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redgillan · 4 years

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Under Pastel Skies - 10

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,179

Warnings: nothing new

A/N: Hey it’s me, daddy! ...well apparently. I really gotta take a chill pill... these chapters are getting way too long. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it, my babies are soft and sensitive :’) Thank you for reading, I truly appreciate it!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

You looked around the bar while you sipped your drink, a 12 dollar grapefruit juice and club soda cocktail. There weren’t many people at one in the afternoon, mostly suits and wealthy tourists, though you half expected to find Natasha hiding in the back with a hat, a large pair of sunglasses and an unfolded newspaper.

From the rug to the chairs and armchairs, everything was either black or white. You ran your index finger over the intricate calligraphy on the back of your chair. It was a number: 5.

Turning back around, you glanced at the clock and mentally cursed yourself for always being so early. You hated being late, and arriving less than ten minutes early counted as late in your book. You were nervous to see Wanda after all this time.

You hadn’t been expecting her to stay at a hotel on the Upper East Side. You wondered how she could afford it, but decided it was none of your business.

“I had a feeling you’d be here already.” That familiar voice brought back fond childhood memories and other not so pleasant memories. “You’re always early.”

You didn’t move a muscle as Wanda took a seat next to you, number 6. She signalled the bartender and ordered a latte. Meanwhile you played with your straw, trying to subtly steal a glance at her.

“What did you do to your hair?” you asked with a grimace, turning your body toward her.

Without looking at you, she raised her brows in mild exasperation. “I dyed it.”

“It’s orange.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I get it. You’re angry with me.”

“Oh,” you drawled out. “I’m well past angry. I was angry four years ago, now I just don’t care anymore.”

“You don’t care about me anymore?”

“No, and it’s not like you cared about me, or Scott, or Okoye.” You paused. “Or mom.”

Wanda had a shocked look on her face as she finally met your eyes. “That’s low. You have no idea-”

“No, you have no idea what it was like to live in that house after you all left. You have absolutely no idea,” you said, enunciating each word between your teeth, “because you weren’t there, because you left us –you left me. Six years, Wanda.”

She looked away and you saw her bottom lip quiver. She clenched her jaw and took a small sip of her latte. You instantly felt bad for snapping at her. You didn’t like confrontation. Hated arguing. You internalized. It was difficult for you to acknowledge that you had a right to express your feelings.

“I, uh,” Wanda said, then cleared her throat. “I knew you weren’t going to welcome me with open arms, and I know what I did was wrong, but I’d like us to be a family again. If it’s not too late.”

“It’s not too late,” you said with a small sigh. “But I’m not going to instantly forgive you just because you’re back.”

“I know.”

“What made you come back?”

She fiddled with her fingers in her lap and you noticed the ring on her fourth finger. It was a beautiful vintage-inspired ring made of black rhodium with an ornate cadenza halo in the centre.

A terrible thought occurred to you, making your stomach twist painfully. You didn’t know her at all. Not anymore. You had missed so much of your sister’s life. Or more accurately; she had cut you out of her life, and it was painful.

“I went to London,” Wanda said, unaware of your inner turmoil. “I saw Uncle Michael. He asked me if I was here to see mom, and I said, ‘No, mom’s in New York.’ And then he told me-” she tilted her head to look at you “-he told me mom was sick, that you and Okoye put her in a nursing home not far from his apartment. I didn’t believe him, so he took me to mom and she-” She paused, staring straight ahead as if she was caught in the memory

“She looked at you like she didn’t know you,” you said, knowing exactly where the story was going because it had happened to you too.

“Yeah,” Wanda breathed out, tears in her eyes. “I never felt so alone. They told her I was her daughter, but she didn’t recognize me. She kept asking Uncle Michael who I was, then she got mad because she was adamant she never had children.”

“I know,” you said sympathetically.

“I wanted to see you and apologize for not being the sister you deserve. For not being here when you needed me most.”

“Where were you all this time?” you asked, practically begged for an answer.

Her shoulders tensed and she straightened up in her seat. “Just travelling.”

“I know, I got your postcards.” You nodded toward the engagement ring on her finger. “I guess I should say congratulations.”

“Mhh,” she said running the pad of her thumb over the diamond. “It’s funny I never thought I’d fall in love and get married. I don’t need a man in my life to make me feel whole. Mom raised us alone, we’re independent and strong.” A small smile graced her lips. “But I found someone sweet and charming, someone who makes me feel safe and calm.”

“Are you writing your vows?”

“Har har,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. You’d missed her, missed your banter. “You haven’t changed.”

“If you say so,” you said in a sombre voice. You looked at the clock above the bar. “Listen, I have to go but I’m happy you found someone. I’d like to meet him one day. I bet he doesn’t know about your Baby Spice phase.”

You jumped off the bar stool and picked up your jacket. Wanda turned in her seat, catching your wrist as you looped your purse over your shoulder.

“Can you stay a little longer?” she asked, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just a minute.”

“Okay.”

She let go of your wrist. “Scott’s been released last month. I talked to him on the phone and asked him to fly to New York. He should be here tomorrow. I also talked to Okoye, I asked her to come here. We have things to discuss. I know things will never be the same, not after Pietro, not after mom, but we can try. We’re still a family.”

“Great,” you replied. Your word came out with more force than you had intended, but you didn’t apologize. They were all coming back for Wanda but when your mother needed help, you were all alone.

“Yeah,” Wanda whispered, her eyes cast down. “I was thinking we could all meet up for dinner. Okoye’s bringing her boyfriend so if you... if you have a partner-”

“I’m single.”

“Oh, uh, you can bring Natasha if you want.”

“No, thanks.” You reached into your purse and pulled out one of your business cards. “Text me, okay? I really gotta go.”

She smiled as she read your card. “You’re an artist? Splotchy, I’m so proud of you!”

That damn nickname... “I still haven't found a gallery. Not many people want to represent an unknown artist but I’m not giving up.”

“You never give up,” Wanda said with a gentle smile. “That’s why I love you.”

You took a cab to Natasha’s apartment. It had been three weeks since Sam moved to D.C., and Nat was having a hard time finding a job in her field.

She didn’t want to find another sugar daddy. It seemed ridiculous since she was still carrying a massive torch for Sam. She had saved enough money to live on until she could find a job and a new place to live.

“I’m officially done,” she grumbled in lieu of a greeting. “Job hunting sucks. New York sucks. Life sucks.”

“Pretty bold statement.”

You entered the apartment and plopped down next to her on the sofa. With a groan, she wrestled out of her blouse and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a simple white spaghetti-strap shirt and a pair of black trousers.

“I hate wearing a suit.”

“You look good in them.”

“I know,” she cried out. “I hate wearing suits when it’s all for nothing. I’m not the boss, I’m no one. Just another doofus with a college degree standing here like-” she cupped her hands together, as if she was holding a bowl, and looked at you with a pout. “Please, sir, I want some more.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get the job,” you said, biting back a laugh. “I would hire you for that spot on Oliver Twist impression.”

She laughed. “I think I lost my fire. People used to be scared of me. Remember? I miss that.”

“You’re a psycho,” you snorted, using her shoulder as a pillow. “If it’s any consolation, Bucky’s terrified of you.”

“Good.”

“Hey!”

She pressed her cheek against the top of your head and sighed. You stayed in that position for a few more seconds before you told Natasha what had happened with Wanda. She offered to go with you to your family gathering but you insisted you wanted to go alone.

“I gotta go,” you said. “Bucky’s taking me to dinner.”

“Oh,” she cooed, “is he finally going to propose?”

“That’s very funny,” you deadpanned. “I was starting to feel cooped up in our apartment so we decided to go out. Have fun, y’know.”

“Our apartment,” Natasha repeated with a lopsided smirk before she burst into a fit of giggles.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, embarrassed.

“That’s cute.” She pinched your cheek and you batted her hand away. “You should talk to him.”

“Don’t start.”

“What? I’m just saying-”

“Natasha,” you cut her off. “Stop asking me to talk to him. It’s not going to happen, and it’s giving me so much anxiety. You couldn’t talk to Sam, what makes you think I can talk to Bucky?”

She looked at you for a long moment. “I know you love him.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, considering. You had never really been in love before but falling in love with Bucky had been so easy. And it was particularly scary because you had never been in a relationship, only flings.

“I do,” you admitted quietly. Saying it out loud was both freeing and terrifying.

“Don’t lose him.”

You knew Natasha missed Sam, she’d told you about it, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who let others see her pain. She confided in you and her friend, Clint, but other than that she rarely shared her problems with others.

Her bony shoulder was digging uncomfortably into your cheek so you shifted and let your head rest against her chest. She started playing with your hair. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Not since he left,” she replied, then glanced down at you. “Have you?”

She tried to sound casual so you played along and acted like you couldn’t hear her heart jackhammering in her chest. “He called the landline the other day. Bucky wasn’t home so I answered.”

“The landline?” Natasha repeated with a scoff. “Your husband is old.”

“He asked if you were okay,” you said, choosing to ignore her comment. “You should call him.”

She stayed quiet for so long, you began to worry. You tilted your head to look at her, she had a faraway look in her eyes. You didn’t want to break her trance but she was starting to scare you.

You booped her chin and almost immediately a soft smile touched her lips. She cleared her throat, then checked her watch.

“You should go, you’re going to be late.”

“It’s okay,” you said. You couldn’t leave, not when she looked so sad. You knew Bucky would understand. “We can order some pizza, binge watch something on Netflix and go out for ice cream later. Like we used to.”

She laughed softly. “That sounds amazing. I kinda want to be alone tonight though, and Bucky’s waiting for you. I’m fine, I promise.” She looked down at you with a kind smile. “Rain check?”

“Absolutely.”

With a heavy heart, you left Natasha and started walking to the restaurant. The clouds above you were low and dark, masking the setting sun. You smiled, remembering the day you and Bucky went to the park.

You had wanted to go paint outside but you got caught in a rainstorm on the way home. As rain poured down on the both of you, you caught Bucky’s hand and tried to run to the nearest subway entrance but he didn’t budge.

He stayed in the middle of the street, still holding your hand, and grinned at you while people rushed around you. His hair was plastered to his head, little rivulets of water running down his nose. He smiled at you, bright and playful, and you almost melted on the spot.

What’s the rush, sweet angel?

When you got home, you both changed into dry clothes and sat in front of the fireplace with a bowl of soup. He looked adorable with his slightly damp hair, a few big curls flopping down onto his forehead. When you started sneezing, he adjusted the blanket around you.

The next day, you felt a little feverish and Bucky took care of you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, checking your temperature. Your mother used to do that too. You doubted the accuracy of that little test but you couldn’t care less. It felt incredibly comforting. They should teach it in med school.

Bucky was waiting for you in front of the restaurant. The weather was warmer now, and you were pleased to see that his maroon bomber jacket was back. It was a rerun of the night you had met him.

“Hey you,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek. “How did it go with Wanda?”

“Good, I guess. It could have been way worse.” You paused to look at him. “You okay? You look a little nervous. We don’t have to-”

“I’m okay,” he chuckled, smoothing his hand down his jacket, lightly patting his pocket. “Shall we?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Promise me you’re not over-exerting yourself again.”

He stood in front of you, smiling kindly. “I promise.”

It had been a while since he had a panic attack, but they were always impressive and you couldn’t stand the thought of him trapped in his own mind, battling his demons alone.

You must have been silent too long because Bucky cupped the side of your face and said, “Thank you for taking care of me, angel. But I promise you, I’m fine. So what do you say? Wanna have dinner with me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he flashed you a cocky grin.

The restaurant was a quaint little place in Midtown with curved black leather booths lining the walls and simple cutlery. There were books everywhere, arranged neatly on the shelves along the walls. The place was well-lit, yet still cosy and calm.

Despite the hour, the restaurant wasn’t crowded. There was a couple, probably in their sixties, enjoying their meals together. Several people were eating alone, a book opened next to their plate, and a few others were browsing the shelves looking for something to read.

While you ate, you filled Bucky in on your conversation with Wanda. He didn’t interrupt you, he listened to you ramble on about how much you didn’t want to go to her reunion dinner.

“You can invite them over for dinner,” he said. You almost choked on your food. “Call me crazy but I think you’d feel more at ease if you were in a familiar environment.”

He had a point. You had no idea what that night had in store for you, and you definitely didn’t want to cause a scene in a restaurant. You weren’t one for airing your dirty laundry in public.

“I know that our... um, friendship is a little unconventional but I’d like to meet them.”

“Really? Wait,” you said, spotting a bit of tomato sauce on his chin. “You have something on your chin.” You reached over and used your napkin to wipe it away. “You eat like a wolf.”

“Mhh thanks.” He swallowed his mouthful of pasta and washed it down with a gulp of water. “To be honest with you, I’m a sucker for family reunions. I love watching people’s faces when they see someone they haven’t seen in a very long time.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be a happy one.”

“Well, then you could probably use some moral support,” he said. “And I’m curious if they ever gave you a silly nickname. Or maybe they’ll share some funny anecdotes.”

You stopped mid-bite and swallowed quickly, your eyes widening in fear. You couldn’t let that happen, Scott and Okoye would jump at the chance to tease you. “Oh, no, no, no! You are never meeting them.”

He laughed. “I bet you were a cute kid. I imagine you in some paint-stained overalls, hula hooping through the 90s, listening to the Spice Girls and watching Saturday morning cartoons with a bowl of cereal or a plate of pancakes.”

“You’re not too far off.” You grinned.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” he said in a more serious tone. “But think about it, okay?”

Inviting your siblings and their partners over for dinner was a bad idea. You could already picture their faces upon seeing Bucky. It would turn into an interrogation, and it would be absolutely unbearable.

But then again, you didn’t think you could endure the reunion without him.

The waiter came over to collect your dirty plates and asked if there would be anything else. He recited the dessert specialties and you ordered something that sounded both extravagant and mouth-watering.

“I have something for you,” Bucky broke the silence between you.

You responded with a curious yet playful frown and a tilt of your head. He glanced down at the table for a second as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim jewellery box.

He placed it on the table next to his glass and let his fingertips linger on the lid, caressing it slowly as he hesitated. Then with a smooth flick of his wrist, he slid the box across the table. Your eyes flickered between the box and Bucky’s worried expression.

Inside the box, nestled in cream velvet, was a gold artist’s palette pendant with a delicate chain. The pendant had two paint brushes sticking out of the palette and four tiny stones representing the colours waiting to be mixed; ruby, sapphire, emerald and topaz.

It was incredibly tiny, about the length of two staples, but it made the details even more impressive. You could tell it was an old piece. There were light signs of wear and the design reminded you of the 1930s. It looked full of stories from previous owners. A testimony of love, passion and devotion.

“Oh,” you gasped as if all the air had been punched out of you. Bucky straightened up and jerked forward in his seat, his eyes round with anticipation. “Oh,” you repeated dumbly, at a loss for words.

“I saw it in the window of an antique shop on the way here,” he said.

That was a lie.

He had spent weeks searching for the perfect charm. He had a very specific idea of what he wanted to buy. Until one day, he found it. It reminded him of you; delicate, discreet, irreplaceable.

“Bucky,” you sighed, spellbound. “It’s... it’s beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you.” He met your eyes, smiled, and extended his hand in your direction. “Can I?”

Without hesitation you removed the necklace from its box and gave it to Bucky. After living with him for about six months, you knew there was nothing he couldn’t do. Even fasten your necklace with one hand.

He stood up and rounded the table, sitting next to you on the booth. You turned, giving him your back as he slipped the necklace around your neck. You held the pendant in the little dip between your collarbones at the base of your throat and let the ends of the chain dangle down your back.

“I noticed you haven’t been painting a lot since-” Bucky trailed off. Since you had a meltdown in your studio, since you realized your art was not good enough. Since you realized your dreams were too big to accomplish.

You looked over your shoulder and watched him fumble with the spring ring clasp. You couldn’t see what he was doing but he seemed entirely focused on the task at hand.

“Inspiration is a fickle thing, it comes and goes,” he continued. “I worry about you. You put too much pressure on yourself visiting galleries and trying to match their vision. I want you to remember who you are. You’re an artist. Never doubt yourself or your skills.”

He secured the chain around your neck and adjusted the necklace so that the little palette fell nicely above the neckline of your sweater. You stared at him wide eyed and amazed, and he smiled tenderly at you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “I’ll never take it off.”

“My pleasure, angel.”

“I really love it but it’s too much,” you said as he returned to his seat. “I don’t want you to think I’m after your money. I’m so grateful for your help, you do so much for me already.”

“I know you’re not after my money, but it’s mine and I’ll spend it as I please. I know you like gifts with meaning. And all I want is to make you happy.”

“You want to make me happy?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course, I do.”

It was a foreign concept to you, you could hardly comprehend it. He wasn’t your childhood best friend, he wasn’t your brother or your mother’s brother, and yet he wanted to be the one who put a smile on your face.

You weren’t used to random acts of kindness. You spent most of your life taking care of others, making sure they had everything they needed, you forgot what it was like to feel loved.

And it all became so much clearer.

You knew in your heart that your feelings for Bucky weren’t one sided. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when he touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

There was a mutual, yet silent, understanding between you. This is good. Let’s not make things complicated. Even though we both want to. And you abided by that unspoken rule, not wanting to make things more complicated.

Your eyes were overflowing with tears. When a tear escaped, you felt it bounce on your cheekbone before it landed near your pendant. You rolled your eyes at yourself and smiled.

“Why am I always crying?” you said, laughing a little. “I’m not sad, I swear. These are happy tears.” Bucky’s smile was calm and sure. “Wait, I’m just gonna-” you trailed off, wiping the back of your hand under your nose with an embarrassed laugh.

“You’re beautiful.”

You lay in bed that night, replaying those three words in your head until you fell asleep.

It took you a couple of days to come to term with the realization that your feelings weren’t one sided. A little voice in your head tried to protect your heart, it said: Don’t get your hopes up. Remember what happened last time.

But that voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

Against your better judgement, you agreed to invite your siblings over for dinner. All you had to do was call Wanda’s hotel and ask the hotel staff to pass along a message. Easy-peasy.

Well, in theory, because it turned out to be stressed depressed lemon zest.

There were things Bucky didn’t know about you and your family, things that you had intentionally kept from him. One of these things was your brother’s criminal record.

Bucky had asked you a few times what Scott did for a living and you always gave him the same rehearsed answer. “Scott has a master’s degree in electrical engineering but he’s between jobs at the moment.” It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

You finally decided to tell him everything.

Scott was a thief. Before Cassie was born, and thanks to his computer skills, he used to steal from criminals and give back to those they had stolen from. He promised his wife, Maggie, that he would stop after Cassie’s birth.

He took up a job at VistaCorp but noticed that the company was overcharging their customers. Thinking that it was a coding error, he fixed it before his boss, Geoff Zorick, ordered him to change it back. It made him realize that the company was intentionally overcharging their customers.

He was fired soon after. Maggie begged him not to get involved, she begged him to think of his family but Scott didn’t listen. He broke into the company’s headquarters, hacked their system and redistributed the stolen money. Then he broke into Zorick’s house, stole a bunch of stuff and drove Zorick’s car into the pool.

He got five years.

Bucky was a little shocked but he took these new revelations well.

“People make mistakes,” he said. “He paid for his mistake, and not seeing his little girl for five years is punishment enough.” He bumped his shoulder against yours and grinned. “He sounds like a chaotic Robin Hood. I can’t wait to meet him.”

You chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Nope.”

“So... you’re not going to hide your valuables in a closet somewhere?”

“I would but I’m not sure you’d like to be stuck in the closet all night.” You rolled your eyes and huffed, thinking he wasn’t taking you seriously. He laughed quietly. “The only valuable thing I own is the bookmark my niece made for me, everything else is meaningless. And I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“You sound like Natasha,” you chuckled lowly. “But I’m glad you think that way.”

“That being said, they have a lot of apologizing and making up to do. They left you all alone. It isn’t right.”

You squirmed in your seat. “Argh, I don’t know. It’s in the past now, I don’t want to dwell on it. We were all miserable back then, and I’m not exactly blameless here.”

Bucky gave you a puzzled look. “You took care of your mom when she was sick, you sold your childhood home. You found your mom a nursing home where she gets the best treatment possible. You put your dreams on hold to pay her hospital bills. You did everything you could.”

“No, that’s not true,” you replied, biting your bottom lip.

You tried to find the courage to say it out loud. It was something that ate away at your soul. Your biggest mistake.

“I should have known something was wrong with her,” you said, rushing the words out. “At first she started misplacing things like her car keys, her glasses or the remote. She always had a good excuse, like was tired or stressed, but I should have known.”

“I misplace my keys all the time, angel. Sometimes it doesn’t mean anything. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“She’s my mom, I’ve known her all my life. I should have noticed something was wrong. If I had, maybe she’d still be with us, living in our old house.”

“C’mere,” he said, extending his arm toward you. You didn’t hesitate, you abandoned your seat on the sofa and wrapped your arms around him, your face buried in his chest. “I understand why you feel that way,” he said, stroking your hair. “But you did everything you could. You didn’t fail her. Alzheimer is... well it’s a sneaky disease. There are a lot of things we don’t understand. It’s unfair to blame yourself for something completely out of your control.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shirt. “But it still hurts.”

“I know,” he cooed, his fingernails grazing your scalp. “I know, my angel.”

You stayed like that for some time, your cheek pressed against his shirt. You focused on the calm rhythm of his breathing and tried to match it. He gently ran his fingers up and down your back, calming you almost instantly.

You were terrified to see your siblings again. Despite Bucky’s reassuring words, a part of you still believed that you could have done more to help your mom, and you were afraid your siblings would feel the same.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bucky said, seemingly reading your thoughts. “I won’t let them belittle your efforts.”

The next day, you called Wanda’s hotel and left a message with the receptionist. Wanda called you back a few hours later, saying that she would love to have dinner at your place instead of going out.

She sounded surprised, and you could tell she had a lot of questions, but she knew she wasn’t in your good graces yet so she simply told you that she couldn’t wait to see your apartment and spend the evening with you.

Meanwhile Bucky was having some sort of nervous breakdown.

A few days before the party, he started to obsessively clean his apartment. Every single room had that distinctive lemony scent, his homemade disinfectant, except your room. It was still a line he refused to cross no matter how strong the urge might be.

He often had those spells but they usually didn’t last more than a few hours. You could see the tears in his eyes and the disgust on his face; grimaces that had been triggered by the realization that he still couldn’t control his need to constantly clean and tidy. His OCD had been dormant, not gone.

You knew it was hard for him to meet new people. He had offered to invite your siblings because he knew it would make you feel more at ease. He didn’t care about his own needs. This man was willing to endure anything for you. How could you not fall in love with him?

You let him clean. You knew from past experience that it wasn’t something he could control and getting involved usually did more harm than good. You made sure he knew you were there and that you were not judging him in any way.

He felt so physically and emotionally drained afterwards that you simply held him in your arms until he fell asleep.

On the day of the party, you were chopping dried apricots in the kitchen while Bucky was making sure the chicken pieces weren’t sticking to the bottom of the pan.

You had wanted to order dinner from the restaurant down the street, and Bucky wanted to cook. You told him that cooking a meal for seven people was pretty stressful but he simply shrugged.

“I can do it, angel.”

“I know but you don’t have to do it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied with a sad smile.

You remembered him telling you that his ex-girlfriend often babied him in front of her friends and that it always made him feel weak and pathetic. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove that, even with only one arm, he was able to cook a meal for an entire family.

“Okay, fine,” you reluctantly agreed. “But you’re not doing this alone.” He opened his mouth to protest but you raised your hand and touched a finger to his lips. “You can’t change my mind. I’ll be your sous-chef, and that’s final.”

So you ended up cutting vegetables for him. He made two tagines, one with meat and one with vegetables, in case anyone had any allergies or dietary restrictions.

Once the kitchen was spotless, you both went to your rooms to get ready for the night. It didn’t take you long so you checked on the tagines and waited for Bucky. The smell of harissa and coriander wrapped around you like a comforting hug.

You stole a dinner roll and checked the time on your phone. Nearly seven. A wave of anxiety rolled through the pit of your stomach. You took a deep, calming breath and decided to go check on Bucky.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard a deep, frustrated groan followed by a whine. Stifling a giggle, you tiptoed down the hallway towards his bathroom.

“C’mon, stay put or I’ll cut you!”

“Do you often threaten your hair?” you asked, leaning against the door frame. He gasped and jerked away from the sink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is everything okay?”

“I can’t do anything with my hair,” he complained. “I’m this close to shave the whole damn thing.”

You pushed yourself off the door frame and moved toward him. “Mhh, why not. A buzz-cut would make you look super dangerous.”

“You think so?” he frowned.

“Yeah,” you replied enthusiastically as you perched yourself on the counter by the sink. “A buzz-cut and a beard. Now that’s a look.”

He ran his hand over the dark stubble on his cheeks. “I already have the beard.”

“You’re halfway there.” You watched him consider what you were offering. “You know what, never mind. Your hair is too pretty to cut.”

“I should cut it though. It’s getting too long, I can’t style it.”

“Oh, poor you with your thick, fluffy hair,” you teased.

“It’s a gift, and also a curse,” he sighed with a whimsical grimace.

You laughed. “Come here, I’ll help you tame the monster on your head.”

He chuckled as he stepped between your parted legs. You took the hair dryer and a comb from the counter and started working on his hair. Despite its messy appearance, the comb ran smoothly through the strands.

“I think we need a safe word tonight,” you said while you worked.

“A safe word?” he repeated, confused. “Why would we need one?”

“Just in case,” you replied with a shrug. “I love my siblings but they can be quite a handful. So if you’re tired or if you feel overwhelmed, you just say the word and I’ll politely ask them to leave.”

“All right. Same goes for you.” He made a face. “What’s the safe word?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your eyes focused on his hair. “Flamingo?” You pulled back to look at him. “I saw an amazing documentary about baby flamingos the other day. See? It works.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “Flamingo it is.”

You picked up his hair gel and applied some to his hair.

“There you go,” you said, smoothing the hair over his temples before sliding your fingers down the sculpted curve of his cheekbones. “Ready to break some hearts.”

It was a joke, but your voice came out breathy and small. Bucky didn’t say a word. He pressed himself closer to you, and you resisted the urge to wrap your legs around him.

He rested his hand on your thigh, then slid it from your thigh to your waist and lingered there for a few seconds. He gazed into your eyes for a moment; careful, cautious. You cupped his face between your hands, feeling the bristle on his cheeks against your palms. It was rough against your sensitive skin.

He slid his hand up your side, fingers passing over your ribs, and you let out a gasping sigh as he rested his hand over your heart.

“Did I break your heart, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low.

“Just cracked.”

He cupped the back of your neck and massaged lightly while he looked at you longingly. He continued to stare at you as you moved your hands to his chest, feeling the strong thud of his heart beneath your palm.

“I-uh,” he started, then licked his lips. “Angel, I-”

The intercom buzzed loudly, awakening the two of you from your trance. Bucky took a step back and closed his eyes. You were glad you were sitting, because your legs felt unusually weak.

“You ready?” he asked, breathless.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded.

You followed Bucky to the kitchen and answered the intercom, giving Wanda the apartment number. Bucky busied himself setting the table, unable to look you in the eye. You didn’t know what to say.

Finally, he stopped moving around and faced you.

“Who am I tonight? Who do you want me to be?”

You had anticipated his question. After all it was a legitimate question to ask giving the nature of your relationship.

“Just you,” you told him. You were tired of lies and half-truths.

A knock at the door startled you.

You opened the door, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of Wanda, Okoye and Scott standing in front of you, each with a bottle of wine. There were two men behind them, both looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Hey Splotchy, long time no see, right?”

Part 11

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Already Gone

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 3477

Part One of Two

Summary: With a relationship interfering with your dangerous job, you force yourself to break things off with your boyfriend. Reid tries to maintain a professional relationship, but can’t deny his heart break. Inspired by Already Gone, a cover by Sleeping at Last.

Notes: Welp. I can’t resist putting my boys through as much pain as possible and Spencer is no exception. I was actually inspired by a pair of imagines I did for Bellamy Blake a couple of years ago, so I recommend checking those out as well. As always, let me know what you think and what you look forward for in part two!

Warnings: Plenty of angst and violence

More Criminal Minds: HERE

It never would have worked out right

We were never meant for do or die

You had finally let it happen. You’d let your feelings cloud your judgement and nearly got a hostage killed. Throwing your badge down on your desk, you hunched over it, hands gripping the wooden edge and breathing heavily. You wanted to break something, anything, but most of all you wanted to punch the wall until your knuckles split.

The rest of the team walked by your desk silently. They each knew you were beating yourself up, but they collectively decided it’d be best to let you cool off before anybody said anything. Even Hotch just gave you a reassuring nod and went to his office to fill out paperwork. While the group all moved on, one person remained. The one person you couldn’t look at right now.

“Not now, Reid.” You snapped, jerking your head up to see his concerned eyes. You had hoped that your aggressive tone would make him steer clear, but he stood his ground.

