the Flyers’ season was over. He didn’t bask in getting knocked out of the playoffs like some of the other guys, didn’t dwell on the loss in the sixth game of the series because he couldn’t. He couldn’t dwell on a loss when he was so focused on trying to prevent a second one. 

He had called everybody he could think of once he got off the plane. Some didn’t answer, some didn’t know the answer to his question, and some just flat out refused to humor him. You weren’t home, he knew that much by the absence of your car in the driveway and your sister telling him that you weren’t there, and that she wouldn’t let him inside even if you were. It wasn’t until he rounded a familiar corner after a phone call he’d been thankful for. 

Jordan told him where you were, unable to lie to his childhood friend when you were hanging out with everyone. You were wearing a bathing suit again, though it didn’t matter for a while. The sun was high in the air and you weren’t the only that had shed yourself of your coverup earlier in the afternoon. You were playing basketball with Jordan, oblivious to the fact that he’d given you up just ten minutes prior to the gate door swinging open and Nolan letting himself into the backyard. 

Your eyes found him easily, as if he was a magnet you could never repel. Your shoulders fell for a moment, your instinct of wanting to comfort him seeping in before you could tell it not to. Of course you kept up with his team, watching every game you possibly could until the very last one. You knew he’d been knocked out of the playoff less than 48 hours ago, and you had no idea he was coming home. 

You hadn’t realized the weight of the situation until you noticed his eyes locked in on your chest. You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover the snake, but it didn’t make Nolan look anywhere else. 

“Who told you I was here?” your voice was soft. You knew he didn’t drive around the entire town looking for your car, though you weren’t sure it was something too far out of his reach. Nolan would do just about anything to get something if he wanted it bad enough.

“Bo did.” you glared at the boy not far from you, the one that you shouldn’t have trusted with something like this in the first place. You should’ve known Jordan would do something like this. 

“Patty, what the fuck?”

“Just shut up, Bo.” Jordan rolled his eyes and tossed the basketball to Nolan who smacked it away and into the grass. 

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” you tried to stand your ground, even with Jordan giggling to himself before walking over to your friends not too far from where you currently stood. 

“Just give me five minutes.”

Nolan’s eyes bore into yours, the same pair of bright blue eyes that you had been avoiding for months. You wanted to answer every call and every text, but how could you? How could you pick up the phone and listen to his voice through the speaker after all he’d said to you in front of his entire team. And then on top of it all, he left you stranded in Philly, in the middle of a city, country even, where you had nobody to turn to and nowhere to go. 

“I know you don’t want to talk to me-”

“Then leave, Nols.” he shook his head, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know I hurt you-”

“You’re right! You hurt me! You hurt me so bad Nolan and I can’t go through that again so if you’re here to let history repeat itself, then can you just go?” he shook his head, firmly planting his feet into the ground and refusing to move. 

“I know you don’t want to see me or listen to me or give me the benefit of the doubt but I need you to hear me out.” you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side. You weren’t sure how he seemingly broke down all of your walls without even lifting a finger. You watched his eyes flick down to the image on your chest, you even let him raise a finger once he stood in front of you and trace the shape of the snake. “It suits you, y’know?”

“Did you really come all this way to tell me that this suits me?” there was a hint of amusement in your voice, enough of it to bring a smile to Nolan’s lips. 

“I know I fucked up-”

“Big time.” you cut him off, shooting him a gentle smile and nod that told you you’d stop interrupting him. “Sorry, continue.”

“I know I fucked up and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean and that’s not an excuse but- look, I know i shouldn’t have said all of that shit. I should’ve believed the two of you. I should’ve believed you when you told me nothing happened and I shouldn’t have said you were using me. I know you’re not using me. There was no way you could’ve known that I was going to be in the NHL, and you wouldn’t have stuck around all this time just to be a puck bunny.” 

It wasn’t like you to forgive all that easily. You drew lines in the sand and refused to let someone fuck you over twice. You weren’t big on second chances, especially when you thought people didn’t deserve them. You were a straight shooter, no bullshit. But those walls cracked for Nolan, they fell for Nolan. None of your boundaries were drawn in place with Nolan in mind. He had broken down every wall, overstepped every boundary since the day he met you. You couldn’t block him out, couldn’t lead him out of your life. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed Nolan Patrick. You were in love with Nolan Patrick. 

And the little butterfly on his thigh told you that he loved you all the same. 

Your lips turned up at the sight, your eyes locked in on the place where his shorts had ridden up and the small image danced happily on his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” you pointed down at it, barely noticing the way his eyes stayed trained on you through the entirety of the situation. You were looking at his tattoo, but he was looking at you. He was always looking at you, which only made it that much more surprising that he hadn’t picked up on the snake on your chest. 

“Since before I got drafted.” he spoke softly, hitting you with a force you didn’t know existed. You were floored by the realization, somewhat thinking that he’d only had it for a small bit of time. You’d seen his thighs, seen his tattoos and you’d never seen the small butterfly etched into his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” his finger traced over the snake one more time, sending a chill down your spine that you had felt more times than you could count when you were around Nolan. It was a feeling that was never expected but always welcome. 

“Draft day.” you breathed out, feeling the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders. You were finally admitting it, finally letting the love of your life know just how long you’ve been a mess for him. Little did you know how much of a mess he was for you. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” 

“It’s okay.” you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips at the realization that things were falling back into place, even after all this time of not talking to him. 

“It’s okay?” you nodded, taking another step toward him so you were chest to chest. 

“As long as you don’t fuck it up again.” he let out a small laugh, his hands finding the sides of your face just before pressing his lips to yours. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!!

nolpat tag list; @extratragic​ @babytkachuks​ @teenagekook​ @stfukie​ @kiedhara​ @sadcupofcoffee​ @sidscrosbyy​ @rebel-without-care @baby-cat-nol-pat​ @creator-appreciator​ 

tagging the himbos as well; @bricksatlandyswindow​ @damndunner​ @anxietyandtacos​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @dmonchld​

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[sparring-hyena]

Ok i got a request . Remember how Chris Kait and James got those special 1 chapter episodes where they go on special dates. It would be cool to see Beccas. So its set after Book 3. Instead of going to the festival with the gang Mc decides to visit Becca first at her lakehouse and then they go to the festival just her and Becca. They ll share lots of sweet moments at the pool more fun at the concert and later on at home things can get a bit heated.

Becca reaches for her phone with the intent to scroll through her social feeds. really, she does. opening her messaging app is a reflex. opening the short text thread she has with Alex is just an accident. and typing out a hey, what’re you up to? is… a mistake? some kind of predetermined notion written into the fabric of reality?

whatever. it doesn’t matter what it is. no, what matters is that she does, send a text to Alex that is, and that she tosses her phone to the other side of couch as soon as she hits send, almost like it burns her hands.

she stares at her phone, waits for it to react to what she just did—maybe it’ll implode. she’s almost surprised when her phone buzzes a few minutes later. and she’ll never admit to just how fast she jumps forward to snatch it up.

it’s Alex. Alex responded. okay. cool cool cool.

my friends and i are on a road trip. we’ve just passed into California. you?

the you? twists itself into Becca’s mind. slips into every nook and cranny until it’s she can think and feel, and her heart is going ba-dum ba-dum and she definitely can’t just say oh, not much. just by myself at my dad’s lake house because he’s trying to buy my love now that my parents are getting divorced. except she does say that. word for word. it tumbles from her mind onto her phone and then she hits send and holds her breath in her throat as she waits for Alex’s response.

want some company then?

and what really surprised Becca is that she answers with yes.

-

in the days leading up to Alex’s arrival she cleans. not that there’s much to clean—the house is big, and she’s kept to one small part of it. she also rifles through her closet and decides, an hour before Alex is due to arrive, that she doesn’t have anything to wear. the clothes laying forgotten on her bed disagree, but she ignores that and feels the anxiety twist itself around her.

and then her phone buzzes and there’s a knock at the door. Alex is here. Alex is early.

shit.

she tosses on the first thing she can grab and runs her hands through her hair before darting down to the front door.

when Becca opens the door, Alex greets her with a warm smile that simultaneously calms and frightens. frightens, because how does her smile have such an effect on me. they stand awkwardly in the doorway until Alex clears her throat and asks, “did you wanna invite me in?”

“right.” Becca steps aside and motions Alex in.

Alex whistles as she looks around, still holding her bag in front of her. “nice place.”

Becca shrugs, because it is nice, stunning really, but the house doesn’t feel quite right—it never really has. it’s big and empty and somehow always manages to be cold even during summer.

“come on, i’ll show you around.”

-

it’s as they walk through the house that Becca realises she’s not quite sure what they are. they aren’t enemies, and now she wonders if they ever actually were. and they definitely aren’t dating. dating implies some level of commitment that Becca doubts she could ever really give. and then there would be intimacy and comfort and little inside jokes that they’d share quiet smiles over.

but that doesn’t matter anyway because she would never want to date Alex—never ever. dating Alex would be complicated and messy and she has a reputation and expectations that Alex doesn’t fit and—

“you doin’ alright there?”

“huh?” Becca shakes the thoughts away.

Alex tilts her head to the side and offers a small curious smile that manages to worm its way into Becca’s heart and find a place for itself amidst all the dark twisty tendrils that have been growing with each passing day.

“why are you looking at me like that?” Becca asks, her tone both defensive and amused.

“like what?”

“like you’re trying to read my mind.”

“i’m not, i just—” Alex sighs and Becca suddenly wonders what she’d been about to say. “you mentioned swimming?”

“swimming, right.” Becca knows a digression when she hears one, but she points to a room Alex can get changed in and says she’ll meet her downstairs.

-

Becca doesn’t actually swim. she sits on the edge of the dock beneath the dying afternoon sun and traces the water with her toes. Alex swims though, splashes around for a short while and tries to gently prod Becca in too. but Becca holds firm and insists that she’s more than happy on the dock.

Alex climbs out later, dripping water onto the dock and creating a small puddle that manages to spread and reach Becca’s leg. she pretends Alex dripping water on her irritates her and pretends to hate it when she flicks water at her.

Alex sits down beside her, and Becca thinks she’s waiting for her to break the silence that’s comfortably settled between them.

“do you wanna talk about it?” Alex finally asks.

Becca wonders which it they’re talking about—her parents’ divorce or the fact that some fundamental piece of their relationship or friendship or whatever they are, is changing. maybe it’s both. maybe it’s neither.

“thank you for visiting me,” she says instead. “i’m sure it pales in comparison to a road trip with your friends.”

“hardly.” Alex smiles and nudges Becca’s shoulder with her own. “we were all cramped in a van that doesn’t have working a/c. besides, i like hanging out with you, it’s…”

Becca raises her eyebrows, curious and nudging Alex on.

“easy.”

Becca laughs, like, full body laughs. never in her life has she been described as easy to be around.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing, nothing.” Becca tries to suppress her laughter, but it doesn’t work.

“i was trying to be nice.” Alex makes a show of being hurt, even makes to leave, but the smile on her face tells a very different story.

“no, sorry.” Becca places her hand gently on Alex’s arm; wants her to believe the sincerity behind her words. “it was nice and i didn’t mean to laugh. i’ve just never been described as easy before, and with everything going on, i guess it’s been a while since something’s made me laugh.”

“oh.” Alex settles on the dock again and Becca’s hand remains on her arm. “are you talking with your parents much?”

Becca shrugs. “mom’s trying. i think we’re both just having a hard time adjusting to speaking to each other. it’s been good but strange.”

“and your dad?”

Becca barks out a laugh. “i think he’s just as clueless. only difference is he’s not making much of an effort. my sister and i were supposed to spend some time with him here over the summer. look how that turned out.”

“i’m sorry.”

“i don’t need pity—”

“i wasn’t pitying you.”

“i know, but it’s just…”

“just…?”

and Alex’s arm is suddenly very warm beneath Becca’s hand. warm and solid and grounding and— they’ve done this before. played this game where they share their insecurities and offer something dangerously close to companionship.

it won’t end well, she thinks, but her heart thumps along and tells her to indulge just this once. what’s one more time anyway?

“we shouldn’t,” Becca breathes, because one of them needs to say it.

“probably,” Alex agrees, but neither of them move to put some space between them.

“but we could.”

“definitely.”

“it would be” —amazing is the word she thinks— “fun,” is the word she says with a playful lilt to her voice that she hopes distracts from the longing want she can feel in her bones.

they’re closer now, faces no more than a couple inches apart, and the air around them feels stiff somehow, like the world around them took one massive breath and is now waiting for them to do something about the balloon of tension that’s been slowly inflating for months.

and then the balloon bursts, and there’s kissing and moaning and wandering hands and— oh god, Becca suddenly remembers why she wanted to do this again. it feels like electricity zapping up and down her body. it hurts and it heals, and she wonders if they’ll ever do this again—silently hopes that they will.

she pulls Alex closer, decides that it’s still not enough—some tiny part of her heart hums and says that it never will be—and moves to straddle her lap and thread her fingers through her hair.

“here?” Alex asks between frantic and hurried kisses.

Becca hums and urges Alex’s hands further down her body.

it happens quickly after that. the coil inside Becca tightens each time Alex moves her fingers and moans her name and nips at her neck and— it snaps. the coil snaps and its wonderful and horrible and Becca is suddenly acutely aware of the place Alex holds in her heart.

and that— it terrifies her, because for the first time in her life she has no idea how it will go.

-

they head back up to the house not long later, stumbling through the first floor and upstairs as they share laughs and kisses. and when they reach the foot of the bed, Becca pushes Alex back and is quick to return the favour.

-

Becca wakes early in the morning on her side and facing Alex who’s fast asleep and completely dead to the world. she takes this moment, this brief interlude, to consider her next move.

the last time they did this, she left as soon as she woke up. though leaving isn’t exactly an option right now, and Becca finds that even if it were, leaving is the last thing she wants to do.

she brings her hand to Alex’s face and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. the gesture, though small, is enough to cause Alex to stir.

“hi,” Alex says, her voice heavy with sleep and eyes barely open.

“hi.”

“you were right,” she says, sporting a tired grin, “it was fun.”

Becca hums and shifts closer to Alex, tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder. “how long can you stay?”

“how long do you want me to stay?”

“i asked you first.��

“so?”

“humour me.”

their back-and-forth is light, airy. it’s how they usually talk. but there’s insecurity that hides beneath it all. insecurity that itches to be breathed into the world and soothed away.

“well, my friends and i were going to the aurora music festival tomorrow.”

“oh.”

“but maybe, if you wanted to, you could come with?”

“are you asking me to go with you?”

“i asked you first.”

Becca smacks Alex’s shoulder but can’t stop the smile on her face. “yes, i want to go.”

“good” —Alex leans in then, stops only when their lips are just about to touch— “because i really want you to come with me.”

“is that so?”

Alex hums and brings their lips together in a slow and easy kiss that Becca’s all too happy to get lost in.

“wait, hang on.” Alex pulls away, a suddenly serious expression on her face. “you didn’t tell me how long you wanted me to stay.”

forever is the word she thinks, but she just smiles and brings their lips together again, and she thinks that Alex might just understand.

[tracybirds]

I was very determined to finish something today :D Yo all knw I’m back in lockdown which like... bro every time I try to write a thing that seems to happen so I’m snowed under again......................... Anyway, decided to finish up the exhausted Virg fic I began on Friday the 13th of August and how has it nearly been a month of lockdown already?? anyway I’m reposting the first bit with this, but wanted to say thank you to everyone who left comments on that snippet and encouraged me!! And big thanks to @gumnut-logic who read the first, slightly sleep-deprived first version of this before it underwent edits

It’s 11:30pm, my brain is no longer functioning, anyways, enjoy <3

 --------------

Virgil drags his leaden feet across the floor, still pink from the hot water, barely acknowledging Scott and Alan, chatting lightly together as he walks past them.

He’s not ready to sleep, but he’s not much good for anything else either.

He’s tired from the ground up. The exhaustion is only in his feet, his calves, his thighs, but it reaches up into his mind all the same. His shoulders ache, but it’s from good work and kind deeds, a balm for any residual overthinking.

He did good today, he knows it, can feel it in every torn muscle fibre.

He’ll just rest for a moment or two. Debrief can wait. John’s probably already written up most of the report.

He collapses onto the nearest sofa, but it’s more muscle memory than aim that lands him safely amongst the cushions.

“Cannonball!” crows a voice from somewhere above him, followed by a sharp yell of “Gordon, no!” and a crash that reverberated through his skull.

Then it hits him, and he launches himself sideways.

Gordon dives onto the sofa, arms and smile wide, as though he hadn’t just come off the same seven-hour mission plus bonus two-hour administrative argument with the nearest hospital who had just had their landscaping done.

And now, incidentally, redone.

Virgil glares from the floor.

“How’s it going, V?” Gordon says, still grinning.

“Ow.”

“Did you fall off the couch? You’ve gotta be careful about these things, you know.”

Short, sharp, monosyllabic words might be enough to fend off some lower forms of life, but Gordon is rather like moss, clinging to hard rock. Virgil opts to ignore him instead as he picks himself up with a groan.

A strong, sure hand grasps his arm and he accepts the extra leverage gladly, hauling his stiff muscles upright and stretching them carefully. He can see the chair Scott had leapt from halfway across the room. Alan isn’t even pretending he’s not laughing, the jerk.

Gordon is nestling, smirking as he burrows down into his cushions.

“Let it go,” he mutters, his hand now resting on Scott’s shoulder. He can’t handle a shouting match now, jackhammering into his brain after a day filled with enough pain.

Scott settles for pulling the cushions from under Gordon’s head and he falls back onto the hard frame with a squawk.

Alan’s laughter erupts again and Virgil doesn’t bother to smother his own smile.

Gordon sits up and his eyes are shining.

“Fine, fine, I deserved that,” he says, grinning up at Scott. “Now, get lost and put the large lump to bed, I checked the stats. There’s fifteen miles registered on his pedometer and he basically hauled three tons today.”

“Not all at once, Gordon, stop exaggerating.”

Gordon shrugs.

“I know the medical studies as well as you do. Sure, they might not think rescue work counts as overtraining, but science doesn’t lie.”

“But, people do,” Virgil says, scowling at him. Each word ripped more energy from his depleted stores. “And I was resting, thanks.”

Gordon lifts a finger, waggling it with a half-smile.

“A couch isn’t a substitute for a bed,” he says, dropping his voice to mimic Virgil’s own. “How many times did you say that to me?”

“When you had a broken back!”

“Right, that’s enough.” Scott steps forward between the bickering brothers. “Decompression time for you both.”

Virgil blinks, realising that he was stooping to an argument with Gordon. Gordon, who always fought dirty, twisting intent and laughing in a way he never could manage. He must be tired.

“Virgil, can you get up to your rooms alone?”

“Yeah,” he says, holding himself upright against the sudden wave of exhaustion. It was as though in remembering he was meant to be tired, his body had decided to lean into that realisation.

“And Gordon…” Scott pauses, eyeing Gordon who was still fairly vibrating with energy even after nine hours in the field. “Go watch a fish or something. Just stay away from each other.”

Virgil is already halfway out the door and his ears have been stoppered by weariness, the external world becoming fuzzy. He doesn’t hear Gordon’s quick reply.

He doesn’t hear Alan’s sharp cry either, doesn’t even register the way the world is tilting sideways.

He merely crumples on the floor in the hallway.

***

Virgil wakes slowly, awareness seeping into his bones and spreading outwards. His neck is propped up at an awkward angle; he’s resting on the pillows that he rearranges around him every night and they are much too high.

He moans a little as he shuffles, his neck creaking as it falls back in alignment with his spine.

The gulls call from outside his window, a high and keening cry. He can hear the light whistles of forest bird. The low murmur of voices unable to pierce the early fog of morning.

He doesn’t remember making it to his bed, but nor does he intend to rise from it.

 He wants to cling to slumber, doesn’t want to make conversation or move. But he’s already lost the game of sleep and settles for burrowing further into the light cotton comforter that had seen him through every summer of his life.

A rough hand on his shoulder greets him instead and he groans a warning as it flips him onto his back.

“Come on, Virgil, we know you’re awake.”

The voice floats down from above him. He grumbles deeply, unintelligibly, and turns his back on the inhumanity of it all.

A sharp poke pierces his clouded thoughts and Virgil growled as he opened one bleary eye.

“What?”

“Gentlemen, he lives,” crows Gordon, arms wide and ready to receive undying adoration for his proclamation.

“It’s been fourteen hours,” Scott says, grimly. “Time for a check-up.”