“You know what happened wasn’t your fault-”

“Don’t you start on me too.” You fell back into your chair, wanting to just disappear into the floor.

“Can we at least talk?” Spencer’s quiet and hurt voice was breaking you and you just wanted to shut it out. You buried your face in your hands and felt his hand on your shoulder. You melted into his touch, your body giving in while your heart still ached over your mistake. You knew what you had to do. It was the only way to ensure nothing like today ever happened again.

“Yeah, let’s go talk.” You said suddenly, heading to the elevator. Spencer followed you hesitantly, his face still painted with worry and confusion. As soon as the doors closed, he spoke.

“I understand that you are upset about how things happened, but we still saved a young girl today.”

“No, Prentiss saved that girl. I almost let her die.” The elevator started its descent and you felt your body pulling you down with it. The weight on your chest was crushing you and while part of you knew that Spencer was the only one that could lift it off of you, you couldn’t afford to be that selfish anymore.

“Y/N, that wasn’t your fault.” He reached out for you, but you pulled away. You kept your eyes forward, avoiding the wounded look in his eyes.

“Yes. It was. Reid, the unsub got to me by using you.”

“W-what do you mean?” His eyes widened.

“He could tell that we’re together. Somehow, he knew and he used that against me. He told me everything he would do to you and I almost killed him.” You balled your fists at your sides, your mind running through everything that psycho had threatened to do to Spencer. “I almost killed him and lost that little girl because I couldn’t control myself. If Prentiss hadn’t found her in time…”

“Y/N,” This time, when he grabbed your hands, you didn’t back away. He brought them up to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles- bruised from your struggle with the unsub, “it was one mistake. You hesitated. Agents hesitate all the time when they’re in a situation like that.”

“Not us, Reid. Not me.” You started to pull away, but his hands gripped yours. He wasn’t rough, but it was enough to keep you in place.

“That’s another thing,” He started, his voice sounding more hurt than before, “why do you keep calling me Reid?” He was right. Like J.J., you always called him Spence, or Spencer, even before you’d started seeing each other. You never called him Reid like the rest of the team. Spencer let go of your hands so he could put a hand on your cheek. “Something else is wrong.”

“Yeah, Spence, it is.” You resisted the urge to lean into his touch. Instead, you stepped away from it. “We can’t do this anymore.” You kept your expression cold and collected, even if you were shattered within. Spencer’s face fell, eyes filling with even more confusion and pain.

“What?”

“Come on, Reid. We were kidding ourselves into thinking this would work. There’s a reason team members aren’t supposed to hook up.”

“We aren’t just ‘hooking up’, Y/N. We understand each other and-and we make each other better at our job, not worse. We’ve made it work. That doesn’t have to change.”

“You’re supposed to be the logical one, right?” You snapped. “Tell me the logic in us staying together.” He had tears in his eyes now and you had to fight to hold your guard up.

“I love you.” He said softly. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. He just kept looking at you in that way that made you want to hold him and say you were sorry. But you couldn’t. Not this time. “Logic isn’t a part of it.”

“That’s the problem.” You put as much anger into your words as you could. It was the final piece for him and a tear escaped onto his cheek. You tore your eyes away, looking down at the pavement. “I have paperwork to do.”

You kept yourself from all out running until you got inside. You didn’t have the patients for the elevator, so you just sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time and tripping more than once. You kept a straight face until you closed the door to Garcia’s office.

“Hey girl, what’s-” She started, but immediately stopped when you threw your arms around her and started to sob.

I want you to know, that it doesn’t matter

Where we take this road

But someone’s gotta go

You were never sure if he was looking at you because you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You’d spent the weekend at Penelope’s house, bawling and convincing yourself that you did the right thing because you knew that even one moment of hesitation, and you would be at his apartment begging him to forgive you.

Sensing the tension at the table, Morgan and Prentiss exchanged an uncomfortable look. Hotch had called you in on another case, but Rossi was stuck in traffic so you were forced to wait in a painfully awkward silence.

“Jeez, kid, what’s going on with you?” Morgan looked at Reid, trying to get a read of what might be bothering him.

“Nothing’s going on with me.” He replied coolly, keeping his gaze on the smooth surface of the desk. You felt Morgan’s inquiring stare turn to you, but you kept your eyes forward, desperately hoping Rossi would get there soon.

“Sorry I’m late,” He entered the room with a scowl and took a seat with the rest of the team. “Damn roadwork.”

“Alright, everyone,” J.J. began, passing out the files as she went around the table. Her hand briefly grazed your shoulder in a sign of sympathy. Somehow, she always knew. “Local authorities in Maine found the bodies of two women who had been reported missing two weeks ago. Their wrists showed signs of being bound, probably with duct tape, and they suffered multiple wounds to the chest. The M.E. thinks it was an arrow.”

“Bow hunting?” Prentiss suggested.

“They said from the looks of the injuries, the arrow had to have been shot from a distance, so hunting is a possibility.”

“Why shoot them more than once?” Morgan wondered, taking a look at the crime scene photos.

“There’s one more thing.” J.J. sighed, clicking to a new picture on the screen. It was a smiling woman holding a child. “Rachel Bratton, 32, was reported missing a week after the first two victims. Police didn’t find her with the others so-”

“The unsubs might be holding her somewhere.” Hotch finished grimly. “Alright, everyone. Let’s move. Plane leaves in fifteen minutes.”

Everyone hurried to grab their things from their desks. You just wanted to get out of that room. Before you grabbed your bag, however, you heard a quiet voice.

“You aren’t even going to talk to me?” Spencer wondered, his voice sounded soft and broken. “I thought we could at least be friends.”

“Reid, don’t do this now.” You begged. If he kept this up, you would break too and you couldn’t afford for that to happen. His jaw clenched and he reached into his jacket pocket.

“Here.” He held out a closed fist, slowly opening his fingers to reveal a small golden star. It was your favorite hair pin. “You left this at my apartment. I thought you might want it back.” You picked up the small metal clip, running your fingers along the points.

“Spence…”

“I’ll see you on the plane.” He snapped, snatching up his own bag and heading out. You cursed to yourself, shoving the pin into your pocket and following the team out to go to the airport.

You found a seat to yourself and focused on looking over the case files despite the aching feeling in your chest. By the time the plane was ready to take off, everyone had found places and a blonde-framed face appeared in front of you.

“Alright, spill.” J.J. ordered, crossing her arms over her chest. You sighed, keeping your eyes on the M.E.’s report.

“I’m fine, Jen.”

“Come on, don’t give me that. You’re lucky I convinced Morgan to back off. He was ready for a full on interrogation.”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N, everybody knows something happened between you and Spence. You’ve been distant from everyone. He has been burying his head in books every spare second when he isn’t painfully looking at you.” She was blunt because it made you listen. “We’re worried.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about. We got into a little fight. Friends fight.”

“Just friends?” She raised a brow. She always knew. You leaned back in your seat, defeated.

“We dated for a while, but it got in the way of work so I broke things off.” You finally admitted, trying to read her face for a reaction. “Happy?” She frowned sympathetically.

“How long were you together?” She asked. Just thinking about it still stung.

“Almost a year.”

“And you two didn’t tell anyone this whole time?” She gasped. You shook your head.

“We knew that Hotch wouldn’t approve.” You turned to the team as they got ready to make a plan. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.” Just saying the words made the lump in your throat bigger.

Hotch briefed everyone on their focus and where each member would be headed. You would be meeting with the missing woman’s fiancé. Along with Reid.

“Shouldn’t I go with Morgan and Rossi to the dump sight? I feel like I can be more helpful there than talking to the distressed fiancé.” Reid said, his gaze slipping in your direction. Hotch just blinked in annoyance.

“If we can understand Rachel’s routine, we can figure out how and where she was abducted. I need you to work on the geological profile.” He said sternly. He wasn’t oblivious to the awkwardness on the plane, but it wasn’t remotely on his list of problems. Reid didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting.

I didn’t come here to hurt you

Now I can’t stop

“I still feel like it’s my fault.” Brendon Nathonson sat with his head in his hands. “I was in a rush to get to work so I didn’t stop to see if she came back from her run that morning. I should have checked.”

“Does Rachel run every morning?” You asked, your tone sympathetic and soothing. You’d lost count of how many grieving or panicked loved-ones you’d spoken to over the years. It was one of the common parts of the job, but sitting next to Spencer made it feel different. Brendon nodded.

“She was a track star in high school. Guess she never grew out of it, right?” He sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Do you have any idea where these psychos could be keeping her?”

“That’s actually what you might be able to help us with, Mr. Nathonson.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we can figure out exactly where Rachel was taken, we can compare it to where the other two women were taken and found and possibly create a geological profile that could help us narrow down where the unsubs may operate out of.” Reid explained. The poor man still looked incredibly confused so you translated.

“He means that these guys probably have an area that they’re comfortable working in, meaning both where they take their victims and where they may be keeping them.”

“Oh god,” Brendon cried, covering his eyes with his hand. “You know, we kept pushing it back? The wedding. It was supposed to be in June, but then her sister couldn’t make it so we made it October, but then my best friend got sick. And now I might never get to marry her.”

“We are going to do everything we can to bring Rachel home, Mr. Nathonson.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the presence beside you was making your heart beat out of your chest.

“She’s my everything, you know?” Brendon finally looked up again. “When you lose that… it’s like losing a part of yourself.”

When the interview was over, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Everything that Brendon Nathonson said was searing itself into your brain, echoing around and around like a bad song on repeat. You slammed the door of the main office, making sure no one was already in there. You pressed your forehead against the cool wood of the door, trying to calm yourself down. This was why you wanted to end things to begin with. You couldn’t control your emotions around him. Even now, despite the case, all you could think about was him and how much he hated you.

A quiet knock startled you. You jumped back from the door, and forced yourself to calm down. Spencer slowly stepped inside, closing the door again behind him.

“I saw you run in here.” He started softly.

“I didn’t run.” You scoffed, more frustrated with yourself than anything else. “You probably need some time to do the geological profile. I’ll call Hotch and tell him what Nathonson said-” You started to leave, but his hand gently grabbed your arm.

“Wait.” He pleaded, those perfect eyes staring deeply into yours. “Can we just talk?”

“Spence…” You trailed off. Frankly, it’s all you had wanted to do. He at least deserved that. You blew out a heavy sigh and sat down. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to focus on this case because of all of this.” You ran a hand down your face.

“Neither have I.” Spencer sat down across from you, placing his hand on top of yours. “All I can think about is you.” Before, whenever he was with you, he thought clearer, focused more, and noticed every little detail of a case. Now, all he could think about was how much he missed you.

“Once we get through this case, I promise that we’ll talk, okay?” There was so much you wanted to say right there, but you couldn’t find the words. I still love you was all that came to mind. Spencer nodded.

“Then let’s make sure we solve this.” His awkward, crooked smile made you laugh and the two of you got to work trying to find Rachel Bratton.

You know that I love you so

I love you enough to let you go

The team circled the building, ready to go in. You were with Reid and Rossi, guns drawn as you went in the back door. It was an old meat processing plant that was located right in the middle of both the abduction and dump sights. Without Reid, you wouldn’t have been able to find it. You checked the back warehouse before moving onto another room, but not before you noticed something. A big metal door was cracked open just enough for you to get a peek inside.

“Guys, over here.” You signaled, seeing Rachel Bratton sitting on the far side of a cage just inside the room.

“Please help me.” She begged. You tried to pry the door open more, but it wouldn’t budge. The opening was just wide enough that you could barely slide through, but you would have to take off your vest to fit. Before Rossi or Reid could say anything, you had undone the straps and were sliding through the narrow gap.

“Is anybody in there with you?” You asked, still keeping your gun ready. Rachel shook her head.

“No.” She gulped back a sob. “No, they went out that hatch.”

“Y/N, maybe you should wait-”

“I’m fine, Reid.” You glanced back at him as you finally slipped into the room. “She said that they went outside. Let Hotch know.”

Reluctantly, Reid followed Rossi back outside in pursuit of the killers. You made quick work of the lock on the cage and helped Rachel stand up. She collapsed against you, sobbing and thanking you over and over again.

“Can you walk?” You asked gently. She nodded and you approached the hatch on the floor. Sure enough, it led down to the forest floor. You helped her down and kept your weapon out in front of you, keeping Rachel close behind.

“Y/N!” Reid shouted, joining you again. Rossi flanked Rachel’s other side, keeping his eyes on the trees.

“Have they found them?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Rossi shook his head. “Alright, we need to get back to the car so we can get Rachel to the hospital. Let’s move.”

The four of you moved cautiously towards the front of the warehouse. The trees surrounding you rustled and groaned in the midwestern winds. You thought it was a trick of light at first, but when you saw the shining tip of an arrow, you aimed your weapon and fired. Mikah Roman tumbled across the forest floor towards you. Rachel screamed and latched onto Spencer.

“Mikah Roman, you’re under arrest for the murder of Abbie Stockwell and Bonnie Andrews and the kidnapping of Rachel Bratton.” You yanked Mikah’s arms behind his back, causing him to scream out. The shot in his arm was gushing blood as you cuffed his wrists.

Rossi’s gaze jerked upwards suddenly and Reid pushed away from Rachel, calling out your name. You whirled around to see what they were looking at.

“No!” Spencer screamed, watching the arrow enter the center of your chest. You didn’t hear your own gasp over the sound of Rossi’s gun shot, taking out the second killer without hesitation. Funnily enough, you couldn’t hear Rachel’s screaming sobs. You just heard a small voice in your ear. Arms were holding you up off the ground, pulling you into their lap. When did you fall? Why was your shirt wet?

“Spencer…” You started, but your words came out garbled and breathy. What was happening? Why was your chest so sore?

“Shhh, don’t talk.” Spence put his hands on your wound. Why did he look so scared?

“W-what’s going on?” You gasped, the pressure from his hands making you cry out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He muttered, blood quickly coating his hands. Rossi was lifting Micah to his feet and speaking into the radio in a panicked voice. That’s when Spencer started yelling. “Somebody help! Help us! Agent down! Somebody help us! Please, she needs help!” You finally understood what was going on, the initial shock of your injury clearing from your mind.

“Spencer…”

“Somebody help!”

“Spence.” You reached up and touched his cheek. “I-I’m okay.”

“Help is on the way.” Through the sound of his heart pounding, he could hear footsteps approaching. The rest of the team gathered around, Prentiss stopping cold at the sight in front of her. Spencer smiled with delusional relief. “See, Hotch and Morgan and Prentiss are all here. They can help you-” He looked back down and stopped.

Your head was tilted back, a small trail of blood trickled down from your mouth. Your eyes blankly staring up at the clouded, grey sky. His crimson stained hands reached for your face, smearing the blood on the skin of your cheek. He recoiled from the sight, instead wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him.

Morgan made a step towards Reid, the younger agent’s quiet sobs growing louder and louder until they were unbearable. Hotch put a hand out to stop him. He knew that Reid needed this moment. He needed to say goodbye.

And I want you to know, you couldn’t have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I’m already gone

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagines #penelope garcia #j.j.#criminal mainds #dr. spencer reid #Matthew Grey Gubler #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #death #already gone #sleeping at last #song based imagines #angst

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sageinacage · 3 years

Note

Hi! Saw your post about Sap and Tubbo and I’ve missed their dynamic sm so I wanted to send in a request! How about lee Tubbo and ler Sapnap? Maybe Sapnap wanted to see if Tubbo was just as ticklish as he was back then and uses one of his favorite tactics a bunch, raspberries?

Still the Same summary: sapnap wants to know if tubbo is still as ticklish as before, in his own sapnap way. a/n: sorry for the wait :( low motivation bc of personal stuff happening, but im doing a bit better so i wanted to get this out asap! hope u enjoy :D warnings: swearing, sapnap is Evil (/lh) w/c: 1.6k DSMP, Platonic

Everyone always says it’s easier to clear your thoughts from a high altitude. Why is that? No one knows, though no one is going to question it either. It’s always nice to enjoy the breeze from up above.

The only problem is, finding that high altitude and then having to climb up to it.

Tubbo closed his home door behind him, glancing around to find some sort of easy-access place he can sit for a while. As the boy walked around, he was quick to notice the gentle breeze that brushed against his cheeks and over his nose.

He sighed, enjoying the perfect weather present on this day, deciding to start walking down the path to town. As he walked, he chuckled as he recognized the spot he was standing at.

The day he and Sapnap had a playful bicker. It involved Tubbo making fun of the demon for miswording something, and a playful fight lasting afterward. The boy chuckled to himself, then his eyes widening.

Thinking about his old friend reminded him of the hill they used to hang out on. The perfect altitude to sit at, might he add. Now walking with intention, Tubbo smiled at the old memories that were unfolding in his brain.

“Here it is, it feels like it’s been years,” Tubbo spoke softly, arriving at the same hill he and Sapnap used to goof off on ages ago. He smiled contently, plopping down on the grass, and leaned against an oak tree that sat on the hill.

He let his head relax back, enjoying the nice breeze brush through his hair and the convenient shade the oak tree provided for him. The people were right, this is a good place to clear some thoughts up.

Meanwhile, a certain demon was also heading somewhere to relax for the day, wanting a break from all the serious ‘bullshit,’ as he would call it. Sapnap looked up at the tree that rested on his favorite hill and saw a figure under it.

He smiled to himself, recognizing a certain ram hybrid settled underneath the shade of the luscious tree. With a mischievous smirk, Sapnap tip-toed up the hill, avoiding any crinkly leaves or twigs along the way, motivated to startle his old friend.

Oh, how much Sapnap missed being so goofy and carefree. It was honestly a natural instinct to playfully mess with Tubbo, almost like how siblings always try to push each other's buttons. It’s safe to say he saw the boy as a little brother.

“Tubbo!” Sapnap squealed, whipping his head around the tree with a giddy smile. “Sap… Sapnap?! Where did you even come from?!” Tubbo gasped, holding his heart dramatically at the sudden scare.

“From down the hill, you goof.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, why’re you smiling then?” Sapnap sniggered, earning an eye roll from the ram. “Because you’re annoying, and it’s making me smile because of how annoying you are.”

The demon snorted a laugh. Tubbo really was the sassy boy he always remembered.

The two settled underneath the tree together, just catching up. They really needed it, it was obvious on both sides that they both missed each other dearly.

They missed the playful bickering and fights they’d have over literally nothing, maybe a piece of bread if anything. Tubbo especially missed the warm feeling he got while around Sapnap. Was it the feeling of coziness inside of him, similar to the feeling of home you get when you’re around someone you’re genuinely fond of- or was it just that Sapnap is warm because he’s a literal fire demon? Probably both.

All was content and nice until Sapnap had to bring up a redacted memory, one Tubbo couldn’t think about without a wild blush spreading across his face.

“Hey Tubs, do you remember the tickle fights we used to have? Well, not exactly fights since you never put anything up- Ow!” Sapnap rubbed his shoulder where the boy flicked him, a grumpy but obviously flustered scowl painted on his face.

“Embarrassed, are we? C’mon, it’s not like you’re still that ticklish anymore!”

The embarrassed squeak that left Tubbo really just made all the dignity he had left drain away.

“...Or are you?” Sapnap continued, his curious glance turning into a dark grin. “Hey there- buddy, friend, mate- you d- don’t gotta… gotta do it… actually I think it’s getting late and I should be getting home!” Nervous giggles poured out of the boy, shuffling backward on the grass.

Sapnap just shook his head. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, Tubbo. Not until I get my answer!~”

Oh shit. A surprised squeal left Tubbo as he was wrestled onto the ground, though the boy was strong as well and fought back. “Oh, actually fighting back, are we?~ Now that’s a change!” Sapnap teased, making Tubbo’s body go limp.

‘Teasing makes him go all jelly, got it.’ Sapnap thought with a snicker, looking down at his friend.

“S- Sapnap… dohoHON’T- SAHAPNAP!” Tubbo barked out a laugh, trying to twist on his side away from the prodding fingers on the right side of his ribcage. “Nuh-uh, you aren’t going anywhere, mister!” Sapnap sniggered as he pushed the boy’s hips on the ground, drilling his thumbs into the bones in the process.

A loud shriek left Tubbo, failing to buck Sapnap off of him. He fell limp against the grass, knowing that he wasn’t gonna get out of the predicament anytime soon. Not that he exactly wanted to, though.

“Remember you can tell me to stop whenever you’d like me to, bud.” The demon’s face softened into a more reassuring look, slowing down his tickles. Tubbo nodded, opening his mouth to speak before being interrupted with another screech.

Sapnap’s fingers found the sides of his lower stomach, massaging his fingers into the soft skin. This seemed to be successful, Sapnap found.

“SAP-HEHEHEHAHA- F- FUHuhuck ohohoff!” He continued to squirm, stomping his hooves in the plush grass behind Sapnap. “D’awww, Tubbo!~ That wasn’t very nice, was it? Maybe I should remind you of my favorite tactic?” Sapnap raised an eyebrow, relishing in the immediate anticipatory high-pitched giggles that emitted from the smaller boy.

“Do you remember? I think you do, champ! I think you remember all the nibbles and raspberries I used to give to your cute lil’ tummy- and oh how bad they tickled!~ Are you excited? I think you areeee, I can hear your tail thumping on the grass!”

Note taken; Sapnap was still as evil as before.

“Y- Yohou’re so mehehean!” Tubbo whined, covering his bright red cheeks, his shirt riding up with his arms raising. “Uh oh, Tubbo… Look what I have here! A perfect snack right in front of me!~” The man cooed, dragging his dull claws over the ram’s belly before leaning down and blowing a big raspberry right beneath his belly button.

“SHIHIHIHIT! N- NOHOT THAHAT!” Tubbo shrieked, arching his back up. “Not this? Alright, your wish is my command, champ! Guess I have no choice but to do this instead…” He chuckled slowly before beginning to gently nibble on Tubbo’s lower belly, moving up the side to nibble near his waist.

Fuck Sapnap and his stupid stubble, and his even dumber fangs.

“SAAAAHAP- NONONONOHOHOHO!” Tubbo pleaded, weakly pushing at Sapnap’s head, but the damn thing didn’t budge even a centimeter. “No? Okay!~” He giggled, going back to plant another raspberry over the side of his belly.

Arching his back again, the ram dug his hooves in the grass to try to ease the sensations at least a little bit, but the ticklish stubble dragging around his tummy kept making him go limp. “F- FUHUCK YOHOU- Y- YOHOU’RE SO BAAAHAD!” Tubbo retaliated, yet again trying to twist away but his hips were only pushed back down onto the grass.

“I think you need a little manners lesson, don’tcha think, Tubso?~ N’awww, don’t pout at me, you know I’ll just have to do… this…” Sapnap huffed in a breath, Tubbo squealing in anticipation, but then silence.

Tubbo relaxed his muscles as the raspberry didn’t happen- never mind. It happened.

“FUHUHUCK- PLEEEHEHEHEASE!” Tubbo’s body went completely jelly, the tickling too much for him to fight back anymore. Sapnap looked up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You were so bold a few seconds ago, what happened? Hmmm?~ Cat got your tongue, Tubbo? Let’s fix that.” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around Tubbo's waist so he couldn't buck away from his attack.

Raspberry after raspberry, Tubbo knew he couldn’t handle it anymore. “STOHOHAHAHAP! E- ENOHOUGH!” His voice was squeaky and tickled-out, taking deep breaths as he laid down completely limp on the soft grass.

“You alright there, Tubso?”

“Mahahaybe…”

“Here, let me help.” Sapnap smiled, but it was softer this time- way different than the evil grins he was giving while tickling the life out of the poor boy. The demon laid the ram across his lap, gently carding his fingers through his plush hair.

“C- can yohou… keep gohoing? But- gehentle this t- tihime?” Tubbo stuttered out, Sapnap audibly cooing at the sweet boy. “Of course, it would be my pleasure- seeing how evil I was earlier.” He jested, earning an exaggerated noise of agreement from Tubbo.

He snickered, tracing his dull claws in random shapes over the boy’s belly, letting them graze up and down his sides and back down to circle around his hips. The affectionate light tickles were making the tickled-out boy sleepy, as he curled up in the warm demon’s lap and softly snored as sleep swept over him.

“Sleep well, bud. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ve missed you, y’know that?”

#im proud of this one DKFJHSHKJFS #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!tubbo #ler!sapnap #my writing

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theasstour · 3 years

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𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 4th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @sunflowerstache 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

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Text

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Subaru Route ー Chapter 2

*Thud*

*Creaaaak*

Yui: ( Nn... )

( Huh? What time is it...? )

*Rustle*

Yui: ( Last time, I somehow had trouble sleeping, so I didn’t get much rest... )

( ...? Huh...? I can’t move...! W-Why...!? )

???: ...

Yui: ( Someone’s...here...? Wait...!? )

ー She opens her eyes in the hotel room

*Rustle*

Yui: ーー S-Subaru-kun!?

( Huh, hold up? Why is Subaru-kun on my side of the bed...!? )

( Did I fall asleep on the wrong side by accident...? ...No, that shouldn’t be the case... )

Subaru: ...Nn...

Yui: ( Wah! Oh no! Is he waking up...!? )

Subaru: ...Ah?

Yui: Um...Well...Good...morning...?

Subaru: Yeah...Hm?

Wait, y-you!? Why are you here!?

Didn’t I tell you to stay away from this side!?

*Thud*

Yui: No! This is my side...!

Subaru: Haah!? Yeah riーー

Yui: But look! My Rosary is placed next to the pillow...

Subaru: ...

Yui: ( What now? He went silent... )

Subaru: Aah...Right...Yesterday...

Haah...

Yui: Um, Subaru-kun...?

Subaru: ...How are you feelin’?

Yui: Eh...? How I feel? I’m totally fine though...

Subaru: ...Good.

Yui ( I wonder what he means...? )

Anyway...Why were you sleeping on my side of the bed...?

Subaru: ...Well...

...Oh shut up. Why does it matter!?

Yui: Eh? ...I’m curious...

( I mean...He’s the one who kept on telling me to stay on my side... )

Subaru: ...

Yui: ...

Subaru: ...Che! Aah, fuck!

Fine! I just gotta tell you, right!?

...You were...grunting in your sleep last night.

Yui: Eh...?

Subaru: I could hear you suffering all the way over on my side so...

So...I decided to check up on you.

...Got a problem with it?

Yui: Ah...

( So the pain in my chest from last night didn’t just occur in a dream... )

( So that’s why Subaru-kun joined me... )

You were worried about me, weren’t you?

Subaru: Wha...I wasn’t concerned or anythin’...

Yui: Fufu...

Subaru: Fuck! Don’t you dare laugh!

*Thud*

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah...!?

Don’t pull me by my arm all of a sudden...!

Subaru: Shut up! Let’s get some more sleep.

Yui: Eeh...!?

Subaru: Now shut up and let me hold you...!

*Creaaak*

Yui: ( Geez. We should really hurry and get up though...However... )

( I’m sure he watched over me all night yesterday... )

( I guess just a short nap...should be fine? )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the main street

Yui: This antique dealer you mentioned yesterday...Do you know where we can find him?

Subaru: Yeah. ...If I’m bein’ honest, I’d rather not get anywhere close to him though...

Yui: Is he that much of an oddball...?

Subaru: Rather than odd...He’s just a plain freak who always finds something to call you out on.

He’s just some stupid old geezer who doesn’t even hold back towards my Old Man.

Yui: Come on, no need to say that...

Subaru: Hmph...

However...He’s probably the only person in the whole Demon World who would dare to defy our dad.

I have to give him credit in that regard.

Yui: Heeh...I see...

( Going against Karlheinz-san...That’s quite the impressive feat... )

( I wonder what kind of person he is...? )

Subaru: I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere around here...

Aah, right here! ...Let’s go in.

ー The scene shifts to Aizen Stahl antique shop

Subaru: ーー Oi, anyone here?

Antique dealer: Hm...?

Ooh! Well if it isn’t the Sakamaki’s little one!

Yui: ( So this man is the antique dealer... )

Antique dealer: You used to be such a wee little fella!

But you’ve scored yourself a girl in the meantime, I see?

Antique dealer: ...Well, seems like she has a bit of a shovel face (1) though.

Yui: A-A shovel face...!?

( How mean... )

Subaru: Che...

...Don’t let it get to your heart. I told you he’s a disgustin’ freak who only knows how to insult others, remember?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

Antique dealer: So? What brings you here today? You sure don’t drop by every day!

Are you here to run an errand on Karlheinz’s behalf? Hehe...

Subaru: I’m not. The Old Man has nothin’ to do with this.

...Do you know Count Walter?

Antique dealer: ...

Subaru: Let’s just say I ended up wreckin’ a few of that guy’s furnishings yesterday.

Antique dealer: ...You did?

Subaru: ...Yeah.

Antique dealer: Hooh...Furnishings which belonged to Walter, huh...?

Heh...Hahaha! Right, I see! You destroyed them!

Splendid!

I have to give you props, little one.

Yui: Eh...?

( He burst out laughing for some reason...!? )

Subaru: O-Oi...?