Virgil wonders at that. Fourteen hours of sleep, while rare in their home, was hardly reason for medical concern. He suspects though, that Scott already knows this, and doesn’t resist for fear that he’ll be forced to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed.

“The air’s stale in here,” he says instead. “I don’t sleep with my windows shut.”

“Arm,” orders Scott, and Virgil lifts it automatically, puzzling over his last memories which certainly don’t involve him shutting his windows. Or entering his room for that matter.

“I fell asleep?” he asks, suddenly.

“Right in the hall,” Gordon says, his eyes dancing with half checked laughter. “You went down like a ton of bricks.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Scott’s manner is terse, his shoulders tight and the deep crease between his eyes growing as he turns to glare at Gordon. “He could have seriously hurt himself.”

“He didn’t though.” He whips around to face Virgil. “And you’re welcome, by the way. I convinced Scott to let us put you here instead of the infirmary. Even woke John up to back me. I risked the wrath of John for you, he said you were physically fine otherwise you’d be waking in that cold infirmary and Scott would have a back spasm from sleeping in those terrible chairs. All for nothing too because you’re fine.”

Virgil stares at him.

He wants to argue with Gordon, the necessity of rules made for their safety niggling at the back of his brain. He wants to roll his eyes, tell him that the infirmary beds aren’t that painful, that the fluorescent lights that blink and buzz might be made for suturing and not sleeping but that they held their own kind of relief, of comfort.

He wants to thank him, for giving him this moment where he could wake slowly to the sounds of birdsong and crashing waves, unheard in the depths of the island. For that moment where he could lay still as the sun streamed in with warmth and good cheer.

He has a thesis of carefully memorised protocols warring with pure sensation of soft coziness and the luxury of a brother who loves him.

He isn’t sure which instinct is winning when he opens his mouth.

“You made me sleep on two pillows.”

The room blurs as the soft mound beneath his head is ripped away at lightning speed. Virgil hardly has time to hear the whirl of rushing air before the pillow connects with his head with a dull thud.

Gordon jabs at his arm.

“No appreciation, I tell you.”

“Gordon! Out!”

Virgil throws the offending pillow after him, chuckling at the sharp laughter that pierced the slammed door.

Scott isn’t smiling.

He pulls the sphygmomanometer tight around Virgil’s arm.

Virgil winces slightly, but says nothing. Not yet.

Scott’s movements are precise and ordered, with nothing to suggest he isn’t conducting a normal check-up at all.

But Virgil knows his brother.

“Hey,” he says softly, watching Scott stare at the dial. “I really am okay.”

Scott’s not listening to the blood pounding through his arteries, not even in pretence. Still, he ignores Virgil and pulls up a new medical report so he can stare intently at that in place of his brother’s gentle eyes.

“Scott,” says Virgil, leaning forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott shoves it away, his eyes snapping to Virgil’s.

“Why didn’t you call for backup?”

“You were off duty.”

“I don’t mean me,” Scott growls. “I mean, I do, I would’ve been there in a heartbeat if you’d asked. But you didn’t, did you? Not even Alan. Not even John.”

“John was helping,” says Virgil, sharply. “Just because he wasn’t on the ground, doesn’t mean he wasn’t working that same stretch of time. Why do you think Gordon had to wake him?”

“Stop side-stepping my point,” snaps Scott. “We’re a team, Virgil, you can’t work yourself to the point of exhaustion like that.”

“What choice did I have?”

“I should’ve been there, I could’ve-” began Scott, but Virgil merely raised his own voice.

“You couldn’t, Scott. What you’re angry about, I could turn right around and parrot back, you know. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

He fell back against the headboard, wishing he hadn’t woken up. Or at least that he wasn’t having this argument, not here and now.

And he recognises those eyes, the burning frustration at one’s own limitations and the rising fear for a brother mixed with torn compassion and understanding.

He’s mirrored Scott all his life, and it’s startling to see his own familiar expression on Scott’s face.

“Please, Virgil.”

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t make that kind of promise to Scott any more than Scott could to him. Not without breaking it.

Scott smiles sadly as he stands, accepting the silence.

He knows.

“Don’t even think about moving from this room for the next twenty-four hours. Just... get some rest, will you, Virg?”

He thinks he will.

[fallingforyou123]

Coffee and Drive-ins-A Cupcakes and Therapy Moment

A/N: Here's the next part, hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry it took so long but this weekend was hell, ended up in the hospital for a little bit, but I'm all good now! As always, likes are reblogs are appreciated.

Summary: A drive in, therapy, first kiss

Word Count: 1.6k (she's short)

Warnings: First kiss awkwardness

Masterlist

The morning air was crisp and cool, summer starting to turn into fall in a matter of days. The streets were deserted, the city still in the process of waking. Bucky was seated on the steps of his building with Alpine, sleep having never come last night. It had been a few days since that night in the bakery and he was still floating on a cloud of peace. The nightmares were still there, still plaguing his nights, but during the day he could drift off to a place where he was with you. You had seen each other every morning, Bucky stopping in for breakfast at the bakery before starting his day.

As the sun started to rise over the buildings, Bucky began to walk, his legs carrying him the familiar way to the bakery. When he gets there he greets the boy behind the counter, one of the college kids that you have in on busy days, and heads over to his usual table. He’s only sitting for a few minutes before you head over to him, his coffee and breakfast in hand.

“Good morning! I wish I could sit and eat with you today, but I've got pastries in the oven.”

You hand him his stuff, place a kiss on his cheek, and head back into the kitchen. Bucky chuckles as he watches you walk away, you’re always on the move. He sits and enjoys his coffee while reading the newspaper, making a mental note to compliment you on breakfast later. Bucky has become your unofficial taste-tester over the past few days, bringing him whatever new creation you’re working on, today was cranberry orange scones.

When he’s finished, Bucky cleans up his things, pops his head into the back to say goodbye, and heads out the door. The sun is fully out now, replacing the chill from this morning with nothing but a light breeze. It’s Sunday, which means he’s headed to another therapy session, but for some reason, the usual dread of going has lessened.

He arrives at the building exactly 10 minutes early, his usual time, and buzzes in. He nods his head in recognition towards the receptionist and walks into the office. It’s routine, it’s something he’s been doing for months now. He sits on the couch, ready to say no more than a few words, but the second his therapist asks him if anything new has happened, he starts rambling.

He tells her about finding you in the market, about the date, even his daily breakfasts, and she’s thrilled. “This is what we’ve been working towards for months, James. You don’t need to surround yourself with people you’ve hurt and feel miserable, you can let people in who make you feel good.”

Bucky goes silent at that, he knows it’s true, but the need to suffer the same as the people he’s hurt will always be there.

“Have you told her yet, about your past?”

His head snaps up, the thought having never crossed his mind. “No.”

“James, you can’t lie to her, she needs to know. She’ll find out eventually, whether you tell her or not. You’re not a ghost, not anymore, stop pretending you are.”

“Eventually, maybe. I just met her, I can’t lose her once she knows what I’ve done.”

The good feeling he’d had earlier slowly turns into annoyance. He glances at the clock, ready to leave, willing time to move faster. His therapist sighs, takes her glasses off and places them on the table beside her, and looks at Bucky. “You can’t stay closed off forever. There is a darkness inside you that won’t go away unless you let someone in, stop fighting the people who care about you.”

***

It’s mid-evening when Bucky picks up his phone and calls you. He’s been thinking all day, his mind refusing to stop running. He needs to do something to distract himself, but more importantly, he needs to see you. It’s been months since he’s used his car, it’s been parked in the building's garage gathering dust, but tonight he needs it. He pulls up outside of the bakery and you’re already waiting for him. Ever the gentleman, he gets out and helps you into the car and then you’re off.

“Gonna tell me where we’re going, or am I going to have to assume you’re kidnapping me?”

Bucky chuckles and looks at you, “No, doll, I’m not kidnapping you. But I’m not telling you where we’re going, you’ll see when we get there.”

You sigh dramatically, and then chuckle, leaning back in your seat. You drive in silence for a few minutes before your curiosity gets the better of you and you begin pestering Bucky with questions. “Are we going for food?”

“Maybe.”

“Mini-golf?”

“No.”

“Running away to Canada for maple syrup?”

This earns a laugh from Bucky, “No, doll. We’re almost there though.”

You’re in Greenpoint now, right down by the water, the moon replacing the sun. Bucky pulls into a parking lot filled with other cars, a big screen sitting at the front. “What do you think y/n?”

You’ve never been to a drive in before, but you think this is the best one ever. There’s food trucks lining the sides of the lot, picnic tables and lounge chairs set up in front, and waiters walking around taking orders. “I’ve never been to one of these before.”

Bucky looks at you weirdly and you laugh, “What? I grew up in an apartment in Manhattan and lived in a rundown town in Europe, drive-ins weren’t that popular for me.”

“There used to be one in my neighborhood that would play every Friday night. I’d sneak Rebecca out, meet up with my friend Steve, and we’d come buy these big things of popcorn and sit ourselves in the grass for hours. It was one of the only things we had growing up.”

You grab Bucky's hand and give him a small smile, “That must’ve been really nice. I wish I’d had something like that growing up. Closest I got was watching my parents fight over dinner like it was a reality t.v. show.”

The both of you laugh, hands still intertwined and a warm feeling falling over the both of you. “Well, I’d like to replace those memories with some better ones, if you want.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

It’s then that a man comes up to the window and Bucky turns to hand him the tickets, an order sheet getting passed back to him. You both check off what food you want, a couple of coffees, some popcorn and some candy, before handing it back to the man. “I hope you don’t mind what movie’s playing, Back to the Future Part II.”

“Who knew you were a sci-fi geek, Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “It was the only thing that I could still get tickets for. It was all last minute, I needed a distraction.”

“I get it. It’s been a long day for everyone.”

Sighing and nodding his head, Bucky reaches out and grabs your hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. A few minutes later your food arrives and the movie starts to play. The two of you sit and enjoy the movie, making small comments and laughing together, it was the perfect way to end both of your long days.

When the credits start to roll and other cars start pulling away, Bucky turns to you, noticing the hesitancy on your face, neither of you quite wanting the night to end. “Do you want to go get coffee? I’m sure we can find something still open.”

You nod your head and Bucky begins to pull out of the lot. You drive around for a little while, taking in the night scenery and enjoying the silence. Eventually you find a small cafe still open and head inside to order your coffees. After acquiring your drinks you head outside to walk around.

The fall air has begun to replace the warm summer, and nights have become cold. A small chill runs through you and you shiver, Bucky notices and takes off his jacket to place around your shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Can’t have you freezing to death on me.”

The two of you walk for what seems like hours, finding comfort in each other. You end up in a small park sitting on a bench, your head resting on Bucky’s shoulder and him with his arm wrapped around you. You turn your head to say something, only to find bucky already looking at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t name, and he reaches out to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he leans in. A small brush of his lips against yours, so soft you can barely feel it, and it has your breath catching in your throat. You lean in again, this time with more urgency. You pull back only when you run out of breath, a small smile on your lips. “That was a nice way to end the evening.”

Bucky laughs, and it’s infectious. You’ve never fallen for someone so quickly, never felt so safe, but you can’t imagine not being with him. You sit there for a few more minutes, stealing quick kisses, before you decide it’s time to leave. Bucky drives you home and you spend a couple minutes kissing like teenagers in his car before you eventually get out of the car and head into your building. You don’t know what this is or where it’s going, but all you can think about as you get ready for bed is Bucky.

taglist: @posteyymaloney

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[archiepudding]

Confession | Dom!Dabi x Reader [Part 2]

Pairing: Dom!Dabi x Fem!Reader (Minors do not interact!)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, slapping, quirk play, small amounts of sadism, dubcon, angst, PANIC ATTACK

Notes: Your quirk is telepathy. Anything written in ‘bold and italic’ is the character’s thoughts.

Summary: Following one of your shifts at the bar, you end up facing a little trouble. Who knew Dabi was the sentimental type.

Part 1

01:30 PM                        04th August 

The lights were bright as they illuminated the coffee shop, the smell of freshly ground coffee invaded your nostrils. A figure moved forward, their pale skin glistening under the light. “Black coffee, please.” You tried to focus on your current order, but it’s very hard when everything else is a lot more interesting, I guess it’s good that it doesn’t require too much brain capacity. As you stand at the counter, wondering if there was more to life than you had experienced, you realised the slave you were in the cog of society.  

Only 3 more hours until you can go home, then you can kick your feet up and watch some Netflix, you thought to yourself. A buzz causes your head to shoot over to the other side of the counter. The screen lit up on your phone, causing your jaw to clench. It had been a few months since that night. You couldn’t face him now. Maybe a week, but 3 months...  

‘No, you can’t phone him now! I mean he’s still trying so maybe he wouldn’t be mad... who am I kidding, I’d murder me if I had been ignored for this long. You’re so stupid!’ you scorned yourself. 

Zoned out on your phone, you were jolted back into reality by your boss “I don’t pay you to stand there on your phone!” Your eyes rolled as you put your phone back under the counter. 

“Sorry sir! Won’t happen again!” From his expression you made sure to tread carefully the rest of your shift.  

  04:45 PM                      04th August 

Leaving the staff room, you threw your bag over your shoulder, your hand slipped into your coat pocket and checked your phone - 04:45PM. You put your phone back into your pocket and headed out the cafe. 

Sunlight reflected off the white building surrounding you. The summer afternoon heat hitting you in the face. The sea of humanity that you were met with forced you to bottle the claustrophobia you felt building inside you. The scent of over-applied perfumes mixed with body odour spun around you until a stranger brought the unwelcomed smell you were ever so familiar with: putrid sweat, mixed with stale beer and burnt tobacco plagued your senses. Everything in front of you seemed to carrying on moving as your feet became heavy. You felt the panic grow within you as your heart pounded against your chest. Your hands shook. Your whole body tingled as you tried to hide the sweat dripping from your forehead. 

“Are you alright, miss?” 

In seconds you were huddled on the floor, the crowd of people you had now acclaimed only added insult to injury. You prayed as you attempted to to slow your breathing, but you only seemed to be able to gasp in this moment. The world around you was spinning as you covered your ears, trying to make everything slow down. You felt sick. 

“Is she ok?” 

“Do we need to call someone?” 

“I think she’s having a panic attack!” 

Your vision is blurred as someone was now in front of you. Their words attempted to reach you but only bounced off the racket already forcing its way into your head. Your fingers were white-knuckled as they clung onto your hair. Please stop.  

“Hey! Can you hear me? Hey, just breathe... here follow me. In.... and out.... in.... and out....” It took you a few minutes to adjust and see a gentleman crouched in front of you. He repeats himself, as he guided you through his instructions.  

“I can’t... breathe.” your breaths fell short, your hand now clutching at your chest.  

“EVERYONE BACK OFF. KEEP ON MOVING SHE’LL BE FINE!” the man watched as you rocked back and forth, on the pavement. The crowd dispersing back into their normal routines. 

Your chest loosens, not fully but enough to allow you to regain more control of your breathing. You tried to regain your composure. As you pushed yourself from the floor your legs begged you to return to your former position. Your eyes were bloodshot as you realised your face was wet from crying. The embarrassment you felt was immense, as you kept your head bowed. Your eyes not leaving your feet. 

“T-thank you, sir. I’ll be fine now. Thank you again.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. Are you sure you will be ok?” 

 “Yes, I don’t live far. I’ll be ok.” 

“Well stay safe.” You heard him yell behind you as you scurried as fast as you could back to your apartment.  

 6:55 PM                         04th August 

You laid on the bed and listened to the sound of rain drumming on your balcony, the warmth of your blanket surrounded you. You felt safe. The view from your bed side was dim, but even in the low light the the way the streets lights flickered in between each rain drop brought a light smile to your face. Heavy pours washing away the sins of the city, as you lay hidden in your room. With your head laid against your pillow, a wave of relaxation flows through you, but to your dismay the sound of the door broke you out of your reverie. You check the alarm clock by your bed and notice it’s pretty late for someone to be visiting out of the blue. A gentle breeze brushed over your bare legs as you crawled off your warm bed, a knee-length, laced nighty being your only form of barrier against the chill. You trudged to your front door, your body stumbling through your flat. Without even looking through the peephole you open the door, only for your heart to hitch in your chest, your eyes widening as every part of you seems to go on pause. 

“You going to let me in?” Turquoise eyes met yours. 

A cold sweat brushed over you as you step to the side, Dabi making his way into your apartment. He seemed to be taking every inch of the place in, his attention finally landing on your living room windows. A few dark clouds lingered in the evening sky as a few scraggly trees waved in the breeze. You sat down at your dining table, puzzled by your former friends' actions. You crossed your legs and tapped your fingers on the table, to stop the silence that covered the room. 

“The weather took a turn today, huh?” he attempted to keep things light but it was all in vain. 

“What are you doing here Dabi?” You spat. 

“There wasn’t any way of getting a hold of you, so I thought you couldn’t ignore me if I turned up in person.” 

“Okay... well what do you want?” 

“I just wanted to check you were ok? The last time I saw you, you were bruised and now all of a sudden you’ve just kept ignoring me...” You remained quiet, as you waited for him to finish his sentence, but instead a heavy silence settled in the room, both your eyes shifted on different objects to avoid catching the others glance. You couldn’t take it anymore, focusing your mind you chose to invade his thoughts. 

‘Fuck you’re making this awkward. What is wrong with you. Just say it you sack of shit! You’ve fucking gone over it enough times.... just say it!’ 

“Just say what?”  

“Get out of my fucking head!” 

“Get out my house then!” 

“Why do you keep pushing me away?” 

“Because I don’t want you here!” After processing what you had just said to him, your hand instinctively covers mouth. Your eyes pleaded for forgiveness. 

“Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that. I just have a lot going on right now. I just can’t keep reliving that night... just walking home from work today, I had a fucking panic attack on the street because I could smell HIM. I- I heard them die... The smell of their burning bodies haunts me, Dabi. It’s just too much.”   

“Do you blame me?” 

“What? No, if anything I blame myself. You were right, if I had just met with you after my shift, that night would of never of happened...” irritation bubbled inside you. You left your seat and joined Dabi in the conjoining living room. 

“So, you regret what happened with us?” 

“I didn’t say that...” 

He took a step closer to you. He had never been one to follow the romance novels, movies or anything of that sort, it made him shudder at the prospect. This, on the other hand, almost felt natural for him. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep away from you. Why you were all he had thought about day and night since the last time you were together. 

He moved closer. 

“You want to know why I’m here Y/N?” You expected his voice to be bitter, but it was quite the opposite. The words softly-spoken, almost heartfelt. “because I don’t know how I could have been so stupid, because I don’t know how I ever let you go that night. The thought of another man touching you in that way.” He let out a low laugh. “I could have burned the lot of them.” 

You couldn’t speak. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t find the words. 

“You are all I can think about,” he continued, “the way you laugh at my ridiculous jokes, and how you stand up to me and not caring about the repercussions, you make me feel alive.” 

“Dabi... don’t...” you whimpered; his eyes bored into yours. “I don’t... I don’t think it would be a good idea...”. The words you spoke cut him deep, everything fell on this moment, he couldn’t let you go again. 

He took another step towards you. 

“Is that what you want?” He was so close he could feel your breath on his cheek. He didn’t know how he never realised it before now. He didn’t want to live without you, you were the only thing left in this world that he deemed worth living for. It was always you. 

“Please don’t make this any harder.” Your eyes seemed saddened; your voice soft as it was filled with defeat. His body moved away; all the nervousness you were feeling suddenly ran away as the space grew between you both.  

“You’re right,” in this moment he had never been so glad that he couldn’t cry, his fists clenched, “this was a mistake.”  

“No! Dabi wait-” 

“No, it’s fine Y/N. You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear.” his stare was venomous, you had never seen him turn on you like this before, your words caught in your throat. He threw the door open, the hinges almost tearing off the wall as he stormed out. You shuddered as the door slammed shut, the walls of your apartment shaking as the force could be heard through your apartment complex.

Did I make the right choice, you thought? For years you knew there was a mutual attraction, and after that night your suspicions were confirmed, but you never thought it could be anything more. Your knees felt weak as they began to buckle underneath you. Had you really been that oblivious? After thinking back on your time together your stomach drops as you begin to realise that if you weren’t so caught up in your own mess this whole time, you would have realised how miserable you had been without him. Plagued with the thought of his reaction when something funny would come up only for your mood to suddenly sink when you remembered he wasn’t there. The feeling of his arms wrapped around you, caressing your sides were the only thing that soothed you as you tried to get to sleep. Each time your mind wandered; you would think back to when you were so close you could feel your heart attempting to escape. Then it dawned on you. 