Antique dealer: I won’t hide it, I loathe that guy.

Yui: You do...?

Antique dealer: Yeah, of course! He actually stole something very precious to me in the past.

Ever since, I’ve had a strong hatred towards him...

So hearing what happened just now made me very pleased.

Yui: ( I see...So that’s his reasoning... )

Antique dealer: I’m pretty sure I should be able to cover for pretty much anything he has in his manor aside from the stuff in his treasure storage?

Subaru: For real!?

Yui: Thank god...!

Antique dealer: If it’s to give that guy a run for his money...I’ll gladly lend you a hand.

What are you looking to replace?

Yui: Vases, sculptures and paintings...

Antique dealer: I see. I might be able to help out then. Wait one second, okay?

ー The antique dealer walks away

Yui: Seems like we might be able to fix things somehow, Subaru-kun...!

Subaru: Yeah, you’re right...

*TIMESKIP*

Antique dealer: Sorry for the wait. What do you think about this?

I assume the items which were destroyed were similar to the ones lined up here?

Subaru: Yeah, pretty much.

Yui: In which case...The Count might just forgive us if we bring him these...!

Subaru: Yeah, thanks for the help. Well thenーー

Antique dealer: Halt!

*SMACK*

Subaru: Ow...! The fuck was that for!?

Antique dealer: I never said you’re gettin’ this for free, did I?

Subaru: Haah!? Weren’t you gonna help us out!?

Antique dealer: If you’re gonna complain to me, then you can forget about getting these!

Subaru: Guh...

...Right! I’ll have the Old Man arrange the money from the human world.

So can’t we make a trade?

Antique dealer: Hmph! I can’t imagine Karlheinz will pay for something like this.

Subaru: ...Ugh...

Yui: Then...What do we have to do to get these...?

Antique dealer: Let’s see...

If you bring me the three items I want, I’d be willing to exchange.

Well, in other words, you two will be my personal servants!

Yui: Servants...

Subaru: Che...It’s a drag...but guess we have no other choice...

ーー Fine. We’ll fetch them for you.

Antique dealer: ...Is that a yes? We have a deal then!

Yui: What should we look for first?

Antique dealer: ...A clown mask. An antique one.

Subaru: Haah!? Why do you want that!?

Antique dealer: Sometimes we just want things without a specific reason, right?

You don’t have to if you don’t want to? Although that also means you won’t be getting any of these.

Subaru: ...I said I’d do it, didn’t I!? I’ll find that crap in no time so just wait here! ...Fuck!

ー The scene shifts to Saint Nore Park venue

Yui: It’s even more crowded than I thought...

Subaru: Yeah...This sucks...

Yui: ( It was to be expected with the ongoing Parade though... )

ーー Ah! But there’s a clown over there! I wonder if some sort of performance will start soon?

( Seems like we made a good decision by coming to the amusement park. Now if we can just ask him about the maskーー )

Vampire Child A: Ah! It’s a clown! Hurry up!

Vampire Child B: Wait for me!

Clown A: Now, now, don’t push!

Yui: ( Wah, he’s really popular...We can’t even get close... )

Subaru: Oi, what are we gonna do now? We can’t get to the clown ‘cause of all these lil’ brats who are in the way.

Yui: Yeah...At this rate, the show will start...

( What now...? )

Clown B: ...What should we do?

Clown C: It’s not like asking that question will get us any further...We’re in quite the pinch...

Yui: ( Hm? Those people over there... )

Say, why don’t we try talking to those two clowns preparing for the show over there?

They seem to be struggling with something...

ー Yui and Subaru approach the clowns

Yui: Excuse me...

Clown B: Yes?

Yui: What’s the matter? Is there a problem of some sorts...?

Clown C: Ah...Well...The clown who was supposed to be the star of today’s show, you see...

He injured himself and can no longer perform...

Vampire Child A: The show’s still not starting!?

Vampire Child B: We’re tired of waiting!

Yui: ( Ah...The children... )

Clown A: ...I don’t think I can buy us any more time! What now!?

Yui: Excuse me! Could we perhaps help out in some way?

Clown B: Eeh!? But...

Subaru: Hah? Oi, you, what are you...!?

Clown C: No...This might work. Even just some help with the fountain show would be much appreciated...

Clown B: ...Now that you mention it...They should probably be able to handle that much...Guess we have no other choice, huh?

Subaru: What are you thinkin’!? There’s just no way we could help out...!?

Yui: I’m sorry for making a rash decision, but...

If we help them out, perhaps they’d be more willing to return the favor afterwards...

Subaru: ...

Clown A: Will you do us this favor?

Subaru: Good point...It’d probably speed things up a little...

...Fine. We’ll do it.

Clown C: Thank you so much! Well then...We’re running short on time, so let’s get straight to it.

Yui: Yes...!

*TIMESKIP*

Clown A: Attention, everyone! The long wait is over!

Clown B: Allow us to take you to a world of dreams and fantasies!

Yui: ( Okay...Let’s give it our best shot...! )

Explanation: Press the arrow keys at the right time, following the instructions on the screen to complete the fountain show.

You can play this game in EASY, NORMAL or HARD mode.

*Clap clap clap*

Yui: ( I suppose...it went well...? )

Vampire Child A: Ohー! Amazing!

Vampire Child B: The fountain was awesome too...!

Clown A: Thank you very much! It was a grand success!

Yui: Really...? We did it, Subaru-kun!

*Rustle*

Subaru: Uwah...!?

Yui: ( Thank god...We pulled it off...! )

Subaru: O-Oi! Move back!

Yui: Eh?

Vampire Child A: Ahー! It’s a couple! They’re dating!!

Vampire Child B: You’re right~! Look at them being all lovey-dovey!

Yui: ...!

( I was so happy, I acted without thinking...! )

Ah, Subaru-kun. This is...You see, I didn’t...!

Vampire Child B: Couple! Couple!

Subaru: Che...Shut your damn mouths!

Vampire Child A: Wahー! He got mad! Let’s make a run for it!!

ー The children run off

Subaru: Fuck...!

Yui: ( Uu...What am I doing...? How embarrassing...! )

I-I’m sorry for doing such a weird thing out of nowhere...!

Subaru: Geez...

Clown C: Gosh, we were only able to hold our show because of you two.

On top of that, it got an even better reaction than we expected!

Clown B: Thank you so much!

Yui: ( I’m glad we managed to help them out. )

*TIMESKIP*

Clown A: ーー Allow me to once again thank you both for your cooperation.

Clown B: Please let us give you something to show our thanks!

Yui: U-Um...Actually, we happen to be looking for something...

ー Subaru shows them an image

Subaru: ーー This is it. Does it ring any bells?

Clown C: This is...

Yui: ( Ah...That picture... )

Subaru: Apparently it’s a clown mask. If you have it, could you give it to us?

Clown A: Ahー ...This is a rather old mask. I just hope we still have one left in the storage...

However, you were such a great help to us earlier, so we’ll try our best to look for it!

Yui: Really!? Thank you so much...!

Clown A: We’ll go search then...Could you wait for us for a while?

Yui: We’re counting on you!

ー The clowns walk away

Yui: Good news, right?

Subaru: I just hope they find it...

Yui: ( ...We’ve got some free time on our hands. What should we do? )

Ah...Say, Subaru-kun? Why don’t we go on some of the rides while we’re here?

Subaru: Aah?

Yui: I’m sure it’d be boring to just stand around waiting...

Subaru: ...Which one do you want to ride?

Yui: Um...Let’s see...Ah, how about the merry-go-round?

Subaru: Haah!? You really think I’m goin’ anywhere near that childish crap!?

Yui: Ah...

( Guess that’s a no...I would have loved to go on a ride together now that we have the chance though... )

Subaru: ...

...Che.

ー Subaru walks away

Yui: Subaru-kun...?

Subaru: ...Why are you spacin’ out over there? Hurry up.

Yui: Eh? ...Hurry for what...?

Subaru: That thing...You want to ride it, right? Then come here before I change my mind.

Yui: ...Yeah!

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Haah, that was so much fun...!

Subaru: In what world!? ...The only thing I felt was shame!

For one...I was goin’ to sit down in one of the carriages...

But that darn employee...How dare they seat us on one of those stupid horses...!?

I’m sendin’ them flyin’ the next time we meet...!

Yui: ( Well, it was a little embarrassing to ride the horse together... )

I enjoyed riding together with you. Thank you, Subaru-kun.

Subaru: ...

Well...I guess it’s fine if you had fun...But I’m never gettin’ on that thing again!

Clown A: ーー Sorry for the wait!

Yui: Y-You’re the clown from earlier...

Subaru: Did you find it?

Clown A: Well...As we feared, it’s too old of a model so we didn’t have any left in stock.

Subaru: Haah!?

Yui: N-No way...!

Clown A: However, they might still have it over at the dress shop in town!

Yui: Dress shop...

( I suppose we should try heading there then. )

Thank you for the valuable piece of information. We’ll try our luck there next.

Clown A: Yes. Be careful...!

ー The scene shifts to Aizen Alleyway

Subaru: ーー So where’s this dress shop?

Yui: Yeah...According to the map we received earlier, it should be around here.

I suppose it could be that place attracting a crowd over there...?

Subaru: A crowd...? I’ve had enough of those.

Yui: Ahaha, right...

( However, is this bad hunch just overthinking on my part...? )

ー They enter the dress shop

Yui: ...

Subaru: ...

Why is it this crowded in here as well...!?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( The bad feeling I had became reality...! )

Um...Excuse me. Is something going to happen here?

Female Vampire A: Yes. The fashion show is about to start.

Yui: Fashion show!?

If their show is about to start, I’m sure the staff will be busy...

Subaru: Yeah...This crowd is getting on my nerves as well. Let’s wait somewhere else till it’s over.

Yui: Yeah...Guess we should...

( I’m kind of curious what a fashion show in the Demon World looks like thoughーー )

???: Ah! Hey! Wait, you!

Subaru: Aah?

Yui: ( Hm...? )

???: Come with me, please!

ー She pulls Subaru along

*Rustle*

Subaru: Aah!? The fuck do you want all of a sudden!?

Dress shop owner: I’m the owner of this place! I’ll explain the details in the back, just come with me for now!

*Rustle*

Subaru: Oi, wait!

Yui: Ah, hey...!

( What is going on...? Guess I’ll follow them for now... )

ー The scene shifts to the changing room

Yui: ( We were taken to the back of the store... )

Dress shop owner: I’m sorry this is a little sudden, but could you please change into this outfit?

Subaru: Haah!? This is more than ‘a little’ sudden! The fuck do you want!?

Dress shop owner: ...Right. I suppose I was a little too pushy...

We’re actually about to get started with our fashion show...

However, I’ve been in quite the pinch since I was unable to find a model to wear my best creation.

We did find a substitute, but they just don’t fit the image I have in mind.

Then you appeared in front of me! You’re the perfect fit!

Yui: ( Subaru-kun...A model... )

Subaru: Fuck off! You must be mental if you think I’m doin’ that shit!

Dress shop owner: Oh no! I will have you be my model!

I’m sure my clothes would be overjoyed to be worn by you as well!

Subaru: Hmph, bullshit. Oi, we’re leavin’.

ー Subaru starts walking away

Yui: Ah, but...

( We have to ask her about the mask... )

( And above all... )

( I’m very much interested in seeing Subaru-kun take part in a fashion show...! )

Say, Subaru-kun...Why not take this opportunity to participate?

Subaru: Aah!? Have you hit your head as well!?

Yui: ...Oh come on, please?

Also...Lend me your ear for a bit?

Subaru: Aah?

*Rustle*

Yui: It might be a good chance to ask about the mask...!

Subaru: ...

Dress shop owner: I don’t know what you’re whispering about but...

I’d like to ask you for your cooperation as well. I’m convinced you’ll be the best model for this outfit!

Subaru: ...

...Gimme that. I’ll go change.

*Rustle*

Yui: Subaru-kun...!

Dress shop owner: Oh my! Thank you so much! This way, please!

Yui: ( I can’t wait to see what it’ll look like...! )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the main street

*Snap snap*

Yui: ( All of the models have such great figures. (2) I can only dream to look like that... )

( I wonder when it’ll be Subaru-kun’s turn...? )

Dress shop owner: Well then, to wrap up the show, we have none other than my pride and joy!

Yui: ( Ah, there he is...! )

*Snap snap snap*

Monologue

Subaru-kun’s appearance as he set foot on the stage,

was so handsome,

he made the whole crowd swoon.

...He did seem somewhat grumpy though.

Perhaps it’s due to the different style of clothes,

but it felt refreshing to me.

Standing next to him,

was the shop clerk from earlierーー

who looked equally stunning.

However...I could not help but grow a little curious,

as this seemingly picture-perfect duo,

seemed to be whispering something to each other.

Dress shop owner: Just look at how ecstatic everyone is...!

Come on, you should wave at the crowd as well!

*Smack*

Subaru: ーー Get your hands off me.

Yui: ( Ah...! He slapped away her hand. )

Subaru: I’m already taken. (3) Go try your luck with some other guy.

Dress shop owner: Oh dear...

...Fufu, could it be that young lady?

Subaru: ...Hmph.

Yui: ( I just hope he won’t start another fight... )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ーー Subaru-kun!

Subaru: ...Ah, there you are.

Yui: Ah...You already changed it seems.

Subaru: Well, duh. You really think I was gonna stay in that get-up forever?

Yui: ( I’d love to tell Subaru-kun my thoughts on his performance from earlier while I have the chance...Now how to put it? )

Selection

→ You looked interesting

Yui: Um...You looked interesting just now, you know!

Subaru: Funny...Aah? Are you makin’ fun of me!?

Yui: Eh!? Ah, I didn’t mean it like that...I just thought you looked very precious while going down the catwalk wearing something you usually wouldn’t.

Subaru: Please make it clear whether you’re complimenting or insulting me...

Yui: ...Sorry.

( I should have just genuinely complimented him. )

Subaru: Then what were you tryin’ to say?

Yui: Well...You know, I just thought

→ You looked handsome (☾)

Yui: You were very handsome just now!

Subaru: Y-You think so? I didn’t do anythin’ special though.

Yui: That’s not true. The clothes fit you to a T as well...!

Subaru: ...Thanks.

Dress shop owner: Thank you so much for earlier. Thanks to you, the show was a big success.

Subaru: I did as you asked earlier, so now you have to listen to one of our requests.

Dress shop owner: What could that be? I will gladly help where I can.

Subaru: ...Does this picture ring a bell? We’re lookin’ for it.

Dress shop owner: ...Oh my, we have this in our storage room. I’ll go get it so wait here, okay?

*TIMESKIP*

Dress shop owner: ーー Is this it?

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah, that’s it!

Dress shop owner: I don’t see myself using it any time soon so...If you need it, you can have it.

*Rustle*

Yui: Thank you very much! We did it, Subaru-kun!

Subaru: Hmph...I honestly have no idea why that guy even wants this relic of the past...

Whatever. Anyway, we’re goin’ back to that geezer’s place pronto!

Yui: Good idea. Ah, thank you so much, truly!

Dress shop owner: I’m just glad I was able to return the favor. Please feel free to drop by again anytime!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts back to the antiques shop

Subaru: ーー Here! Happy now?

*Thud*

Antique dealer: Ooh! This is it! I didn’t think you’d actually be able to find it!

Subaru: Honestly, I don’t get why you want this crap.

But...We cleared the first hurdle now, right?

Antique dealer: Yeah, of course. I’ll be counting on you two again tomorrow!

ー The scene shifts to the Diamante Fountain

Subaru: Haah...I’m beat...

Yui: We haven’t been able to catch a break right from day one, huh...?

Ah, I got us some churros from that food truck over there. Want some?

Subaru: Yeah...Nn...

...Guess it’s true that sweets are the best thing to eat when you’re tired...

Yui: Fufu...

( Still, so much stuff went down today. )

( I hope we can get through tomorrow as well... )

Subaru: Don’t look so worried. ...I’m here with you, remember?

Yui: Yeah...!

( Right, as long as I’m together with Subaru-kun, I’m sure everything will turn out fine...! )

( Okay, I’ll try my best again tomorrow! )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) In Japanese, he calls her チンクシャ or ‘chinkusha’, which is a very rude term used to describe women who have a flat/small nose and are therefore considered ugly.

I looked up similar slang terms in English and ‘shovel face’ seemed like the best fit.

(2) スタイルがいい or ‘style ga ii’ actually refers more to someone’s body type/figure, rather than their fashion style, even when talking about models.

(3) Literally he says that he has already been booked, using the word 予約 or ‘yoyaku’, which you would also use when booking a hotel room or a restaurant.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 1

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 3]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ REIJI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ KOU]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ CARLA]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #subaru sakamaki #lunatic parade #diabolik lovers translation #lpsubaruchapter2

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jj-babebank · 3 years

Text

Room 107 // chapter III // JJ Maybank (smut)

This story picks up where season 2 leaves us.

TW: May contain mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CAN BE FOUND HERE: one ; two

Chapter 3 - La Ganga

Samara’s hand was still resting on JJ’s knee as her eyes sultrily bored into his, waiting for his response. JJ’s head was spinning in a thousand different directions, trying to assess what exactly was going on. The main issue he had with this whole ordeal was that she didn’t in fact invite him over because she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. The sad truth, as JJ came to realise, was that this annoyingly attractive girl had simply overheard him boasting to his friends about the gold that they had found, and respectively lost, and now she wanted a piece of that instead. JJ sighed loudly. As much as he hated to admit that this was a bad idea, he pushed that thought very far to the side and tried to negotiate with the part of his brain that didn’t think logically, which in his case was the dominating one. What exactly could he lose here? The chances of them finding the Royal Merchant gold were extremely low, to the point where they were almost non-existent. This girl was voluntarily offering to help them find it, and she was also willingly to let them stay in her family’s hotel for free until further notice. How JJ saw this was extremely straight-forward and simple - Samara asks for part of the gold, Samara offers her help in return for the gold, JJ accepts said offer and lets her help, growing closer to her in the meantime, seducing her and eventually winning her over, so that even they don’t find the actual treasure, she realises that the real treasure was right there with her all along, at it wore worn down biker boots and went by the name of JJ Maybank. Yep, that sounded like a great plan, one of his best plans yet, if he did say so himself. He looked down at Samara’s hand still on his knee, a ball of excitement growing in his stomach just at the sight of it being there, then he looked up at her face, twisting the corners of his thin lips into a smirk. “You have yourself a deal, gorgeous,” he said, his confidence suddenly returning to his body. The old JJ senses were coming back headfirst and he was feeling great about it. Samara smiled in return, raising her glass for a toast, “To working together,” JJ clinked his glass with hers, sending her a wink, “To working with each other,” The pair sat in silence for a moment, JJ mostly admiring the girl sitting next to him, before she broke the silence, “Where did you say you were from, JJ?” “We never got to that part, actually,” he answered, glad that Samara was taking interest in him, “I’m from a place called the Outer Banks, more specifically Kildare. It’s in North Carolina, right by the coast.” He explained, painting an imaginary picture of what he was saying with his hands, "You know, prior to ending up here, which was a total coincidence by the way, the furthest I’d been from Kildare was Charleston. I, uh, I haven’t really been anywhere.” Samara was studying his face while he was talking. She had asked him a simple question and was expecting a simple answer, yet this boy could just seemingly not stop talking. She couldn’t decide whether it was annoying, or strangely endearing. She almost felt bad for having to shut him up to change the topic to what she had actually called him over for, “So tell me about this gold,” Lucky for her, JJ didn’t seem to mind her direct approach to the change of subject, instantly going into another story - the one that interested her the most. “Funny you ask,” he said enthusiastically, taking a rather big sip of his wine, “So as I said, I’m from the Outer Banks. Let me describe the OBX to you - it’s an odd place, you see, a place much like any other in the sense that it’s divided into rich and poor, however that divide is a suuuuper big deal to us. You’ve got the rich and elite bastards called the Kooks, and you’ve also got the not so lucky ones who work for them - the Pogues. Me and those guys you so kindly invited into your home, are, well, were Pogues. Except for Sarah, she was rich-rich.” There it was again - JJ getting completely side-tracked in his own thoughts, talking about irrelevant to the topic of conversation things.

Samara somehow found it entertaining and she wasn’t particularly bothered by it so she just let him speak, hoping that he’d eventually get to the point. “- so one day, it turned out that John B’s old man was dead, although he’d left behind all these clues and well, one thing lead to another, we found the gold, except we weren’t the only people looking for it, obviously,” Bingo, there it was - the gold. Samara knew this was her cue to focus, “- so when we were finally within touching distance of the gold and the cross - boom - we threw ourselves of the ship to dodge getting totally killed, and, well, here we are.” JJ wrapped up his story, leaning back into the couch and sighing contently with what he believed to be a great short summary of what had happened to him and his friends, finishing the rest of his wine. Samara frowned as she did the same, “Hold that thought,” she said, standing up and disappearing into the diner for a brief moment, before coming back with a bottle of the infamous whiskey from earlier, it had just enough contents to fill up one more glass each. JJ smirked at the sight of her when she sat back down next to him and she frowned dramatically, “What? I thought this called for something a bit stronger.” JJ didn’t protest as the pretty brunette refilled their wine glasses with the harder liquor, “I have a cousin up in Daytona,” she said as matter-of-factly, “He owns a motel in the Holly Hill area. We can crash up there while we head up north. We’ll leave first thing Thursday morning, before my aunt and cousin come back. I’ll make sure we have everything we need by then, we have just enough time.” “Why are we heading up north?” JJ looked puzzled, “And how many cousins with hotels do you have?” “Seeing as we know virtually nothing about where these people were heading, the most logical thing that we can do is go back to the Outer Banks and try finding out as much as we can from there. There must be someone who knows.” The more she spoke, the more it made sense to JJ. Ward would have made sure to erase all of his traces by now, Rafe would have tried his best to follow in his father’s footsteps, however there was one member of the Cameron family who was, for the lack of a better word, messy. And that was Wheezie Cameron, Sarah’s younger sister. JJ was sure that Ward would have changed all of their phone numbers, if they were even still allowed to have a phone, however the thought of Wheezie Cameron totally removing herself from social media was by far absurd to JJ. He was sure that they would be able to somehow trace her even without having to go all the way back to the OBX, but before they could do that, this was their only option. Samara had turned out smarter than he had made her out to be initially. She was cunning, generous and helpful, all traits that JJ never thought he’d find this attractive in a woman. Hell, up until now he’d never even looked for any traits in women beyond their physical appearance, yet here he was - a changed man. “You, miss,” he pointed at her with the hand he held his wine glass in, “Are a genius. Has anyone ever told you that?” Samara snickered, although she couldn’t help the slight blush that was painting itself across her tanned cheeks, “Don’t push your luck too much, JJ, we’ve only just met,” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, almost appearing shy for a split second. This didn’t go unnoticed by JJ and he took it as a green light to scoot a bit closer to her, to the point where their faces were inches apart. He couldn’t help but breathe her scent in, and boy did she smell alluring, her perfume heavy and somewhat oriental, at least that’s how JJ would describe it. It reminded him of all the times he’d served tables down on Figure Eight and rich Kook girls would walk past him, leaving behind a scent of expensive designer perfume. Samara almost reminded him of a rich Kook girl, she looked so well put together and so on top of her shit. Good thing they weren’t in the OBX anymore, otherwise his friends would grill him for breaking the one promise he had made to himself

long, long ago - never getting with a Kook. Except she wasn’t a Kook, they weren’t in the OBX and much to his dismay - him and her were hardly getting with each other. He realised that winning Samara over would take time, and lucky for him, he had all the time in the world. Finding Ward and the gold would take a while and he was up for an adventure, especially since it included this gorgeous young lady. He studied her some more. Her skin looked so soft, and so did her lips - so soft, so inviting. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, shaped like almonds, and the way she batted her luscious lashes almost made her seem like she was keeping a number of dark and dangerous secrets. JJ knew that deep down she saw something in him, too. She just needed the right push to admit it. A stray strand of her hair fell in her face and before she could react, JJ gently tucked it away behind her ear, taking his time when his fingers met her face. He let them linger there for a second before pulling his hand away. “Thanks,” was all that she could say. “Don’t mention it,” he said gently, “We’re gonna be partners after all, we’ve gotta help each other out, right?” Samara almost rolled her eyes at the sound of JJ referring to them as ‘partners’, but she withheld from it. Something about this boy was very endearing to her, in a lost puppy type of way, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she didn’t entirely dislike his company. Au contraire, it had been a while since she had had someone around. This didn’t seem all bad to her - she would go for a little adventure, make some friends, and if all goes to plan, she’ll come home with a bag full of gold. Hell, if she felt frisky enough she could even JJ the time of day once or twice - no strings attached, of course. He seemed keen enough, that much she knew. And she had never been with anyone in that way before, much to everyone’s disbelief. She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course, especially not now. Perhaps it was the alcohol speaking, but she suddenly found him so attractive. He was her usual type - seemed like the local bad boy back home, the one who didn’t abide by the rules and got himself in trouble more often than not - and only God knew just how much Samara liked the bad boys. His fingers, although rough and calloused, left the softest touch, and she was ashamed to admit she wished he’d left them there for a moment longer. She crossed her legs and sat up straighter, trying to regain her composure. She knew she’d had enough to drink. She couldn’t do this here, especially not tonight, not in her aunt’s hotel. She knew that if she didn’t call quits to the night now, things might get ugly and she didn’t want to lose her composure with JJ yet. “Shall we?” She said, trying her hardest to sound as confident and unfazed as she could, “Head to bed I mean,” She quickly added, mentally kicking herself for not clearing it up and potentially giving JJ the wrong idea. Judging by the growing smirk on the boy’s face she realised she’d just dug herself a hole. “I thought we’d only just met, Miss La Guardiana,” he winked, standing up and offering his hand to help her up. She accepted it and turned on her heel towards the stairs as soon as she was on her feet, sassily flipping her hair as she did so. JJ followed after her, smirk only growing as they walked up the stairs and into the hallway to their respective rooms. When they reached JJ’s room, they both stopped, Samara leaning against the wall. “Fill your friends in on our plan so far,” she said, “About heading up to Daytona, I mean. I’ll take care of everything else until then.” JJ raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what she meant by ‘everything else’. She noticed his confusion and decided to clear it up, “I’ll sort out some clothes for all of you, food is on the house, we’ll also need some cash so…” she eyed JJ up and down, an idea forming in her head, “Perhaps you could be useful while we’re still here and work for it, I’m thinking… waiter?” JJ almost laughed, “Baby girl, you name it - I’ve probably done it. Back home, there isn’t a job I

haven’t worked, just to make enough to put food on the table. Besides, serving food and drinks is the least I could do to repay your kindness,” his eyes darkened as he took a step closer to Samara. His face was getting dangerously close to hers, never breaking eye contact, “It’ll be my pleasure to work for you, miss La Guardiana,” Samara held her ground, trying to keep her cool as much as she physically could. On the inside, she was on fire. “Likewise, mister Kildare,” she whispered, inching her body closer to JJ’s; she wanted to push his buttons as far as she could in the moment. They stood there in silence for a moment; they didn’t need to say anything - their eyes were doing all the talking. JJ couldn’t keep his eyes off Samara’s lips, though when he finally gave in and leaned forward, the girl took a sudden step backwards towards her room, leaving him breathless. “Make sure you wake all of your friends up early tomorrow,” she simply said, “You didn’t think you’d be the only one who’d have to work for a living around here did you? “ she faked a grimace, still stepping backwards towards her room, “Meet me tomorrow in the lobby at 8. We’ve got work to do,” she stopped in front of her door, pressing her key into the lock, “Oh, and JJ?” Her door clicked open, “I really enjoyed tonight. Looking forward to our next date. Goodnight,” with that, she was gone. Did she say date? JJ stood in the hallway for a moment before going into his room. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face even if he wanted to. Samara totally had a thing for him and he couldn’t wait to dive into this new adventure - the gold being the last thing on his mind, because maybe, just maybe, Samara wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed.

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.”

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is.

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing.

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him.

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters.

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second. If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive, but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms.

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion.

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind.

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him? It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof.

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets.

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death.

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now.

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard.