Your lungs burnt as you ran down the stairs of your apartment building, cursing the bastard that didn’t wait for you at the elevator. Your footsteps echoed through the stairwell as each level number became a blurred glimpse in your peripheral. At the bottom you raced to the end of the hall, your body forcing the door open as you stumbled into the street.   

“DABI!” Your voice shattered the serenity of the night. 

His body froze. The pain behind your voice was something he could share. “Don’t go...” You were now stood a meter away from him, even with his back to you, you couldn’t look at him. The weight of your body shifted between your bare feet. When he turned to face you, his expression was harsh. 

“Don’t mess me around Y/N!” 

“I’m not messing you around! You come over and basically confess all these things to me and just expect me to have an answer?” A fierce scowl was reserved on your face as you glanced away, trying to contain your emotions. “For 3 months I’ve been trying to process what happened to me, to try and get my fucking head sorted.” Your eyes returned to his, now filled with tears. “I don’t know where I am in my life at all, but after tonight... after watching you leave... I realised that you are the one thing in my life that is clear and it has been hell not talking to you. I just want you to know that, I’m sorry.”  

You had never experienced a moment in your life when time stopped before. A split-second where you felt like you were in a world of your own. For Dabi, he knew everything had changed. All he could focus on was the way your hair draped over your cheekbones, a slow drop of rain trailed down your nose, leading his focus to your plumped lips. He moved closer. 

Your hand brushed across his, your fingers intertwined with one another. He took another step closer. Your head began to spin thinking of all the possibilities, but not realising you are fighting a losing battle as you try to shake off your thoughts. 

You took a step towards him. As you gazed into his eyes you weren’t sure who made the first move, but your lips were now locked together. All your senses were heightened, but only for him, the way his lips felt against yours and the way his hand caressed the back of your neck, pulling you closer into his touch was intoxicating. 

“I’m sorry...” you were hesitant with your words, “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”  Dabi paused, as your heart sank awaiting his reply. Eyebrows furrowed; a smirk draw across his face. “I’m willing to take the risk.” His embrace soothed you as you continued where you left off, making your way back to your apartment. 

You fumbled with your door, Dabi’s head nuzzled into the side of neck as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind. 

“Hurry up and open the door...” He pleaded. 

“Are you always this eager?”  

“Only for you.” You felt his lips pull into a smirk. You continued to try and unlock the door, but each kiss made you weak at the knees. Growing impatient, Dabi snatched your keys from your hand, swiftly unlocking the door before he kicked it open, cursing under his breath as he threw you in. Closing the door behind him, it took him all but a second to reconnect with your lips, his hand clasped around your throat. “I’m never going to let you go...” His voice sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into his lips; your arms wrapped around his neck as your fingers trailed through his hair. You felt the heat of his fingertips as small burn marks appeared on your lower back. Dabi tugged at the bottom of your night dress before pushing it upwards, revealing your naked body. Your cheeks blushed as you felt embarrassed before you covered your chest.  

“Don’t, you’re beautiful.” Although his words were sweet, his tone was that of someone in control. His hands roamed your body, he made you feel a way no one ever has. Teeth marks lay on your skin as he loved the way you sounded when you screamed, not knowing if it from pleasure or pain. It gave you strange pleasure knowing he was enjoying it as much as you. Bare skin stood in front of him as you felt him move towards your core and a hand slipped in between your legs. You let out a giggle as your pants are slid down your thighs and fell to the floor. Dabi hooked your right leg over his arm giving himself a better angle as two fingers lightly played with your folds, their tips breached your opening. 

“Glad to know someone’s excited.” His smile became mischievous. Both your hands around his neck to balance yourself. 

“I could say the same!” Your left leg stood in between his as you felt that his member had certainly matched your excitement. His lips found yours again as your tongues moved with one another, the ecstasy almost too much for you to contain. The build-up going from sweet to desperate, you both parted your bodies, his shirt being removed in the process. He pinned you against the wall. Teeth bit down on your bottom lip as you gave into the lust. His thumb brushed over your clit.   

“Oh, god!” You exclaimed. 

“I prefer, Dabi. But I guess I’ll accept the name change in this moment.” 

“If I wasn’t in such an awkward position right now, I’d beat the shit out of y-” You were cut short as he added another digit inside you. Your knees began to buckle as his grip tightened around your waist, your faces inches apart.  

“I’d like to see you try...” His tone was daring but his eyes said otherwise. As though he was establishing dominance, he dropped your leg, his free hand taking your wrist before leading you to your bedroom.  

“Get on the bed.” 

You folded your arms. Scowling with a pout, you kept your feet firmly by the bedroom door, Dabi now situated next to your bedside.  

“Seriously?” He questioned. You remained silent; your previous action unchanged. 

“Aww. Is someone annoyed?” You taunt as though you are talking to a child. He burst out laughing, his voice becoming menacing. “If you want to act like a brat,” he sauntered towards you, forcefully pushing you to your knees, “then I’ll treat you like one!” 

The sound of his zip sent a pulsation of sensual gratification through your body. You stare at him in anticipation. His abdominals caught your attention as your lips trailed wet kisses down to the brim of his boxers. Dabi shuddered under your touch, his thighs clenching. You reached for his waistband and pull down his underwear, his member sprung free. Your lips wrapped around him; a gentle suck caused his hips to move forward. He locked onto your gaze, your tongue flicking over his tip, raising your eyebrows with satisfaction. He wanted more. Spit dribble down his shaft as your hand assisted with slow motions. Low grunts now interrupted the silence. Dabi’s hand snaked through your hair as he helped your head bob up and down, his hand becoming more forceful with each stroke. A gag erupted as you took him all into your mouth, tears streaming down your face. Dabi looked down at you, your red and messy face making him hornier. 

“Now get on the bed and don’t make me ask again!” He demanded. 

You climbed onto it, positioning yourself in the middle but you were startled when you were flipped onto your back, Dabi forcibly pulling your legs apart and dragging you to the edge of the bed. Heat rose at your core as you watch him drag his tongue up your thigh and towards your pussy. You grinded against his face as his tongue worked in many different ways, devouring you. A knot began to build in your stomach. 

“I’m gunna cum!” A euphoric blur washed over you as you began to tremble. Dabi slipped a couple of fingers into you as you writhed in front of him. 

“Good girl.” He praised, crawling onto the bed. “Now we don’t want to get this dirty, do we?” He said as he removed your night gown, throwing it in the corner of the room. He positioned himself on top of you and teased your entrance. “Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded. He slowly began to thrust inside of you. You tried to relax under his movement as you felt yourself clench around him; his hand soothed you as it caressed your sides. His body trapped you against the bed and his lips moved down your jawline. Sucking your skin, he left small bruises in their place. You threw your head back, letting out deep breaths each time he thrusted. He fell to his elbows as he let out a low growl. 

“I... I love you...” The silence that surrounded you was almost deafening, hadn’t it been for the slamming of naked skin and the irritating squeak of your bed. The realisation of what he said out loud made his face heat up as the tip of his nose sported a deep blush.  

‘Oh god, oh god, oh god. She thinks I’m weird. Why would you say that?’ 

A wave of confidence hit you as you pushed him to your left. You clambered to your knees, swinging a leg over him, guiding him back inside you, you straddled his cock. 

“I love you too.” 

Dabi grinded against you. Your words were breathless as you bounced on top of him, his hand playing with your clit as the other left a stinging sensation on your behind. 

“Fuck, Y/N. That’s it, show me how much you want my cock.” He thrusted harder as he could feel himself coming to the end. Your legs began to burn, slowing the pace. Before you could do anything, you were back on your back, Dabi on top once again. His hand pressed deeply around you throat as he thrusted harder into you. You tried to cry out in pleasure but they only came out as breathless gasps, your face turning a deep shade of red. He continued pounding you for a few more seconds before releasing his grasp, your lungs aching from the lack of air. Dabi’s mind began to spin as started to cum. His moans muffled as you pulled him into you, your tongues yet again fighting for dominance. His body became limp as half on top of you, his face resting upon your chest and his arm draped across your stomach. You both laid there for a while, your breaths shallow from the well need exercise you just partook in.  

“Did you mean it?” Dabi’s face looked up at you, his voice softer than usual. 

“Mean what?” You asked. 

“That you love me?” 

A small laugh escaped you, your arm drawing circles on his back. “I think in a strange way... I always have.” He tightened his arm around you, pulling you into him, your back now pressed against his chest. A light kiss graced your shoulder before he responded. “I’m glad to hear that.” Shortly after, you both fell asleep in each other arms. 

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Tension

Pairing: Danny Rand x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: What happens when Iron Fist takes an interest in an undercover agent? (I’m so bad at summaries and Titles please forgive me)

A/N: This has been sitting incompleted in my drafts for like months and I finally got the energy and ideas to finish it. I feel accomplished.

It made sense that you and Danny never crossed paths. You were just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and he was part of the superhero program. Even though you were similar in age, you didn’t attend the same school and you had no skills in common so you never saw each other during training.

You were born into being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, growing up on the Helicarrier and training your entire life to be an undercover agent. You spent your days with different names and different personas, gathering intel and you were more skilled using weapons and gadgets than actual hand-to-hand combat, while he was parading around the city in a spandex suit.

You, of course, had heard of him but only by the name Iron Fist, and you had never seen him in person.

And it would have remained that way if you hadn’t gotten shot on your last mission. Even though it missed anything vital and the surgery had been a success, you were still told not to do anything that might agitate it for the next 3 months.

So, that was how you got transferred from the undercover agent assignments to team strategist department.

“But I don’t want to be in strategies!” You complained, stubbornly following Fury around the Helicarrier as he desperately tried to get away from you.

“Strategies is for boring people! Like Coulson!” You shouted ignoring Coulson’s offended ‘Hey!’, practically throwing a tantrum in the middle of the training room.

“And more importantly, you gave my assignment to that bitch, Lia?! I’ve been gathering contacts for that mission for around a year and you want me to just hand it over to that lazy piece of shit who would rub it in my face even if she never did anything for the mission?!”

That finally made Fury turn around to face you and you sighed in relief, hoping he would at least listen to you.

“Agent Coulson, make sure that every time (Y/N) swears, 50 bucks is cut down from this month’s pay check.”

You threw him a foul glare.

“You will be transferred to strategies in a week—”

“But I don’t want to—”

“Under the superhero programme—”

“Those pyjama freaks—?!”

“End. Of. Discussion.”

You glared at him so coldly, it could have frozen hell over. Your nails were digging painfully into the palm of your hand but you barely felt it through your anger.

You practically growled, pulling out a 50-dollar bill from your pocket and slamming it onto Coulson’s desk.

“MOTHER F—”

***

The first time you met a member of the team wasn’t one that you had expected. It was a month and a half into your recovery and you had written numerous mission reports on behalf of them and reset the programming of their training bots after each practice session but you still hadn’t met any of them.

The time you were taking to recover was driving you crazy. It made you feel weak. 2 months ago, you were in Barcelona, undercover as an underaged bartender for a mafia gang and now you were going to physiotherapy every week.

Since you were young and Fury didn’t want to take the change of you permanently injuring yourself, he was being very strict about what you could do, he basically confined you to a desk job for the next 2 months.

It was driving you mad.

So, one day when everyone was asleep, you snuck into the training area to practice shooting which you were sure had gone a little rusty since the accident. Nothing a little practice couldn’t help.

You picked up your favourite gun, smiling at the familiarity in your hand, loading it and clicking the safety off before pointing at the target and shooting.

The next thing you felt was excruciating pain. So painful that you were on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cold metal, wondering why this was happening to you.

The rebound of the gun had been too powerful for your arm to take. You felt your injury pull suddenly and you couldn’t think of anything other than the blinding pain as you cried on the floor. Feeling utterly helpless.

“Hello?”

You started, teary eyes getting wide at the sight of a blonde by the door. You had to wipe your eyes for your vision to focus, grunting in pain as you raised your arms again.

You recognized Iron Fist. You had been seeing footage of him and his team members for the last few weeks and writing mission reports about him but seeing him in person was a different feeling.

You hid your face, pulling your knees to your chest, hoping he would leave.

“I heard a gunshot.”

“Yeah,” Your voice cracked embarrassingly, “That was me.” 

“Everything alright?” He came closer to you, standing a foot away from you and you shook your head no.

In all honesty, you wanted to get off the floor and go back to bed, but your arm burned so painfully you were scared to move it again.

“Here, let me help.”

You froze, but still let him raise his hand towards you. You saw his palm light up before he pressed it to your shoulder and you whimpered, shuffling away from him but he continued to apply a gentle pressure.

Soon you felt the pain get better, it slowly reduced to a dull buzz.

“H-How did you do that?” You asked, turning to him with wide eyes and he chuckled, seeing the childish wonderment. You clearly had never seen him in person before even if he had seen you.

Danny noticed you the day he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. You were returning from yet another mission and the soft blue dress you were wearing among armoured soldiers was hard to miss when he passed the debriefing room. Immediately, he stopped to peer inside.

The contrast between the soft summer dress and your cold, professional expressions sent a shiver down his spine. You looked so untouchable. However, he noticed the blush on your face when the agents complimented you and felt his heart flutter.

He had seen your road to recovery, he noticed you falling asleep at your desk every day, constantly doing work because you had nothing else to do and he wondered if it would be weird if he asked you to lunch sometime. For your sake, of course.

Looking at you curled up on the ground, he had wished he had done it sooner.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself before you’re ready.” He muttered, feeling tongue tied next to the girl he had been infatuated with from a distance.

You could only nod. This whole-time people had been telling you the same thing and you always retorted with confidence, saying that you were as good as ready to get back on the field. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought they were right.

“I’m Iron Fist.”

“(Y/N).”

“I know.” His answer came a little too fast and had you raising a brow. Danny wished he adorned a mask to cover the whole of his face like Spiderman when he felt his cheeks becoming warm, “You write our mission reports. I’m not creepy, I swear.”

You chuckled airily, turning back to the gun that was left on the ground and you pulled it back into your hand before clicking the safety back on before chucking it across the room.

“Thanks for helping me.” 

“I’m glad I was there to help.”

***

After your first meeting, you found him approaching you more often after training. At first it was just ‘hello’s and ‘goodbyes. Then he began asking about your day and you gave him mundane responses before you were forced to ask him how his day was.

Then he started coming early before his training with a cup of tea for you, though it was sometimes juice, sometimes hot cocoa.

Then he started staying late after training and you would give him a bottle of water and complain about him being sweaty.

It was an unlikely friendship but nonetheless, you got closer as the days passed by and once you did, it didn’t take long for you to meet the rest of the team. They kept you company and you grew fond of the rest of them; however, it wasn’t the same way that you felt with Iron Fist.

Your crush on Iron Fist snuck up on you when you were least expecting it but once you realized it you couldn’t stop yourself from falling hard and deep. Still, you continued to hang out with him, pushing down the butterflies whenever he smiled and stopping yourself from grinning too wide whenever you were around him.

You tried to keep your relationship platonic, not wanting to get caught up in it because it was unprofessional. You didn’t even know his identity and you didn’t want to find out. You were afraid that once he revealed that part of his life to you there was no going back on your love for him.

So, you stayed friends, good friends.

***

“So, it all blew up in her face? Huh, I should say I’m surprised but I’m really not.” You said, sighing when Fury handed you the mission file that you had been working on for a year before handing it off to another agent.

“You get to relieve her of her duties and start working again. Effective as of next week.”

You were grinning now. The doctor had given you the all clear a month ago and you had been waiting for a mission to be handed off to you but it had been a quiet month, with no need for undercover or even recon missions.

To get back the mission that you lost when you got shot seemed like the best one to start off again, and you thought your day couldn’t get any better but it seemed like you were having an incredibly good day.

As soon as you exited the room, there stood Iron Fist in all his glory and your excitement got better of you. You bolted right into his arms, catching him off guard with a hug.

“Woah, did something happen?” He asked curiously but still wrapped his arms around you to return the hug. You pulled away, flashing him the mission file in your hand and grinned brightly.

“I finally got cleared for a mission!”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you! I’m so excited! I have to go and prepare right away!”

“Wha—Right now?” He asked and you nodded frantically, “I’m off in about a week, lots to prepare before that.”

“Well, how long is it going to take?”

“Not sure, oooh, maybe I’ll get relocated someplace cool like Dubai or India or something.”

He didn’t seem to share your enthusiasm but just chuckled in a dejected sort of manner before nodding his head, “Maybe.”

***

“Partner? Fury, I don’t do partners. I am a single lady and would like to stay that way.”

He just sighed, used to your temper tantrums. Though he was honestly wishing he had a mute button on you. You were like the daughter he never wanted. Usually, he maintained a professional relationship with all the other agents but you were like the gem of the department.

Being one of the youngest and most capable of the agents was a reason for many of the older ones to fawn over you. I mean let’s be honest, a baby who can kick ass was adorable!

That always made you more outrageous than the other agents, letting yourself have the temper tantrums and choosing not to be a stiff, boring agent. You knew just how to push Fury to get what you wanted.

“The mission is to go to a socialite party and while you have the skills, you don’t have the contact.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before—”

“We need someone that has the last name to get you in. Besides, after last time, another agent looking after you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Your face fell and Fury knew he made a mistake in choosing his words. Your lip quivered slightly and he heard an agent tut disapprovingly at him and mentally sighed.

“That wasn’t my fault...” You said softly, your voice seemed thick and he knew one wrong move could possibly break the floodgate. He sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “I know that. But we just want you to be safe. Just in case something goes wrong again, so this time somebody can have your back.”

You nodded sadly, lips in a small pout and eyebrows furrowed. Somewhere in the background he heard another agent whispering to another that Fury was trying to make you cry and felt his eye twitch.

“No one blames you for what happened.”

You nodded wordlessly again, still frowning.

“Tell you what, because it’s your first mission back, you get a higher budget for it.” That was it. Your face brightened like the sun and you giggled childishly, sending him a mischievous smirk as you thanked him.

You disappeared before he could even scold you and Fury then heard the rest of the agents burst into laughter about how you managed to play him.

Again.

***

“Daniel Rand.” You mumbled, looking over the case file. Apparently, he would be your partner for today but it was odd that you never heard of him before. It took you a very short time going through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database to find his name.

‘Daniel Rand, a.k.a. Iron Fist.’

‘WHAT?!’

Daniel Rand? The blond aristocrat that looked like he was picked out of your wildest dreams. With a face that could break hearts and make knees weak, was the confidant and friend that you had been crushing on for weeks now?

Wow, he definitely had a face to match.

Without realizing, you had been staring at his picture for about 5 minutes, fawning over his sharp jaw and deep green eyes with a ridiculous love-sick smile on your face, with your heart fluttering in your chest.

‘God, please, like me.’ You said in your head. So far you had sort of a flirtationship going on with Iron Fist but you wondered if it was the same for Danny. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would intentionally lead you on, but now that you were seeing his face, you realized just how little you knew about him.

He probably had a life of his own and you took up only a sliver of it. Being an agent, you didn’t leave the Helicarrier very often, and you certainly didn’t have too many very friends. You never really realized how much you were missing until you got shot.

Iron Fist, well Daniel, filled the void you felt during your time off but it was also very possible that he didn’t feel the same way, that you were just someone he spent time with to get over his boredom.

Maybe tonight would be the time to change that.

The mission was supposed to take place today, so you woke up bright and early to finish up some things. Go over case files, do a weapon check and pick out your outfit. You were supposed to wear something that would catch people’s attention. And in the back of your head, you also wanted to blow Daniel’s mind right out of his skull.

Red seemed like it would make a statement. So would a bodycon, or maybe a long dress with a high slit. You wanted to go all out for your first mission in months. Maybe even get a few jaw drops.

Finally deciding on an outfit, you quickly texted Daniel.

‘Wear (F/C).’

***

“This guy is coming right?” You asked, bored. You had been ready for about 15 minutes now, looking like you were dripping diamonds and lounging comfortably in Fury’s seat, with your legs thrown over the armrest.

“He’ll be here any minute now.” Said Coulson, checking his phone.

You rolled your eyes, “Why do I feel like this is one of those movie moments where the girl comes down the stairs and the guy is just staring at her with a jaw drop. Or like when the bride walks down the aisle and the groom bursts into tears.”

You sighed, checking your watch again. 20 minutes.

“For someone making me wait this long, he better be so good looking that it makes me cry.”

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

The new voice certainly turned a few heads and there stood Daniel Rand. The pictures online really did him no justice. Sure, you didn’t cry, but your eyes definitely didn’t feel worthy to be looking something so pretty in the eye.

Before you could help it, a ‘wow’ slipped past your lips and he blushed, having heard you. Wow, he was cute inside and out. Unfortunately, Coulson had to come in where he wasn’t wanted and suggested a quick briefing which you had to agree to.

In the middle of the briefing, Coulson handed you a ring box and you raised a brow, “I’m a little young for you, don’t you think?”

He let out an irritated sigh but you noticed the tips of his ears turn red from embarrassment, “You’re posing as his fiancé. You need an engagement ring to match.”

“Shouldn’t he be getting on his knee then?” You joked, gaping at the size of the diamond for a second before slipping it on, completely missing the way Danny got redder at your teasing, “Wow, it suits me so well one would think I was made to be a socialite’s fiancé.”

Danny didn’t say anything and you brushed it off, putting him off as the shy but cute bookworm who would come through in a difficult situation. As soon as the thought came to mind, you facepalmed. All it took was one good looking guy to mess up your work habits.

“Well, come on honey, we have a party to get to.” You called out teasingly and handed him the keys to the car before strutting to the garages.

Coulson clapped him on the back with a small smirk on his face, “Good luck, honey.”

***

It didn’t take much effort to meet your contact in the party and you quickly left Danny’s side to discreetly to get any information he could pass to you. You quietly chatted with the contact.

Behind you, you vaguely heard a bunch of girls flock around him, giggling shrilly and trying to flirt with him. You resisted rolling your eyes. You had on an engagement ring but Danny’s finger was still bare and even though he might have announced being taken to them, apparently it was necessary for a ring to show his commitment. Something told you that even if he got it tattooed on his forehead, people would still try to flirt with him.

He just had one of those faces. Those faces that made people lose all reason. I mean, you’re slightly annoyed at the girls that have no moral and are shamelessly throwing themselves at him. But really, can you blame them?

Danny was gorgeous. He looked like a Greek Adonis that was sent down from the heavens to grace your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t take your eyes off him while the two of you were driving down to the party.

Seeing them get handsy was more irritating than It usually would be. As annoying as it was to see these women through all their morals out the window and try and get a taken man to reciprocate their advances, it was more annoying to see them gawk over the guy you were crushing on.

A part of you wanted to just leave him in the car and not have anybody look at him.

But to keep your crush a secret, you maintained your distance from him, talking to the contact in a mixture of different languages so no one would be able to understand. Once you were done, you opted for getting a drink until you saw the pleading look on his face and almost felt bad.

So, you sauntered over to him, cutting right through the throng of girls, disgusted to see that some of them had wedding rings on, right to Danny’s side, snaking an arm around his waist and placing your hand underneath on his chest, giving him a sweet smile.

The shiny engagement ring on your finger caught their attention and they frowned, reminded that they were allowed to look, but not to touch.

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” You said, syrupy sweet and loud enough for the girls to hear before turning to them with a charming smile, “I hope my fiancé wasn’t too short with you girls today, he’s very stressed lately, with the wedding planning and all.”

Their faces fell further when you leaned into him and they could all recognize the possessive glint in your eyes. A look that said, I saw you trying to get your hands on something that was mine, you vultures.

The left you two quickly after that, resorting to go gossip in some corner. You wondered if they were snivelling about you but then realized that you shouldn’t be too cocky.

Instead, you turned your unamused gaze to your ‘fiancé’, pulling away from him with a frown.

“I’m assuming that you haven’t come here to flirt with someone else’s wife.”

“I wasn’t flirting though...” He replied innocently and you pursed your lips, resisting the urge to scowl at him. Instead, you just sighed and turned away from him, keeping an eye on the rest of the guests.

If what you were told is true, then someone is going to attempt an assassination on your contact and it was your job to protect him. However, you were distracted once more when he placed a hand on your waist.

You meant to turn around and ask him what he was doing but his grip was strong and he then pressed his lips to your ear. You froze, neck getting uncomfortably hot.

“At the entrance to the foyer.” He mumbled, looking into the mirror that was facing the entrance. Sure, enough you saw it too, the glint that came from the shadows. Someone was there.

The two of you still managed to stay inconspicuous, pretending like you were a couple in love. You turned to him with a smirk, hand going to your thigh where a gun was holstered.

“What do you say about getting out of here?”

With a hand around your waist, he led you to the other end of the room. Just as you expected, a waiter came up to you, trying to guide you elsewhere and you realized that both exits were covered. Grinning up at him, you asked him where the restroom was, giggling in a way that suggested something and he showed you up to the staircase to a hallway. 

Some of the older couples gave you knowing smiles while some of them passed disgusted glances as you made your way to the bathroom that for some reason had a couch in it. Damn, rich people.

You pulled up a schematic of the house, along with security cameras and looked figured out that each one of the exits were covered. Quickly making a plan with Danny, the two of you were about to exit again when you stopped him

You reached up and raked your fingers through his hair, dishevelling it a little before messing up his collar and slightly untucking his shirt. Taking a step back to admire your handiwork, you stopped for a second.

Something was missing.

It quickly occurred to you and you used your thumb to ruin your lipstick a little before smearing it at the base of his neck, “That should be convincing enough. Don’t you think?”

You didn’t give him a moment to answer, not that he even could, with you so close that he could smell your perfume and the scent made him feel dizzy. You pulled away to mess up your own hair and dress.

“How do I look?”

“Dishevelled.”

“Excellent.”

***

“Mission successful, assassination attempt was unsuccessful, contact is safe and being placed into witness protection, assassinators are in custody for questioning. Report 291220. Agent 290803. Phase Beta successful.” You reported into the com set.

Danny was quiet beside you, choosing to pay attention to the road while you deactivated your gadgets for the night. A quick glance from the corner of your eyes made your heart speed up just a little. He was doing that thing where he drove with just one arm.

“You know...” You started, clicking the safety on your gun, avoiding his eyes, “We don’t have to go back to HQ right now? We can get some dinner or something? In the mood for a veggie burger?”

“Is this meant to be platonic?”

“It’s meant to be a date.” You commented. His jaw tightened slightly and you raised a brow at him, did you really make him so uncomfortable?

“I thought you were in a relationship.”

“What?”

“Iron Fist. You like him, don’t you?”

An amused chuckle left you. Of course. He didn’t know you were aware of his secret. Resisting the urge to laugh at him, you shot him a smirk, leaning against your arm.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Danny’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He didn’t look at you, instead staring at the road with a steely gaze and for a second you wondered if you shouldn’t have pushed him.

“It’s a little hypocritical of you to nag me for not being loyal in a fake engagement and then going behind Iron Fist’s back, don’t you think?”

His voice was tight and he was gritting his teeth as he talked to you. You sighed, not wanting to upset him, “Not when you’re the same person.”

He jerked.

“Woah! Drive straight dude!”

“You knew?”

You snorted, “Pretty much, yeah. And since when are we in a relationship? I don’t remember you ever asking me out?”

His cheeks coloured, embarrassed and he looked away from your gaze, “I was planning to.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You continued in a comfortable silence while he drove. You weren’t really paying attention to where he was driving, choosing to look at him with a small smile. He really was beautiful. Judging by his red ears, he was well aware of your staring.

Eventually, he pulled into a parking space and you were mildly surprised to see he had driven you to a McDonalds. You grinned at him and he returned the smile, getting out of the car to open your door before taking your hand.

“You owe me a date.”

You sent him a soft smile, curling your finger underneath his chin before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He returned it immediately, slightly pushing you onto the car door and gripping your hips. You pulled away, giggling when you realized some of your lipstick was now staining his.

Chuckling, you leaned up until your lips were brushing against his ear, “Hey genius, you still haven’t asked me out yet.”

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee

USM Taglist: @imcarolinashannon

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[misora-msby]

花火 | chapter one : moon

花火 (fireworks) | chapter one : moon

themes / warnings: medieval japan au (sengoku era), supernatural au, death, fluff, angst

pairing: kitsune!suna x fem!reader

word count: 7.0k

notes: part one of a series! it’s not 100% accurate to shintoism and japanese folklore but i did my best to research it and change as little as possible! still, i hope you enjoy this and stick around for the next parts too!

edit from the future : part two can be found here

Rintarou doesn’t remember how he became a kitsune spirit. 

It was just that one summer day he found himself sleeping in front of a manmade structure (a shrine to the god Inari as he would later learn) with a boy of preteen age standing over him. 

That boy, Shinsuke, would teach him and two other foxes, Atsumu and Osamu, how to do their jobs - protecting the priests, priestesses, and shrine maidens living nearby, and delivering the prayers of visitors to the god. It wasn’t an overly difficult job though, and more often than not, Rintarou found himself either running around the shrine grounds with the other two or sleeping in a comfortable spot he found. 

A few years later, the three of them even gained the ability to shapeshift into humans. They were completely amused with how similar Atsumu and Osamu looked, and how Suna’s eyes looked almost the exact same as his fox form, though it greatly upset them that their human forms were much shorter and younger than that of Shinsuke’s. He had to reassure them that someday they were likely to grow to his height or even taller. 

It was just a matter of time, similar to how they had to wait to become strong enough to become human.

Time, Rintarou would eventually learn, was rarely ever on his side.

It was a perfect day for a nap on the roof; a cooling wind blew through the air, preventing Rintarou’s robes from sticking to his skin. The sky was cloudy enough to block out the sun while not being abundant enough to make him worry about a sudden downpour, and the sweet scent of flowers blooming filled the air. Though there weren’t many bouquets in the area, a fox’s strong sense of smell could detect the scent of wisterias carried on the wind. 

After a bit of twisting and turning to find the perfect position to sleep in, Rintarou was woken by the sound of footsteps and chatter. Shuffling to the edge of the roof, he narrowed his eyes upon seeing a family of six walking in. 

“Today, your mom and dad are going to teach you how to pray. We want to pray for your mom and new sibling, okay?” a man spoke to the children who replied with a chorus of “Yes”s. 

“Ah,” Rintarou remembered, “Inari-sama is the god of so many things… Foxes, rice, sake, fertility, agriculture… Why couldn’t they give some of the work to the other gods… we have so much work to do.” 

He figured he might as well do his job while the other three were doing other jobs around or out of the grounds and began to inspect them carefully. Fortunately there were no malicious spirits attached to them, nor could he sense any by the red torii gates at the foot of the mountain slope on which the shrine resided. 

But as Rintarou inspected them from atop the rooftop, he noticed the youngest child of the family, the only daughter, was rather pretty. She looked to be about his age, though he knew she had obviously seen far fewer winters than he had due to the way time progressed for him as a spirit. 

Dressed in a red kimono with her hair just reaching her shoulders in a simple bob like most girls her age, he thought she was the prettiest girl who had ever come to the shrine. He couldn’t understand why his stomach suddenly felt funny, like it was jumping around inside his body. 

Suddenly, their eyes met and that feeling spread to more parts than just his stomach. Big glossy eyes stared up at him in awe while his own fox-like eyes widened. An awfully warm feeling came to his cheeks and the boy quickly scampered away from the edge of the roof, towards the back of the building where they wouldn’t be able to see him. 

Rintarou sat still for a moment, knees to his chest. He took in deep breaths while keeping his cool hands pressed to his cheek and chest. Was she a malevolent spirit?! He thought that could be the only reason for nearly every part of his body to be tingling and causing his heart to want to jump out from his throat. 

And yet he wanted to keep his gaze upon her. To look once again into those bright eyes and to memorise her pretty form. 

He decided to do just that. 

With graceful steps, Rintarou hopped off of the roof and onto the stone tiles. His feet made no sound as he ran over to hide behind a tree and watched as the family made their prayers. He watched as she reached up, struggling to drop her coin into the offering box while his dainty but pudgy fingers gripping onto the bark tightly to prevent himself from running forward and tossing it in for her. 

But surely an evil spirit wouldn’t go through that trouble with praying right? She had to be a regular human. Even the head priest was smiling at the entire family. But he still couldn’t understand why she gave him such a funny feeling. 

Before he could be spotted again, he ran off into the forest to avoid her gaze which caused all these problems in him in the first place. 

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

A few moons had passed, the cool breeze had become warmer and the pink petals floating in the wind had been replaced by green leaves. The song of young animals had also left, the nights now being filled with the loud croaking of cicadas and the much quieter buzzing of fireflies. The air had become thicker and warmer too, which wasn’t quite something Rintarou enjoyed. But what he did enjoy was the festival occurring tonight. 

Every year the humans would hold an extra special festival in the summer and launch fireworks. Though he didn’t care too much for the spirits of humans, aside from that one girl who he had never seen again since, he did care for their aesthetics. Whether it was the pattern on the fabric of a woman’s kimono, or the design in the pendants and amulets that humans wore around their necks or held in their pockets, he thought they were all rather fascinating. But as much as he wanted to go down and look carefully in person in his human form, hiding his tail was still too difficult for him in the sea of humans, and even if he tried to make himself invisible, children were so painfully receptive to spirits that he wouldn’t be able to get away with it. 

Strangely, he could hide his ears if he wished. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that their tails were directly representative of their level of power so they were harder to hide.

As he sat atop a lone rock in the forest, he could smell the scent of hot snacks wafting up the mountain. Perhaps he’d make an appearance as a fox and hope that some kind humans would give him and Osamu some snacks. They always loved to treat the three little foxes running around the shrine. He was lucky he still only had one tail, otherwise it would gain many stares. He guessed that must be a problem for someone like Shinsuke-senpai who already had three tails.

Rintarou hopped off of his rock, ready to head down and check over the festival with his friends, when he heard sobbing from somewhere in the forest. 

With the way the orange sun had already gone to sleep, he knew that he had to look for the source of the sound. He was meant to be a zenko after all, a celestial fox associated with the god Inari. So while he wanted to just go down and have fun with his friends, he had to first attend to this matter.

Using the speed granted to him, it didn’t take long for him to locate the source. His senses were too strong to not be able to. 

What he found was someone who he had never expected to see again.

“You…” the word left him in a near gasp.

You were the girl from a few months ago, crouching under a tree and sobbing. Your hair had grown a bit longer and this time you wore a light pink yukata with a dark pink obi. The eyes that had captivated him so easily last time were now red and puffy as your little hands rubbed at them to rid them of the tears which poured.

Rintarou crouched in front of you who hadn’t noticed him amongst your crying. “Why are you crying?” he asked in his quiet voice.

You looked up and gasped before quickly wiping away your tears and snot.

“I- I was playing hide and seek with my onii-chans… but it’s been so long and it’s scary and then I fell down and it hurts…” your shaky voice hiccuped as you revealed your scratched up and dirty palms. Looking carefully, Rintarou realised the front of your yukata was dirty too. 

“Oh… Should we go find them?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly, “I don’t wanna go to them! Then I’ll lose!” 

Rintarou pursed his lips slightly, wondering why you wouldn’t want to be found when you were injured. Was hide and seek that important to human children? He had played it a couple of times with the twins but it was merely a way to pass time to them. 

“Then… do you want to fix your hands?” he asked. 

You replied with a nod, your sniffling ceasing. 

In reply, Rintarou untied the inro from the obi on his hip, a small container made of lacquered paper in which he kept healing salve, cloth, (and a snack or two) in the case of an emergency. 

“Show me your hands.” he said, to which you obeyed and held out your dirty hands. The kitsune carefully took your hands and began cleaning them off with a cloth, taking note of how warm you were. 

“Your hands are cold, are you sick?” you asked. 

Rintarou looked up at you for a moment, wondering how he should reply. He knew it had something to do with him being a spirit, but he didn’t want to say that. “I’ve always been cold.” he simply said and applied the salve to your skin. After wrapping them up in a new strip of cloth, he tied the inro back together and hung it on his hip again. 

“Wow, thank you…?” You exclaimed before trailing off as you realised you didn’t know his name.

The kitsune narrowed his eyes, not understanding you. After all, he had lived the past few decades around the same few people and had no reason to give his name.

“Um… what’s your name?” you finally asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh… Rintarou,” he said upon finally understanding.

“I’m (Y/N). Thank you for fixing my hand, Rintarou-kun! It already feels better!” you grinned and squeezed his hands to show you were already regaining your strength.

Though upon hearing his name from your lips and coming to the realisation that he had been holding your hands for so long, a blush crept up his cheeks. His eyes widened for a second though they quickly returned to fit his near emotionless state. “It’s nothing,” he quickly said, looking to the side to avoid your gaze, “Anyways, what do you want to do now? You don’t want to go find your brothers yet, right.”

You thought for a moment before asking, “Do you want to play together?”

“Play?”

“Yeah. We can go to the festival!”

At that, Rintarou immediately shook his head, “I don’t like crowds.” It was a lie, he couldn’t care less about crowds if he were in his fox form but if he had to stay a human, he couldn’t bear to spend so much energy in hiding his tail which still had a chance of being seen.

“Then… what do you want to do?” you asked, pouting slightly. 

He thought for a moment. What could you two do? 

Then he sniffed the air. There was the smell of a match being lit but the absence of incense. His sensitive ears could also hear the sound of people gathering and shuffling about in anticipation.

“Come with me, I’ll show you something cool.” He took you by the wrist and you two ran side by side into the forest. Though he had to annoyingly slow his pace for you, you both managed to reach his intended destination in time:

A small glade in the middle of the forest where he assumed a ritual must have taken place decades ago. It was surrounded by purple wisteria trees, as if they created a natural veil to this secret world where fireflies floated on the grass surrounding a single tall boulder. The sounds of the festival were far away now, Rintarou was certain that his guest could no longer hear them with how far up the mountain they were. 

“Quickly, climb up the rock.” He helped push you up the rock, slightly polished yet rough from years of rain and animals scratching upon it. The fireflies in the vicinity had become startled and gathered at the fringes of the glade instead of around the rock, but he figured it was a consequence that came with bringing a human for once to his secret place. Once he had confirmed you had a stable seat, he jumped up and took a seat beside you. 

“What are we doing here, Rintarou?” you asked curiously.

“Wait a bit… there.” He pointed up at the sky where a flower of red and yellow burst among the stars. The loud bang followed two seconds later, making the girl beside him almost jump in fright before becoming entranced at the sight of more fireworks following the first to bloom in the sky.

Reds, yellows, pinks, oranges, whatever colour you named could be found in the starry sky. Bursting and blooming with brilliance, providing just a fleeting amount of beauty before wilting just like a flower whose time had come to be picked from the garden. 

If you asked Rintarou yesterday what the most beautiful sight was, he would have said that it was sitting alone on his favourite rock while the wind blew on a spring day, watching the clouds swim by while joined by floating wisteria petals. It was a sight he spent every day of spring trying to recreate. But if you asked him today what he thought the most beautiful sight was, he surely would have said it was this very moment; sitting beside the only human who he had ever talked to, and who had caused him to feel absolutely captivated, watching the quickly disappearing and reappearing garden in the night sky.

However, all good things had to come to an end, and before he knew it, the night had been filled with a deafening silence, and the sky had become nearly pitch black with the new clouds of smoke.

“I think it’s time to go back,” he stood up to face you, “You definitely won the hide and seek game if you’ve been missing for this long.” 

You nodded in reply and carefully scrambled down the rock, landing on the grass with a soft “oof”. Rintarou jumped down, landing with barely any sound before holding out his hand. “Let’s go,” he said and took your hand as you two carefully walked through the forest.

Though it was dark and late at night, the bright moon was kind enough to allow you to not trip over your own feet as he led you down the path to the shrine which he had already memorised with ease.

“Can we come back here next year?” you asked while squeezing Rintarou’s hand, “It was really pretty.”

“Next year? Sure. Actually, I live at the shrine so you can come visit any time.” He didn’t know why he just said that. He never really talked to people, so why did he want to do this now?

“Okay! I’ll see you then!” you grinned, and Rintarou gave the slightest hint of a smile back.

“(Y/N)! There you are!” a woman cried the moment the two had stepped foot onto the stone shrine floors, running over to give her daughter a great big hug. “We were looking for you all over! Don’t go missing like that!” she sobbed, stroking her hair and dusting off the dirt from her clothes. 

“Sorry, mama. I was playing hide and seek with nii-chan.” you mumbled, allowing your mother to straighten up your looks.

“I know, he told me. But don’t hide in the forest, ok? It’s dangerous and dark and you never know what might be- Oh dear, what happened to your hands?!” the woman asked, inspecting the bandages.