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

#My writing #Tim drake #batman fanfic #red robin #trigger warning:#depression #suicide attempts #discussion of suicide #overdose #mental illness #hurt comfort #Tim doing the comfort and being the hurt #until he gets the comfort #happy ending #wholesome #I swear the tags are scary but it IS wholesome #Tim drake centric #my writting

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falloutjay · 3 years

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Eric x careless/troublemaker reader, reader was always a crazy kid, she felt no one really understood her, and her only real friend was Esther Stoley, Annie Knitts and Nicole. But Reader has always admired Eric and never gotten why everyone hated him (she finds both Kyle and Wendy very annoying). One day, she finds him and Butters making their next scheme, and she wants in. After an effective day of pranking, they (well Eric but reader likes Butters's company) take her under their wing. They generally start hanging out and starts to be the 'girl' of the main group (she thinks of Stan, Butters and Kenny has her brothers) and she finds Eric and Kyle's banter hilarious. It gets better (for her at least): she always defends him now (be it irrationally, rationally, verbally or physically) like: Heidi tried to warn Reader about Eric...but the poor girl leaves with a broken nose or Wendy was just upset how someone so awful, could have someone advocate for them and starts to plan to tell her about the breast cancer incident when Bebe would tell that it's Y/n and if anything, what she did to him would just make her stay more, making Wendy stop. She was also a big fan of the Coon and would just gush about how cool he was (she does like Wonder Tweek, Mosquito and Toolshed but she loves Coon the best). Everyone was pretty divsive, some people thought it was funny and teased him on it (like: Craig, Stan and Kenny), some people shipped it (like: Clyde, Butters and weirdly Nicole/Tweek), but some people were afraid of those two becoming a couple (Kyle, Heidi and Wendy). Eric is strangely 'no comment'y about all this until one day, Eric is just about to be turned into the principal when suddenly Reader in a elorate plan, knocks out the witness and pins the blame on someone else. After that's over, Reader can't take it anymore and happily asks him to be her partner/boyfriend and Eric proudly accepts and the two go on to create to create anarchy. May others pray for their safety.

Hey guys! It's me! I'm back! :D

I'm still stressed AF, but after my day was really nice, I felt super motivated to finally continue this lovely prompt, so I did.

I'm currently still in the process of moving and my exams are still not over, but I'm trying!

So I hope I can publish the next request soon and I love all you guys, thank you for all the likes, reblogs, follows and most importantly your patience! <3

____________________________________

Eric Cartman x careless!troublemaker!female!Reader

“Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme Eric?” Butters asked, eyebrow raised as he listened to Erics new pranking plan. “No, it’s not at all, “eXtRemE”.” Eric retorted and shook his head.

They didn’t notice that someone approached them, listening to their plan. “W-well if you say so, I trust you, Eric.” As the fatter one of the two heard a twig snap, his head turned immediately and look at a kid from their class. What was her name again? “Who are you?” Eric asked unimpressed. “Y/N.” She answered dryly.

Butters kept looking between the two, moving his head, whenever someone said something. “What do you want?” “I want in on your plan.” “What makes you think I want someone like you in this? You normally play with the girls.”

“What does that have to do with anything. Just because I hang out with Esther, Annie and Nicole…That changes nothing about the fact that I love what you’re planning here, and I want in.” Eric seemed to think about the proposition for a second.

“Okay. I think I need one more person around here. Butters can barely do one fucking job.” So, he explained the plan to you in big detail. And in your humble opinion, it was brilliant. Once Eric had finished explaining, he looked at you with a sly smile.

“So, what do you think?” You pretended to think for a second, before an evil grin appeared on your face. “Why stop there? We can also pull a prank on the teachers and the school buses if we put in a little more effort.” “Never thought about that one before. I like your way of thinking, Y/N.”

The two looked into each other’s eyes, clearly seeing that mischievous spark in each pair of eyes. Butters watched you in horror, afraid of what he had just now witnessed. “Ohhh hamburgers.”

Y/N became a regular in Stans gang rather fast. Kenny and Stan love her to bits, just like she does. They love hanging out with her and to Kenny she’s like Karen. One thing that Y/N really enjoys is listening to Kyle and Eric's bickering. No matter the topic and no matter how loud or extreme the two get, she just sits there like it’s a cinema and the two are the newest marvel movie. Speaking of superhero movies, South Parks very own heroes are a topic ever so often too. And to Cartman’s delight, his trusted friend loves talking about The Coon. His super-secret hero identity. She would also gush about Wonder Storm, Mosquito and Toolshed but she would always praise The Coon, which is a melody in Cartman’s ears. Another thing Cartman loves about his only female friend is how she loves defending him to anyone. Be it teachers, her fellow girl friends, or anyone else. When Heidi tried to warn her that Eric means bad news, she had to visit the nurse afterwards. Y/N had detention for breaking the poor girl’s nose, but she sure as hell didn’t regret her decision. Even when she was shunned by the girls from there on.

“I just can’t believe her. Maybe she will change her mind when I tell her about the whole Breast cancer thing? You know… It could affect her too, maybe that’s wha-Wendy…” Bebe interrupted her and sighted. “You remember how Heidi was? How every time we said something mean about Cartman, she would only try harder to prove us wrong?” “Of course, I remember. How could I forget.” Wendy mumbled and stabbed her fork through her salad. “If you try to reason with her, she will just hit you with the whole “He isn’t like that”-schtick. You can’t change her mind, okay?” Bebe eyed their classmate who was happily chatting with Eric and Kenny a few tables away. “I guess.” Wendy said defeated and closed her eyes, asking herself how Eric could even make a girl interested in him.

On another table across the cafeteria, Craig and those guys were seated. Oddly enough, their topic was similar. Y/N L/N and Eric Cartman. “I don’t know why but they’d make quite a cute couple you know?” Clyde said with a smile before biting into his burger. “I know, right?” Nicole agreed and to everyone’s surprise, even Tweek nodded along. “I don’t think they’d become a thing though.” Craig mumbled lazily. “Why?” Clyde asked, obviously interested in the gossip.

“Well, Kenny, Stan and I teased him about it in History class, but he keeps saying he doesn’t like her that way.” “Aww, come on Craig, you know very well that he would never admit it just like that. Guys don’t just admit they have a crush. I’m sure he likes her. I mean, she the only one who can stand him for longer than a day.” Nicole commented, a sly smile spread across her face. “I just think the anti-Cartman fraction would rather die than see those two become a thing.” Token commented and his eyes darted across the room, looking at Kyle, Heidi and Wendy. “Well, I guess we will have some funerals to visit sometime soon.” Nicole replied and everyone at their table had to involuntarily smile.

“That’s it. ERIC. To the Principal. Now.” Mister Garrisons voice thundered through the hallways and a confused Y/N closed her locker. She let out a deep sigh, knowing something must have gone wrong with his new plan.

“Guess I gotta bust him out again.”

Knowing the way to the principal by heart she made her way there, only catching a glimpse of the in pink paint and glitter covered Mister Garrison, who kept cursing like crazy.

Y/N happily skipped past the not-occupied secretary desk and took a seat next to Eric. “I already wondered where you are.” Cartman commented unimpressed. “Sorry, I had to look at Garrison for a second. So what went wrong?” “This stupid asshole over there saw me set up the paint bomb in Garrisons locker thing.” The brown-haired whispered and pointed at the kid that was sitting across from them. “Thanks to that asshat, I will probably be suspended for some days or some shit.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it.” The h/c-haired said and got up to go over. She hovered over the boy who was looking up to her. “What?” He asked annoyed. “You’re Jonas Miller, right?” Y/N asked with the sweetest voice she could manage. “Yeah, what makes you care?” He asked, before a fist connected with his face. Surprised by her own strength, he seemed to be dazed and fell onto the other chairs.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Cartman cried out confused. “Fast, hit me!” She said, not fazed at all. “What? Why?” “God, just do it!” Trusting his mischievous partner Erics fist landed on Y/N pretty face and he even felt a hint of remorse. “Good punch Eric. Now the other side.” Once again, trusting his opposite, he did what was asked. Despite now feeling rather woozy, Y/N grabbed Jonas and laid him down in a different position. She then made Eric kneel next to her and hold her.

“If you ever tell anyone I cried, I will tell everyone about your dirty little secrets, yeah?” Eric nodded, somewhat intimidated, and impressed, watched her do her best to cry heavily.

Hearing the blood-curdling scream, Mister Mackey and the secretary came running, looking at the scene before them. Mister Mackey immediately made sure that everyone was okay, before asking the roughed-up Y/N what happened. With a trembling voice, she answered: “J-Jonas over there did the prank on Mister Garrison and-and tried to pin it on-on Eric. So, I c-came here t-t-to tell everyone t-that Eric was with me t-the whole time. When Jonas n-noticed that, he hit m-m-me and Eric punched him, to-to help me.” The now fully awake again Jonas looked at the girl in horror. “N-No! That’s not the story! I- I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT, M'KAY?!” Mister Mackey interrupted him. “Hitting an innocent girl?! Jonas Miller, you will have to face the consequences!” Y/N still held up her best puppy eyes and Mister Mackey finally turned to the two troublemakers. “Eric, will you bring Y/n to the nurse, please. I will bring Jonas to PC Principal personally, m'kay.” Eric nodded, somewhat petrified, and guided Y/N along the corridors. He felt shocked. He didn’t know why. He never felt this scared before.

Once in the nurse’s office and after Y/N was handed an icepack, she was the first one to speak, once the nurse left them alone.

“You’re so quiet.” She commented dryly. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Getting me out of there. I never- It’s fine, okay? Don’t worry.” Silence fell over the two once more. Y/N just enjoyed the cooling ice on her burning skin and Eric still felt thankful for what she did for him. For him. And no one else. She would have never done this for Kyle. Not for Kenny. She did it for him.

“Hey Eric?” The boy next to her nodded. “You know I wouldn’t have done this for anyone else right?” Eric nodded once more. “Can I ask you for something?” “Of course.”

“You know, I like you a lot. So, would you maybe like to be my boyfriend?”

Bonus:

Eric gave no answer. He just slowly intertwined his fingers with hers and that was answer enough. “Are your cheeks red from blushing or is it from me hitting you?” “Maybe a bit of both.” She laughed and to Eric, it was the most beautiful sound he ever listened to. His girlfriend’s laugh.

Kyle was doing his math homework and started to get annoyed with the harder and harder becoming questions. A vibration ripped him out of his thoughts. He fished for his iPhone without taking his eyes off the paper and unlocked it. The contact read “FATASS” and it was a picture. Kyle's eyes widened in horror as his eyes scanned the picture. It was a picture of a list with dozens of prank ideas. The caption was what truly terrified him. “Me and my GIRLFRIEND brainstormed a bit, hope you’re ready Kahl <3”

Kyle felt like crying. Not only because of his math homework but also because his worst nightmare became a reality. Cartman has a Girlfriend. And it was no other than the infamous Y/N L/N.

#south park x reader #south park fanfiction #eric cartman x reader

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mortimer-writes-sometimes · 3 years

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Idk if this is a good prompt but im always a sucker for clothes swap fluff so 👉👈 smth with grillby wearing sans’ jacket maybe?

This is so freaking cute. I might have to write like, three alternate versions of this.

Once again, I think I strayed a bit from expectation writing this one. Also, it’s entirely off-season. And I think I got a bit sloppy at the end, so I apologize for that. If you can’t tell, I don’t think very highly of my own writing. In any case, here’s the one-shot that nearly turned into multiple chapters!

Grillby Looks Good In Blue

Word count: 4961 Summary: When it’s revealed that Grillby doesn’t have a Halloween costume, Frisk comes up with a great idea.

Grillby had never been particularly festive. Even after opening his new bar on the surface, the ‘holiday spirit’ people talked about continued to elude him. The older members of his family didn’t celebrate many holidays, and what celebrations they did have were never more than another family gathering. He enjoyed them, of course. Any opportunity to see his brothers and niece was a welcome one! But he’d never decorated his bar or hosted any sort of seasonally themed party. So, when he learned about the human holiday of ‘Halloween’, he didn’t plan to come up with a costume.

(He planned to close early and hand out candy, of course. He had a soft spot for children.)

The night before Halloween, Grillby’s bar was lively with excited monsters and humans alike. The anticipation for the big night was palpable as people chattered among themselves, talking about their costumes, the best places to get candy, and parties that were going to be held. The sun had only just started to set when the bell above the door rang, a familiar family of monsters entering with a single human child.

“Welcome back,” Grillby greeted with a small smile. The whole gang was there- Toriel, Frisk, Alphys, Undyne, Papyrus, Sans… even Asgore was there. Sans and Frisk made a beeline for the bar while the rest of the group discussed seating arrangements. Grillby started pouring a glass of apple juice for Frisk automatically, placing it in front of them as the child struggled up onto a barstool. “It’s good to see you all again. What’s the occasion?”

Sans shrugged and hopped up into his usual seat. “Well, we’re gonna have a little All Hallows Eve Eve party while we put the finishing touches on everyone’s costumes. Thought that since we’re all here, it’d be nice to go out to eat together. It was mostly Frisk’s idea.”

Grillby chuckled. “Well, I think it was an excellent idea. Now, what can I get the two of you started with?”

The night wore on with plenty of food, drinks, and laughter as everyone caught up with each other. Frisk and Sans went back to sit with the others during dinner, but when it was time for dessert, Frisk was right back up at the bar to talk with Grillby. They were excited to tell him about their costume. “Guess what I’m going as for Halloween!” they demanded, bouncing on their stool.

Grillby set a piece of cake in front of Frisk as he carefully monitored the stool’s stability. “I don’t know, what?”

“Nooooo,” Frisk whined, “That’s not how it works! You have to guess!”

“Alright, alright.” He pretended to think for a moment, tapping his chin. “You’re going to be… adorable,” he teased, ruffling their hair.

Frisk laughed, pushing his hand away. “No, I’m not! I’m going to be scary!”

Grillby shook his head. “Forgive me for being unable to imagine that. What scary thing are you going as, then?”

Frisk was unable to contain their excitement any longer, jumping up on the stool. “I’m going to be a zombie!” they yelled. As they did, the stool teetered beneath them.

Ding! You’re blue now!

Grillby had reached out and grabbed Frisk by the shoulders at the same time Sans turned them blue and levitated them, the unbalanced stool the child was sitting on hitting the floor. Sans walked up to the bar and righted the stool, chuckling as he found a seat of his own. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you partying too hard now.”

Frisk gave both of them a sheepish grin as they were set back on their stool, looking up at Grillby. “Sorry. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m going to be a zombie for Halloween. It was Sans’s idea!” They shoveled a big bite of chocolate cake in their mouth as they looked at the skeleton.

“Yeah,” Sans said with a shrug. “I mean, a supernatural being that keeps coming back to life no matter how many times you’ve killed it? It seems appropriate.”

Grillby wasn’t sure what Sans meant by that, but at that point, he was used to it enough to not bother asking. He turned to Frisk and poured them a glass of milk to go with their dessert. “Well, make sure Sans sends me a picture. I’m sure it will look great.”

Frisk nodded eagerly, taking the glass of milk and drinking half of it in one go. Grillby offered them a napkin before they could wipe their mouth on their sleeve. Frisk took it, scrubbing at their face and smiling up at him. “So,” they asked, “What’s your Halloween costume gonna be?”

“Oh, I’m not really doing anything for Halloween,” Grillby responded as he moved to wipe some crumbs from his bar. “I will be handing out candy, though, if you’d like to stop by.”

“You don’t have a costume?!” Apparently, in Frisk’s mind, this was a horrible tragedy. “But everyone put a costume together! Even Sans made one!”

Papyrus, overhearing this, looked up from where he’d been enjoying a plate of pasta with chocolate sauce. “Wait, Sans, you actually made a costume?! I thought you said you were just going to buy one!”

Sans shrugged. “Yeah, well, everyone else was making their own. Besides, the costume I came up with is a piece of art. You can’t get that at a store.”

Frisk didn’t look impressed. “Sans, your costume is literally a shirt with the word ‘life’ written on it and a bowl of lemon drops.”

“Well, I didn’t really have much to work with. You know what they say- when life gives you lemons…”

Papyrus groaned. “SANS THAT DOESN’T COUNT AS A COSTUME AT ALL!”

Grillby chuckled from behind the bar, fond. “I think it sounds very you, Sans.”

Sans grinned up at him. “Heh, at least someone appreciates my talents. Anyway, Grillbz, the kid is right. It’s our first Halloween on the surface. You gotta do something more than just hand out candy.”

Apparently, everyone was listening at that point, because that was when Alphys stood up. “O-Oh! If, um, if you still n-need a costume, I, uh… w-well I have some material l-leftover from making mine and Undyne’s! I’m sure we can- um- c-come up with some ideas, haha…”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Toriel chimed in. “You should join us for our costume-making party tonight, Grillby. Then you can accompany Frisk with us for trick-or-treating.”

Grillby adjusted his glasses, a bit flustered by all the sudden attention. “I-i wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Undyne laughed, getting up. “Too late, fire dude! If Frisk says you need a costume, then that’s that. Now let’s close this joint and get going already!”

As Undyne and Papyrus began rounding people up and making them go home so Grillby could close the bar, the fire monster chuckled to himself. Maybe, just this once, he could have a little more fun with a holiday.

It felt odd, being in Toriel’s house. Grillby considered the others his friends, but he’d never actually hung out with any of them outside the bar before. Everyone was gathered in the living room, where multiple old bedsheets had been spread on the floor and furniture. The group spread out around the living room as they helped each put finishing touches on their designs with hot glue and paint. “The bedsheets are a clever idea,” Grillby commented lightly as he took a cup of tea from Toriel (he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he usually didn’t drink tea. It was basically just hot flavored water).

The motherly monster smiled, sitting in an armchair and watching the scene in front of her with a fond look in her eye. “Dr. Alphys suggested it. She’s very good at arts and crafts!”

“Speaking of arts and crafts,” Sans interjected from his spot on the couch, “It’s time to figure out what Grillby’s costume is going to be.”

Alphys had a lot of ideas. “Oh! Y-you could go as a gender-bent v-version of Sailor Mars! Or maybe, um, if you c-can burn blue for- for the evening you could go a-a-as Rin Okumura from Blue Exorcist! Oh, I b-bet you could m-make a great Kyoya! Uh, from O-ouran Highschool Host Club?”

...Grillby didn’t understand what she said, but was flattered anyway. Kind of.

Sans decided to step in and rescue Grillby before Alphys put him in cat ears. “While those are all good ideas,” he said thoughtfully, “Maybe we should think of something that we can, y’know, throw together overnight? Plus I’m pretty sure all those characters wear like fancy clothes and stuff. That’s what Grillby wears already. Hardly counts as a costume.”

Papyrus stood up specifically so he could put his hands on his hips. “Well the whole point of a costume is to dress up for the evening! What is Grillby supposed to do? Dress down?”

That gave Frisk an idea. They got up, walking over to Grillby and pulling on his arms to make him stand up. “Come here for a second!” Then, they went and grabbed Sans, pulling him to stand next to Grillby. Frisk took a couple of steps back, rubbing their chin in thought as they inspected the two side-by-side. Apparently, they liked what they saw, because they smiled. “Hey Sans, do you mind if I change your costume a bit?”

“Uhhh, what are we talking about when we say ‘a bit’?” Sans asked, unsure of where Frisk was going with this.

Alphys seemed to catch on, because anyone who has read lots and lots of fanfiction can guess where this is going. “Ohhhh, that’s g-genius, Frisk! But, u-um, Grillby’s a lot taller than Sans.”

Frisk’s smile only widened, the plan coming together in their mind. “Sans’s jacket is big enough! And I’m sure we can find him a white T-shirt that’s big enough!”

The skeleton waved a hand at them, interrupting. “Sans’s jacket is big enough for what?”

Frisk and Alphys shared a mischievous look. Sans looked up at Grillby (who was still confused and clueless) and came to a terrible realization.

He was going to have to tie his shoes for once.

“Do I really have to keep the shirt tucked in?”

“Yes! Grillby always has his shirt tucked in!”

“A-and don’t- don’t slouch. You have to, um, g-get into character!”

“When did this go from a Halloween costume to full-on cosplay?”

Sans tugged at his suspenders as he inspected the completed outfit. Somehow, Frisk and Alphys had managed to find a white button-up, dress pants, and dress shoes to fit Sans. Grillby’s suspenders could be adjusted down to fit Sans, and bowties tended to be one-size-fits-all, so Sans got to wear the real deal in those departments. Finally, Toriel had taken the lenses out of an old pair of reading glasses she didn’t use and set the frames on Sans’s skull (Frisk taped the sides since Sans didn’t have ears).

The skeleton couldn’t help chuckling. “Man, no wonder Grillby is pretty fit. Getting dressed in this stuff is a whole workout.” It didn’t look bad, though. He glanced upstairs, where Papyrus and Toriel had whisked Grillby away for his ‘transformation’. Sans had already managed to get fully dressed, and his usual outfit was way simpler than Grillby’s. What was taking so long?

The others seemingly had the same thought. Undyne crossed her arms, walking to the base of the stairs. “HEY PAPYRUS! WHAT’S THE HOLD UP?!” she yelled through the house.

Papyrus cracked the door to Toriel’s room open for a moment. “JUST BE PATIENT, UNDYNE!”

Toriel pushed the door the rest of the way open, sighing. “Please, both of you, no shouting in the house. We… had a minor issue with finding a T-shirt, is all. Grillby is changing in my bathroom, he’ll be down in a moment.”

Just then, Papyrus spotted Sans, eyesockets widening. “OH MY GOD! Sans, you actually have style for once!”

“Heh, thanks, I guess…” Sans felt nervous, for some reason. What if Grillby thought he looked dumb? What if Grillby got really uncomfortable with this idea? What if he got mad? Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to force him to-

The door to Toriel’s room opened again, a warm light filling the hall. If Sans could have blushed, he would have.

Sans’s shorts were wide enough around the waist to fit Grillby, although they didn’t quite go down to his knees. The old white shirt Toriel had found him was a bit more form-fitting than the ones Sans usually wore, clinging near his waist and the center of his chest. Amusingly, Sans’s slippers were a bit too big on the fire monster, if the way he had to shuffle in them to get them to stay on was any indication. What got Sans, though, was the jacket.

Sans’s hoodie fit Grillby perfectly.

Grillby had shot Papyrus a questioning look when he was handed Sans’s jacket, still unsure about the whole thing. “Will this even fit me?” he asked skeptically. “I’m quite a bit taller than Sans.”

“Well, it’s very big on Sans,” Toriel pointed out. “Just try it on. I’m sure we can go find a cheap blue hoodie in the morning to complete the look if that doesn’t fit.”

Papyrus nodded. “Or if it smells too much like ketchup for you to bear!”

The bartender still wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t hurt to just try it on, right? Blushing a bit under the attention the other two were giving him, he shrugged on the blue jacket. Papyrus was right, it did smell a little like ketchup. But…

As the weight of the fabric settled around his shoulders, something in Grillby relaxed. The fabric that lined the inside of Sans’s jacket was surprisingly soft, and the sleeves were just long enough that if Grillby wanted to, he could pull them over his hands. The fire monster’s face grew hotter, a bright blush spreading across his cheeks. He was wearing Sans’s clothes. He was wearing Sans’s jacket. He wrapped his arms around himself without thinking, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, he found that Toriel and Papyrus were both staring at him. He shifted a bit, fiddling with the hoodie strings. “...wh-what? Is something wrong?”

After a long moment, Toriel smiled, raising a hand to her mouth in an attempt to hold back laughter. Papyrus tilted his head, entirely bemused. “Grillby, why did you turn blue? Is it that overwhelming? I told Sans he needed to wash that old thing more often!”

Toriel lost her composure, laughing softly. “That’s not what it means when a fire monster turns blue, Papyrus.”

“W-wait, I’m what-?!” Grillby ran back into Toriel’s bathroom. Sure enough, the blush on his cheeks had turned a vibrant blue, along with some of the flames that made up his hair. “Oh. Oh no.”

“‘Oh no’ what?! I don’t understand! Ms. Toriel, why are you laughing?!” Papyrus frowned, unhappy at being left out of the loop.

Toriel was all too happy to clarify. “Fire monsters blush differently than other monsters. The flames that make up their faces change temperature depending on the emotion. When they’re embarrassed, they may turn red. When flustered, a brighter orange. The most dazzling display, though, is when a fire monster is-”

“You can’t tell Sans!” Grillby suddenly cried out, nearly shouting it. He went back into the bedroom, willing himself to calm down. “Fuck, I can’t let him see me like this…!”

Toriel decided to let the language slide, focusing on calming Grillby down. “It’s alright,” she said soothingly, “We won’t tell him. You should tell him yourself.”

Grillby shook his head. “No, no no no no no. Sans can’t know about this. It’s entirely inappropriate, and it would ruin everything we already have-”

Toriel held up a hand to stop him. She tilted her head a bit, concerned. “Now why would it be inappropriate? You’re adults. If you both consent to a relationship, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Grillby groaned. “It’s- I’m a fire elemental and he’s a skeleton. We’re not going to be compatible.”

Toriel frowned at that. “Now that’s an outdated mindset and you know it,” she huffed. “You like him, don’t you? I’m sure even if he didn’t like you that way, you could still be friends after telling him.”

“Like him in what way?!?!” The Great Papyrus interrupted, starting to get irritated that the author seemed to keep forgetting he was there.

Toriel looked at Papyrus, then sighed, smiling a bit as she looked back at Grillby. Grillby groaned again, hanging his head in defeat. “Fire monsters turn blue,” he mumbled, “When they’re in love.”

Papyrus took a moment to process that. Grillby was in love… he’d turned blue when he put Sans’s jacket on… Oh! The pieces clicked in his skull. “HOLY FU-”

“LANGUAGE!”

Grillby took a deep breath as he walked down the stairs, trying to stay calm and, more importantly, stay cold. Sans would probably say I just need to ‘chill out’. Or be ‘cool’, Grillby thought to himself, his awkward smile becoming a bit more genuine in amusement. He stepped into the living room, holding his arms out in a sort of ‘Ta-da!’ motion. Frisk started clapping while Alphys took pictures, both of them far more excited about the outfit change than they should have been.

“Well if it isn’t the ‘hottest’ new fashion trend, Grillby casual.”

Sans caught Grillby’s attention, the fire monster turning to look at him. “Ha, funny, Sans,” is what he said on the outside. On the inside, he was screaming. Stay chill stay chill stay chill stay chill god damn it now that terrible joke is stuck in my head holy shit just stay chill!

“Y-you look nice,” Grillby managed to stammer out. “I never thought I’d see you wear a tie that wasn’t printed on the shirt.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sans replied with a wink. “So I guess it’s decided then? We’re going as each other for Halloween?”

Grillby nodded, barely trusting himself to speak. “I suppose so…”

Frisk jumped up on the couch. “WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE TO GO TRICK OR TREATING WITH US!!”

The next several minutes were filled with Toriel lecturing Frisk about jumping on furniture and yelling in the house.

The next day, the whole group met at Grillby’s to get ready, taking advantage of the fact that the restaurant had a total of four bathroom stalls. Grillby volunteered to put his costume on last, soul thrumming with anxiety. He was sure that the evening was going to be the hardest evening of his life (oh, the things he put himself through for Frisk’s sake).

Grillby was far from unaware of his feelings for Sans. He’d had a bit of a crush for a long time, and in the time since they’d been released from the Underground, that affection had only grown. There was just something about the skeleton that made him want to sit and talk with him forever. It would never work out, though. Relationships were complicated, and Grillby didn’t want to mess up what he already had. If he made a move and it didn’t work out, it would be hard to go back to just being friends. Needless to say, Sans’s new ability to turn Grillby’s flames blue without even being in the room was a huge problem.

“Hey fire dude, your turn!” Undyne pulled Grillby from his thoughts, thrusting the bartender’s costume into his arms. “Hurry up and get changed! It’s almost time to get going!”

Grillby nodded, a bit overwhelmed all of a sudden. “R-right. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He took his time getting dressed, carefully monitoring his temperature. For the most part, he was fine. He could forget that he was dressed as his favorite skeleton, even be amused by it. There was no problem at all… until he got to the jacket.

Slipping on Sans’s hoodie, Grillby felt his temperature immediately rise. He was never cold, but he could still appreciate that the jacket was comfortably warm. Between the smell and the weight, if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine Sans had his arms around him.

Oh god, there was no way he was going to make it through this night.

Cautiously stepping out of the bathroom stall, Grillby looked in the mirror and confirmed what he already suspected. That bright blue tint had returned to his face. He took a deep breath, willing it away, but some of the flames that formed his hair and cheeks wouldn’t cool off. The traitorous streaks of heat flickered and Grillby felt like he was being mocked.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened and Grillby panicked, pulling up the hood of the and ducking his head to hide his face. Glancing to the side, he wanted to scream. Of course, it was Sans.

Sans looked worried, dress shoes clicking on the tile floor as he walked over. “You okay, Grillbz? You’ve been in here for a while. I was starting to get worried.”

“I-i’m fine,” Grillby stammered, turning to look at the wall, the counter, anywhere but at Sans. “I’m just nervous. It’s the first time I’ve participated in something like this.”

Sans chuckled, a gentle sound that soothed some of Grillby’s nerves. “C’mon, you can’t mess up Halloween. Just ‘chill’ out and enjoy yourself.”

Sans was right. There wasn’t any reason to be this worked up. So long as he focused on the festivities, Grillby didn’t run any risk of being flustered again. “Alright. I’ll be out in a moment.” He straightened up, looking in the mirror again and sighing in relief. For now, the blush was gone.

Later that evening, the Halloween festivities were in full swing. Monster and human children alike were wandering up and down the streets with their parents, laughing and playing as their buckets and bags slowly filled with sweets. Frisk insisted on dragging as many people as they could up to each door with them, insisting that, “Larger groups of people get more candy!”

Of course, being a pretty big group of monsters, they couldn’t all fit on a doorstep at once. Instead, they all took turns. Two people would go with Frisk at a time, and the rest of them would just wave from the street.

Sans put his hands in his pockets as he watched Grillby and Asgore walk Frisk to the door of the next house, chuckling a bit as the former king stopped to admire the flowerbeds. His gaze drifted to Grillby. He’d been worried that the bartender would feel a little out of place, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, holding Frisk’s hand as the child cheered, “Trick or treat!”

The couple at the door stopped to ask about their costumes like any other house, putting a few pieces of candy in Frisk’s bag. Sans couldn’t hear what was said, but when Grillby explained his costume, whatever the couple said made him laugh. Sans smiled to himself, fond.

Undyne elbowed Sans, arching an eyebrow at him. “Dude, you’re staring again.”

Sans rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, well, he’s being really cute. Besides, anyone could appreciate a guy that hot.”

Undyne groaned. “Okay, but being serious, why don’t you just talk to him already? The guy obviously has a thing for you. Nobody would let you rack up a tab like yours if they didn’t want to cook for you all the time.”

“I know,” Sans admitted, “But he can be kinda shy. I don’t wanna scare him off by making the first move.”

She just rolled her eyes. “If he’s shy, he’s never gonna confess to you. Just go for it, man!”

Sans looked back at Grillby. In the time they’d been talking, the fire monster had picked Frisk up and put them on his shoulders, smiling as Frisk declared which house they should go to next. He was so good with the kid. He let Frisk hang out at the bar after school all the time, and he’d even helped them with their homework once or twice. The bartender was one of the sweetest guys Sans had ever met. How could the skeleton not like him? And Sans had to admit, he was getting a little impatient. “You know what? Fine,” he said, looking back at Undyne. “I’m gonna tell him.”

Undyne looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Tonight?”

“Right now.”

“Oh my god.” Undyne whipped out her phone, pulling up her camera. “Fucking finally. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Alphys! Alphys, it’s finally happening, come help me film this!”

Sans laughed, pulling his hands out of his pockets to fidget with his suspenders. “Thanks for the enthusiasm, but this is something I kinda want to do alone? Grillby’s a private guy. You’ll make him nervous.”

Undyne groaned. “Fine, but you better tell me how it goes!”

Sans gave her a thumbs-up. “Sure thing, captain.”

“I mean it!” she emphasized, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I want every detail.”

Sans chuckled. “I’ll make sure to ‘burn’ the moment in my memory. Now get out of here, they’re coming back.”

Grillby and Asgore rejoined the group, Grillby handing Frisk off to Toriel. “I believe it’s your turn, You Majesty.”

Toriel smiled a bit. “Now what have I told you about that? It’s just Toriel now.” She turned to the others. “Sans? Would you like to come as well?”

“I’ll c-come!” Alphys quickly interjected. “We sh-should all go! Except Sans and Grillby! G-Grillby just went, and, u-um… Sans, well…”

“I’m too lazy to go all the way up to the door,” Sans finished for her. “I’ll hang back here with Grillby. You all go on ahead.”

Toriel tilted her head, trying to figure out what Sans was planning before understanding hit her. She smiled a bit and nodded. “Alright, you two. Don’t fall too far behind.”

“This won’t take very long,” Sans assured her, waving them off. Frisk lead the way, and pretty soon it was just Sans and Grillby, walking side by side in the cool autumn evening.

Grillby adjusted his glasses, glancing curiously at Sans. “...alright. What is this all about? I can tell you’re plotting something.”

Sans chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve always been able to read me pretty well.” And somehow the bartender was still totally oblivious. “I just wanted to talk with you for a minute. Just you and me.” He stopped walking, looking Grillby up and down. “...y’know, you don’t look half bad in my jacket.”

Oh god. The fear of blushing and tipping Sans off returned at full force, Grillby swallowing hard. “Th-thank you? Um, I think you look nice, too. Dressed up, I mean.”

“Eh, you pull it off better.” Sans shrugged. “You know, you’ve been kinda quiet this evening. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Grillby answered too quickly. He’d honestly been avoiding talking to Sans too much. Sans was far too good at flustering him and making him laugh. “Why do you ask?”

Sans huffed, fond as he tilted his head. “Well, I’ve been thinking. Hanging out with everybody is great and all, but I’d kinda like to spend more time with just you, y’know?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little nervous. He didn’t want to make Grillby uncomfortable by being too direct, but he couldn’t be too subtle. Otherwise, it would go over the fire monster’s head. He took a deep breath and braced himself. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go get breakfast or something sometime?”

Grillby nearly choked. What was Sans trying to say? Surely he wasn’t asking what Grillby wanted him to thought he might be asking. He felt his temperature rise without his permission and reflectively pulled up the hood of the jacket, covering his face with his sleeves. If anything, remembering that he was hiding in Sans’s jacket just made it worse. He tried to say something, but to his dismay, all he could get out was a flustered squeak.

That was about the reaction Sans was expecting. “Grillby? You okay?” Sans asked gently. He stepped closer, trying to move into the bartender’s field of vision.

“F-f-fine…!” Grillby managed. He was dead. He was going to die. This was a disaster.

“Heh, sure,” Sans mumbled, giving him a small smile. “Alright, if you’re gonna be shy about it, let’s try this a different way.” The skeleton reached up and gently took Grillby’s hands in his own, pulling them away. Grillby’s face was burning with beautiful shades of red, orange, and blue, all mixing together. Sans chuckled a bit, putting his hands on the bartender’s shoulders and making him lean over. “Come here, you dork.” He stood up on his toes, pulling the fire monster’s hood down as he did.

The light show when Sans kissed him was spectacular.

Papyrus, who had been watching the whole time, jumped out of the bushes. “OH MY GOD, SANS!” He was shortly followed by Undyne, Alphys, and Frisk, who were all rewatching the scene from Frisk’s phone.

“That was s-so cute!” Alphys gushed. “You’re so adorable t-together! I think it’s my new OTP.”

Grillby groaned, covering his face with one hand as Sans laughed. “I hate all of you.” He stopped as a hand slipped into his own, looking down at Sans.

Sans smiled up at him, still chuckling a bit. His gaze softened a bit as he ran his thumb over Grillby’s knuckles. “So,” he said quietly, “What do you say, firefly? Coffee this Saturday.”

Grillby smiled, finally letting himself blush without panicking. He laced their fingers together and gave the skeleton a gentle nod. “That sounds lovely.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! If you did, consider leaving me a comment to tell me your favorite part. If you want to send me a prompt, my asks are open!

#dustywrites #sans #grillby #undertale #undertale fic #oneshot #ask answered #sans undertale #grillby undertale #sans x grillby #sansby #fluff fic #this got so long #and i wrote most of it past midnight

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sukiglycerin · 4 years

Text

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?"

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself."

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money. these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken. you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though," bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap.

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don’t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Everything Undesired chapter 9

chapter 8

Warnings: Victim blaming (but not from who you think it is) mention of rape, mention of underage drinking, mention of drugged drinks

When Arella returned to Mammon’s room, everything was quiet. She wasn’t so sure whether that was a good or bad thing yet. She made her way down the stairs quietly. If the demon had been sleeping, she would have hated to disturb him. She sat next to him on the bed. He wasn’t sleeping but rather just staring off into space, a blank look painted across his features- not a good sign.

“Mams?” her call was soft as she reached out instinctively to cup his cheek to turn his head towards her, but stopped. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate being touched right now, she thinks as she just settles beside him, choosing instead to just observe her boyfriend for the moment.

His eyes were far off once again. He looks so delicate right now, like any wrong action might shatter him to pieces. It makes her heart ache at the sight. He was always such a bright person, always smiling, cracking silly jokes. To see him reduced to this all due to a scene in a movie.... as much as she understood what he was going through, well, it wasn’t fun to watch and not be able to do anything to help. Arella wouldn’t initiate contact with out his express permission unless it looked like he was going to hurt himself or he pursued it himself, wanting to reestablish that Mammon had all the control right now.

She sat in silence with the Avatar of Greed for what must’ve been a good three hours. She was starting to nod off when the white-haired demon abruptly rolled over onto her before immediately recoiling away off the bed, startled at her presence. Arella’s eyes widened as she scrambled over to his side of the bed and peered over the edge.

“Mammon, are you alright?”

“Damn...” Mammon groaned as he rubbed the back of his head. He takes a moment look at his surroundings. “How the fuck did I get in my room?” he seemed confused before he looked up at his human. “Weren’t we jus’ down in the common room with m’brothers watching that horror movie that Levi wanted to see?”

Arella shook her head. “No, Love, do you really not remember? There was a scene we didn’t know about. You had a panic attack and took off... I was able to get you to calm down and you’ve been here ever since. Your brothers have been looking for you to see if you’re alright but I text them and told them you were safe.”

The demon’s face paled at that. “How...How long ago was that?”

“Three hours ago... almost four at this point. Here come up on the bed,” she reached a hand out to help him up and he took it, pulling himself up off the floor and climbing back into bed.

“’m going crazy ain’t I, Babe?” He leaned his head on her shoulder, “What sane person jus’ loses nearly four hours because of a movie like that?”

“No... No, Honey, you're not going crazy. What you experienced over and over again was traumatic. This is normal. It’ll get better as time goes on; I promise.”

“Ya sound so sure...”

“Because this is something I’ve experienced before.”

Mammon’s ears perked up at that. He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “Were you...” He couldn’t even bring himself to finish the question.

“Y-Yeah...” Arella looked to the side, hoping he would read the room and not ask any more questions but luck wasn’t on her side.

“Who did it?”

“No, this isn’t about me so it really doesn’t-”

“Arella. Who. Did. It?” The demon’s gaze was intense as he grabbed her shoulders firmly. “Tell me.”

“A boyfriend I had no business dating.” She squeaked. “I was sixteen and he was twenty-three at the time. He drugged my drink when I wasn’t looking a-and it was my fault to begin with. If I hadn’t been drinking underage, it never would have happened.”

“Look at me. Do you even hear yourself right now? Why the hell do you think that? If what happened to me wasn’t my fault, why is what happened to you your fault?” The Avatar of Greed frowns.

“W-Well,” She begins, meeting his eyes nervously, “It’s like I said, I was drinking underage when I shouldn’t have been. I could have avoided that but what happened to you was unavoidable due to the very nature of pacts and their orders.”

“And so what? You made a mistake, Baby. That didn’t mean you deserved to be raped!” Arella watches at the look on his face devolves in a look of horror. “Did I? Did I force you to do something you didn’t wanna?” He worried as he was the one who pushed for them to start sleeping together.

“N-No! No, no, I enjoyed and wanted everything we’ve done together a-and you always stop whenever I say no. Things are different with us. Look...” her voice was small. “Can we stop talking about me now...I’m uncomfortable.”

“That’s fine,” he nodded as he pressed his forehead against hers and tugged her down so they could just lay in bed together. “You can talk to me if you need to...”

Arella nodded as she wondered how they had gotten here. She was supposed to be comforting him and yet it was the other way around now. The human thinks maybe she should have kept this to herself since all she managed to do was make this about herself and that’s not what Arella wanted at all. She was a little lost in thought as he rolled onto his stomach resting his head on her chest but the sudden shift was enough to draw her attention.

“Do you mind... if I run my hand through your hair?’

“No, I don’t... What are ya even asking for?”

“I.... I don’t want to do anything without your consent...” she says as she starts to card her fingers through his hair. “I want you to feel like you’re the one in charge again.”

“Ya always have my consent, Treasure.” The demon purrs contently. They lay there for a few minutes before Mammon shoots up. “It’s been too quiet... The baby!”

Arella grabs his arm to keep him from running off, “Asmo took him tonight so I could focus on you.”

“Really?” He seems touched. “Ya didn’t have to do that. He could have slept in here in between us if I was in that bad of shape...” He laid back down. “Well since we got the night to ourselves do ya wanna...?”

“Want to what?” It took her a few minutes to realized what he was asking and a deep blush covered her cheeks at the thought of it. “I-I mean I wouldn’t mind it but are you sure you’re ready for that again?”

“Yeah... as long as I’m in control, I should be fine... Are you okay with it right now?” The demon rises up over his mate. “I just want to replace the feeling of their hands all over me with yours. Will you let me?”

The look in his eyes is somewhere between desperation and longing and Arella can do nothing but nod, feeling much the same way.

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

As the morning rolled in, the Avatar of Greed curls closer into his human, a satisfied smile on his face. Despite the earlier events of the night, he couldn’t have been more at peace- that is until he heard his child crying for him. Instinctively he hopped out of bed, threw on whatever sweat pants were closest to him and rushed down the hallway to Asmo’s room.

Thankfully the door was unlocked so he just let himself in. He found his brother practically dancing around the room in small gentle motions, bouncing Cyrus in his arms as the little one wailed and wailed. When the fifth-born spotted their brother, they turned in a way that allowed the infant to see his father.

“Cyrus, look, look, there’s Daddy.” And that’s really all it took for the boy to calm down from the wailing, reduced now to soft whines and whimpers. “Sorry, I didn’t want him to wake you two since I didn’t know how late you guys had been up last night but I guess he must just be sick of me by now.”

“It’s fine, Asmo. Here, I’ll take him now.” The second-born holds his arms out for the child and Asmo transfers him over to Mammon. “I’m here now, Buddy. Ya ain’t gotta cry no more...” He returns his attention back to the Avatar of Lust. “Thank you so much Asmo. Ya didn’t have to do this for us... especially after I ruined movie night last night...”

“Don’t worry about it,” The strawberry blonde demon smiles. “I loved spending the night with him. He’s a good sleeper and such a little lovebug. He really likes to snuggle huh?”

Mammon nods at that. “How much did he take on a bottle?”

“Roughly about two and a half ounces.” They smile as Asmo rubs Cyrus’ back. “I heard about the whole not eating much on a bottle thing.”

“Yeah, he was only taking an ounce so it must’ve been the taste of the formula that bothered him. When was the last time he ate or had a diaper change?

“Not long ago actually, he ate maybe an hour ago and he had a change about fifteen minutes ago.”

The Avatar of Greed only nods as he heads to the door with his child but Asmodeus stopped him.

“Do you still feel like a bad father?”

“I mean kinda... but it’ll get easier from now on...” He looks back at his younger brother. “I didn’t hear him at first. Shouldn’t good parents be able to hear their kids right away when they’re cryin’?”

“Mammon, both you and Arella you sleep like the dead,” The Avatar of Lust chuckles. “Not to mention, your room isn’t exactly close to mine. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t hear the little guy. Now, if you’d had a baby monitor and still didn’t hear him, that would be a cause for concern, but look at you. The moment you realized he needed you, you came running. You’re a good father so have a little more faith in yourself, m’kay?”

“Sure...” A small smile crept up on his face. “Thanks, Asmo.”

“Anytime,” The demon smiles as he walks out with his brother. “It’s my turn to cook breakfast today. What do you think we should have?”

“I’m not sure actually,” Mammon thinks for a moment, coming up with nothing, “to be honest, eating is the last thing on my mind right now. Maybe you could just make what you usually do. It’s been a while since we had your pancakes so I’m sure the others would appreciate it.”

Asmo only nodded as they walked down the hall back towards Mammon’s room. They were met by the eldest who had been heading down to Asmo’s room.

“You’re awake.” Lucifer looked surprised. “How’re you feeling, Mammon?”

“Better,” the Avatar of Greed sighs, “I slept for a bit after I calmed down so I’m good for the time being.”

“That’s good. The end of the term’s almost here as I’m sure you know, and then we have a month break before the new term starts. I think you and Arella should take a vacation together. It might be good for you to get away for a bit. You deserve at least that much.”

Mammon looks down at his son who was trying to hold his head up every so often before it would fall back down to his father’s shoulder. “You mean with the baby... right?”

“Well, no, but if you would rather bring him with you that’s not a problem as well. If you choose for him to stay, it would be helpful for the rest of our brothers to learn how to care for an infant allowing them to help you better so the four of us don’t have to do all the work.”

The second-born looked down at Cyrus who only smiled at him as little trills and coos came from the child.

“Nah, I think we’ll take him with us- might be better that way.” He hummed, “Thanks for offerin’ though. Arella should be up by now so I’ll get goin’ back to her. See ya.”

Both of his brothers nodded as they exchanged a look with soft smiles.

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

As Mammon returns to his room, he spots Arella gathering up the sheets he had pulled of the bed after their shower last night, having dressed herself while he was gone. When she noticed them, her eyes lit up.

“There’re my boys!” She smiled as she approached them. Cyrus mimicked his adoptive mother’s facial expressions and as she stood on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his nose before shifting over press a kiss to Mammon’s cheek.

“What, just the one? I didn’t realize ya hated me today.” The demon teased, seeing if he could get more kisses from his human.

“Well, if you would bend down, I could give you proper kisses.” Arella hummed. “I’m vertically challenged, remember? You have to meet me half-way, Love.”

“Right, right,” The demon chuckles as he leans down shifting Cyrus so his head was supported in the new position. “I hear ya, Short-stack.” He smiled as she pressed little kisses all over his face before he was turning his head to catch her in a surprise kiss.

He pulled away once Cyrus let out a disgruntled cry, no longer comfortable like this and wanting more of his parents’ attention.

“Here, I’ll take him so you can get dressed. I’ll be downstairs to throw these in the wash and get him dressed.” Arella takes the boy from his father and climbs the stairs, heading out with the sheets tucked under her arm.

“Oh hey! I almost forgot but how would you like to take a vacation after the term ends? Just the three of us...”

She looked back at him before smiling. “A holiday sounds wonderful, Dear. We can go up to the human world together, to my home outside of York.”

———————————————————————-

Find more on Masterlist

#tw: victim blaming #tw: mentioned rape #mammon angst #obey me angst #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me oc #arella #cyrus #obey me asmodeus #om! asmodeus #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer

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yongiefilms · 4 years

Text

FILM | Flickering

BASED ON | The bingo collaboration feature done by legendnct studios

PRODUCED BY | “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you. So you gotta be careful, baby,” from After The Storm by Kali Uchis (feat. Tyler, The Creator and Booty Colins) ; “Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms,” from Slow Dancing In the Dark by Joji ; “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?” from Honestly by Pink Sweat$

STARRING | Lee Taeyong and Female Reader

FEATURING | Jung Jaehyun, Lee Mark, Lee Jeno, Nakamoto Yuta, Suh Johnny, and Xiao Dejun

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Teen, Angst, Fluff, Slowburn, College, and Frat boy Centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, some action, crude humor, mentions of: alcohol, drinking, smoking, anxiety, panic attacks, and heartbreak, excessive partying, stupid college shenanigans, suggestive references, language, and adult themes

PLOT | You were unlucky when it came to love. You fell too fast and gave too much. Though as often as you experienced misfortune, you never truly learned your lesson. However, entering college you knew it would be different, it had to be. No more chasing after infatuation that you perceived to be love, but when you came across him, you knew it would be harder than you anticipated. He drew you in with his alluring aura and made you curious, something that would drive you to seek after someone who didn’t want to be found. Yet as many say, curiosity kills the cat, and one wrong move was all it took. OR He was a fleeting moment, a mere second of time that didn’t last too long.

RUNNING TIME | 29k words

1, 2, 3 NOW ROLLING...

“Okay…Be honest, does this dress make me look like shit?”

Your best friend, who was perched on your bed some several feet over to where you stood in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, rolled her eyes and let out a scoff, lifting her head up from peering down at her cell phone screen. She knew the question was ridiculous and had no direction because you were beautiful, something no one would deny. Her eyes moved up and down your figure to conduct a proper inspection of you and the dress that hugged your body. Her gaze was borderlining a glare once she was done. She was right, as she always tended to be.

She huffed out a breath, leaning her hands behind her on the soft comforter that laid over your bed and tilted her head to the side. “You can’t be serious. You literally look stunning.”

You flatten your palms against the front of your black satin mini dress, confirming you appeared to be as good as you could possibly be with no wrinkles in sight. “All right, I just have to make sure.”

She scoffed yet again as you twirled around in front of the mirror with a smile on your face, your eyes lighting up with excitement for what would soon come.

But the thrill in your veins subdued as you gave her a pointed stare. “Also just because you’re my hype woman and number one fan, doesn’t mean you can’t tell me like it is.”

She stood up from her position on the bed and made her way over to where you stood, her red stilettos clicking against the vivid brown wood. She placed her hands on your shoulders to smoothen the material of your dress and gave you another once over for good measure.

“Yes I am aware, but you should know by now that I never lie.” Her nose scrunched up the tiniest bit as she showcased her pearly whites. “But seriously,” she stepped back from you, letting her hands drop to her sides. “Can we go now? You take forever to get ready and I just want to go have some fun.” She whined and it was now your turn to roll your eyes at her behavior. She was just as excited as you were, though your ability to mask your emotions was far better than hers. Going to your first college party was enough cause to be eager, surely.

“Yes we can go now, drama queen.”

She gave a slight glare in your direction at the mention of the nickname, but you laughed it off, loving to tease her as much as she loved to tease you before continuing.

“Anyways let me grab my phone and purse first.”

She nodded her head, and walked out of your bedroom towards the living room area to wait for you, her mobile phone tightly grasped in her left hand with her car keys looped around her index finger.

Once you grabbed your own charged cell phone off the nightstand and placed it in your purse, swinging the strap over your shoulder, you switched the lights off to exit your room.

“Got it!” You exclaimed as you reached her figure leaning against the wall opposite of the front door. You grabbed the sleek doorknob and opened the door, ushering her out as you followed suit.

She smirked at you once you locked the door and placed the key in your bag.

She swung her car keys around her index finger, the metal imprinting her palm when she caught them. “Time for the real fun to begin.”

Then you were off towards your destination, her behind the wheel driving, and you in the passenger seat, the wind blowing against both of your faces from the rolled down windows. The music was blaring from the radio speaker and you giggled amongst yourselves, lip-synching the lyrics to the songs that were your favorites. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, causing a rush and the unknowns of the night spoke wonders.

If only it was real fun when you arrived at the expanse of the Nu Chi Tau frat house, or more commonly known as NCT around campus. There were already people there, covering the gigantic front yard with red solo cups in hand and flashy attire, but it wasn’t the sparkles of the glitter nor the drunken state of the people that caught your attention, it was something more magnificent.

The residence that stood before you mimicked one you would only see in the movies. A perfectly mowed green lawn with assorted scrubs encompassed the front yard, leading up to the stairs of the entryway. When you walked ahead you saw everything in clearer light. The house was a few stories high, painted a stark white that stood out in the background of the increasing night. The front lights were on, casting ill-lit shadows that danced against the concrete and some windows glowed the same color, giving evidence that those rooms were filled with occupants at the moment. There was an archway with columns to the side that protruded from the front of the house, as the rest of the habitation was left in the shade. The Greek letters for Nu Chi Tau were nailed on the archway in black and as you neared closer to the front doors, you could make out the words NCT engraved in golden script. You were mesmerized to say the least, the house was beyond beautiful and you pondered how it still looked relatively new in comparison to the other bland frat and sorority houses you had come across. Although, you would have been more in awe if your feet weren’t killing you in that present moment.

When Nicole turned onto the street that would lead the two of you to the frat house, you both had noticed how filled the street was with cars for miles. You had assumed it was most likely due to the party, or the fact that the road was so very narrow, swindling like a wave that made it hard for others to park. Yet regardless of the reason, it is where your dilemma began, for she had to park in the nearest open space, which would be some blocks down from where you needed to be.

Therefore that is how you both ended up wending your way to the frat house that was so conveniently located at the end of the narrow street, and on top of a hill no less, making matters worse.

You don’t know how long it took you to arrive, but you had calculated around thirty minutes give or take other technicalities. You were glad you made it all in one piece even if the adrenaline in your veins departed and the light in your eyes dimmed, yet you would still try to have the time of your life.

Your hand gripped the golden handle of the front door and turned, pushing it wider with ease to welcome the even more impressive interior as you strode in with Nicole hot on your trail.

The white painted walls, crystal chandelier, golden swirls on the columns, and the spiraling staircase would have blinded you if it had not been encompassed by the dark, the only light emitting from surrounding rooms and the sporadic flashes of color.

You heard a groan from behind you, jerking you out of the blue.

“Ah fuck…fuck…fuck…fuck. My feet are dead.”

You spun around to see Nicole, struggling to take off her stilettos in quick movements, as you could indisputably make out the redness around the heel of her foot and toes. Her drastic measures were a sight that made it difficult to suppress your giggles.

She heaved a loud sigh from successfully getting her stilettos off and hooked the straps over her two fingers, the footwear dangling from her hand when she stood up straight.

She locked her eyes with yours, puffing out air and a lock of hair that fell in her face amidst her conflict. “I need a drink.”

Your subdued titters came out as you nodded your head in agreement. You both needed some energy after the long dreaded walk and what better way than to drink some alcohol.

Nicole led the way, brushing up against the loads of people that crowded the foyer, not even managing to mumble a single excuse me, but that’s how she was, especially when she needed to get buzzed. After steering through countless throngs of people, you being the one to mutter apologies, you both had arrived at the kitchen. It was as modern as the rest of the house, with the subtle hints of Roman and Greek roots. The appliances were just as pale as the walls, giving off the illusion that nothing appeared to be present, howbeit the only contrast was the black buckets on the countertops and the black bar stools that were placed near the aisle along with the golden lighting fixtures floating above. Not to mention the various silver tin kegs that were located around the kitchen and the bar, which you passed on the way here, not worth the wait for the drinks the two of you desperately needed.

The kitchen wasn’t nearly as crowded as the rest of the house, withal there were just some scarce students waiting around, refilling their cups, or grabbing a new drink altogether.

Nicole unhands her stilettos on the white marble floor, the bright red color vaguely resembling smeared blood on a snowy surface, before sinking down at one of the free stools and placing her hand in the black bucket to pull out a beer. Conveniently it was a twist off and in mere instances she took large gulps of the brown liquid, finishing the bottle in one go, not bothering to wait for you to have your own bottle in hand.

She licked her lips and elevated her empty beer bottle out to you. “Cheers my love!” She gave a lazy grin and a smile slipped onto your face. “And shit that beer wasn’t strong enough, I need an actual drink.”

You laughed at her as she stood up and rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen, on the desperate search for some secret stash. You took the empty seat next to the previously occupied one, and placed your purse on the counter, resting your cheek on your knuckles, waiting to see if she had struck lucky.

“Ah!” she suddenly proclaimed, reaching up on her tippy toes to grab the translucent liquid bottle that was placed on the top shelf. Her fingertips barely touched the tall glass, even so she managed to grab it to some shock, her feet being firmly planted on the tile when she had it in her grasp.

She closed the cabinet door and turned with a crude smirk on her face, hiding the bottle behind her back.

“Guess what they were stashing away?”

Your eyes went wide as you dropped the hand that held the weight of your head to your lap. You were curious but also slightly scared at how the smirk on her face grew. It couldn’t be good.

“Um…” you trailed off, placing your hands on the cool marble countertops. You had no idea.

“Those bastards,” she swore, taking the bottle out from behind her to shake it from side to side as you squint your eyes to get a good look at the label. Though you didn’t have to for she told you herself.

“They stored away Balkan 176 Vodka. Who the fuck does that? Like share you greedy, motherfuckers.”

She placed the tall bottle on the countertop, reaching over to the stack of red and blue solo cups that were near the buckets and pulled out two empty cups.

Your eyes got wider at the realization because no way they had Balkan 176 Vodka, it was the strongest in the United Kingdom market with an alcohol by volume of 88%.

How did they manage to get a hold of it?

The damn vodka even has thirteen health warnings on the label.

What the hell are they doing in this house?

You heard the pop of the bottle cap and the echoing sound of the liquid being poured into the two cups, interrupting you out of your thoughts.

Nicole held out the blue solo cup to you, jerking her chin out as a form of encouragement to take the cup from her.

With shaking hands, you reach forward, wrapping your hands around the cup.

You knew you would be wasted beyond belief if she poured a lot of the vodka and you only hoped she didn’t, even if your alcohol tolerance was relatively high.

She bumped her plastic cup with yours, murmuring lowly, “Cheers,” and proceeded to down the vodka in one go as you reciprocated the action.

The clear liquid stung in your throat and you could feel a tingling sensation erupt on your tongue. You shook your head to get rid of the feeling and closed your eyes, scrunching up your nose as if it would somehow help extinguish the burn.

Some tears escaped your eyes and through your blurry vision you saw Nicole step away from the counter, shaking her hands out in front of her with her head tilted towards the ceiling.

“Ah shit that burns…” She let out a few coughs, wiping the back of her hand over her lips. “But it feels great.” She puts her hands on her hips and gives you a wide teary eyed smile when she looks over at you.

You cough yourself before giving her an eye roll, placing two fingers on your temples and giving a soft rub to the skin to guarantee you won’t get a headache.

“You’re crazy, you know that right?”

She walked around the counter to where you sat, as you peered up at her, dropping your hands.