“I fell down and Rintarou put medicine for me! Rintarou, do you wanna-” you turned to wave the boy over but found he was no longer there. “Huh?”

Right then, a shrine maiden hurried over. “Oh! (L/N)-san, I’m glad you managed to find your daughter!” she smiled.

“Onee-san, where’s Rintarou?” The shrine maiden cocked her head at the question from the little girl.

“Rintarou? I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about…” she replied in confusion.

“Eh… but he said he lives here! Um… he’s like… just a bit taller than me, and he has black, no, dark brown hair. Oh, and his eyes are yellow and like… they look like a fox!” Despite your explanations, the shrine maiden still had difficulty in knowing the identity of this person until an idea popped into her mind.

“Since this is a shrine to the god Inari, do you think you met a kitsune spirit?” she asked, “Though kitsunes rarely appear as young boys, there is the possibility.” The young girl gasped and thought for a second.

“Maybe…” you glanced back at the trees before turning to your mother. “I’m sleepy…”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you home, dear.” The woman held her daughter’s bandaged hand and waved goodbye to the shrine maiden before turning to head down the stairs of the shrine and to go back to the main festival.

While this happened, Rintarou had watched it all from behind a large tree trunk, just out of sight. His heart felt funny and he wished you didn’t have to go. Even if you said you would come back, he wished you didn’t leave in the first place. 

“Hey, Rin! Where were ya? We waited for so long next to the okonomiyaki stall!” Atsumu’s boisterous voice spoke, nearly frightening the boy who had been so deep in his thoughts. 

“There was a human lost in the forest so I had to help them,” he replied in his usual calm voice.

“Ya never miss the chance to walk with us in the festival though.” Osamu pointed out while taking a bite from one of the many toriniku sticks he held. Rintarou stiffened slightly, knowing that he was right.

“She was hurt.”

“‘She’?! A girl? Yer kiddin’ me, did ya get a girlfriend, Rin Rin?!” Atsumu grabbed his friend’s shoulders tightly.

“Nothing of that sort…” Rintarou replied though his cheeks turned pink.

“Maybe,” he realised, “maybe my feelings towards you are in that sort of way…”

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Ever since your first meeting that summer, you would visit rather often. Most of the time was either spent idly walking in the forest while talking about various topics, or laying on the grass of the clearing while watching the clouds pass.

Many moons passed and Rintarou was starting to despise the time he would have to see you walk down the road from the shrine, back to your family’s house in the village at the foot of the mountain. Oh if only there were a way to keep you with him forever, he wished. 

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft footsteps on dirt approaching him. 

“Rintarou! Over here!” the voice he had missed so dearly spoke up. He jolted out of his thoughts and almost fell out of the tree he sat in, but he quickly regained his composure and hopped down.

“(Y/N), you surprised me.” he asked nonchalantly, as if being alone with you didn’t make his heart feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest.

“Really?! That’s a first!” you giggled before squinting your eyes at the top of his head. The kitsune became worried, were his ears visible? Even though you two had been friends for almost a year now, he still hadn’t told you of him being a spiritual creature. He was worried that you would become scared and that you would never talk to him again. 

Though those fears were dismissed for now as you began to grin cheekily, “Heh, looks like I’m taller than you now!” 

Rintarou narrowed his eyes and stood up straight so your heights matched. “No we’re not, I was just slouching.”

“You’re always slouching!” 

“Am not.”

“Are too!” 

“Whatever you say. Don’t you have prayers to do? I’ll de- I’ll wait for you to finish,” he asked, rather relieved that he didn’t accidentally admit that he would deliver your prayers to Inari.

“Mm… I’ll pray later! I wanted to play with you right now!” you spoke, pleasantly surprising the young kitsune. “And I wanted to check something…” 

Rintarou’s eyes widened in a mix of fear and shock as a hand suddenly lunged to his side before he felt dainty fingers stroke the fur of his tail. A flame burst from the tail in reaction to the surprise, and he could feel his stomach plummet to hell when he saw the look on your face.

You knew.

Instinctively, he jumped back about three metres, his body sliding on the dirt. His hands made contact with the ground, his lengthening nails digging into the soft soil. Unknowingly, his golden eyes turned a shade of vermillion while large brown ears sprouted from his head, no longer invisible, and his tail waved menacingly behind him. If it weren’t for the human form he still had, one would have thought he was a fox preparing to attack.

It was then that he realised that your body had begun to shake. Your hands trembled in fear and your eyes were watery. There was a light thud as your knees buckled and you fell to the floor, face pale as a sheet. 

What had he done?

Rintarou quickly relaxed his body and stood up, embarrassed. His eyes faded back to their usual golden colour and his long nails returned to their usual length. Seeing no reason to hide his tail or ears, he kept them in view. 

“Why?” he asked softly. 

“I- I didn’t actually...“ Words couldn’t leave you, they only stumbled out from your shaking lips. You were still frozen on the floor. 

“Now you know. And you’re scared.” he mumbled. 

Oh Inari-sama, why did he have to fall for her? 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Rintarou spoke and reached a hand out, hoping you would take it and stand up like you had on that summer night.

But you only flinched. 

Seeing that, he knew your friendship had changed. 

Rintarou turned around, his tail swishing with his movement before he sprinted off into the wood, fists clenched tightly in frustration. 

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

It had been three hours or so. Perhaps he could return to the shrine now, he thought. You must’ve finally gotten up and went home. 

He had fully exposed himself right then and though he wished he hadn’t, he knew he couldn’t change it. All he could do was sit on the rock and wish to visit that night once again. 

“Rintarou.” 

Shinsuke’s voice, albeit calm, had never sounded scarier to the younger kitsune. 

“That girl has been waiting for ya.” 

“You don’t know that. She’s probably gone home.” 

“She has not. (Y/N) has been sittin’ on the shrine stairs for two hours now, waitin’ either for you or for the sun to set.” Rintarou was surprised to hear that from Shinsuke. Especially since he had never mentioned your name to the other kitsune before. 

“And judging by the time,” Shinsuke started, “Ya better hurry. She’s got some things to say that I think’d sound better from her mouth than from this senpai.” 

With a nod, Rintarou immediately sprung to his feet and took off down the mountain, letting both gravity and his desire to talk carry him with a speed he hadn’t felt before. He came to a screeching halt as he came out of the woods, seeing you sitting on the stone stairs while fiddling with your little drawstring bag. 

“(Y/N),” he called out, making you jump slightly in surprise to see him again. 

You quickly stood up and began to apologise, “Rintarou, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that and I know I should’ve asked but if I did then I know you’d say you weren’t a kitsune. It’s just that I’ve been suspecting since last year but was always too nervous to ask and I know it was really stupid of-”

“Wait a second.”

The phrase made the avalanche of words stop immediately. 

“You knew?”

“Well… yeah,” you admitted, “I saw your tail a couple of times and sometimes you jump really high, or jump from a high place and you’re fine. And you always make sure I don’t see your back, I guess because of your tail.”

Well. Rintarou hadn’t realised how many mistakes he had been making. 

“I see… You don’t hate me or anything?”

“No way!” you spoke with a big smile. “I think it’s so cool! I’m friends with a kitsune. That’s just... woah!” you waved your hands exaggeratedly to show your emotions which you couldn’t put into words.

“I always thought you’d be scared so I didn’t say anything.” Rintarou admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His cheeks had become a dark shade of pink now. 

“Mm, I wouldn’t be scared of you. You’re nice to me, and you’re a zenko so you wouldn’t do anything bad. The thing just now scared me a bit though, but I know that was because I suddenly touched you when I shouldn’t have.” 

There was a pause as you two thought for a while, figuring out what to say next. 

“Then… can we still be friends?” the kitsune asked shyly, his heart beating with joy to know he hadn’t lost his friend and the girl he had feelings for. 

“Of course.” 

The two of you smiled toothily at each other as the sun began its descent. 

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

“Rin, let’s go to the rock again today!”

“Mm, sure.” 

The summer festival had come again, marking one year since the day you two properly spoke. To Rintarou, it felt unbelievably short and long. Because of the way you visited almost daily, it felt like you had been an integral part of his life. Days you didn’t come to the shrine were spent lazily running around the forest with the twins or acting as Inari’s messenger while thinking about the next day you were meant to come. Yet knowing that you had only been there for one winter of his life versus the many he had experienced made him realise how short of a time you had been there for.

It was funny to think despite the relatively short time he spent with you, he felt like you were the most important thing to him these days. 

So even though he would have to miss another year of the summer festival, he didn’t mind spending it with just you in quiet instead. 

Light footsteps made their way through the forest, the loud laughs and shouts from the crowd below shrinking until they were no more than far off echoes. The path was no longer lit by the warm yellow festival lights from below but rather by the stars and moonlight.

“It’s just as pretty as last year,” you hummed, admiring the fireflies as you pushed back the flowers of the wisteria tree to enter the glade. While you had both visited this place often on your many visits to the shrine, you always had to go back before dark, so this was the rarest sight for you.

After climbing up the rock with ease, an experience you had gotten very used to after multiple times, you waited for Rintarou to jump up before settling yourself comfortably.

“Oh! I bought these before coming up!” you pulled out two small paper packages from your kinchaku, a small drawstring bag your mother made for you with flower-patterned cloth, and unwrapped them. In the first were four pieces of daifuku, and in the other were six small pieces of warabimochi. “I thought we might get hungry!” 

Rintarou smiled and quickly picked a piece of warabimochi before tossing it into his mouth. It bounced on the edge of his lip before entering though, causing the roasted flour to form a little cloud, making a small mess on his face. You giggled at the sight of him coughing a little on the confection. The thought that even yokais like him could be dorky and mess up amused you greatly.

The evening passed quickly, far too quickly for either of your likings. As the moon and stars took their position in the dark blanket above, you two laughed and ate your snacks. It wasn’t the most filling but you two felt happy enough just talking to each other. 

Though your laughter eventually died as the topic of what you were doing tomorrow came up. The once bright smile on your face faded and your gaze couldn’t meet Rintarou’s. 

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He asked, “Do you want to go to get more food?” 

“My um… my parents said I can’t come back to play anymore. They said it’s no good to simply talk with boys anymore. And I have to start studying.” Your voice was soft, the topic scaring you, but the kitsune could easily pick it up. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“They said I’m growing older and someday I have to be married. Before that I have to learn to cook and do a bunch of tasks to run the household and well… They say the war’s gonna reach us soon and my family has a little land but we aren’t super influential so it’s especially important I marry someone good.” 

He had heard of the war. A few domains away the territories were being fought over by some big warlords and while he didn’t know the details, he remembered Shinsuke saying it would likely change the course of history. 

But to think that would affect you who were merely a child. You had only turned 10 this year… the thought confused and saddened Rintarou. 

“They said I have to prepare properly to become a woman,” you explained, “So I can’t waste my time running around a forest with a boy from the shrine.”

“You’re getting married?” he asked. Why did he want to know that more than anything else you mentioned?

“Huh? No no! I’m just preparing to. But I really don’t want to. I hate it so much. I won’t get to see you in forever, Rin!” Tears came to your eyes as you threw your arms around his shoulders. 

The boy awkwardly wrapped his arms around your body and patted your back, letting you cry onto his jinbei. He just had no idea what to say, what was right to say, or what you wanted to hear. Even if he had surpassed you in years he had lived long ago, his mental age was roughly the same as yours if not younger.

“We’ll see each other again, I’m sure,” was the only thing he could think to say right now, “Even if it’ll be a while.”

You sniffed and looked up from his shoulder. Your eyes met, staring at each other in silence.

“Really?” your voice squeaked, body still tense until Rintarou gently stroked your hair. Strangely your body immediately untensed and you felt at ease. Maybe it was a power of his, though you were sure it was just him.

“Yeah. I promise.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever even get to come back.”

Rintarou thought for a moment, what could he say? He was never that great with words. 

“If you’re lonely then… look at the moon. And the sky. I’ll be looking at it too, just like we always do.” he replied, cheeks turning just a bit pink. He was glad you couldn’t see his face right now. It sounded funny, but he remembered hearing something like that from a storyteller at one of the summer festivals.

You seemed a bit hesitant at first but eventually you smiled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do that, Rin.”

He let go of you just as the fireworks began to burst in the sky, prompting you to do the same. The two of you turned your gazes to the sky to watch the performance in the sky just as you had one year ago.

But this time, he noticed that your hand rested on top of his and your head was on his shoulder.

He never wanted this night to end.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Rintarou thought about that night often.

Even if nearly seven summers had passed and he had not seen you once.

He wondered if he would ever see you again, he wanted to see you again. You were someone he could never forget so he hoped you hadn’t forgotten him too.

He wondered where you were, maybe you had moved to a different village and visited a different shrine. Maybe you were living as a servant in that new shogun’s castle. Maybe because of the war you had…

Rintarou shook his head, that couldn’t be the case. He refused to believe it. He just hoped you were okay wherever you were.

As he sat on his rock, gazing up at the sky once again in hopes of today being the day you would return, he sighed to himself. The shrine was being quite noisy these days and he couldn’t be bothered to be around all the sound so he had stayed away. There was some sort of event they were preparing for, he wasn’t sure what exactly but he didn’t care that much. He’d deal with the prayers and such afterwards.

Until he sniffed the air and smelled your familiar scent.

Rintarou had never sat up straighter before practically propelling himself off of the rock to run down to the shrine.

He would finally get to see you again! He wondered if you had grown much taller than him in the years, as he hadn’t grown all that much since that summer day. He cursed his slow growth as a kitsune but in truth it didn’t bother him that much. Though he wondered if you had matured a lot and if you would still be willing to run around in the forest with him. You probably would, right? Just for fun? Rintarou would even slow down if you wished, so you would, right?

His heart was racing as he sprinted down the mountain slope towards the shrine before coming to an abrupt halt. 

A wedding ceremony...

And you were the bride?

Even if you looked completely different, wearing a pure white shiromuku while your hair was done up and hidden in the white wataboshi veil, he could still tell it was you. Even with the heavy makeup on your now matured face, he knew it was you.

Rintarou felt his guts want to simultaneously drop out from him and to also come out from his throat. There was an intense pain in his chest and throat which made him just want to scream in utter agony but all he could do was stand among the trees, completely still and yet trembling like the autumn leaves falling around him as his eyes widened in a mixture of intense emotions.

“Look at that wedding, ‘Samu. We haven’t had one of those around in a while have we?” Rintarou turned to see the twins standing a couple metres away from them, watching the ceremony as well.

“Yeah. I guess with the war now people are getting married less.” Osamu replied to his older brother, “But that’s one of the shogun’s vassals’ vassals. Or somethin’ like that. So no wonder he can afford to.” 

You were getting married to someone like that?

Rintarou stared at the man beside you - he was taller, stronger, and looked far older than he was, especially dressed in his plain black kimono, haori, and hakama set. The kitsune’s small hand crept up his chest and beat it lightly, as if trying to get his heart to restart itself but it just felt painful as he slowly crouched on the soil.

“You were waiting for her, weren’t ya?” Shinsuke’s calm voice spoke from behind the younger kitsune.

As much as he wanted to, Rintarou couldn’t turn away from the wedding. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the smile on your red lips despite how painful it was. Words couldn’t express how badly he wanted to hug you and ask if you remembered him, to wipe the makeup from your face in the same manner he would wipe the dirt from your cheeks after you tripped into mud on those days you played together, to ask you to even talk to him once more. But he knew there was a high chance he would never see you ever again after today.

“Yeah. I was.” the boy sighed as calmly as he could, though it wasn’t hard for Shinsuke to hear the shake in his voice.

The four spirits watched as you and your new husband partook in the san san kudo, drinking sake from the three cups and officially recognising each other as spouses. Your family and friends cheered to see the completion of the ceremony. Smiles could be seen on nearly every person on the shrine grounds and as much as Rintarou hated to admit it, you wore a smile too.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he could have been the one to put that smile on your face. 

All he could do now was to wish for your continued happiness as he passed on your prayers to the god.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Many years had passed. If he was correct, twenty summers had passed, though he wasn’t counting anymore. Twenty summers without you felt like an awfully long time, though time felt like it was flying these days. Certainly faster than the seven years before then where everyday was spent longing for you.

Rintarou noticed that the four foxes had grown taller too, though it seemed like he still had some time to grow. He had grown two new tails too. He wondered how you looked now. If he could he would have left the shrine to see you, but with the war going on more prayers were being offered than ever. 

He wondered if it was foolish of him, but for nearly every day of the past twenty years, he had been clinging on to the hope that one day you would come visit him. Of course, your feelings would be different, but that didn’t matter. All he wanted was to be able to see you again.

Though he hadn’t seen you, he remembered seeing your mother come to the shrine about a year after the wedding to thank Inari for the safe delivery of your new twins. “That’s because of us!” Atsumu boasted once he heard the news (though Shinsuke insisted it was not). Aside from that, Rintarou never heard about you.

Until one day.

“Do you remember that samurai who got married to a woman from this village about twenty years ago?”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“The woman passed away last week from some sickness.”

“No way…”

“Yeah, I think the old shrine maidens said she used to come to the shrine a lot as a kid to play in the woods. They liked her a lot.”

“Then it’s good they aren’t around to hear about her either…”

“Mm, I think so too.”

Rintarou’s skin turned to ice upon hearing the news. Suddenly his usual position on the rooftop no longer felt so comforting. His head pounded and his heart felt like it had stopped, a feeling he hadn’t felt since the day he first saw you. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

He just continued to lie on the roof, hands folded over his stomach as the once soft sky suddenly became a glaring shade of blue and white. Even if he closed his eyes, it hurt. 

Everything hurt. 

He continued to lay there for the next few hours, mind empty as he closed his eyes and simply thought of the sky and of you. Memories of watching the clouds, of climbing trees, of fishing in the little lake, and especially of the fireworks. 

By the time he opened his eyes, Rintarou noticed the moon and stars had already taken their place. It was a sky he had only shared with you twice but somehow looking at it always made him feel comforted; knowing even if you two were far away, you were still watching the same sky, moon, and stars. Just as he said all those years ago. 

But that was no longer the case.

He blinked and the twinkling stars had become blurry. Suddenly they had multiplied and the kitsune felt liquid trail down the side of his face. He laughed to himself lightly and sat up to wipe away the tears. 

The once cooling wind of autumn suddenly grew a chilling bite as it blew a cloud to obscure the pale moon above.

As he looked up at the sky, he thought of how foolish he had been to cling to the hope that you would someday come back to see him, or to have fallen for you in the first place. 

And oh how foolish Rintarou had been to think of the most beautiful girl he had seen whenever he looked up at the once beautiful sky.

[katsukikitten]

Wholesome Frat AU, Clearly aged up, college au, main characters are Bakugou, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Jiro, Mina, and of course you my dear reader. Sexual themes, mentions of drugs and booze through out.

AHEM

Chapter 1

Denki lies upside down off his bed, staring at his phone when another invite to a party comes through. It's from a classmate he shares notes with and one of the few non toxic dudes on campus. A smile forms on his face, his fingers ready to fly across the screen to confirm his Friday night to be golden and one to remember. 

Or maybe wish to remember as alcohol and maybe some weed numb his senses. 

But then the location comes through, a frat house that's notorious for ignorance and low key rape culture. He turns it down claiming to study and sighs. Staring at his shared four walls from the top bunk. 

"What's going on with you? No one wants you to keep their bed warm tonight?" Sero teases passing him up a beer before starting the next round of his game. Preferring to get buzzed and troll in Apex lobbies than find somewhere to be tonight.  

Their phones buzz at the same time, Kirishima coming through on the group chat. 

Big Red 🦈 : Any plans tonight boys?

Boomboi 💣 : Fuck off, busy. 

Tape dispenser 🎞 : Apex

Zaptos ⚡: got invited to a party but location is sus af. You bro? 

Big Red 🦈 : Yikes 😬 Keepin some ladies safe. Don't like the scene here…

Tape dispenser 🎞 : Same

Zaptos ⚡: Same

Boomboi 💣:  FUCK OFF!

Denki and Sero both smirk at their phones before moving on with their Friday night with small talk of Instagram stories and received risque snapchats. As the beer fridge gets dwindles  their thoughts seem to grow. 

"Okay, listen. Here me out!" Denki says as if Sero would ever come off defensive. He finishes his eighth beer before continuing. 

"What if we started our own frat? Like...like a fucking wholesome one." 

"Dude not only does that sound impossible but what would we call ourselves?" Sero chuckles nursing his seventh beer. Denki pauses for a moment, trying to think of something, anything great. 

"Alpha Kappa Wholesome." He smiles, "Yea that's it!"

Sero laughs from his bottom bunk earning an angry faced Denki to put half of his body over the side of his bed. 

"I'm serious man! We could kick out whoever doesn't match our values. This college is supposed to be about making 'lasting connections' with fellow heroes! How are we supposed to do it when we are cooped up in our tiny dorm!" He gestures to their cramped room. A set of bunk beds and desks with their TV and shared dresser on the far wall. Sero looks around, this sure as hell wasn't like the dorms at UA that's for sure. 

"Okay well two people isn't enough for a frat, man." Sero lets the dream die before it can bloom, running a hand through his raven hair. Denki scrunches up his face before he remembers where his crush stays.  It's as if a light bulb lit up atop his upside down head. He jolts himself falling from the top bunk crashing into the empty beer bottle. They clink in protest but thankfully non break, just roll beneath the bottom bunk. 

"But there is a sorority of only four and we have four friends in our group!" 

Denki decides now is a good time to face time them. Kirishima answers first with a shout that he's gonna step outside, the roaring party and flashing lights die behind the shutting door while Bakugou is illuminated by the light of his screen glaring into the camera while a meek looking girl hides. 

"This better be fucking good." Bakugou growls. 

After an hour and a half of screaming Denki finally convinces Bakugou that sharing a house with the three of them as opposed to a rando was a much better idea. Reminding him that he had done it for three years in highschool surely he could last two more. He agrees but refuses to help argue with the dean meanwhile Kirishima is GLOWING with excitement over the idea formulating with his sober mind the best way to handle the notorious harsh Dean. 

It takes petitions, several meetings and almost til the spring break to come down to this, the final meeting. Bakugou, who has attended every meeting and true to his word has said nothing. Denki nervous as a sinner in church, Sero who's sweating bullets and Kirishima all sit in the room with the board, treasury and the Dean in a final meeting of sorts. 

Kirishima gulps and before he can explain the benefits the frat will have to offer the Dean stops him with a simple show of his hand. Taking a report from the secretary of treasury to look over, he just needed the monetary excuse to back up his favorite word. 

"No." He clears his throat, "Unfortunately funds are too low to be able to support another fraternity." The Dean leaves it at that not even bothering to offer they join something preexisting. 

Three of the four men accept defeat, mentally communicating that they did a good job trying. But the fourth man dreamed of his own room, of his own space to do as he pleased. And all without threat of being charged with murder. Although the fourth man would never admit that the reason he spoke up wasn't totally about the room, it was the look of defeat, anguish on his friends faces that had the room heating up a degree or two and smelling heavily of boiling sugar. 

"Oi, toupee." The hot head let's his seat fall back to all fours, fixing the Dean a withering look, "You said something about not enough money huh?" 

The Dean swallows thickly carefully thinking out his next sentence. 

"Why, Yes its…." Bakugou interrupts before the Dean can even finish his thought. 

"Pretty sure I'm the reason this campus is gonna be swarming with fucking no name extras next year." Katsuki's smile widens as his hand pops, "If you deny this request with the money I'm making you then I'll participate in the university sports festival with another college's across my fucking chest." 

The Dean visibly sweats, Bakugou really was a hard student to land. His brash attitude and unapologetic behavior was popular among the younger generation bringing with it an influx of applicants and donations. It hadn't even been 24 hours since his announcement did it crash the admin and donation site. He panics, not even sure if there is any real estate available on or around campus in order for him to legally allow this fraternity to flourish. As if reading his mind the secretary of grounds offers him a file, an old run down home within a decent walking distance of the main campus. The Dean exhales the breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Let's not act so rash. It has just come to my attention that we have some extra funding to be able to purchase a place for you all…" He looks over the file, he hopes this is enough to placate the hot head, "But it will need some old fashioned sweat equity, if we can secure it. The town has been kind enough to offer us first dibs to real estate within a certain radius of campus and if they like our offer you hardworking men will have your 'Alpha Kappa Wholesome home." 

"They better like your offer." Is all Bakugou says before standing, "We get the keys in a month, got it?"

He doesn't give the Dean time to rebuttal, he just leaves while the other shocked three follow suit. It isn't until they are in the courtyard does their excitement hit them all at once.

"HOLY SHIT BAKUBRO ALWAYS COMING IN ON THE FUCKING KLUTCH!" Denki shouts, tackling Bakugou into a hug, Sero and then Kirishima wrap their arms around the yelling hot head who threatens to blow them up. 

"I owe you a fucking drink!" Kirishima shouts lifting the group and twirling them  

"OI OI OI SHITTY HAIR PUT ME DOWN!" 

After that promised drink and a month of waiting the four musketeers stand before their new home. The house is trashed, easily a short sale of a foreclosure as the rent went higher but their wages stayed low. The amount of work to make this place semi decent was going to be astronomical at best. 

Bakugou is thoroughly unimpressed, scoffing as Denki runs up the porch. The vision is clear in the electric blonde's head. The massive porch is clean, with a swing and some chairs, string lights hanging from the wooden ceiling while the half wrapped around, second story porch is draped in endless artificial star light cloaking the house in cozy warmth. 

Dneki opens the front door and plume of dust rushes out around him, the other two follow suit. Taking the steps two at a time as they rush into the house. Harsh garnet stares after them before glancing at their luggage. He decides to leave it all stepping inside. 

Their imaginations run rampant as they stand beneath the large archway to the main living room while Bakugou begins to second guess opening his mouth. That or getting more money from the Dean. Before displeasure can leave the hot head his friends turn to face him, their eyes shining and smiles stretched wide, wide enough it begins to hurt Bakugou's own cheeks. They encourage him to step into the home more, telling him what will go where. For a moment his smile is soft, tender as he looks at these three idiots seeing the bright side of everything before he steels back into his normal self.

"Oi! Quick acting all googly eyed. We've got a lot of work to do and a lot of fucking money to raise." 

The four friends spend majority of their spring term picking rooms and doing basic cleaning. Bringing only one of the two full bathrooms up to par, trying their best to keep up with the old big house. Even after all of them picked their rooms there were still three bedrooms and a den with a door left. They brain stormed adding recruits but Bakugou shot the idea down despite Sero being elected the president of the frat. 

Spring boils into summer, bringing with it the promise of cold hard cash. Bake sales and lunch deals thanks to Bakugou's cooking skills brought in a large amount of income, so did the odd jobs Kirishima, Denki, and Sero found themselves doing. Still they find themselves short.

"Shirtless carwash!" Denki announces earning a glare from Bakugou. Kirishima pipes up before the idea is blasted sky high. 

"Think of the money man. The community around here is soccer mom's and freshly graduated college kids and I don't know about yall but when I go for a run or hit up the corner store after a good run I'm being stared at." 

"That's a valid point Bakugou. I've seen how they flock to you for baked goods, they've been staring at your arms and eyes man." Sero adds voting yes to the idea making it three to one. 

Just as Kirishima said, woman and even some men, flock to the area for a car wash. Some even coming back twice in one day! The cash flow is good but still a bit lacking. Denki wipes the sweat from his brow as he wonders how they will get enough to be able to get decent light fixtures and a working fridge in the dorm. Let alone anything aside from a blown up mattress and folding chairs in the living room. He scrolls through his social media on his break and comes across the miracle he has been asking for. 

A lovely summer picture of four women in bikinis, three of them his housemates have lived with before. Mina Ashido, Jiro Kyoka,  Ochako Uraraka, and then there is the new woman, you.

But what makes the picture that much sweeter isn't even the content itself, no it's that gorgeous caption just beneath it. 

"BASIC BITCH CAR WASH! Help us raise money for an apartment so our sorority doesn't get disbanded!" 

An idea formulates in the electric blondes head so quickly he thinks sparks fly from his ears. A dangerous smile forms on Denki Kaminari's lips. 

[tae-cup]

Old Money and Brooklyn Babies

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Summary:  “Those summer nights seem long ago. And so is the girl you used to call The queen of New York City. But if you send for me, you know I'll come. And if you call for me, you know I'll run” - Lana Del Rey (Old Money) 

Genre: Modern/Realistic Au, Angst, like Fluff if you squint, rich people au??

Warnings: Yandere-ish themes, LANGUAGE, drinking, sexual tension (but no smut!), unhealthy relationships, heavy topics, maybe at the end if you think about it maybe depression?, Pathological liar (s?) are involved, your brain has been warned #trust no one. 

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 7.3k Words 

A/N: Ahhh this was such a challenge for me to write but I hope you guys enjoy it! PS I’m sorry. And I’m really nervous to post this because I don’t know how it will turn out askldfhsalkdfh

Other: Masterlist

      Loving him was intense, a whirlwind of emotions that could only be compared to a hurricane, a tornado. There was a time when loving him was explosive, a train on its way to be wrecked. The feeling hadn’t disappeared. 

      You knew it when you saw him standing on the staircase, a new love around his arm. You felt the room buzz when he saw you. Now, standing in this bar of sweat and alcohol where you could barely pay for your next drink, you wondered how things went so wrong. 

     Just a few weeks ago, you were the queen of New York City, the heiress everyone was talking about, and now you were a nothing, just another nobody in a sea of other nobodies. 

     Did he see it in your eyes? Did he see the desperation? The same look you had given him a few months ago, the kind of look that he had described as beautiful and exhilarating. Now he turned away in disgust. You tightened your grasp on your glass. 

It was your fault. 

You had ruined it all. Like you always did. 

Six Months Ago 

1 A.M. wake up. 

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day and plan it meticulously in your mind. 

3 A.M. 

Get out of bed. 

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while. 

    You stood tall, you knew you were a beautiful woman. After all, everyone had been telling you this since you were little. You could easily pass for royalty, that’s what you always thought and you wore it well. 

    You jutted your chin out, running a hand along your jawline. Then you made sure to put every hair in place, perfectly positioned. The mirror had a small crack in the corner, you made a mental note to buy a new one. 

     You put on your dark shades sunglasses so that you could barely even see inside. Nonetheless, you stumbled around your apartment like a model, refusing to look unfashionable even in the cold abyss of your living room. Who knew if someone was peering through the windows? That’s why you kept it as dark as possible. 

     You tripped over the couch. Since when was that there? You asked yourself angrily, as if you hadn’t been living here for the past year, a pretty bubble world built up carefully over a year of work and dedication. 

    Reality couldn’t catch you here. You stumbled around blindly for a while and then found the door handle.

5 A.M. 

 With a decisive click, your day had begun. 

      Astteria Jewelry, a company your father had invested in dearly when he visited the states. You hadn’t been there, but you’d heard a lot about the visit from the newspapers.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat, tapping on the top of the glass counter until someone came over, looking a bit annoyed. The woman’s face was twisted uncomfortably before she plastered a kind smile on her face. 

“How may I help you?”

“Yes, yes, I need to try those on.” You pointed to the chunkiest rings in the case. They were encrusted with large and small diamonds, all glittering beautifully. 

     The woman shot you a skeptical look. You just peered down at her through your dark shaded glasses. She was really straining for that pleasant smile now. 

“Of course.” She said tightly and reached under, unlocking the case, and bringing the rings out. 

“Ah, I quite like this one.” You gasped happily. The rock on your finger was hard to even hold up, but you liked it well enough. “I’ll take it, as you probably know, my father will be quite happy with this gift.” 

“That will be $247,000.” The woman pursed her lips as she removed the ring and placed it back in a box. 

“Perfect.” You declared.

“I need your card.”

“Nonsense! Do you even know who I am?” 

     The woman shook her head, her irritation visibly growing.

“That’s quite alright. You know, my father is a great friend and investor in this company. He has often bought for my mother from this very fine store. I think he even gave us a discount at some point?” You said casually. “My father is the chairman of Sinopec, I think you know it?” 

    The woman stilled then she looked suspiciously at the door and back at you. “I’ll give Mr. Betta a call.” 

“You better.” You snapped back, your patience wearing thin. You were the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman. Everyone knew you, obviously. 

    The dial tone was especially loud in the quiet store. A few rings and he picked up. 

“Yes?” You heard the muffled voice. 

“Sir, there’s someone here claiming you gave her family a discount?”

“Who?”

“From Sinopec.” The woman turned away, whispering furiously. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Okay okay, I will.” 

“Well?” You turned to her, looking every part the agitated socialite, 

“Mr. Betta seems to be under the impression...that you should be allowed this ring and we’ll charge your father.” 

“Of course.” You said quickly, taking the box out of her hands and striding out of the store. 

    Your heart was racing. You felt a weight on your chest and it wasn’t the ring. 

     Heather was rich. You knew her to be Old Money, everyone did. You always expertly placed yourself next to her in class. She didn’t seem to mind. She was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than you, but you would never allow that thought to come to fruition. 

     Heather held herself like a commoner, to put it lightly. She got her morning starbucks, waited in line, ordered and waited patiently, got on a bus, commuted to school and got to class early. You realized a big part of being a ‘normal’ person was waiting around. 

“Heather, I was also at that party the other night.” You said to her as she scrolled through her photo album. 

“Oh? Really?” She chewed on gum, the sound smacking across her lips. You felt an itch of irritation, but pushed it away. 

“Yeah, really.” You drawled.

     You carefully placed your ringed finger close to her line of sight. She glanced down for a second then back at her phone, then back at the ring. She put down her phone. 

“Where did you get that ring?” She inquired, suddenly very interested in you. She picked up your hand and surveyed the ring from several angles. 

“Astteria.” You said nonchalantly. “My father is a good friend of Simon Betta.”

“Who’s your father?” She glanced upwards with a confused look. 

“Zhao Dong.” You said easily. 

“The chairman of Sinopec?” Heather looked up, confused. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you! You’ve changed since I last saw you.” 

    You smiled and nodded at her words. 

“I know. I spent some time away.” You looked nonchalantly at your nails. 

“Well you look great, Y/N.” She continued with a small smile. 

“Thank you, I know.” You tossed your hair. “Tell me, Heather, are we close? Would you consider me a close friend?” 

“I…” She stuttered awkwardly. “N-not close close, but I know your father and...your mother?” She interlaced her fingers and looked away, embarrassed. “Truth be told, I haven’t been keeping up with Sinopec as of late.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” You assured her. “Now, I’ve been looking for a charity to donate to. My dad has been bugging me about the yearly donations.” You said the words so easily, like water out of a waterfall. 

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you know any because...well, I know you’re into those charities and non-profits.”

     The sound of pages being turned filled the room and you turned back to your work. You didn’t even bother reading the page or taking notes, you had another mission at hand. Heather turned back to her work and after a while, she cleared her throat slightly. 

“There’s actually...a gala for an organization that helps fight for LGBTQ+ rights. Would you like to come? I could get you an invite if you just send me your address.” She lowered her voice.

     You glanced around. Everyone was focused on their work so you nodded. 

“I’m really into helping out when I can, you know? Here I’ll give you my number-” you stopped, thinking it over. “Actually, give me your number.” You prompted. 

“Oh? Alright?” She recited her number and you typed it into your phone. You felt her heated stare on the old phone in your hand. 

“It’s a friend of mine’s old phone.” You said. “My father has yet to send me the latest one.” 

“I see.” Heather narrowed her eyes and went back to taking notes. 

     You sent her a quick hello and smirked, going back to write down notes. Columbia College had been quite pleased to hear about all the non profit work and extracurriculars, not to mention your straight As in school. It was what you deserved.

 “Y/N!” Heather waved you over and you descended the stairs with a smile.

     There stood Heather in the middle of this grand ballroom. You tried not to look impressed. 

“Heather.” You greeted her with a smile.

      She pulled you into a quick hug and then grabbed two champagne glasses. Gold rimmed and bubbling with clear yellow liquid, she handed you a glass. The room was decorated lavishly with red drapes covering dark alcoves and chaise lounges positioned in the corners. These lounges were occupied by men and women all dressed to the nines. This type of luxury was what you deserved. 

“You look gorgeous!” She complimented as she took in your appearance. 

      You had borrowed a dress from your much richer friend, though you personally believed that you pulled off the look better than her. You were the most beautiful after all. 

“Ah, thank you. You look exquisite as well.” You brushed a stray hair from your face. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

     You turned to the voice and were met with a familiar face. You were shocked to even see him at a place like this. He hadn’t struck you as this kind of person.

     You had first met Park Jimin in a club. The lights were dim and you could barely make out his face, but you knew he was beautiful, just like you. The club was a world of beautiful people, all pressed against each other and sweating. 

“How old are you?” He asked, looking you up and down as you sat at the bar. You smiled slyly, swirling your drink to the pounding music. 

“Probably too young for you.” You shouted over the music. 

His hands went to his hair. “Listen! My hair looks gray but I can assure you I am a 25 year old man in good standing!” 

    You laughed. He seemed nice, genuine. It was a breath of fresh air. His entire aura screamed that he was important, yet his personality quite opposed this notion. You looked him up and down. 

    He was a man of stature, standing tall and proud amongst the crowd, his hair was a silver gray, his eyes of a similar shade. Jimin was either high society or had no idea how to have fun. You were a perfect match. 

“I believe you.” You replied happily, setting down your drink. “Want to get some fresh air?” 

     He smoothed down his coat and you wondered why he was dressed so formally to go to a nightclub. 

“I’d like that very much.”

 “Jimin.” You greeted him happily. He gently took your hand in his and kissed the back. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He said cordially, a hint of mischief in his eyes. 

“And you.” You bowed your head gracefully. 

    The music of the gala swelled and Heather cleared her throat. Her eyebrows were raised as high as the bronze arches that hung above you. 

“You two...know each other?” She asked, eyeing Jimin. 

Jimin nodded. “Yes, we met, achem, a little while ago.” You were grateful he didn’t mention the club. 

“Well, Jimin is actually performing tonight, aren’t you?” Heather turned to him expectantly. 

“Oh? Performing?” 

The man seemed embarrassed by the sudden attention on him. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Ah, yeah, well, I’m just singing-”

“Jimin is an excellent singer.” Heather nodded and you followed suit. 

“I’m not that great. My mom just had enough money to bribe the manager.” He joked and you chuckled along. 

“Yeah, I get that.” You agreed. “But I’m sure you’re an amazing singer, Jimin.” You looked him up and down, a smile growing. 

“He is!” The other girl chimed in before Jimin could protest. The clock chimed 8:00 P.M. and you glanced upwards. 

“I think that’s my cue to go.” Jimin announced, waving off a waiter who offered him a glass. 

“Alright! Best of luck, Jimin.” You bowed your head politely and he did the same.

    Heather watched the interaction intently. Once he was gone, she started laughing which caused you to look over at her sharply. 

“You guys really just eye fucked each other for a whole five minutes. I didn’t think it was possible after seeing Anna’s reaction to him. At least it was mutual this time.” 

“Anna?”

“Yeah, the daughter of the guy who made Adobe or whatever.”

“Oh, of course, I remember her.” You said easily, grabbing another glass of champagne.

  You were going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through this night, but these luxuries were what you had always wanted. 

 “I would be careful, though, Y/N.” She glanced around. “He doesn’t have the best track record with women, though he attracts them like bees to flowers.” 

“Oh I see.” You followed her eyes. “But from the way you look at him, I can assume you’ve been one of those women?” 

               She narrowed her eyes and then chuckled, though the sound was a bit strained. 

 “Me And Jimin? No, no. I can admit he is handsome, but we would never make a good pair.” Heather was quiet for a moment and then she crossed her arms, her gaze growing distant. “He’s too caught up in himself. You remind me of him.” 

 “I beg your pardon?

 “Forget I said anything.” 

     The music began to swell and you looked up from your conversation as the curtain on the stage began to lift. The din of the room died down. A man with a rainbow pin and black tuxedo stood center stage. He held himself with confidence.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this charity event for the Audre Lorde Project. Today, we are so grateful to be able to present Mr. Park Jimin as our entertainment for the night. If you donate, he will sing a song of your choosing!” The MC leaned in. “Just don’t be inappropriate, folks.” He winked.

 “Now presenting….Park Jimin!” 

       You watched as the familiar man walked on stage. He looked quite dashing, sporting a rainbow tuxedo and white shoes. You were sure they must have cost a fortune. His rings alone must have cost at least $21,000. Then his shoes, oh, his shoes. They were perfectly clean, so white they could reflect the dim lighting. 

       People were quick to go up and pay for a song. The songs started at $1,000 and you pursed your lips, checking your wallet. Did you have enough? Yes, of course you have enough, you’re the daughter of Sinopec. 