She leaned forward to whisper in your ear rather loudly in order to be heard, “Go big or go home baby.”

You placed your hand on her shoulder and gave her a small push, her giggles standing out despite the music resounding in the other room.

Then her giggles ceased and she stared straight ahead, a blank look overtaking her face, her mouth slightly opening.

Your eyebrows scrunched together. “Hey Nicole?” You asked, raising your butt off the seat to poke at her shoulder.

Her body swayed to the left then right before she shook her head and came out of her trance.

She stumbled over her footing as she tried to move forward and pick up her discarded stilettos off the tile to put them on.

“Nicole!” you called as she prowled forward once she tied the ends of the felt, discrediting the fact that you were still there, but your loud voice caught her attention for her head jolted back to peek over her shoulder to where you still sat.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath and pivoted on her heel to go back to where she once was.

“Sorry, sorry love,” she spoke in a rushed manner, fixing her gaze over her shoulder every so often as she shook her head once more. “I just saw some really freaking hot guy and I just—”

You cut her off, knowing where this would lead to. You gave her a small smile of empathy and encouragement. “It’s okay Nicki. Go get some.”

You lightly gave her a push as she staggered forward. Your smile had morphed into a subtle smirk and she laughed at your eagerness for her.

“Oh I will and make sure to get some for yourself too.” She turned around to give you a wink and a peck on the crown of your head, waving goodbye once she pivoted on her heel to presumably stride over to the boy in question.

The kitchen connected to a small dining space that a handful of students were occupying, having conversations with drinks in hand and you just so happened to be in luck for there wasn’t an enormous wave of people, making it easy to see who caught Nicole’s eye.

You followed her figure of a ruby red strapless dress that stood out amongst the neutral tones of the other attire, to where she had passed by a boy with washed out blonde hair, who so happened to be having a conversation to two other girls. He was adorned in a black crisp button up shirt that was folded up to the elbows, with two buttons undone at the top to showcase a bit of chest. You could catch a glimpse of the light reflecting off the silver necklace that peeked out from under his shirt, which was tucked into a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, contrasting his white vans. He took a sip from his red solo cup, letting out a laugh at something one of the girls said, allowing his perfect set of teeth to be seen as his head leaned back. He had a defined jawline and strong eyebrows that looked even better than anyone else’s in hindsight. Nicole really had gotten lucky and when she brushed her shoulder against his, muttering a sorry under her breath, his eyes had followed after her when she moved away.

He apologized to the other girls and quickly whipped his head around to see where Nicole had disappeared to, realizing she starkly could be seen ready to turn the corner to go to another room. His feet made hast as he was hot on her trail and when you saw him loosely latch his hand onto her wrist to turn her around to face him, you knew she would get even luckier. With her sultry gaze and his flirty smile there was no doubt in your mind.

They vanish from sight moments after for he was ready to whisk her away to the second floor with his arm wrapped around her waist and her hand wrapped around his bicep, whispering in his ear.

Lucky indeed.

You turned away after observing them and sighed loudly, swishing the already nonexistent liquid in your cup. You knew it would be possible to find a boy to spend the rest of night with amongst countless that were available to you, natheless you couldn’t help to feel like you didn’t have the desire to “get some” for a particular reason.

So you heaved yourself off the bar stool, too afraid if you hung around in one area for too long someone would surely make a move to hit on you. You weren’t in the mood for company exuding testosterone and cockiness. You weren’t in the mood for assholes.

You poured some more of the hell vodka into your empty cup to give you something to hold onto when you explored the house. You also made sure to grab your purse off the stool, swearing under your breath that you should have just left it in the car and put your cell phone along with keys in your bra like Nicole had done. Sometimes your level of intellect astounded you.

With a cup in hand and purse slung over your shoulder you made your way around the house, bypassing time without any one thing in mind, hoping to see if you could catch your best friend amidst the large gatherings of people, something that most likely seemed impossible. Yet impossible had a good chance as any to become possible too.

You didn’t know how long you had been moving, probably already circled the whole first floor various times, since the remaining floors were closed off for members of the frat. Time went by faster when you were trying to kindly reject offers of those that made an effort to ask you to dance or if you wanted another drink.

Only then is when you saw him—a glimpse of a boy you once knew when you stopped at the bar for a rest.

He looked the same as he did ever since the start of summer, the same from those weeks ago. Light honey colored hair. Dark eyes. A small beauty mark under his left eye. A soft chiseled jaw. Pale pink lips. His signature eye smile, a favorite feature of yours, one bright enough to light up an entire room, one which always made you feel comforted.

Every aspect of his being was the same, except for the outfit which adored his body, that still managed to give you nostalgia—a black short sleeve button up shirt with one button undone to showcase his smooth pale skin, a pair of white jeans that perfectly hugged his legs, and his staple piece of black worn out combat boots.

It reminded you of that one time he had picked you up in a vaguely similar outfit to take you to the outskirts of the city, late at night just for exploring, for adventure, when the both of you started hanging out.

All of it was the same, he was the same, and seeing him there flirting with some other girl wronged you in more ways than one, even if it had been a little over a month since you last saw him in person so close, yet so very far away.

You ducked your head lower, to conceal your figure behind those that were in your line of sight, even if you were still in the open area of view, while secretly keeping an eye on him to see if he would move. He would either notice you directly or his knowledge would be the one to give you away. He always had a sense of knowing where you were without even surveying or asking. He just knew and there was no doubt he would know you were there tonight. You had to escape one way or another before you became found.

However, you weren’t as inconspicuous as you had perceived yourself to be.

He must have caught you staring, behind the figures that did little to help you in your avoidance of the boy. You didn’t know when he exactly saw you for his leaden eyes had suddenly flitted over the heads of the people surrounding him to meet yours.

Caught.

To say you were scared or anxious would be an understatement for your palms got sweaty and you felt like you could no longer breathe with your heart beating in your ribcage like the fast beat of a drum.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

He excused himself from the brunette he was talking to, gently taking her dainty hand off his bicep when he turned to leave, muttering an apology to her, and stalked over to where you sat rooted to your stool, nearly paralyzed.

But your senses kicked in before then, prohibiting you from just waiting for his arrival. You stumbled over your footing, the heels on your feet making it difficult to get by unnoticed since you were having some difficulty walking away at a fast pace. You tried your best to steer through the people that blocked your path, heading towards an area away from prying eyes, which so happened to be a dimly lit hall that was empty from what you could see.

He was pushing through the drunken bodies, not even managing to say sorry after every push and shove. You heard him call your name, although it was drowned out with the ringing in your ears, the sounds of the music and shouts mixing together indefinitely.

You turned your head over your shoulder to see if he had caught up to you or if you lost him in the crowd.

No figure in sight. You lost him. You escaped.

You leaned your head against the wall, heaving a loud sigh, trying to shake off the jitters in your body. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and the thumping in your chest refused to cease. You wrapped your arms around you in an attempt to calm yourself, to provide much needed comfort.

Comfort that turned to queasiness.

A unlit impending figure loomed over you, casting your body in a black shadow as your breath became short, making it a hassle to inhale, exhale.

Caught yet again.

You peered up, to see eye to eye with a boy that once held the entire galaxy in his orbs, but now only held emptiness.

The stare was too intense, making you force your eyes away for your own well-being. His shadow became woozy and blurry, making it difficult to pick out which replica was the real version of him.

You were nearly hyperventilating, your breath staggering and your lungs felt as if they would combust any second from lack of oxygen.

The ringing in your ears became louder as you could faintly make out him mouthing your name through reading his lips.

He then raised his hand, cupping your cheek with his thumb, caressing the skin, and that was when everything became calm through a simple touch.

The ringing in your ears ceased, the pounding of the music and chatters of the people became silent, the jitters in your body were gone, and mellowness coursed through your veins to where everything was at a standstill.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, awaiting his next move, his next words.

“Bub…” He started then shook his head, the affectionate nickname accidently slipping without consciousness. You hadn’t heard that name come from his mouth in so long. You missed it. “Ah, sorry.” Another shake of the head. “Are you okay? You were almost having a panic attack. Y-Your…” He trailed off, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest by his side as he turned his head away then back to face you. His eyes were soft and filled with concern. He whispered so softly, you could barely make out his words. “Your anxiety hasn’t gotten worse right?”

It was now your turn to move away from his piercing gaze. You never talked about your conflicts with your friends before, you had almost forgotten you had told him, that he knew a secret of yours, but he was never willing to share his own.

You rubbed your hands up and down your arms to provide some heat from the chills that suddenly erupted throughout your entire body.

You refused to behold him. “No,” you muttered, eyeing the floor. “It hasn’t so don’t worry. I’m fine.”

His calloused hands grasp at your chin so he could turn your face to lay your eyes on him. “Are you really okay?”

You knew the underlying meaning to his question. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, just waiting to fall at four words that seemed so simple to provide an answer to, despite that it was so very hard to voice.

Your eyes dropped to the floor, but he titled your chin up to make sure he saw your eyes when you answered, to see if you were telling the truth.

There was no point to lie, to him of all people, so you mumbled the dreadful word, knowing it was the last one he would want to hear, “No.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, letting his hand fall and took a step back, to provide some space between your bodies. He was the one that now refused to take note of you.

“What do you mean?”

You hugged your own body closer, seeing that he couldn’t provide the much needed comfort, not when what you once had no longer existed.

Your delicate voice could barely be heard. “I-It’s just been h-hard without you. I thought I could do it, b-but…” You trailed off, a stray tear making its way down your cheek and onto the floor. The round droplet of water becoming so lonely, resting there by itself, just like you. “I-I can’t.”

He stepped further away, pushing a hand through his hair, messing up the once neat locks.

“You can’t say that.” He inhaled a breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling then at your figure leaning against the wall. “You can’t ask that of me.”

The frustration seeped through your tone. “I know that!” Your voice became softer. “Trust me I know, but what do you want me to say? That I’m fine without you? That I am happy without you in my life?” You paused, trying to cower into your body further if it was even possible. “You know I can’t lie to you, Jen.” He flinched at the nickname, furthering clutching his hair. “You know I can’t so what’s the point? I’m not happy, I’m not happy…unless it’s with you and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I haven’t moved on.”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, his hand relaxing before settling by his sides. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can no longer be your happiness, but it’s for the best. We both agreed on this, remember? Even if it pains us, it’s for the best.”

You wiped at your eyes. The dry tears could be still felt on your skin, be that as it may you no longer were on the verge of crying, you were angrier than anything else. You threw your hands up in the air, taking steps towards him until you were mere inches away.

“But why can’t the best be filled with joy instead of sorrow. Why Jen? Why can’t we be happy together?”

Your red rimmed eyes and teary face bruised him on all accounts. Whenever you were hurt, he was as well and it was something he was afraid of, he would always be till the end of time.

“I…” He inhaled a breath. “I don’t know.”

You placed your hand on his bicep giving him a small smile, not letting your temper consume you today. “It’s okay, I get it.”

He leaned his head forward to rest on your shoulder letting out small, shallow breaths as you raise your hand to run through his thick locks of hair.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, bub,” he choked on his words, the nickname slipping past his lips unheard. He hitches up his head off your shoulder, allowing your hand to drop from the movement. He gazed into your eyes, the regret ever so prevalent. “I’m the one to blame for us falling apart.”

You nodded your head, not knowing what else to say, both shocked at his shameless declaration and admittance of his faults, nonetheless also touched that he spoke the truth.

His cell phone then suddenly dinged in his pocket, startling the both of you as he took the device out of his back pocket, the light from the screen illuminating his face in a bright, blinding glow.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up at you and your furrowed eyebrows. “I-I have to go. I…” He opened his mouth, wrangling with his next words, trying to be careful with what he said next because they could either mend or break the already hanging thread that bounded the two of you together.

A subtle smile slipped onto your face that he could see in the muted lit hall and it melted his heart. He knew you understood, like you always had and always will.

“I’ll see you around.” He reached for your hand, giving it a slight squeeze, the contact alone was one that left tingles in your skin. “Stay safe.”

He leaves, letting go of your hand and the hold you had over his life, retreating into the darkness of the night for an adventure he always sought to seek, except this time you weren’t by his side.

Though even if you weren’t with him, you weren’t alone.

“You know,” a voice spoke up amidst the near gloominess of the hall, startling you. You jolted in your spot and turned your body around slowly, the pulse of your beating heart quickening. You saw a figure in the shadows, well at least that is what you could make out.

Had someone been there the whole time? Listening to your conversation with Jeno?

You were more exposed than you realized and you wished it wouldn’t bite you in the back.

Your feet padded against the marble floor and you squint your eyes to get a better look a couple of inches away. Their back was resting on the wall with their left foot planted flatly there as you could see the red solo cup in their right hand. Their head tilted forward slightly as they swished the liquid around the cup before bringing it to their lips and then they proceeded to push themselves off to advance towards you. You saw his figure emerge out of the darkness and when he stood so close to you you didn’t know what to do, feel, or think. You felt like your heart stopped beating in your chest and the blood coursed that through your veins spiked with utter heat, it was a different state, one you never experienced before, not even with a previous lover.

Your mind went blank and your mouth became dry.

The boy that stood before you was beyond beautiful. You could make out his features in the pale lit hall from every little perfection to perfection for he struck you like he was crafted from above to be unrivaled with no fault in sight.

The first thing that drew you in was his eyes. His eyes were sharp and catlike, a deep brown color that cut through your soul as if he could see every aspect of your being. His eyebrows were rich and fine, in a perfect shape, every hair in the same direction, brushed to be unmoving. While his nose was soft and round, enhancing his delicate features. His cupid bow was prominent, yet light, shaping his thin lips that were pink and utterly pulposus. His skin appeared to be smooth, without any blemish in sight, but you could make out a small scar on the right side of his face that was covered by his hair, though the mark did not take away from his loveliness, only amplified it. His hair was midnight black, almost blending into the background and perfectly framed his face, the strands falling to the sides, right above his eyes, leaving a little bit of his forehead exposed. His face was completely stoic with no mein painted across its fairness and he still was able to be so ethereal, yet imitating with his sharp jawline and pierced ears. He was too good to be true and you felt as if you weren’t worthy enough to lock eyes with an exquisite being such as himself. Even so, your eyes roamed around his face to analyze each and every feature, to truly engrave his image in your mind.

You could stare all day and get lost in him till he broke you out of your thoughts.

“You know,” he repeated again and you could feel his eyes on you as you struggled to look anywhere but at his gorgeous face. “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you.” He paused and licked his lips, contemplating a motive. He titled his head before stepping forward while your eyes became wide with curiosity, wondering what he was about to do next. He brought his free hand up from his side, delicately grasping your chin to make you focus on him. His thumb came to rest on your lower lip as you unconsciously parted your lips from his scorching touch. He softly moved his thumb around for several seconds before pulling your lip down at a slow pace. His hand settled completely afterwards, resting by his side anew. He maneuvered right next to your body and leaned his face closer, his pink lips touching your earlobe. He whispered so quietly that you could barely make out what he said or if he even said anything at all. “So you gotta be careful, baby.”

Your mouth opened and closed, attempting to get a response out. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you could feel your hands begin to get clammy. He called you baby, a simple word of affection you heard a thousand times in your life, yet when he said it the feelings that overcame you were different. There was something else in the pet name, an unknown tone of emotion that you couldn’t figure out.

You couldn’t figure him out.

He affected you so much with mere words as well as actions and you had barely glimpsed at him for not many fleeting seconds. He held you in a spell and you didn’t know if it was one that could be broken.

You gathered enough courage to turn your head, hoping to see his face a mere centimeters from you, but he wasn’t. He stepped away from you amongst your captivated state and the hotness that emitted from his body turned cold. He didn’t even look at you as he strode by, becoming a small figure amidst a bigger crowd, only leaving you with his last lovely words of advice. You were confused to say the least. He didn’t say goodbye or inform you that he would catch you around campus like you hoped he would. He simply left and with that, you felt as if a piece of your heart did as well. What hurt the most was that you didn’t even catch his name.

Who was he?

That was a question you would strive to find the answer to, if it was the last thing you could do on this forsaken planet during your lifetime. For you were mesmerized by a stranger in the dark, a beautiful one at that who had the power to make you fall with his mere presence and make you forget all the same.

You suppose that the mere explanation why you were disoriented as you made your way back to the heart of the party courtesy of the enigma himself, the thought of Lee Jeno long forgotten.

Everything felt dizzy around you as you felt reality slowly morph into fantasy. The colors of the flashing LED lights were blurring together and the bodies that were pushing up against you when you crossed the dance floor felt too close for comfort.

You needed a glass of water or the fresh air or even someone to take your mind off things. You needed to truly be lost to the bliss of your mind in order to gain sobriety thereafter. You were slightly tipsy, most certainly pushing it, yes, but you were also intoxicated from another source that made you drunk—a boy.

Not even the Balkan 176 Vodka had this much of an impact.

You stumbled forward, pushing through the crowd to get to the kitchen, hoping you recalled the familiar pathway to your destination that had started off your night.

You must have been too close to the floor or were worse in appearance than you assumed yourself to be for you tripped on your footing and fell forward, not before someone’s arm came to wrap around you waist to prevent you from face planting the floor.

“Woah,” they said, their husky voice sounding like music to your ears. “Are you okay there?”

You closed your eyes shut and nodded your head, too scared to turn around to face them through your embarrassment. They maneuvered you around so the front of your body was directly in front of their own. You slowly opened your eyes to the sight of yet another breathtaking boy, making him one of countless others you had seen throughout the night. This particular boy though was one with a dimpled smile. He had a boyish charm that exuded from his persona, but also a sense of maturity at the same time. His deep black hair was parted and a few loose strands fell perfectly over his forehead. He had an inviting look on his face and you suppose that is why you choose him.

You didn’t even think twice before grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your lips onto his.

A distraction is what he would be from the brutal reality of your intoxicated world full of heartbreak, lies, and a sprinkle of hope.

He must have been startled for he didn’t move his plump lips against yours for a handful of seconds, but after much adherence he gave in.

It might have been weird to make out with a stranger you didn’t know, one whose name you didn’t even ask for, that is the glamor of college frat parties in some form. Everyone hooked up with everyone. No judgment was given and you were just there for some fun, even if it countered your morals.

Sense was out the door and a high took over. No room for second guessing.

You made out with the attractive boy for some long, draining seconds, before he pulled back first. His lips were swollen and so very red. You were sure you mirrored his features.He licked his lips and titled his head, his gaze locking onto yours as he gave his eyebrow a slight raise.

“Wow,” he muttered then proceeded to chuckle. “Do you always make out with strangers before knowing their name? Or just make out with a stranger right when you meet them?” Another chuckle and a shake of the head.

You turned away, the embarrassment coursing through your veins again. You were thankful that sobriety was achieved, howbeit it partially had to be because of a make out session no less. Sometimes you hated when you drank, too out of it to be aware of your actions.

Damn Nicole.

He moved his hand forward and grasped your chin lightly to turn your face towards him. He was the third to make contact with your skin that night, still and all his touch didn’t burn like the boy that emerged from the dark, for it only left you unfeeling.

He hummed waiting for your answer and the intensity of his stare when you peered at him under your lashes made your knees buckle.

“Um…” you trailed off letting out an awkward and forced giggle. “N-no…not really,” you cleared your throat to get the proper words out. Confidence is what you had to remember. “No, but I—”

You were cut off by a shout of another male calling your name, whose figure was pushing through the throngs of people to reach you when you turned your head to take a gander.

“Ah,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “There you are! I have been looking all over for you.” He huffs out a breath and gives you a pointed stare. “I told you not to go running off…” He then stops abruptly when he inspects the boy who was so blatantly close to you, too close by his standards at least.

His eyebrows furrowed and zoned in at the boy's hand that were placed firmly on your side and how your chest was pressed up close to his. The boy’s hand hadn’t moved from its previous position either, but when he saw the stare of your best friend he let it rest back to his sides and stepped backwards letting go of his hold on you completely.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing? No,” he shook his head and slightly glared at the presumably older boy. “What were you doing?”

Jaehyun, the boy you now knew the name of after a kiss, shyly laughed and brought his hand up to rub at his neck. You could see the tips of his ears beginning to turn pink as he refused to make eye contact.

While you knew he wouldn’t say what you both were truly doing before your friend’s arrival you didn’t want to leave him grasping at straws.

“He—” you started, then stopped at the same pointed look your best friend gave you and let out a huff at his behavior. He was always too overprotective of you.

“It wasn’t what it looked like Mark, I swear.” He put his hands up at the eyebrow raise Mark gave him as if he caught onto the lie Jaehyun was going to tell. His hands sank to his sides before he continued. “I saw her stumbling through the crowd some minutes ago and she was so clearly out of it that she almost tripped so obviously I didn’t want her to hurt herself. I just stopped her from nearly collapsing on the floor. That’s all.”

When he finished speaking, Mark's gaze was anything but less suspicious, yet his face slowly morphed into a subtle smile. “Always a gentleman huh, Jae?” He asked and let out a laugh in which the boy returned.

Jaehyun’s eyes peered over at you as he gave a lopsided grin and subtle wink. “Always.”

You were hoping Mark didn’t catch on, but with the way his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you harshly forward, you were beginning to think he had.

“Okay well we better get going. It is a Thursday and we do have class tomorrow so I'll catch you later, Jae. Just tell the guys I had to drop someone off if they’re wondering where I am.”

Jaehyun nodded his head, his eyes still on your own before flashing to meet Mark's. “Will do and hey,” he jerked his head towards you as your eyes slightly furrowed, speculating what he wanted to say to you. “Try not to face plant the floor again, okay?”

You laughed at his remark as Mark's arm came to wrap around your waist tightly, trying to whisk you away towards the front door. You stumbled over how fast he was trying to get your further away from Jaehyun, but still made an effort to reply to the other boy.

You whipped your head around to see him one last time before he would be one figure amongst hundreds. “No promises!”

He shook his head at you and pivoted on his heel. The figure of a boy with a dimpled grin being lost in the sea of people. You hoped you could see him around another time and considering everything you knew you would.

“Try not to flirt with my friends will you?” Mark spoke out as he maneuvered you around the countless bodies occupying the house. He tugged your arm over his shoulder to give him more support while you walked.

You rolled your eyes at him and pouted. “I was not,” you burped. “Flirting.”

He snickered, peering over at you instantly. “Sure you weren’t.” He looked over the heads of people as he was nearing the front door, stopping in his tracks when you were a few feet away from leaving the house.

“Anyways where’s Nicole? You came with her right? That’s what you told me because you didn’t want me to come pick you up to bring you to the party.”

You nodded your head, letting out a small yawn. “Mhm, but I lost her not even ten minutes into the party. She went off with one of your frat boys I am sure, I don’t know which one obviously and just left me to mingle.”

He sighed. “We won’t be seeing her for quite some time then.”

“Nope,” you spoke, popping the ‘p.’ “Not a chance.”

“Guess I’ll have to give you a ride then, not that I wasn’t going to but I didn’t want to leave you both alone just in case.” He spoke glancing around to see if by chance Nicole was around, having returned from her little fun escapade.

“Agreed,” you said, yawning once more and you snuggled into the crook of Mark's neck, letting your eyes shut close. Partying for who knows how long and drinking who knows how much alcohol made you exhausted beyond belief.

“Why have a frat party on Thursday? Especially when most of us have classes the next day. I don’t get it,” you mumbled into his neck as he fondly glanced down at you. There was something endearing about you in that moment, regardless of being at a frat party with sweaty bodies and stomach-churning smells. He leaned forward to kiss the top of your head before adjusting his grip on you so he could get you both out the front door and into his car without any mishaps.

“It is called a frat party for a reason, angel. No day of the week stops us, not even school days.”

You let out a loud groan. “Just great for us, huh?”

He let out a laugh. “Mhm because you’ll definitely have a hangover tomorrow and won’t want to get out of bed, but yay classes. You’re a freshman too and it’s your first week so mind you that you can’t skip even if you wanted to.”

“Screw you.” You murmur elevating your head slightly to properly glare at him. Instead of a threatening look it was something he found cute. But at that same moment when you upheave your head from Mark's shoulder you caught a glimpse of him. You were sure it was him, you couldn’t forget his face even if you tried. He was leaning on a tree in the front yard, once more in the shadows. His right foot was planted on the stump, and in his right hand was an unlit cigarette. His free hand reached into his front pocket and he pulled out a silver lighter that caught glimpses of the moonlight, shining so prominently. When he lit his cigarette he took a long drag and then exhaled, gray smoke encompassing him in a gloomy cloud. He wasn’t checking anywhere but straight ahead to the murkiness of the road, the only light emitting from the lights of the house behind you, that casted a perfect glow across his face, if only he stepped out from the shadows so you could see him in all his enchanting glory. You thought he would turn to eye you, people always did when they felt someone staring, but he didn’t and you forced your head away when Mark called your name.

“Angel?” He asked, his tone curious. “You okay? You blank spaced for a few seconds there.”

You peep up at him to see the concern in his eyes.

You shook your head to get rid of the image that plagued your mind: an image of a boy you thought you wouldn’t see afresh.

“Yeah,” you peered over Mark’s shoulder to see if he was still there, but what you saw was a bare and lonely tree with no boy leaning against it. You were left in disappointment along with confusion for he was there moments ago but left once you turned your head away.

Weird.

Another shake of the head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just sleepy, sorry.” You sheepishly smiled up at him.

He chuckled, giving a kiss to your forehead. “Understandable so let's get you home.”

You rested your head on his shoulder once more, your eyes filled with both drowsiness and longing for a boy you didn’t know. Hope was all you had and it would be a driving force for you to see the bewildering boy for more than a fleeting second.

If only you knew he had caught you staring when he slipped away.

“You’re sober right?” You questioned when you both arrived at the location in which Mark had parked his black Audi Suv Q8. How he had the money for such a gorgeous car was a shocker, especially considering he was in college no less. Mark always did surprise you in more ways than one.

His grip on you loosened so he could fumble through his jean pocket to find his keys. He gave you an exasperated look when his keys jingled in his hand, clinking against one another.

“Angel, seriously? Of course I'm sober. You know I don't really like to drink anyways, especially at parties.”

You giggled at him. “Sorry, I forgot but I just wanted to make sure! You know my safety can be at risk.”

He brought you over to the side of the passenger’s seat as he unlocked the car, opening up the door to push you inside. He unwrapped his arm from around your waist and tugged your arm away from his neck, so you could sit comfortably in the leather cushion. As he reached over to click the seatbelt into place, he became undeniably close to you, his breath fanning your face.

“Angel you’re always safe with me, “ he drew back to get a good glimpse of your face. “Never forget that.” And when you thought he would give you a friendly kiss on the head like he did various times before, he raised his right hand and gave a small flick to your forehead instead.

“Agreed?”

You lurched back, shocked that he flicked you and he laughed at your wide eyes.

“You flicked me!”

His eyes roll in your sight and he leans back to stand up properly. “Yeah I flicked you, had to get you more sober somehow.”

Then he closes the door shut as he makes his way to the driver’s seat leaving your response unheard.

You grumbled underneath your breath and crossed your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t very nice.”

You turned away from him when he got in the car and clicked his seatbelt into place. He stuck the keys in the ignition and a rumbling was heard thereafter of the engine starting.

He called your name, reaching his right arm over to place his hand on your thigh. He patted the bare skin to get your attention. “Angel come on.” He was glancing between you and the empty road in front of him. “Don’t be mean now.”

You shifted your body, turning forward, his hand dropping from your thigh. He now placed both hands on the wheel, still awaiting to see if you would talk to him.

You sighed before letting out a small giggle and stuck out your tongue when you knew he wasn’t paying attention. “I would never.”

He whipped his head suddenly to make contact with you, your laughter still echoing in the car. “Did you just—”

“Hey! Eyes on the road dumbass!” You hollered and reached over to grab hold of the wheel when he had begun to slightly swerve into the left lane from looking at you for too long. He jerked suddenly when he heard your exclamation as he took over the wheel and steered the car back into the right lane.

He let out a sigh of relief, looking straight ahead, glad no cars were near him when the mishap occurred. He released his right hand off the steering wheel, brushing it through his luscious locks of hair before going back to gripping the wheel, his knuckles turning white from how hard his hold was.

You leaned back in your seat, snuggling into the warm leather. Your tone was mocking as you spoke your next words, “You’re so smart, Markie.” You stifled a laugh when he gave a roll of his eyes.

You knew he would reach over to softly punch you, only if he wasn’t afraid of possibly crashing once more.

“Shut up.”

Your laughter rang out and would flood the increasing silence for moments to come along with the pop music that blared from the car’s speakers, Mark’s attempt of drowning out your titters until you finally reached your destination.

You only lived a few minutes away from campus since you didn’t live in the dorms like other fellow freshmen, lucky enough that your parents had been willing to pay for your own place once you had gotten into university.

Mark had pulled up in the parking lot, turning the keys in the ignition to shut off his car. He released a subtle yawn, leaning back in his seat and turned his head to peer over at you.

Your eyes locked with his own, the contact between you lasting for what felt like instances too long. You could see the tenderness in his gaze and a small smile broke out on his face, one you could barely make out due to the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. You were sure it was past two.

“Come on,” he reached over the center console and brushed his knuckle against your check, as your own lips uplifted into a lazy beam. “Let me walk you inside.”

You hummed in response and he retracted his hand to clutch onto the handle of the car door in order to get out. You waited for him to come to the other side so he could help you out the car and to the door of your apartment, since you intelligibly could not do it on your own, the drowsiness taking over.

He opened the door and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep as you could barely keep them open, when his right arm wrapped around your waist to haul you up. You thought he would just help you to your door, allowing you to hold some of your own bodyweight, but he didn’t. When your feet were planted on the concrete, he latched one arm under your legs, the other still placed around your waist, permitting him to carry you bridal style. Your eyes fluttered open at the abrupt movements, but you just placed your head in the crook of his shoulder once more, finally allowing your eyes to close as he maneuvered your arm around his neck for further support.

He carried you all the way to your doorstep, knowing you had placed a spare key under the doormat when you first moved in.

He placed the key in the lock, turning it in place and pushed the door open with the front of his foot. The lights flickered on, detecting the motion and he trotted on to the end of the hall where the entrance of your bedroom was. He glanced at the stark neon numbers of your alarm clock, noting it was half past three in the morning. He shook his head and you moved in the process, letting out a small whine. He knew your class would be in a little more than four hours and he knew how much you would dread to get up in the morning.

He dropped you lightly on the bed, unraveling your limbs from around him. You turned in your bed, a groan leaving your lips.

He softly chuckled at you then proceeded to tug off your heels, deciding to leave you in the rest of your attire, even if a mini dress wasn’t ideal to sleep in. However, you would manage, especially considering you were too out of it to care.

He tugs the covers out from underneath you, evident of the sounds of protest emitting from your lips.

“I am just trying to tuck you in, you big baby,” he teases. “So stop moving.”

You weren’t fully passed out yet so you took heed to his words, stopping in your movements as you felt the snugness of the blankets engulf you. He made sure you were tucked in nicely before leaning over and placing a gentle peck on your forehead, in which he caught a glimpse of a smile.

“Good night, angel,” he whispered once he leaned back. He brought the covers up to your chin, giving your cheek a little tap with his index finger. “I love you.”

You hummed, tilting your head up to scrunch up your nose in the air as your eyes became closed crescent moons. “Love you too, Markie.” You let out a yawn and turned your head away to face the wall, snuggling deeper into your covers.

A smile was painted on his face as he pivoted on his heel to exit the room and ultimately your apartment in order to drive back to his frat house since he needed some sleep himself, considering you would rely on him in a few hours to make it out of bed for class.

He then stopped in his tracks before he was completely out the door. “I’ll come by in the morning…in a few hours and shoot you a text so you can get up on time. Class at 8am sharp, angel. Don’t forget.”

His footsteps faded into the hall and you heard the front door slam shut moments after. While he didn’t think you were awake when he spoke his friendly reminder, you were, at least before you finally let sleep take you under. Yet, in those few hours, when Mark said he would swing by, he didn’t.

So there you were, jerking awake in raw sweat when you glanced at your alarm clock that indicated the time was ten past eight in the morning.

“Shit,” you said, bringing your hand up to rub at your temples to potentially soothe the pounding headache you had.

Trust Mark to let you down, though you knew there was a possible conflict. He never forgot things, there had to be a reason, but you wouldn’t let it worry you now when you were assuredly late for class.

You thought of skipping, but recalled the oh so fantastic reminder that you were still a freshman and your class attendance did matter, especially since it was the first week.

You scrambled to get out of bed, tripping over your two left feet as you made your way to the bathroom that was a few steps away from your room.

You rushed to brush your teeth and wash your face, the light makeup crusty beyond belief. You also made sure to pee, just like your usual morning routine. Then you rushed back into your room to swiftly change into a more comfortable outfit, something that wasn’t a short mini dress because no way were you going to be marching into lecture looking like you came straight from the club. You tugged on some black jeans and took the first hoodie you laid eyes on off the hanger before jumping into your socks and grabbing the first pair of Vans that lay by your shoe rack.

You reached for your cell phone on the bedside table along with your car keys, seeing the time was now 8:17am and assorted texts from your friends. The one that stood out most was Mark’s which was the most recent, but you had no time to check what he said, most likely noting he was apologizing for not coming over. You slipped your mobile into your back pocket and went down the hall. You made a fast stop to your kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge and reaching for the bottle of Advil in the cupboard, that you would undoubtedly need to down in order to get rid of your hangover, the headache pounding feeling louder by the second. You skidded over to the couch in your living room and grabbed your backpack off the cushion, hoping it had all the materials you would need for your classes today.

After shutting the door to your apartment, making sure it was locked, and skipping down the stairs by twos, you reached the parking garage of your complex, nearly running to get to your sleek grey Toyota Corolla. You kick started your car and drove down the highway, speeding to the point you were sure you would get pulled over if a cop so happened to pass by. Although fate was on your side today because you made it to campus in nearly record time, right on the dot at 8:22am. You would get marked late and definitely scolded some more if you stepped through the door at 8:30am for a lecture, but you could make it if you sprinted across campus, which was what you were going to do.

Yet, running sometimes doesn’t work for you because when you turned the corner of the hallway where your morning class was located, you bumped into someone.

“Ow,” you muttered under your breath. Their chest was rock solid and the impact hurt. Their hands came to rest on your forearms to steady you.

“Oh fuck. Are you okay?” they asked gruffly, concern patent in their tone and for some reason their voice was vaguely recognizable.

“Ah yeah, I’m…” You trailed off, just about ready to see who you ran into, but in the corner of your eye, right before you could, you saw him, a glimpse of a figure with black bucket hat and oversized paint splatter tee. It could have just been anyone, yet you were sure it was him because you would notice those arcane and void eyes anywhere. His eyes barely glanced at his surroundings as he was walking and he had the effect to unintentionally stop your train of thought. You knew it was him, the boy from the frat party, the one that stunned you into silence, the one that made your heart beat rapidly, the one that called you baby, the one—

“Hey!” the person in front of you exclaimed, slightly shaking your arms. “Are you sure you’re good? You were out of it there for a second, princess.”

You shook your head to get your mind unclouded, noting the boy had faded into oblivion, yet again. You never quite had the timing right. Sometimes fate was on your side, other times not so much.

You turn your head, locking eyes with the deep brown of the boy who you bumped into, the same boy who had saved you yesterday. Just perfect.

He has a gentle smile on his face, one that made you feel cozy and his dimples were showcased so prominently.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite clumsy girl. We meet again and soon at that. Do I have to keep you from falling all the time?”

You giggle nervously when he quirks his brow, “Well?”

You stutter, looking behind your shoulder then back at his face. “U-Um...well...I-I…”

His boisterous laugh rings. “I’m just messing, princess. If anything I so happen to enjoy our little run-ins. Gives me an excuse to talk to you and have you fall into my arms,” he states with no shame, the smile widening.

“Of course you’d say that.”

“Can’t help it princess, that was some kiss last night,” his smile transforms to a small smirk.

You hit his chest and he chortles at your action, his head leaning back. You whisper in response, “Shut up, someone might hear you.”

“My bad,” he manages to say in between his amusement.

You shake your head, but then your eyes go wide with realization that you needed to be in class, as in right now.

“Shit,” you cursed, the fear seeping in your bones. You never had been late before.

His laughter stops and his eyebrows wrinkle together. “You all right?”

You let out another high strung laugh, stepping back from him and to the other side of his body. His eyes follow your every move. “Oh yeah sorry. I’m fine…I just have to go,” you spoke and then dashed forward, leaving him behind in the dust along with the memory of the same mysterious boy from before Jaehyun stole your attention away.

You were glad you made it right on time to class, well as late as you were. You footslog through the door at 8:30am, with each pair of eyes in the classroom looking at you for the tiniest nanosecond. You were glad your professor hadn’t called you out, too invested in his lesson that he didn’t spare you a single glance even if you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull as you made your way to your seat in the back of the room. Class droned on for two hours and you felt every ounce of willpower draining from your veins. You were sure you would collapse any second now and taking a few tablets of Advil added to your disoriented state of sleepiness. You still had another two classes after this one before you would be able to take a break for lunch and even then you had one more class before you were done for the day.

You were hoping it went by fast, but with your hangover still quite literally hanging around, and your lack of focus, you knew you were fucked.

Fucked is what you were until lunch time came around.

You were sure everyone could catch on to the fact that you were hung over because simply put you looked like shit. You had your hoodie on, but it barely accomplished concealing your very visible red-rimmed eyes and droopy lids. You were basically dragging yourself over to your designated spot where Nicole, Mark, and you always met up for your breaks. You were glad your schedules overlapped to where you would be able to catch up with them before the other had to dash off to another class. Mark was busier since he was a year above, but he still tried to organize his schedule around your own because his classes were from the early morning to night at times. While you and Nicole usually had classes up till the midafternoon, allowing the rest of your day and night to be free.

When you reached the expanse of the indoor cafeteria, you struggled to find either one of your friends, desperately searching for a similar shade of brown and black amongst countless others.

Then you saw Mark pushing his way through the surrounding students, coming over to you and you caught sight of Nicole sitting at the table tucked into the corner of the dining room, tapping away at her cell phone screen, her tray of food discarded.

There was a smirk plastered on his face when he reached you and slung his arm over your shoulder. He whispered in your ear rather obnoxiously, “You look like shit.”

You pushed at his side to get him off of you from his crude remark, but to no avail for he brought his arm tighter around you so he could hug you to his chest. His laughter rang loud amongst the noise of the cafeteria, but you were sure it would have stood out like a sore thumb.

You mumbled into his chest, your cheek resting on his sky blue button up shirt, inhaling the scent of citrus and detergent. “I hate you.”

His laughter got even louder if that was possible. “You don’t, but whatever you say angel.” He released his grip on you, unraveling himself from your body, though his arm was still around your shoulder as you closed your eyes momentarily, leaning on him.

“Now let’s get you some food, hm?”

You nodded your head as he steered you through the crowd to get to the table. When your eyes opened you still saw Nicole typing away furiously on her mobile, but then she heaved a loud and long sigh, nearly slamming the cellular device down on the table in the process.

You walked around the table to sit next to her, Mark’s arm dropping from your shoulder as he excused himself to go pick up some food for both you and him.

You wrapped your own arm around her as she leaned her body into yours.

“What’s up?” you asked, rubbing your thumb over her clothed skin.

She sighed yet again and shook her head. “Nothing…it’s just a lot happened at that party after I left you alone…” She paused, peering up at the ceiling then down at her twiddling hands in her lap. “A lot and I don’t know…I don’t know.”

You nodded your head in acknowledgement, you had some idea what she meant, most likely referring to the boy she wandered off with at the start of the party, but you would wait for her to tell you what happened and she would when she felt like sharing. There was no point to pressure her.

“I get it, don’t worry Nicki. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

She turned her head to smile up at you and raised her hand to boop your nose. “Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

You lazily smiled back at her. “Yeah I know.”

She let out a giggle and you were glad you achieved your goal to make her happy in that moment, but it was for a moment too short because the sound of a tray hitting the table echoed in the cafeteria courtesy of Mark Lee himself.

“Ah shit, sorry, sorry,” he muttered, his mouth turned down into a frown. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything between you two.” He rubbed the back of his neck before gently placing the next tray onto the table to lessen the noise.

You laughed as Nicole’s weight lifted off of you.

“You’re fine, Markie, don’t worry.” You smiled up to him and patted the seat next to you. “So what did you get me for lunch?”

He maneuvered around the table to sit next to you, sliding the trays over once he sat down.

He gave you a boyish grin, his star-filled eyes sparkling. “Your favorite.”

You peered down at the tray in front of you, with two styrofoam containers of various sizes and some napkins he had so graciously placed at the sides.

You quirked an eyebrow when you looked over at him, wondering what he meant, considering you loved most food and it was always hard to pick one favorite.

You opened the larger container to a sandwich cut perfectly into two triangles, the distinct turkey slices and cheddar cheese sticking out.

“You didn’t…”

His beam grew. “Yup! A turkey, apple, and cheddar sandwich, baby! I know you’ve been craving one too and since hangovers also suck ass it is perfect for lunch.”

He bumped his shoulder with yours. “With a side of fries of course.”

You giggled and bumped his shoulder right back, making sure to give his hand a squeeze that rested on his thigh.

“Thank you, Markie. You always do take care of me.”

He squeezed your hand right back before you let go to begin eating your food.

“Always.”

“Aw you guys are always so cute…I’m jealous,” a voice broke out, interrupting the intimate moment between you and Mark.

Nicole had a pout on her face when you turned to look at her, making the both of you laugh.

“Laughing at my misfortune, sweet,” she mumbled with a roll of her eyes, but you could clearly see her trying to hold back a smile.

“Shut up, Nicki. You just wish you had a relationship like us,” Mark exclaimed with a smirk, throwing his arm around your shoulder, tugging you close to him amidst you trying to take a bite out of your sandwich.

You huffed and shook your shoulders to get the weight of his arm off of you in order to eat before your lunch break was over. “Trying to eat, mate.”

Nicole let out a loud, boisterous laugh as she stood up from the table, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. Her boots clicked against the tile as she took small steps to where the two of you sat. She patted Mark’s head, slightly ruffling his locks of black hair, in which he opposed and kissed the crown of your head, her flowery scent lingering when she stepped back.

“As much as I would love to continue this, my loves, I have to get to my next class early. I have to ask the professor some questions about an upcoming assignment.” She tugged on the straps of her backpack to hitch them higher, the sadness in her eyes transparent at her departure when her eyes glimpsed between you and Mark.

“Aw man,” you pouted. “See you later though! Make sure to text me too!”

She gave you a sly wink. “For sure!” She then smirked over at Mark. “Don’t worry I won’t forget to text you either.”

He gave a roll of his eyes but nodded his head nonetheless. “I am honored. Now go!”

“Okay, okay! I am going so bye bye loves.” She gave a little wave and pivoted on her heels, off towards her next class, but stopped in her tracks after a number of steps.

She moved her head to the right in order to glance at Mark from the corner of her eye. “Oh and Mark? Make sure our little party girl makes it to class in one piece.”

She whipped her head forward and continued walking, not sparing an ounce of extra time to see either one of your reactions. Although Mark besides you was trying his best to contain his laughter.

You punched his shoulder and pushed him thereafter, his body swaying right then left, his laughter ever increasing with no complaints of pain from your bold actions.

“You guys are so annoying,” you mustered, the aggressive sound of your chewing echoing in your ears and his own.

He patted your head, maneuvering his hands over to open his containers of food.

He shrugged his shoulders, picking up his fork to twirl the noodles around before stuffing his face with food. He chewed slowly contrary to your prior actions. He swallowed then spoke, “Yeah, but you still love us.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a fry and pointing it at him. “Don’t give yourself too much credit there, bud.”

You took a bite when he gave you an exasperated look. “Whatever you say, angel, but you and I both know the truth.”

You ignored him and continued eating, food occupying your mind rather than the bullshit Mark pulled on you, though he did in fact call your bluff. You very much loved him and Nicole, no matter how much you joked about not loving them.

Amidst the quietness that surrounded you and Mark, the only sound of you both chewing every so often, until your ears perked up at a conversation from the tables near you, whispers of remarks.

“They’re here.”

“Who?”

“The frat boys from NCT, who else? Legends on campus. Heartbreakers of the century. Know how to throw a good party. They are pretty smart too and literally all of them are handsome, it’s insane. A whole package if you ask me. Damn good genes.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the statements, contemplating how accurate they could be and if they really held the very weight conveyed.

Then a light bulb went off in your head—the boys from the NCT frat house, the very boys who threw the outrageous party you attended yesterday. They were here in the cafeteria and everyone was making a big ruckus out of their arrival. While they surely had a name for themselves, they couldn’t be that legendary or that gorgeous, but oh how you were so very wrong.

The diverse boys that walked into the cafeteria, their power exuding from their auras, instances after your claims, were so striking it left you breathless and in awe.

What the fuck was up with all these college boys being so pretty?

College was a whole different beast from high school, if the boys were any indication.

You were speculating the boys that stode in didn’t whole frat house, since more often than none frats had a lot of members and even more so that they would all be in different years with different classes throughout the day, not being lucky enough to have an identical period of break. Although, you knew it was possible if the right strings were pulled, but you just believed they weren’t capable of such doings for an odd reason you couldn’t point out. Regardless, the members that strode in surely spoke for the rest of them, indeed the good genes.

To your amazement they didn’t stop to grab food like other students would have if they entered the cafeteria, for the sole purpose of food and food alone. Instead they were on the search for someone, their eyes wandering over the heads of the entire student body that were captivated at their presence. They paid no mind to the apparent stares, set on who they were looking for, even disregarding the flirty winks or sultry gazes a number of girls were sending them.

Surprising you, one of them managed to send a wink right back when he strided by, a boy with relatively long brown hair with blonde highlights and fierce eyes who looked like he came straight out of a Japanese anime.

You rolled your eyes at the boy’s actions and went back to eating the rest of your fries, having already finished your sandwich, as there was no reason for you to pay attention to them in the slightest. Your meal held more importance. Not to mention, you knew they wouldn't head your way, noting that they weren’t looking for you, rather someone else, a girl or a fellow frat boy if another was in the room.

Then you paused suddenly before you took the final bite out of your french fry. You were hit with an abrupt realization. Mark was in a frat—their frat and they could in fact be looking for him.

Your suspicions were confirmed when a very tall and lean boy, with tousled black hair pushed to the side, presumably leading the other boys that trailed behind him, began to head in the direction of where you sat with Mark, his eyes lighting up as he became closer.

Well shit.

Mark doesn’t look up, too immersed in savoring his meal and glancing at his electronic device from time to time that rested on the table.

You on the other hand, do look up, and your eyes are wide in fear the nearer the frat boys get to the table. You weren’t scared of them, no, you were scared of what could possibly happen once they stopped in front of the both of you.

The tall boy is inches away and when you lock eyes with him, all he does is give you a sly smirk.

Not good at all.

You harshly nudge your shoulder with Mark to capture his attention and he turns to you right after, placing his fork down to give you an annoyed look.

You don’t mutter a word, but rather jerk your head forward in the direction of where all the frat boys stood in their glory. Some with smirks plastered on their faces, soft smiles, or no countenance at all. You could make the distinction between the ones you should ignore and befriend. Not that it should matter, Mark wouldn’t allow it all because of what he dubbed his “best friend duty,” which wasn’t anywhere near practical.

Mark’s eyebrows wrinkle and his lips pucker when he moves his head up to see what—or who you were trying to inform him of.

“Oh,” he lets out, barely audible to anyone that wasn’t close to him.

His facial features suddenly relax and the biggest grin slips onto his face. “Hey guys, what’s up?” He questions energetically, picking up the stray napkin to wipe his fingers clean and pocketing his cell after as he awaits a response.

The tall boy moves first, grabbing an empty chair and taking a seat, flicking his hand up in the air to serve as a signal for the other boys, the meaning it held to you, unknown. They disperse in seconds, swiftly walking to the exit of the cafeteria and only one boy, the one that winked at the girl earlier, stays, him too grabbing the chair next to the tall boy in order to sit down.

The tall boy’s smile is too sweet, too kind, and too secretive as he glances between you and Mark when he answers. “Just came to tell you that we set the date for the next NCT frat party.” He leans back in his seat with his arms crossed.

Mark snickers, peering at you in his peripheral vision. You were still shaken at their arrival, but put up a composed front, placing your hands under your thighs and trying to stop the shaking of your right leg. Mark reached his left hand out and put it on the top of your thigh, slightly giving the clothed skin a squeeze, an act of reassurance.

“And this news couldn’t wait till I got back home?”

The grin on the tall boy's face morphs into a thin line, his eyes becoming serious, no longer filled with mirth that was present before. His voice is stern when he speaks. “No, it couldn’t.” He unravels his arms, placing his forearms on the table while he leans his body forward with his piercing gaze directed at Mark. “It couldn’t, especially when you missed our chapter for the week.” His gaze got icier if it was even possible. “I am sure you know how important they are.”

Mark gulps, moving his eyes away to look down at the table. He doesn’t respond, opting for unnerving silence, with regards to the chatter of the students around that gives you goosebumps all over.

The unnamed boy that was quiet throughout the duration of the talk between the tall boy and Mark lets out an unexpected guffaw that fills the void. He was slouching in his chair, picking at his nails, but straightens his posture to clap a hand on Mark’s shoulder over the table. He gives Mark a small push, his loud voice echoing. “Relax there Markie boy.” He stifles his laughter at the way Mark’s eyes widen and his nose scrunches at the nickname. He leans back, pulling an object out of his back pocket of his black ripped skinny jeans—a lighter and he twiddles with it between his fingers.

The taller boy too chuckles loudly, leaning back, his arms crossed once more. “Exactly. No need to look so scared Mark. I was joking.” A teasing grin rests upon his lips, his eyes twinkling in contrast to the dullness that once made him look empty. He mutters under his breath, “Partially at least.”

The tall boy puffs out a breath of air in-between his lips, looking over at his companion who turns his head. He smirks first, the laughter bubbling up while the latter joins in with the inside joke, shaking his head, disregarding how Mark and you were still in their vicinity.

They both turn their heads forward, the chuckles dying down. Your eyebrows are furrowed, confusion unmistakable in your eyes and Mark’s expression remains neutral, with a hint of annoyance in his starless eyes.

An easy smile rests on the taller boy’s face when he clears his throat to speak. “Anyways as I was saying, another frat party. It will be in two weeks, on a Friday like we usually do.” He pauses then reaches over to pick up a stray fry off your tray, chewing slowly to savor the taste before he continues. His eyes glinted mischief when they flitted over to look at you for a split second. You were going to protest at him stealing your food, but decided against it, too worried about the outcome, even if you knew the only thing he would do was tease you. That is how most frat boys worked anyways and he wouldn’t be any different, if his actions weren’t enough of an indication. “I will let you know the exact details, but invite whoever you want as we get closer to the date. You know the drill for these…yada yada.” He flicks his hand in the air. “But keep in mind we want it more exclusive this time. There were way too many people for our back to school party yesterday. Way too many.” He rolls his eyes. “We get it, we are the fraternity, but people still show up uninvited and fuck up our house with their shitfaced actions.”

Mark hums in agreement, nodding his head. “Okay yeah got it.”

He sternly replies, “Good, we had enough of seeing way too much vomit.” He visibly shudders and your face contorts to a disgusted expression. You understood where they were coming from and you knew you didn’t want your own house to be filled with a repellent smell.

The discussion ceased after his statement and you thought that was it, that he was done with what he came to the cafeteria for, which was to audibly inform Mark about some frat business. Yet you were in the wrong, because he didn’t get out of his seat and stand up to leave like you believed him to do, no, he stayed rooted to his spot and so did his friend.

He suddenly addresses you, the cheekiness in his gaze and tone, displeasing you. He was hot, yes, but you had enough with the absentminded flirting for one night, even if it was hours later.

Alcohol leaving your system sure did marvels.

He leans forward one more, his head tilted to the side while he quirks up a brow to look you dead in the eyes. “Will you be there, gorgeous?”

You had to stop yourself from giving an eye roll when he asked you the question and his implication of a compliment. You gave him a tight lipped smile, your eyes refusing to meet his own as you opted to look at his forehead discreetly.

You were going to respond until Mark beat you to an answer, the firmness crystal clear in his tone.

“Don’t flirt with her, Johnny,” he warned, directing another annoyed gaze at the tall boy who you now had a name to attach to his face.

Johnny leans back, throwing his arm over the occupied chair to his left and snickers. “Okay lover boy.”

Mark groans, just about as done as you were with Johnny’s ever prominent teasing. He never seemed to stop and you were curious as to how Mark could keep up with him. He did spend most of his time with the boys in his frat and Johnny was one of many who could surely have his fair share of annoying moments.

“Also,” Johnny pipes up, his eyes trailing over at the girl that passes by him, before he diverts his attention to the two of you. “Taeyong is looking for you.”

Mark’s eyebrows come together in confusion and your interest is spiked at the mention of an unknown person. Something stirs within you, an emotion of familiarity as if you had ever met someone with the same name, when you were sure you hadn’t. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it as if they were the answer to a long awaited question.

“Taeyong? Why?”

Johnny lets his arm drop from around the chair and shrugs his shoulders, picking at a loose strand on his washed out ripped jeans. “I don’t know, something about a project? I can’t remember all the details.”

“Oh shit,” Mark swears under his breath as everyone looks over at him, including you. “Right.” He shakes his head, mumbling words to himself as his actions draw attention. He could feel the eyes on him and when he looked up, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck in a bashful manner and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry.”

Johnny chuckles. “Anyways Yuta and I need to get going.” He bumps his shoulder with Yuta to capture his attention. You now had another name to a face and you knew you would surely remember them both, it was hard to forget any frat boy. Johnny and Yuta both stand up, the latter putting the lighter in his back pocket as their bodies are turned to leave.

“I’ll see you at the house later,” Johnny states, nodding his head at Mark who returns the gesture. His eyes then flit to look down at you, an easy beam resting on his face. “As for you, I’ll catch you around, gorgeous.” He winks at you then turns, sauntering away to the exit of the cafeteria with Yuta sluggishly trailing behind him. Amidst his departure he raises a hand up and yells, “Bye Markie boy.” Both his and Johnny’s laughter echo in the hall until it fades out into nothingness.

Mark heaves a sigh, “Sometimes I can’t stand them.” He regards you with a displeased look and you have to hold back your giggles from his predicament.

“Of course you would want to laugh right, but angel I have to get going,” Mark exclaims, sadness in his gaze. “I’d hate to leave you here on your own, but understand I totally forgot about it. I really have to go, I can’t hold this...project back forever.”

You beam warmly at him, reaching over to pat his hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s fine Markie, don’t worry about it. Go.” You push his shoulder to get him on the move, allowing him to let out a laugh.

He scrambles to collect his trash onto the tray and swings the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, double checking that his cell phone is in his back pocket. Once he stands up and pushes his chair in with his hip, he leans down to give a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay, bye angel. I’ll see you soon.” He grins and you nod your head at him, muttering your own, “Okay.”

He then quickly treads away, evaporating into the mess of students. Gone in a second.

He truly was in a rush and you couldn’t help but ponder why that was. The project must have been of uttermost importance for him to dash out so speedily. You wondered if there was something more, or maybe you were thinking too much into things, especially regarding a boy who wore his heart on his sleeve ever since you met him. Even so you were curious about the one he was meeting.

Who the hell was Taeyong?

You sigh. There was no room for pondering when it surely didn’t matter and sitting at the now deserted table, you realized you were left alone like you were at the very start.

Left in solitude and utter loneliness, but you soon wouldn’t be for time could tell.

Time worked faster than you realized, as you spent the next two weeks anxious and nervous beyond belief, for a party you knew could potentially give you the responses you so desperately sought.

In the deepest part of your soul you hoped you would see him there, the boy that captivated you without even trying. You needed to figure who he really was and who he could be. You couldn’t be disappointed and when Friday rolls around after long anticipation, you would find out if fate was on your side.

Leading up to the party, your last two weeks were mostly productive to say the least. In between classes, coursework, and your small part time job at a nearby diner along with making time to hang out with your best friends, everything went by in a blur.

Before you knew it, Nicole had come knocking on your door hours before the party, intent on making you look as stunning as you always did, while you would return the favor.

She seemed to have gotten over her so-called slump from the week prior, yet she still didn’t share the cause of her being upset or out of it, though you did have a hunch it still had to do with the boy she escaped with, someone who most likely had captured her heart when she thought no one could ever. If they were to see each other anew you desired that everything would be satisfactory, that everything would go well for Nicole more than anything, because while she put up a tough front, she was more fragile on the inside than what anyone ever gave her credit for.

Seems like fate would have to give her a chance too.

Driving to the frat house, earlier than fashionably late all due to not wanting to kill your feet once again, nerves got to you. Nicole even had to call you out for it, like she seemed to always do when she knew you weren’t calm. She kept you in check.

She even held your arm as you were making your way up to the front door, the recollection from that night hitting you like a splash of cold water in the face during a hot day.

“You good?” She questioned once she let you sit down on the black stool by the kitchen counter, the same place you were the last time you visited the house.

“Mhm, I’m good.” You rested your arms on the cool surface and put your head down, a groan escaping your lips.

She poked your shoulder. “Sure you are babe. What’s up?” She pulled the empty stool out next to you to sit down, awaiting a response.

You didn’t haul your head up, opting to mumble the words that she wouldn’t be able to make out. “Nothing, but everything.” You paused and hoisted your head up, choosing not to antagonize her. She peered at you with expectant eyes that were still tender, one eyebrow lifted in waiting. You rested your head on your knuckles, looking down at the counter instead of into her eyes. You spoke so quietly, she had to lean in closer to make out your words with the loud sounds that surrounded you both.