      You set your mind on deciding a song. Heather began chatting to you about school, but you were hardly paying attention. You started drifting towards the box that held the donations. Heather moved along with you, unknowing to your next move. You straightened, holding up a hand, which quickly silenced Heather, and zeroed in on the box. 

    Withdrawing your money, you wrote a quick check for $1,000. Then you haphazardly tossed it into the box. Then you wrote your song on the sign up sheet and went back to the center of the room. You waited, tapping your foot impatiently. You wanted everything now, but you could try to be patient for once. 

   Heather continued talking about...whatever she was talking about. Halfway through her rambling, a familiar tune began to play. Your eyes shot up from where they were resting on your drink to the stage. You could feel Jimin’s heated stare.

“I think I'm too cool to know ya. You say I'm like the ice, I freeze. I'm churnin' out novels like Beat poetry on Amphetamines.” He sang and his voice was a perfect tune.

    You felt your toes curl pleasantly as his sweet voice tingled your eardrums. Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey. You eyed him up and down, taking note of a particularly expensive looking Rolex watch. 

     As you made eye contact with him through the crowd, your heart thumped an untimely beat. Mine. 

     Jimin left hand in hand with you. What a sight to see. A couple that no one had expected, one out of the blue. You giggled, shifting over in the back of the cab to Jimin’s place.

     His hand slowly inched its way over to your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. Your eyes stayed trained on his face. The dark city streets casted eerie shadows over your figures, but you felt calm nonetheless. 

    Your hand reached out and touched his cheek. A wordless communication. May I? To be answered with you may. And he leaned in, diving into your arms, melding his lips against yours like you were meant to be. You both gasped for air, but it was a battle for dominance and neither of you were about to back down. 

    You bit playfully at his lips, devouring his strawberry lip balm like it was your last meal. He pushed against you so your back thumped against the door. His hands found your hips and he pressed into you tightly. 

    Your hands gripped his hair and you refused to part from his lips, the cold metal of his Rolex dug into the fabric of your dress. You wanted that watch. 

    The taxi slowly pulled up to the apartment complex and you both hurried out. Jimin haphazardly overpaid the driver and you both took a break to get your bearings before walking into his high end apartment building. 

“Hey, let’s try to look like we didn’t just make out like animals, okay?” Jimin patted your arm.

    So you went about smoothing down your hair, pulling down your skirt a little lower, and patting your cheeks gently to try and, in vain, dispel the light flush. 

     You both stumbled your way inside, laughing drunkenly. He helped stand you upright, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. There was a jingle of something falling to the ground, but you paid it no mind. He helped you all the way up to his apartment where you leaned against the wall while he searched for his keys. 

“Shit!” He cursed, sinking down beside you, his back thumping against the wall. “I lost my keys.” He grumbled. 

“Ah, that’s fine.” You laughed, “Just my luck.” 

“You seem pretty lucky, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky, I guess, but I want a lot more than luck, you know?” 

“And what do you want?” 

“You.” You answered quickly.

     And that was the first time a lie had registered in your addled brain. Because that wasn’t true, no, not at all. Jimin was wonderful, handsome, smart, but you wanted something more material than these flimsy emotions.

    You wanted money. As you watched his expression melt into a lustful haze, you flexed your fingers and clenched them over and over. You could play his game of emotions, you could do it. You thought as he went in for another kiss. 

    It was a cold morning. Jimin had black out curtains. You could hide from the world very nicely here. You were awake at 1 A.M. 

    After a long night of searching and making out, the searching part of which you found far more enjoyable, you found his keys. He had dropped them in the lobby on the way in and the desk attendant had grabbed them. You went through your routine, replacing yourself with a pillow in his arms. 

“Huh. I always thought that only worked in movies?” You tilted your head and went back to your routine. After a while of getting ready, you sat beside the bed, watching him. 

    He breathed steadily. You glanced around, finally deciding to explore. You stood, picking up discarded clothes and observing his apartment. It was big, bigger than yours. 

   There were expensive things everywhere. You could guess he was old money. A glint of gold in the morning light caught your eye. You walked over, carefully not to disturb the floorboards. On his bedside table was the Rolex watch. 

“You can keep it.” His gruff voice said. “It’s not important to me, but you’ve been eyeing it all night.” 

“Why would you give this to me?” You asked, lifting the watch to look at it in the slim sliver of light that cracked through the curtain. You wanted to applaud his awareness and observation skills.  

“There’s something about the desperation in your eyes, Y/N. It’s exhilarating, beautiful, new. People are so...complacent, so okay with their situations nowadays, especially when you’re in positions like you and I. I’m giving it to you as a promise that this wasn’t just a one night thing. I’m serious about this.” Jimin rolled over in bed. “I like people like you, Y/N. I fall in love with people like you.” His words were soft, his expression was stone cold. 

    And you knew what game he was playing at with extravagant promises and carefully chosen words, you were playing the same game. So you simply let him win. 

    You could do that, for him, because as much as you were using him to help yourself gain a boost, your heart was beginning to lead you astray. And you could not let that happen. Still, that scent of cinnamon and the taste of strawberries would likely always remind you of him. 

    Perhaps it was obsession that took you back to his place over and over again. It wasn’t so much him, but the idea of him. Maybe it was the idea that he was rich, that he had money, that he was handsome, but all that aside, you were perfectly incompatible. 

     Jimin was old money, old money that was long gone. For as long as Jimin remembered, his father had worked very very hard to run his company into the ground. Whether it be with the drinking or the extravagant parties, his money was gone. 

     He had an unquenchable thirst for money. Some could call it an unhealthy obsession. So when he met you...oh boy. You exuded this confidence, the kind only old money could have. He wanted it. 

   Call him cruel, but he didn’t mind stepping on a few toes to get where he needed to be. He didn’t mind crushing some woman’s poor dreams. He really didn’t mind. You were another stepping stone. You were supposed to be just another tool for success. 

     In his alcohol induced state, probably drug induced state as well, he came to the conclusion that you two would make quite a pair indeed, a power couple. But he needed you to become more powerful. It would be a mutually beneficial relationship. 

“I don’t know, Jimin, I can get pretty nervous at interviews.” You had told him in response, but there was a gleam of excitement in your eyes, he didn’t read too much into it. 

“I think you’ll be fine.” He patted your back with a smile.

      Looking back, he never should have gotten you that interview with the New York Times. It was a poor decision on his part. Maybe if things had gone better, if he still remained ignorant of his situation and drank himself into debt like his father, he would be able to continue living his fantasy world. However, this would not be the case. He was not someone who was afraid of getting his hands dirty. And oh how dirty they were to become. 

 “Thank you, Miss Y/N, for joining us.” The reporter settled down across from you. 

“Ah, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled. The woman smiled back and prepared her notepad. 

    She was a hardworking woman. She wore flats and a nice outfit for this interview, but as you analyzed her posture and position, you knew she would most likely prefer something more comfortable. She slumped ever so slightly, her lipstick was well applied but her nail polish was cracking and half peeled. 

“I’m Anna and I’ll be interviewing you.” 

“Anna? As in Anna, Adobe Inc’s daughter?” 

“Yes!” She nodded happily. “I’m glad you remember me! You know, I only met you once really and we were children so I’m not surprised to see you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Let’s see here…” 

    The interview began. 

“What was it like, growing up with Zhao Dong as a father?” 

“Well, Anna, he was absent a lot.” You said without a second thought, thinking back to your childhood sadly. “But he tried his best. I think I get a lot of my outgoing nature from him. He’s really a role model for me.” 

“And do you have the same goals and aspirations that he has for the company?” 

     You chuckled lightly at the question. 

“Oh dear, oh no.” You said, like it was some preposterous question. “Honey, he is all about the money. I am nothing like that. I’m all about human connection.” 

   Anna seemed pleased by this. Her eyes lit up and she hurriedly went to write down notes. 

“You seem like such a nice, down to Earth, person, Y/N, how do you get this mindset after being raised so...well, rich.” 

“I’ve gotten used to a lot of luxury, yes, but this does not take away from the fact that my father was always strict on discipline. He put a huge emphasis on respecting others and respecting situations we cannot comprehend. It is a valuable lesson I take to heart.” You nodded seriously, your hands gently folded in your lap. 

   Anna was, once again, pleased by your answer. You seemed to be telling her the right things. 

    Soon enough, your face was on the cover of every newspaper. The rich heiress to Sinopec is here in New York City! Or Y/N Dong, the future of the wealthy and elite. 

     You could bathe in the attention all day. In fact, you bought about 15 copies of the story and spread them around your apartment. You meticulously cut out each and every sentence that called you beautiful, complimented you, or even mentioned you and pasted them to the blank walls of your home. Even bad press was still press. After you were done with your hard work, you collapsed on the sofa. 

 “Knock knock!” 

      You jolted upright. You looked around your apartment. The curtains were drawn over the windows, just like they always were. You looked around. Your apartment was a mess. 

     The floor was littered with pieces of paper, the fridge stood open and there were expertly placed scissors just lying on the ground waiting to be stepped on. You blinked wearily. It was a disorientation akin to being hungover but not quite. 

“Knock knock?” 

    Your neck almost snapped with how hard you looked at the door. Shit. You immediately stood up, groaning in pain as you ripped your hand from the couch. You had somehow managed to glue your fingers to the fabric and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. 

    You started madly sweeping the paper, quite literally, under the rug. Then you threw open your windows and were reminded of why you kept them closed. They faced a brick wall. A lovely sight to see. 

    You frowned, but rubbed your eyes and carried on in your cleaning frenzy nonetheless. The knocks sounded once more and you finally answered.

“One sec-” You cleared your gruff voice. “One second!” 

    You tripped over the coffee table and you withheld a scream of frustration. Instead you threw your hands up in anger and let out a silent shout. 

“Everything alright in there?” 

“Yup! Just- give me- a moment-” You held your stubbed toe and every curse you knew flew through your head. 

    You then ran to the mirror and quickly brushed through your hair. Finally, you made it to the front door, looking as presentable as possible. 

    When you opened the door, two familiar people shoved their way in. 

“Ah, this place is smaller than I expected.” Heather announced, setting down a gift bag, Jimin entered after her with a shy smile. His face conveyed Heather’s words. 

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only temporary. I used to live down at Wall Street but then there was a pipe problem with my neighbor and you know...water damage is a real problem.” You clicked your tongue unhappily and they nodded sympathetically. 

“That’s completely understandable.” Heather said, moving to get a closer look at your walls. “Interesting decorations.” 

“I like words of affirmation to hang around my apartment. It helps build self confidence.” 

“Looks like you already have enough of that from the article I read.” Jimin chuckled, fingers brushing over a sentence plastered on the wall. 

“Oh, you read that?” Your cheeks heated up. “It was nothing, really.” 

“You’re practically everywhere, Y/N.” Heather pointed out. “It’s like knowing a celebrity.” 

“But I’m no celebrity.” You said humbly. “I’m just a normal person.” 

“My normal person.” 

    Possession. It was a common theme in your growing relationship with Jimin. You quite liked it. Your heart would always thump. A smile grew on your face and you gave him a quick kiss, one he returned gladly. 

“You guys are disgusting. Get a room.” Heather huffed. “Anyway,” She turned and grabbed a gift bag as you and Jimin parted. “I’ve got this gift for you. Call it a congratulations for being on your first ever cover. I was only 15 when I was on mine, but whatever.” 

“You didn’t have to.” You exclaimed, but happily took the gift. You threw out the tissue paper like an animal. “Oh! Earrings! I love them!” You exclaimed, surveying the expensive earrings. You assumed they must be at least $30,000. 

“Well, it’s just a little thing. Also, I forgot to mention it, my birthday party is next week and I’d love for you to come! I’ll send you the invites!” Heather interlaced your fingers with hers and you shot her a wry smile. 

“Of course, we’ll be there.” Jimin answered for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“Oh! I forgot to ask, has your father seen your article?” Heather inquired, it was a simple ask, one that had you twisting your hands nervously. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he has.” You said softly. “But he’s very busy as you know, so he just hasn't gotten in touch yet!” You assured her and when she nodded, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

    You didn’t want to know much about Jimin besides his family, his money, and how he looked. You just wanted him to be yours. 

    Jealousy. Yeah, that was definitely the green monster, as green as a freshly mowed lawn at bucking-fucking-ham palace. This feeling in your stomach was definitely jealousy. You told yourself you couldn’t feel jealous of Heather.

     Heather even explicitly said she’d never fall in love with Park Jimin, but that was a real trick, a trap, because everyone fell for Park Jimin. There was something about the way she held onto his arm that had you transfixed, how she casually brushed his side when reaching for something. 

    You were seeing green and red. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her fucking hand for one second, even when other people were trying to get your attention. The party was high caliber, celebrating the birthday of said woman. But you could care less that it was her birthday, that man was yours. 

     You were like a predator, stalking the perimeter before swooping in for the kill. You puffed out your chest and walked straight into their little conversation. 

“Jimin, Heather.” You greeted them with a warm smile, but inside you were screaming. It was a primal urge. 

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” Heather pulled you in for a hug and you both balanced your champagne in one hand while doing the awkward one armed move. “Jimin and I were just discussing the latest actions of the Audre Lorde Project.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” You smiled slyly, all teeth and no glimmer of joy in your eyes to be found. “I just wanted to personally deliver my gift to you.” You thrust out the package. 

“Oh no no, you don’t have to! Besides, if you do, then suddenly everyone will want to come over and I just want to talk to you guys for now.” She lowered her voice and smirked. 

    You nodded, though your fingers clenched around the handles tightly. You trudged over to the gift table and haphazardly threw the bag among the other gifts. 

    It wasn’t anything special, just the ring you had gotten from Astteria. You had wanted to get rid of that old thing anyway. You glanced at the two, still talking. You gritted your teeth and stormed away to the bathroom. 

      You and Jimin did many things together. You learned his favorite color, his mother’s name and her favorite song, you learned about his life, his backstory. However, your favorite thing to do with Jimin was to make out. 

      Now, this might seem shallow, but making out with Jimin was like heaven on Earth. He knew how to move his lips, touch just the right spots, to get you melting. 

     He was the sun in a New York City heatwave and you were a popsicle melting below. It was truly a sight to behold, although Heather would disagree. As your hands would play a game of untying ties with his suit, your mind played a different game, a far more deadly one. 

“I love you.” You reeled him in. He followed you like a moth to a light. “I love you a lot.” You declared and he simply fell away under your grasp. 

     You had always enjoyed the sight of people falling beneath you as you stripped away their exteriors to find what made them tick. 

“You’re mine, Jimin, all mine.” You breathed heavily, gasping for breath as he moved to your neck.

     He made quick work of the clean skin, littering it with purple marks, delicately crafted by his skilled lips. His teeth grazed your ear, making you suck in a breath. Your, his, rolex watch pressed into his warm skin. 

“Tell me, Jimin, tell me you’re mine.” You said desperately and he groaned in delight. 

“I love it when you talk to me like that.” He peppered kisses along your jawline. “I love that sound, begging for me like a dog.” He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer, but you didn’t mind. “I’m yours, baby, but only if you’re mine.” 

“I’m all yours.” And he dove back to your lips like an animal.

“I’m madly in love with you, Y/N.” He murmured. “And you’re all mine.” 

    It was a perfect fairytale, but all fairytales need a villain.

     I have no idea who this woman is, posing as my daughter. She is an imposter for sure, or delusional. The subtitles on the T.V. read as you flipped through the article that just landed outside your door. 

     You seethed, feeling your heart sink as one by one, the article undid your many lies. You almost wanted this destruction, because with it came release.

   The release of pressure on your chest, from the weight of all these lies. They were carefully built, framing you in the perfect light, but you didn’t want everything to be undone. 

“What’s going on?” He picked up the phone. Your hands were shaking. “Y/N? Are you alright?” 

“I-I...don’t read the news, meet me outside my apartment door.” You said quickly, your voice quivering. You heard him roll out of bed. 

“Okay. I’ll be right there.” 

     You sent the same sentiments to Heather. You needed to explain this before they found out. You needed Jimin to understand your side of the story. Jimin was yours. No one else should have him. Ever since you’d set your eyes on him, you had known he was to be your newest obsession. 

“Y/N?!” Heather’s screeching voice echoed up the stairs and you knew it was too late for her. 

“I know what you think about me, Y/N, but I don’t feel the need to flaunt my riches. I may seem like a real stupid bitch, but I’m not.” Heather snapped, slapping the newspaper down in front of you while you waited with Jimin.  He picked up the paper before you could stop him. 

“Y/N? Is this true?” He asked cautiously, his eyes scanning the page. 

“Y/N? How could you?” 

“Y/N?” Y/N Y/N Y/N. The chant was dizzying. Everyone wanted a piece of you, damn it. 

“Shut up! Shut up!” You cried, breathless. 

    They both stopped. Heather’s eyes were pure anger, but Jimin looked confused, lost. He abruptly stood and you went along with him. Heather turned on her heel, storming out. 

“Don’t talk to me again, freak.” Heather said, her words bitter as she exited into the cold morning air. Mornings were always cold it seemed. 

“How many things have you lied about? Are you even Y/N? Is that even your name?!” He questioned, the buzz of anger growing. 

“I can’t...I can’t tell you that.” And you couldn’t. You’d lost track a long time ago.

“Jimin! Jimin please! Wait!” You grasped his hand desperately. He turned around furiously, sharply. 

“What do you want? You wore your little disguise so well and I, like a fool, fell for it.” His voice cracked.

“I know I’ve lied about-about a lot of t-things, but I know one thing that’s the truth,” You pleaded. “I love you.” 

His gaze hardened. “How do I know that’s not a lie?” 

    And you couldn’t tell him that either. 

      A pathological liar. Your mother would have been heartbroken by the label placed upon her precious daughter. You would have been offended as well if it weren’t for the objective truth. 

     Even when Columbia University expelled you for not only lying about grades and extracurriculars, but also just for being an awful person as they tried to lightly put it, everything still hadn’t hit home. 

     You were beautiful, fit for a queen. It was such a shame, then, when people also found out that you had no money. It made you hungry for the stuff. Now, the trick was to make sure they didn’t find that out. 

    Your mother had always been a good woman, but your father had easily gambled away all the money saved. Perhaps you got this carefree, flamboyant personality from him? 

     A narcissist. Not what you had expected as a new label either, but if it was in the papers, it must be true. In the end, all your little escapades had gotten you in a lot of debt, but the banks had just kept loaning you money. You had no idea why. Maybe it was like Jimin said, you had worn your disguise so well. 

“Wow, a narcissist, huh?” You studied yourself in the mirror.

   Your apartment was always dark, but you felt a particular chill today. You spoke to yourself, everyone else having had abandoned you. 

“I don’t think that’s right.” You argued back to no one. “I’m...Y/N...the daughter of Zhao Dong. that’s me.” You said over and over, but you were no longer convinced and deep down you knew it was all a sham, a lie. 

   One thing had built on another and another until all the lies piled up and you could no longer dig yourself out. Your head was often spinning trying to remember everything everyone had ever told you. 

   But the thing was, at a certain point, it had no longer been a fib, a disguise. You had become Y/N, the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman Zhao Dong. At a certain point, you had become someone else, and that was all you had ever wanted. 

    Then you started laughing uncontrollably before sweeping your arm across the counter, sending various beauty products tumbling to the floor. Your body shook. 

“No, no, no. It was all a lie.” You giggled. “It was just a lie, you’re just Y/N Y/L/N from a goddamn backwater town.” You slapped your cheeks, hard, as if that could erase all that was done.

   It seemed that you were the villain of this fairytale, but you couldn’t quite believe it. As you looked in the mirror, the darkness of the bathroom slowly closing in around you, you could see yourself clearly. 

    There was no doubt in your mind that you were the evil queen and there was no snow white, just you and your shitty castle. And you were alone. Not even Jimin wanted a thing to do with you, having called your reckless actions disgusting. You had assured him you weren’t a psychopath. 

    You remembered the conversation on the phone after calling him several times. 

“I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?” You had asked. He had simply laughed bitterly and shifted his phone .

“You’ve already stolen everything from me, Y/N, and I fully intend to take back most of it, but you can keep the watch.” and then he hung up. 

1 A.M. wake up. 

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day. Fall back asleep. 

3 A.M. 

Get out of bed. 

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while. 

5 A.M. 

Take a deep breath. 

Start your day. 

    You didn’t have a home to return to. You didn’t have anyone who loved you and you most certainly didn’t have a reputation. With your face staining every front page of a newspaper, you had nowhere to hide, but you were just one person. You needed some fresh air, and where to best do that except at the top of the Empire State Building?

    You were surprised to brush past Jimin on the way up to the top floor, but you should have guessed. You supposed his mother worked there. Either way, he followed you, asking if anything was wrong. Like a fucking psychopath.

“STOP!” You cried, turning to him as you reached the top floor. There had to be roof access somewhere up here. 

“I want to know if you’re okay?” His eyes were kind and you were reminded of how everything had been before. 

    But you had already hurt each other, the past was past, there was only forward in this meaningless space of nothing. 

“Haven’t I hurt you enough?!” You shouted, tears finally making their way down your face.

     He pulled you back as you started to search the top floor, which was deserted save for two workers filing out for the night. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered.

      His eyes were furious, a volcano, a matchstick ready to ignite. It caught you off guard. 

“Because, even though I hate you right now with every bone in my goddamn body, I would stop you from doing something stupid, like what I think you’re about to do, over and over again. No matter what.” He stopped, words stuttering, jawline clenching as he searched for the words. 

“And maybe that’s what makes me the fool.” 

     He stepped back into the elevator and the doors slowly closed. You couldn’t bring yourself to join him, simply standing in shock at his declaration. And then he was gone. You saw him once more at a club with Heather on his arm, and after that, you never saw him again. 

     You would sometimes think you saw him; the flash of his silver hair, his figure ducking into a shop, the smell of him when you woke up, the taste of strawberry on your lips but he was never there. You didn’t need the money anymore. You realized...you had just wanted him. 

    Loving him was electrifying, like a hurricane at times and calm waters at others. You were a train on its way to be wrecked, and you had finally...run off the rails. 

 Fin

 Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine And we were young and pretty

Taglist: @thereaderstea​ , @sadboibts​, @ditttiii​

[ptersparkers]

boston

summary: as a recurring visitor from boston to the outer banks and one of kiara’s childhood friends, you get to know the pogue gang for the summer. oh, and it seems like jj has a thing for you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and typos, probably.

a/n: i hope boston doesn’t throw people off because i used it as nickname (i think it’s cute). and im not even from boston. ALSO WTF THIS IS 4K WORDS.

add yourself to my taglist!

this is my gif, please credit if using!

You’re starting to think that coming to North Carolina for the summer wasn’t as fun as you remembered. 

The water touched your fingertips as you leaned away from the boat, sticking your hand out to dip it into the cold water. It was too humid for you, for starters. You were used to the colder weather of Boston and often found yourself in long sleeves and jeans with boots with an extra sweater in your car. When it got warm, a pair of leggings and a t-shirt sufficed. North Carolina’s outer banks required swimming suits, shorts, and see-through shirts in order to avoid overheating. That wasn’t exactly your style. 

Your parents insisted on having you do something with your summer instead of lounging around and hanging out with people you’d see on a daily basis during the school year. There wasn’t much to do here other than drink and help your relatives on the boat with their fishing company, and the idea of working for free didn’t seem so amazing as it did when you were a child. This was the first summer you’d be spending in the outer banks for the entirety. While you and your parents travelled here for a few weeks, you were the only one staying behind until it was time to go back for school.

In all honesty, you hadn’t recalled much about the place nor the people who lived here. You were aware of the “Kooks” and “Pogues,” and the unofficial war raging between the two groups. What you gathered was that your family lived civilly between the two, not quite in either territory. If you weren’t mistaken, you were welcomed on either side of the island without drawing too much attention to yourself. 

Kiara, or Kie, who was your childhood best friend, was the only person you were even remotely close to, and that was overstating it. She resembled the summer camp friend who you barely spoke to until it was time to go away for summer camp. She lived in Figure Eight but hung with the Pogue crowd, from what you understood. 

You recalled meeting her for the first time at age eleven, the first time your family had made it a tradition to travel to North Carolina. Your family had wandered to The Wreck, the restaurant her family owned, and became friends because you were the only child in the building and her father had forced her to escape from her shell of a bedroom and spend some time outside. Eleven-year-old you was ecstatic to find another person to spend your summers with, and thus a friendship was born.

“Y/N, you okay there?” your uncle had asked. Pulling yourself out of your daydreams, you whipped your head back and wiped your hand on your shorts. 

“I’m fine, Uncle Jim. Just thinking, is all,” you replied. Uncle Jim laughed and pulled the rope from out of the water and asked you to open the ice bin for him to put the fresh fish he had caught. 

“Special order for the Camerons,” he explained. “Ward offered to pay me double if we could have this in by this afternoon.” 

“So that’s why you pulled me out of bed so early,” you teased. “Mom and dad just left and you’re already putting me to work.” 

You closed the ice chest and watched as Uncle Jim put away the cage neatly in the back before wiping his hands on a white cloth towel. 

“You know this job like the back of your hand. Might as well put you to good use.” 

“Yeah,” you said, sighing. “It’s weird being here without them.” 

“Good weird or bad weird?” 

You shrugged. “It’s just different.” 

“I know you wanted to spend your summer in Boston, but your Aunt Camille and I are happy you’re staying until September.” You smiled and gave him a side hug. 

“Yeah, I’m happy to see you two. It’s just that I’m growing up and want to spend time with my friends before we all leave to college, you know?” Uncle Jim started to steer the boat top the main land and nodded. 

“I hear ya. Mind dropping the fish off at the Cameron residence after I clean it up?” 

You shook your head and watched as the island grew bigger as the boat approached the dock. When Uncle Jim docked the boat, you jumped out and told him you’d be getting a bite at The Wreck, hoping to see if Kiara happened to be working. The door chimed and you could see a few people seated at tables with she was preparing smoothies behind the juice bar. 

“You always look like you’re thinking so deeply,” you said, taking a seat at the bar. 

Kiara looked up and dropped the banana she was holding and wiped her hand on a towel, the biggest smile painting her lips as she ran behind the bar to embrace you. You laughed and reciprocated, giving her a gentle squeeze as she held you in a near lockdown. 

“Two years, Y/N. It’s been two very long years,” she said. 

“I wish I could’ve stayed longer last summer,” you said. “My grandpa called us to say my grandma had broken her hip and we flew out the next morning.”

“Is she okay?” she asked. 

You nodded. “I think he was just scared but it was probably for the best that we went back home.”

“So I hear you’ll be here for the whole summer, right? I heard our dads talking last night.” 

“I can’t tell whether I’m excited about that or not. Happy to be here with you but not happy about working on a fishing boat. You know how sensitive my stomach is.” Kiara laughed and walked back behind the bar, resuming making the smoothie she had halted to welcome you. 

“Don’t I know it. Well, when you and I aren’t working we can hang out and I can introduce you to my friends,” she said. “I think you’d really like them.”

“God, I hope so. I’m gonna need friends if I’m going to be here for three months.” 

“John B’s kind of like our ring leader,” she explained before turning the blender on. She poured the drink and continued. “He’s kind of like you. A little mischievous but he’s keen for leadership. Pope’s the smart aleck. He knows everything about anything and overthinks when we do something spontaneous.” Kiara gave you a look. 

“That’s because my parents were always here!” you said in mock defense, raising your hands. 

Kiara laughed. “Then there’s Sarah, who you met before. She’s cool though, not like her Kook friends. We weren’t friends before you left. Then there’s JJ. He’s kind of all over the place and there’s not really a way I can describe him. You just have to experience him for yourself.” 

“As long as I have a fun summer without getting in trouble, I think I’ll be fine,” you said. 

“Smoothie?” Kiara asked. You nodded and took out your wallet, but she shook her head. 

“I’m pretty sure my dad would bite my head off if you paid for anything here,” she said. “Your mom did help advertise for us.” 

“How about a tip,” you said, putting a five dollar bill into a glass jar. Kiara rolled her eyes but grinned. 

“The Pogues and I are gonna hang out on Pope’s boat, if you wanna come. We’re just gonna hang out and eat, probably.”

“I’ll have to ask my uncle but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” you said, taking a sip of your smoothie. 

“It really was nice getting to see you again,” Kiara said. “I think you’re probably my only other girl friend, aside from Sarah. God knows a girl needs her time away from testosterone.” 

“I’m gonna be at Sarah’s later this afternoon to drop off some fish. I think her dad paid a lot of money for it, and I will never understand that.” 

She laughed. “Well with that kind of money, I guess you wouldn’t need to think twice about paying for fish.” 

You hopped off of the seat and waved goodbye before heading home. 

***

When the sky turned into a shade of deep orange, you double checked to see that your phone was fully charged before slipping on your shoes and grabbing a blanket plus the bag of snacks you had purchased earlier that day. You waved at Uncle Jim and Aunt Camille, promising them you’d be safe with Kiara before you locked the front door and slipped the keys into your bag. 

From your recollection, Pope’s boat was fairly large and Kiara told you it would have lights strung up so it wouldn’t be too hard to miss. The dock was quiet with the exception of fireflies buzzing in the air and the faint sound of laughter in the distance. 

You could see a group of boys and Kiara lounging around with beer in their hands and you were unsure of how to approach them. Luckily, Kiara saw you in the corner of her eye and rushed down to greet you. 

“Thank God you’re here,” she said. “Boys are annoying and I need some company. Here, let me get your bag.” 

You handed her the bag and climbed onto the boat, aware of three pairs of eyes following you. Suddenly feeling a little self conscious about yourself, you waved awkwardly at the three boys. 

“Don’t be weird, you guys,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes. “That’s Pope. Brains of our operation. You two are more alike, I think.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, tipping his hat at you.

“That’s John B,” she said as you waved at him. “He’s kinda of like you when you start talking about something you’re passionate about.” You began to blush at how Kiara was introducing you to her friends. 

“Any friend of Kiaras is a friend to us,” he said, grinning. 

“And that’s JJ,” she said, pointing at the blonde who was too busy looking at you to speak. “He’s, well, JJ.”

He scoffed. “These two get great introductions and I get ‘that’s JJ’?” he asked, using his fingers as faux quotation marks. Kiara shrugged. 

“I happen to think I’m great, thank you very much,” he said sarcastically before winking at you. You gave him a soft grin and sat next to her, unfolding the blanket and placing yourself on it. 

“And this is Y/N Y/L/N, probably the smartest one out of the five of us. She’s from Boston and comes here every summer with her parents.” 

“It’s usually for a week or two to visit my aunt and uncle but this time I’m spending the entire summer here,” you explained. 

“Why’s that?” asked Pope. 

“My parents thought it would be good to not spend my time indoors and God knows my uncle will put me to work.”

“She’s Jim’s niece,” Kiara said. 

John B’s eyes lit up. “Jim’s niece! That’s right, I remember he said you were coming to work for him this summer. He’s such a legend. How he and Camille live between us and the Kooks is beyond me. Love that guy.”

You beamed, opening a bag of popcorn. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“So how’d you and Kiara meet?” JJ asked. 

“We were the only kids in The Wreck when it first opened,” she said. “Dad forced me to go outside and Y/N’s parents forced her to do the same and we just clicked.” 

“So what’s Boston like?” John B asked. 

“Jesus, one question at a time,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes. 

“Cold, for the most part. I live on the edge of the city so I’m between suburban area and the metropolitan. It’s kind of the best of both worlds.”

“Outer banks is a wake up call,” Pope joked. 

“It’s really different than what I’m used to, but this is my sixth summer out here,” you said. “And this time I came prepared with the right clothes.” 

Kiara bursted out laughing. “When we were twelve, she insisted on bringing sweaters and jeans because that’s all she owned. For two weeks straight she had to borrow my clothes.” The boys chuckled. 

“I’m not all that used to wearing shorts,” you said, gesturing to your clothes. “But I guess I like to lounge around in oversized shirts, so it’s a win-win.”

“Beer?” JJ asked, holding a bottle. You shook your head. 

“Nah, I’m good. But thank you for offering.” He quirked his eyebrow but put it back in the cooler. 

“Damn, I’ve never been off of this damn island,” said John B. “Let alone a big city.”

“It’s great, honestly,” you began, “I feel like I’m unimportant and that leaves me with so much room to grow. Nobody has any real expectations from me because I’m just another stranger. And I’m starting to sound like a cliche.” 

JJ chuckled and shook his head. “Not a cliche. It’s nice to get to know someone who’s not from here.”

“God knows the Kooks aren’t welcoming,” said Pope. “But never mind them.”

“Sarah’s not coming,” Kiara said, looking up from her phone. “Said she’s too tired to make the ‘treacherous’ walk.” 

“Bummer,” you said, pouting. “I haven’t seen her in so long. She wasn’t at the house when I went earlier.” 

“I’m sure you’ll see her soon,” said Kiara. 

“Oh goodness,” you said, shivering. “I didn’t think it would be cold tonight.” You rubbed your upper arms with your palms and tried to move to feel some friction. 

“Take my jacket,” JJ said, reaching behind him to grab his discarded windbreaker. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, a little confused that a stranger would let you wear his jacket. 

“Damn, JJ. You’ve got broad shoulders,” John B joked, looking at how big the jacket was compared to you. 

“It’s two sizes bigger than I am,” JJ said said, taking a swig of his beer. 

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking between JJ and John B. “Thanks, JJ.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. You looked away to speak to Kiara and didn’t notice JJ checking you out with the jacket you had put on.

“So you think Y/N’s attractive,” Pope said, leaning in and whispering. 

“Pfft, what?” JJ asked, shaking his head. 

“C’mon, dude. It’s just a matter of time before you and her, you know,” he said, making a crude gesture before laughing. JJ shoved him and laughed along. 

“It’s not like that,” he said. Pope raised his eyebrow. 

“Oh?” 

“It’s not like that either! Jeez, Pope.” 

“Whatever you say, man,” said Pope, leaning back and opening another bottle of beer. 

An hour had flown by and you yawned, the entire group silently understanding that it was probably too late to stay up. Pope had left ten minutes earlier after his dad had called and promised to see the rest of you tomorrow. 

“This was fun,” you said to Kiara, John B, and JJ. “I really like you guys.” 

“But I’m the best,” said Kiara, striking a pose that made you laugh.

“And no one’s taking that title away from you,” you replied. You folded the blanket and began to walk off of the boat with JJ offering his hand for you to step down. You took it and noticed how unusually soft they were. You started to walk back to your house before abruptly turning around. 

“Oh, JJ! Wait, let me give you your jacket back,” you said, dropping the bag you were carrying. JJ laughed and shook his head. 

“Keep it for tonight, Boston. It’ll give me a reason to see you tomorrow,” JJ said. You grinned at the nickname. 

“Okay,” you said, picking up the bag you dropped. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” JJ smiled. You could grow to like seeing his smile. 

He winked. “See you tomorrow, Boston.” 

***

As the weeks went by, you starting to feel disappointed whenever you thought about going back to Boston, which meant leaving your new friends behind. All the adventures you had raked up were memorable ones and it would feel weird not seeing the four rambunctious teens nearly every day. 

It was a hot Thursday morning when you sat on the dock. Uncle Jim had given you the rest of the day off after helping him load his cargo, offering to make the rounds that afternoon if you were willing to go to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for that night’s dinner. 

You couldn’t help but think about JJ and all the times you two had been near one another. Kiara had made an innocuous comment the prior night before you left her house about how he was much gentler when he was around you and didn’t seem to be as loud as he was when you were there. JJ, she said, was always so outspoken but whenever you were near, it was like he was censoring himself. 

You were sure Kiara didn’t mean anything bad by it, but you weren’t really sure how to interpret what she said. You and JJ, aside from Kiara, had hung out the most since you met. You two spent the afternoon together at The Wreck the day after you met him, partially to give him his jacket back and partially waiting for Kiara’s shift to be over. You could feel yourself letting loose and confessed to feeling extremely nervous and self-conscious about meeting Kiara’s friends. JJ reassured you that he (and the others in the gang, of course) really liked you. 

He would accompany you home and save you a seat next to him. He’d hold your bag and wait for you if the gang was running ahead. JJ would volunteer to come get you if you weren’t answering your phone and he’d make trips to visit you while you were helping Uncle Jim at work. 

If you were being honest, you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t developed feelings for him. It was minor and fleeting, but it was there. The blonde made you blush without having to try too hard and you were sure Kiara knew, but she never said anything. JJ was attentive to you and let you speak when you felt your voice be drowned by someone else. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard running footsteps on the dock, only to turn around and see JJ running towards you. He peeled his shirt off and jumped past you and landed in the water, splashing you in the process. 

“JJ, what the hell!” you yelled as he came up for air. He shook his head and wiped his face, grinning at your surprised reaction. 

“What a morning, huh?” he said, swimming closer to you. Your legs dangled in the water and he came up, pushing his body upwards to let his arms rest on your lap. “You thinking too hard again, Boston?”

Boston. There was that nickname again. You think you hid your blush pretty well.

“You know I’m always thinking,” you replied. 

“Someday I’m gonna get inside your head and know everything you think about when you disappear,” he said. “I’m sure you have a lot of good stories to tell.”

“Maybe so,” you teased. “I was just thinking about how I have a month and a half left before going back home.” 

“Don’t think about that,” he said, pouting slightly. “I’ll - we’ll - miss you tons. It won’t be the same until you come back.” 

You laughed. “I wish I could bring you guys back with me. I don’t have that many friends I consider close.”

“And you consider us your close friends?”

“I might even say my best friends,” you said with a smile. 

“Well, well, well. I’m honored to hear that, Boston. Truly.” 

“Why’d you jump into the water, anyway?” you asked. 

He shrugged. “It’s a hot morning and the sun is shining. Plus, I got to scare you, which was pretty priceless.” You shoved him back into the water and laughed as he came up with a feigned surprised expression. 

“Oh, come on! It was hilarious.” 

“You’re so mean to me, JJ,” you said, sticking your tongue out. 

“Why don’t you join me? The water’s cool and it’s hot out.” 

“I think I’m good from where I’m sitting,” you said. JJ swam closer and caressed your legs before trailing his fingers to your lap, resting his chin on your knee. 

“Please?” 

It was times like this when you were grateful you developed a habit of putting a swimsuit underneath your clothing. You stood up from your spot and took off your shirt and shorts, slowly dipping in the water beside him.

“Okay, you’re right,” you confessed. “Very refreshing.” 

JJ swam closer to you and smiled, finding your hand and pulling it above the water to give it a kiss. 

“I’m never wrong, Boston.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.” 

JJ was quiet for a moment. “You’re so innocent.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

“I don’t know. You have a purity to you. Maybe it’s Boston or maybe it’s just that you’re better than us and the Kooks combined.”

“Well, I’m definitely better than the Kooks,” you said. JJ chuckled. He pulled you closer to him to the point where your chests were almost touching. 

“I just mean that I don’t know how to act when I’m around you. Usually I’m reckless and an idiot, but I’m not that way when you’re around.” 

You frowned. “I don’t ever want you to be anyone but yourself around me, JJ.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that. I think you pull this calmness out of me. I don’t think I’m not being myself when you’re around. I just think that I’m much more of a person than ‘reckless’ JJ who gets into too much trouble.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he began with a deep breath, “I like you. As in, more than a friend. John B and Pope have been teasing me about it all summer but I never took it seriously until you talked that Kook’s ear off about not being a racist and sexist piece of shit.” You took a moment to recall and laugh at the memory. “There’s never a moment where I don’t want to be with you or tell you things. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before, honestly.” 

“JJ,” you said softly, your hand giving his bicep a squeeze in reassurance. “You know, I’ve been overthinking these past few weeks. Last night, Kie said something about how you were so aware when I’m around and how you’re less reckless and I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“I just,” said JJ, “I like you a lot. More than I thought I did.” 

You looked into his gaze and his arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you closer so your chests were touching. The sound of the waves was the only noise in the vicinity and the sun made JJ’s eyes look more impeccable than they already were. His lips were plump and you noticed he had stolen a glance down to yours, squeezing the small of your back as if to ask for silent permission. You inched your way closer and he followed suit until his lips had landed gracefully on yours as if it had belonged there all along. 

His skin was hot under the sun and the water around you felt like it moved to push you two closer together. JJ let this kiss be a simple one, unlike the other girls he had been with before. His eyes remained closed until he pulled away and looked to see you in your entirety. You did nothing but smile and bite your lip, reaching out to kiss him once more. 

“I like you too,” you said. “And I like kissing you.” JJ laughed and leaned in to kiss you a third time. 

“You’re real cute, Boston,” he replied. 

“Do you think we could go and get some sandwiches from The Wreck? All this swimming and all this kissing has me starved.” You shared a laugh before pushing yourselves out of the water and hoped the sun was hot enough dry you both before you reached the restaurant. 

You were already counting down the days you would be coming back to the outer banks.