“It’s just I saw this boy here the other night and I was maybe…I don’t know…hoping—”

She cut you off. “Hoping to see him again?”

You nodded your head, lifting your eyes up. “Yeah, just maybe.”

She sighed loudly. “Listen love, boys in college they’re…” She paused, puffing out air in between her nude colored lips. “They are exactly like the ones we met during high school. They aren’t all too different because they aren’t innocent, caring, or mature in the slightest. No, they aren’t no matter how much their façade proves otherwise. They hold more secrets then necessary and those are the ones that keep them alive. They get a thrill out of being mysterious, untouchable, since they know how much they are desired, especially these frat boys.”

She taps a finger above your heart. “So you have to be careful, love. You have to shield your heart even if you want to open it up to the first guy that enchants you. Don’t do it. Resist because they bring more trouble than what you bargained for. Not everyone is what, who, they seem and I am saying this as a warning, a reminder for you to heed to. I don’t want to see you hurt so please be careful.”

She grasps your empty hand that rests on your thigh, giving you a small squeeze. Her eyes are somber and you can see the twinge of hurt that lingers when you make contact with her. The tone she had was too relatable for her not to be speaking out of her own experiences. Something must have happened and not for the better like you wished.

You drop your hand from holding the weight of your head and put it on top of hers. “Nicki…what happened?”

You tilt your head when she looks away.

“I guess I am not as tough as I seem,” she murmurs.

You shake your enclosed hands to make her turn back. “Hey,” you say when her broken eyes look at you. “You are the strongest person I know and just because you weren’t immune to someone else’s charms doesn’t belittle that. Nicki we all make mistakes and we all hurt at one time or another so it’s okay. You have to be aware that it is okay to be human.”

She nods her head, giving you a light smile. “I suppose you’re right. I am not weak for feeling. I am strong for it.”

“Damn right you are. You’re a bad bitch, remember?”

She chuckles loud and direct, shaking her head at your words. “Indeed I am. We are bad bitches together.”

She slips her hand out from where she was holding yours and raises her pinky.

“Forever?”

You latch your pinky around her own, smiling at her so bright, that she can’t help but let her grin widen. Her eyes now contain a hint of happiness when you shake your pinkies. “Forever.”

You both sit there, smiling at each other, the youthfulness in your gazes and you feel impenetrable. The world could build you up and break you down, but you’d still be left standing no matter how much you endured. After all, you both were bad bitches together, forever.

“Okay,” Nicole laughs, unlatching her pinky from yours. “I think that is enough sappiness for tonight. I mean we came to party right?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Great!” She yells, the music from the next room escalating in sound. “Let me get us some drinks.” She stands up, the creak of her bar stool vibrating. “You’ll be okay on your own while I go to the bar right?”

You nod your head, giving her a smile of reassurance. “Yes I’ll be fine, just don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t! Be right back!” Then she vanishes from sight, being lost in the scatters of students.

Your knee moves up and down, the nerves coursing through your body. You didn’t want to worry her that you wouldn’t necessarily be okay on your own. You were scared of encountering Jeno, Jaehyun or the other two frat boys that you had met. The awkwardness that would surely ensure, you weren’t ready to face. You could only rely on Nicole to be fast when getting the drinks so you wouldn’t be left alone, unguarded for too long. Yet you knew she always did speak words of truth.

You suppose you were partially lucky and partially not for a few minutes went by and Nicole hadn’t returned, but on the other hand no one dared to look in your direction or spark up a conversation for some peculiar reason. You were left untouched contrary to how the other night went.

In your wait nothing of the sort happened, and you were bored, just glancing around the room and at the bright lit screen of your mobile. You just wanted to be buzzed so you could go dance and forge the thoughts that lingered in your mind. Somber when dancing never was a good fit, more so at a party.

But then you caught sight of someone who had faded out of your mind once you stepped foot into the house. It had to be him…it had to be and your suspicions were confirmed as he became closer to you. The same pitch black hair and hooded eyes that you knew by now after seeing him in passing a variety of times.

He was wearing a short sleeve silk button up shirt adorned with a circular pattern of purple, white, and green that had few top buttons undone to allow his white, creamy skin to be seen. He had paired it with black cargo pants, two dangling silver wallet chains looped to the belt and low cut, white Converse that appeared to be customized in the dim light. The silver necklace and bracelet sparkled when he moved, once more his presence stunned you.

You couldn’t let this moment go unscathed because you had to know something about him, anything rather than admiring from afar. The wants of your heart rather than mind served as a driving force once you stood up from your seat and followed after him before he disappeared like the many times before. His bright colored shirt served as an indicator in the crowd, his steps taken leisurely while yours were taken in a rush to ensure you didn’t lose him. You didn’t know where he was headed, hands tucked into his front pockets as if he didn’t want to be there, but you soon did. He took a sharp right heading in route to one of the side doors in the house, ready to exit to the back.

It wasn’t supposed to be chilly that night, but when you stepped into the backyard, chills erupted on your skin and you rubbed your arms to stop yourself from shivering.

You had never seen the backyard before, only ever been secluded to the first floor of the house, yet it was as equally beautiful as the rest of it. There was an expanse of a pool, leveled from the ground of where you stood that was illuminating with stark blue, casting glows among the rest of the yard with the candles that were placed at the sides and the other bright LED lights. You proceeded out to where the patio area was, a few chairs scattered about and a large glass table in the middle. There was another seating area to your left with high bar stools and marble counters lined along the edges leading up to a small outside kitchen with a television screen plastered on the tile. To your right was a fire pit and a few lawn chairs surrounded the area. In front of you, before one would take the stairs up to the pool, was an empty tiled area with a basketball hoop pushed to the side, a place you supposed they interchanged to fit their activities depending on the day.

Besides being mind-blown at the beauty, you were more shocked that no one was outside. It was unnervingly silent give or take the tweets of the birds and hoots of the owls along with the inside pounding of the music, which faded from penetrating through the walls completely.

“You aren’t supposed to be out here, you know.” He spoke in his light and sweet, slightly raspy voice, that directly contrasted his outside demeanor.

You didn’t know how he had sensed someone followed him outside and you probably knew you weren’t all too discreet, but you took a small group of steps to reach him, where his back still remained in your vision. You were embarrassed that he found out so quickly, though you still had to have some ounce of dignity, some ounce of unwavering confidence.

You gulped before speaking, making sure your next words were the right ones. “How do you know I’m not supposed to be?”

He turned his head to look over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through your soul. He hitched up a perfectly arched brow, “You aren’t a frat boy are you?”

You were taken aback and shook your head rapidly, stuttering out a response. “N-No…”

He moved his head forward, disregarding you and snickered. “Didn’t think so. The top levels and the backyard are off limits unless you’re part of the frat.”

That made sense as to why no one was out here, but why didn’t they lock the doors? Did they trust no one would come out here? Even when drunk?

The functions of the NCT frat house dazed you, never truly knowing how everything worked.

You took more careful steps until you reached him, your shoulder a few inches away from his own, the both of you looking forward. You briefly glanced at him, at the side of his face when you asked your next question. “Then why are you out here?”

He chuckles lowly and moves slightly, his gaze is one that mocks, but there was some mirth that twinkled.

You look down at the floor in recognition. “O-Oh…”

He was part of the frat, of course he was. Another gorgeous boy amongst others. He would be permitted outside and at all parties without any invitation. He could dissipate and reappear as he pleased, although it still threw you off. He didn’t truly seem like the person to commit to something, being all too free-spirited and not open to take orders. However, he still was very much in frat and you meditated on what type of position he held, if he had more authority than what he was letting on.

He spins on his heels, refusing to indulge further in a conversation. His hands are still placed in his front pocket as he strides by, not bearing to glimpse at you in his departure. “Next time don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms.”

You stand unmoving, considering his words and the underlying meaning, maybe there would be a next time, although the sensibility comes back once you take note that he is leaving once more.

“Wait!” You yell, partially taking large strides to catch up to him in your pumps as he stands still, indeed waiting for you. You reach him, deciding against touching his shoulder for fear of the untold. “What’s your name?”

You had to know the name of the handsome boy to settle some part of your heart.

He looks at you this time, really looks at you, as your gazes are interlocked. “You’ll have to earn it, sweetheart.” He reaches his hand out to touch your chin, his soft touch making your eyelids flutter close. He slightly jerks you forward, your eyes opening as his breath fans over your lips. “Not many have the privilege of having my name come out their mouth.” He drops his hand, stepping back to truly depart.

You stay rooted to your spot. He called you another nickname, the butterflies fluttering in your chest at the sound of it escaping his lips. He truly did have an unwanted effect no matter how much you could refuse to acknowledge it.

Before his hand touches the silver handle of the door to go back inside, you call out to him once more.

“Will I at least see you around?” You were hopeful that you would and could.

“Who knows? You’ll just have to wait and see.” He replies ominously and then he grabs the handle, turning it downward to open the door while he steps inside. The door closes on his bright figure as you are left in the backyard by yourself, left with more hope than you had in a long time.

Yes, he was imitating and impersonal , even so he made you coxy all over. You wanted to see him again, you wanted something more. You yearned for it, and standing there observing the closed door, for nothing at all, you had to figure how you could achieve it, that is until you recalled who you were waiting for previously until he had swept your attention away—Nicole.

She had probably already arrived back at the kitchen, losing her head over where you ran off to without any warning. She did have a big imagination, thinking of the worse, nevertheless she could be practical as well, though in this situation at a party, with strange people, the latter wouldn’t sit quite right.

You rushed forward, opening the door with the bang and got lost in the bodies around you. You pushed through with hurried steps, not bothering to apologize as they would either be too drunk to realize or didn’t care after being crushed up against others.

You were finally able to reach the kitchen after much effort, staggering your way forward at the sight of Nicole’s gold satin A-line dress.

She saw you first and the relief that came across her face made you feel guilty for going off on your own.

“Oh thank goodness,” she said, wrapping her hands around your body in order to give you a hug. You wrapped your own hands around her waist to return the gesture. She sighed and let her hands drop, holding you at arm’s length when she moved back.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I hope I wasn’t gone too long,” you uttered, twiddling with your fingers.

She pats your arm. “I know you didn’t, still wouldn’t stop me. You were only gone for a few minutes when I got back, which isn’t all too bad.”

You hummed, glad everything worked out, that is until she asked the dreaded question.

“Where were you though?” She added with a pointed gaze, her worry and frustration having already faded, only curiosity lingered. “You know you aren’t supposed to go running off anyways.”

“Ah sorry, sorry. I thought I saw Mark, but when I went after him…well it wasn’t Mark.” You let out a nervous giggle, stepping away to sit down on the chair while she remained standing.

Her eyes zoned in on your face before she gave you a once over to see if anything had changed with your appearance. “Mhm…okay. I reckon that makes sense.”

She was suspicious, yet she didn’t push and you didn’t know what you would have done if she had.

If only she would have known who you were with, someone she indirectly warned against and someone you would see many more times thereafter against your control or hers.

You didn’t think it would be so soon when you saw him again, a few days after the party.

You spotted him on your way to class right after your lunch break. He was sporting a baby blue hoodie with words you couldn’t make out scribbled across the chest, light washed ripped skinny jeans, a blue cap with the words Supreme etched out in white on a red background, and Balenciaga black and white speed sneakers. He had a black leather backpack swung over one shoulder and airpods in his ears.

You had to do a double take when you saw him before you because his outfit was contrary to his natural esoteric aura. You didn’t think he could look so innocent and pure in baby blue.

You didn’t think twice before you jogged forward to meet him, surely not debating possible consequences right then and there.

“Um…hey,” you voiced as you stood side by side with him, walking to wherever he was headed to, when you knew it was the exact opposite of where you were meant to go, however it didn’t matter. They always say the heart wants what it wants.

He took his right airpod out, putting it in the case that dangled from his belt loop. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward and shameless. You were still touched that he remembered you, even if his tone seemed the opposite of welcoming.

“Uh…um…I…” you started, not sure what to say or even ask. You didn’t expect to get this far.

He abruptly stopped, turning his whole body to face you. “Well?” He fixes his hat, hoisting it up slightly to peer at you for a split second, his eyes covered by his jet back, long strands of hair, making it difficult to make direct eye contact. “Get on with it.”

You shook your head, rocking back and forth on the heels of your sneakers. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you um…” You paused, peeking at him then at the gray concrete, racking your brain for something, anything. “Wanted to get coffee sometime?”

Some instances passed, no word mentioned by him and you knew that the silence meant you weren’t going to be so lucky. He rejected you—your offer and you had to live with that, your not so discreet attempt at scoring a date.

Until he thunderstrucks you.

He tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders, answering with a firm, “Sure.”

You were positive you hadn’t heard him right. There was no way he agreed to get coffee. You knew you had set yourself for rejection, nonetheless he proved you wrong. Somewhere deep down maybe you had a chance.

“Oh…um…okay then. Should I get your number then?” You couldn’t see his eyes, despite that you knew the intensity they held, some sort of judgment at your boldness. You stuttered, “Y-You know s-o we can s-set a t-time and p-place.”

He shook his head, taking his airpod out of the case and placing it in his ear again. He leaned forward, his face inches away from yours and whispered in your ear, “No, you have to earn that too, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter at the proximity and his special nickname that he now began to use. You worry that he can hear the loud pounding of your heart from how near he was.

He backs away and strides forward, not before stating an answer to your unsaid question. “Meet me at the café on Second Street and Thorn at 2:30pm sharp, this Friday. It’s the only chance you get, sweetheart so take it or leave it.”

Then he’s off, leaving you to comprehend what fully happened in a few short minutes. He agreed to coffee and set a date so rapidly, the thought of not having his number leaving your mind. You were finally one step closer to discovering who he truly was and it took a small leap, one he returned in his own way.

You were giddy when you spun in the other direction to get to your last class for the day, nearly skipping on your way there and your happiness would continue till the end of the week, when the desirable day arrived.

In fact, Mark and Nicole noticed your more than cheerful mood, glad that not everything in your life wasn’t as shitty as they perceived it to be because college was more often than none dreadful at times with constant work, some of which were surely questionable. Yet they didn’t complain because your happiness meant theirs too, even if they didn’t know the cause and you hoped you could keep it that way. You weren’t prepared to see the outcomes if they found out it was a he, Mark’s very own frat brother that was to blame for the shift in your mood.

Friday came around in record’s time and when you exited your third class for the day, on your way to the designated café during your lunch break, you weren’t all that tense. Sure, you pondered on what would happen and if he would leave you hanging as you strolled through the doors, nonetheless you could be with him and it was all that mattered.

He didn’t set you up for devastation once the bell above the café doors rung because as soon as you got through the entrance you saw him huddled up at the table in the corner of the room. His head was down as he was scrolling through his cell phone absentmindedly, his bright red high top Converse contrasting the black and white tiled floor. He had on a classic black leather jacket that was thrown over a red, blue, and white checkered flannel with a white GUESS t-shirt underneath, which wasn’t tucked into his loose blue jeans.

A style he pulled off so effortlessly.

He peered up when you were heading his way and pocketed his cell phone in his jeans.

“Hey,” you commented, sliding into the wooden chair opposite of him.

He nodded his head, not selecting to give a verbal response of greeting. “I assume you haven’t eaten lunch yet. We can get you something to eat and a coffee too if you want. Though I am not sure if you want to drink that in the middle of the day.”

“Um…yeah, sure. It’s my lunch break right now so I haven’t eaten anything.”

“Good,” he stated and pushed his chair back to stand up, not waiting for you as he strolled to the front counter. He was quick on his feet and seemed to be one to leave people in the dust.

His eyes were flitting left and right to inspect the menu. He didn’t spare you a regard when you were shoulder to shoulder.

“What do you want?”

You squinted at the menu looking at the drinks section and at the food they offered. They had a wide selection, very beneficial for a café and your hunger that needed to be sufficed.

“Uh…a small iced coffee with a caramel swirl and almond milk. Light on the ice and a California club croissant sandwich, no tomatoes please,” you recite to the cashier when they appeared after he asked the question. They nodded their head, typing your order into the screen, then their eyes peered expectedly at the boy next to you.

“A medium iced golden ginger and club sandwich.”

“Okay!” The cashier enthusiastically noted, their fingers typing away. “Your total will come out to $21.77. Cash or credit?”

You scrabbled to take your cell phone out your back pocket, seeing the opportunity to pay first, since you technically invited him out, he only accepted your invitation.

Just when you were able to raise your device to the scanner, he placed his platinum credit card on the counter, sliding it over to the cashier.

“I’ll pay,” he announced as the cashier swiped his card and handed it back to him moments after. You nodded your head slowly, putting your phone back in your pocket, and slightly slouching your shoulders in defeat.

“Here’s your receipt,” the cashier declared, holding out the white gloss paper over to your companion. He took it swiftly from their grasp and crumbled the paper into his front pocket.

“We’ll have your order out momentarily,” they smiled sweetly before turning away to prepare your drinks and food.

He walked away from the counter and back to the spot hidden away from view. You both sat down and he propped his leg on the empty chair next to you.

“So…” you trailed, clasping your hands together on the wooden table. You focused on him and he stared right back, the zeal so very hard to bear. “What’s your major?”

“Neuroscience.”

The shock surely mirrored in your face.

He was a science major?

Anything in relation to science would be at the bottom of the list for a career he would pursue, you would think, because he appeared to be anything but. Despite your assumptions, he indubitably had surprises up his sleeve.

“W-What? You major in biological and biomedical science?”

“Yes,” he leans forward with a tilt of his head, placing his own hands on the table. “Let me fathom, I don’t seem like a science major?”

You shake your head. “Y-Yes…No…I mean I truthfully thought you were an art major, specifically in fashion design or something of the alike.”

He presses on, “Why is that?”

“Well…I don’t know. A hunch I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, not knowing what you were truly getting at. “You just strike me as a very creative person with a great sense of style. You even wore something customized the other day. I am sure you did that yourself.”

He leans back, crossing his arms in his chair. “You aren’t wrong. I like art, but more as a hobby and I happen to have natural fashion taste. Customizing clothes and shoes is just a pastime.”

You nod your head slowly. Not everything is as it seems. “Oh…well, it still holds true in some regard.”

“Indeed,” he murmurs.

You both get interrupted at the arrival of your food and drinks. The young girl serves the plates and drinks, a kind beam etched onto her face. Her gaze lingers too long on him when she asks if anything else is needed before she trudges away and he would be a fool not to notice. He disregards it, however, opting to ignore. You wished you could remain as neutral as he was, still the green, ugly monster couldn’t help but claw in your being.

While you were going to continue to ask him questions to get to know him better, you decided against it. Maybe after you finished your meal so you ate in silence, the occasional slurp and chewing sounds filling the quietness, regardless of those that came and went into the café.

He wipes his mouth clean with his spare napkin once he finishes eating, crumbling it up in a ball when he’s done. “Your major, what is it?”

You look up, in the midst of sipping the last droplets of your iced coffee and give him a small smile. “I’m a psychology major.”

“Ah,” he says, pushing his plate forward to the center of the table.

You thought he would add on, but he doesn’t and you decide to further the conversation.

“I know you already told me a hobby of yours, any more you have though?”

“I compose music,” he shrugs, raising his arms in the air to stretch. “I cook too.” His arms lower and he rests them on the empty chair to his right. You knew he wouldn’t ask you about your own hobbies as he seemed to like being on the receiving end and didn’t seem all too interested in you, when you wanted to know everything in contrast.

You decide to speak up for yourself, to permit him to know some things about you too. “Well I like to bake and I do some graphic design on the side.”

He nods his head for the unkempt time that day. You wished he would talk more than use actions. His voice was all more soothing to listen to.

“How about—”

You are cut off by a ding sounding from his cell as he checks the screen that illuminates with a notification. He stands up abruptly, his cell phone held tightly in his grasp.

“I have to go. I’ll see you around…” He pauses peering down at your furrowed brows. “We should do this again sometime.”

Did he say that correctly?

You were sure this “date” was more boring rather than entertaining.

Your eyes furrow even more as you’re amazed at his open admittance to another so-called gathering between the two of you. You were going to ask yourself, but he beat you to it.

“Sure,” you replied with a kind smile. “I’d like that.”

His head movement is slight and you notice his agreeance. He steps away from the table and your hand reaches out to catch onto the cool leather of his jacket before you can stop yourself.

He eyeballs you expectantly, wondering why you had stopped him.

“Does that mean I can get your number?” you question with a tilt of your head.

He chuckles lowly at your shamelessness. “I suppose you earned it, sweetheart.”

He takes his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you in order to put in all your contact information while you take out your own device from your pocket to give to him. You take his cell from his grasp and type away your first name along with your phone number. Once the electronics are returned to their respectful owners, you glance down at the name he put into his phone, holding onto the fact that it could very much be his real name, except it wasn’t. He had named himself “NCT 1,” and you had to roll your eyes from the name of choice.

You slightly giggle and you can see the ghost of a smile on his face when he went his way towards the exit. The bell dings when he’s gone and as you look at his retreating figure in the huge glass window, a smile twitches on your face, one so very wide.

Your little lunch “date” went better than expected and it was one of many for more to come, serving as the much needed catalyst. Over the next couple of weeks, you would text with the boy whose name wasn’t disclosed and bask in his presence over the semi-dates you had with each other, ranging from ones at the same café for lunch or ones late at night in the library. They varied and whenever you met up, there was a sparkle in your eyes and a lightness in your chest. You were able to get to know him more and more, to truly understand him, to get to see what laid beyond the surface of his façade. He was more than what meets the eye, even if he seemed to deflect his fair share of personal information, you still had gotten closer. He wouldn’t have asked to meet up so often if you hadn’t liked the company and you wouldn’t have agreed if you thought he was a waste of time.

The only aspect that was frustrating was his refusal to share his name or even give a hint at what it could be. He would deflect, saying it didn’t matter and all that did was the moments with each other, yet his reassurance did little to suppress your ever growing curiosity. However, he had eventually cracked at your most recent study date.

“It’s Lee…Lee Taeyong,” he proclaimed randomly when you were scribbling down notes and he was reading a passage for his assigned reading in the dim corner of the library at nearly ten past eleven at night. The sound of the tick-tock filling the void of silence.

“Huh?” you asked, placing your pen down on the table and glancing up at him, head tilted, forehead wrinkled.

“My name,” he cleared his throat, locking eyes with you. “My name is Lee Taeyong.”

You had gotten a name that night to attach to the gorgeous boy you now knew more than ever about and his name was as equally captivating as himself.

Although contrary to your meetups, you rarely saw him around campus and if you did so happen to see him, he always seemed to be with a fellow frat brother, refusing to acknowledge you if you looked his way. It was odd in contrast to how he acted when you two were alone, and somehow you understood where he was coming from. You wouldn’t want to be caught either with him. Too many questions to deal with after, too much judgment and disappointment.

Despite that fear hidden in the back of your mind, he unknowingly made you happy, beyond content for a reason that was too hard to explain and too obvious to those around you.

Mark and Nicole knew something was up, but never lodged on the matter, regarding that joy could be found anywhere and in anything. Yet, you weren’t as subtle with your dashing off or disappearing for long periods of time when the meet ups became more frequent. They would eventually catch on, although you would remain blinded by the manufactured bubble of joy that was created.

So your then high became a low.

You blame Mark, but at the same time you don’t because you knew you had to be cautious.

He invited you that week for a small get together at his frat house, nothing grand like the parties they hosted nearly every two weeks on a Friday. No, this gathering would be for close friends and companions, just for some lighthearted fun, to serve as a destresser before the hell weeks would start in December. It was a Thanksgiving celebration of sorts, a Friendsgiving where you would come together and strengthen your bonds with each other, regardless of how much you knew of the others who would join.

He invited you and Nicole like he always did with any event that revolved around his fraternity or partying in general. You thought it would be nice to come, to spend some quality time with your best friends that you felt you hadn’t seen in forever, too preoccupied with Taeyong to have some time with them. He was far from your mind when Mark extended the invitation and you wished your common sense would have kicked in earlier, before the small party began, because he was in fact part of the fraternity and would very much be there.

You shouldn’t have been shocked when you saw him right when you ambled into the house with Mark and Nicole in tow. He was chatting with Johnny, the tall boy you hadn’t seen in so long ever since that encounter months ago. He held a champagne glass in one hand while the other was tucked into his black jeans. He had his signature chains intertwined in the belt loops with a light lavender turtleneck, that had a graphic design in blue of a person’s lower face in the center of the chest, tucked into his jeans, and a black and white tweed blazer thrown over the top. His shiny, black dress shoes completed the outfit as he was surely one of the best dressed by far. Even if the event was semi-formal and everyone you saw littering around in the entryway were classy, yet simple in their approaches, he managed to catch your eye right away.

“Ah, if it isn’t little Lee arriving right on time!” Johnny yells out, striding over in big steps to where the three of you stood by the entrance.

Mark rolls his eyes at the nickname, but goes in for a half handshake and hug. “Hey at least I made it and also it isn’t little Lee anymore, remember? If anything I am the middle Lee.”

“Still won’t stop me from calling you little Lee, little Lee.” Johnny slaps him on the shoulder, his laughter echoing. “I see you brought two stunning ladies in tow too.” He directs his attention to you and Nicole, not bothering to conceal the fact that he was blatantly checking the both of you out.

“Looks like we meet again, gorgeous,” Johnny states, reaching for your hand and giving a light kiss to the skin, a wink thrown after you retract your hand.

You don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Hi Johnny,” you mutter with a sickly gratifying smile plastered across your face.

He laughs once more as his eyes then trail to Nicole who stands unfazed and slightly bored at the appearance of Johnny.

“Well I don’t think we’ve met before. I would have remembered a face like yours, someone so absolutely breathtaking,” he cheekily vocalizes.

It is now Nicole’s turn to roll her eyes and she takes steps to get nearer to Johnny, his eyebrows shooting up at her boldness, but then a smirk rests on his face.

She reaches out her hand and pats him on the chest before he gets the chance to kiss her hand. “Save the flirting for someone else, will you mate? For someone you at least have a chance with because it ain’t me honey,” she drawls, stepping away to go further inside the house, waving her hand in the air as a farewell.

Mark and you stifle back laughter at her shamelessness. She sure was something, you would admit.

“Fuck you guys,” Johnny remarks, flipping both you and Mark off, yet you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he retreats after Nicole.

“She’s something, huh?” Someone says, taking the thoughts right out of your head.

“Yeah,” you respond, wiping your finger under your eyes from how hilarious that scene played out. “She sure is.”

And that is when you pause in realization. You knew that voice.

You turn around to come face to face with an all too familiar boy—Lee Taeyong.

You chuckled timidly, fumbling with your fingers as you fix your gaze on him. His eyebrow is arched and when he takes a sip of his champagne you can see his smile reflected in the glass.

“Oh!” Mark exclaims, putting his arm around your shoulder, an action that makes Taeyong’s eyes harden in the smallest way, or maybe you were imagining it. “I don’t think you guys have been introduced to each other before. This is Taeyong angel, and Taeyong this is—”

Taeyong doesn’t let Mark finish, muttering out a stern, “I know who she is Mark, I’ve seen her around with you before.”

“Oh,” Mark lets out, his enthusiastic self diminishing. “That makes sense.”

Taeyong nods and lifts his glass in your direction, his eyes refusing to make contact for more than a second. “Nice to meet you.”

You mumble back with a slight frown you desperately try to hide. You conjectured why he was acting so cold. “You too.”

“Okay, anyways…” Mark trails off looking between the two of you, trying to figure out if something was up. “I am going to get a drink. You ready, angel?” He asks you when he peers at the side of your face.

You give Mark a small smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, but…um I have to use the restroom first.”

Though before you could depart, someone else makes an appearance, someone you forgot about and would make matters much more complicated than they need to be.

“Yo Mark! They need help with the drinks in the back,” he yells walking into the room, jabbing his finger behind him. “They apparently stocked up on their orders of alcohol so it’s a lot.”

You glance at the entrance when you hear his voice and your heart stops in your chest.

What the hell was Lee Jeno doing here?

Mark’s arm drops from your shoulder, giving a roll of his eyes. “Of course they fucking did. I'll be right there.” He doesn’t spare Jeno another glance and neither do you, desperately trying to conceal yourself from his line of sight. Mark regards you with kind eyes, knowing you had questions he would answer at a more convenient time about why Jeno was here. He continues on from before he was interrupted. “You know where the restroom is right?”

Your eyes can’t help but flit to where Jeno stood, trying to see if he left, but when you look over Mark’s shoulder, you see him patiently waiting for the older boy and his eyes are already staring right at you. You gulp, turning back to look at Mark. “Yes, I do,” you step away from him, not spearing another glance at Taeyong or Jeno as you get lost down the hall towards the bathroom.

Although you do manage to see the way everyone’s eyes follow your figure and the way Jeno had slightly placed his foot forward, debating to follow after you or not, yet he retreats to follow after Mark instead to help in the back.

You didn’t really have to go to the restroom, you just wanted to get away from the suffocating room with the three boys, for the dread that your secrets would get revealed if you weren’t cautious.

You hear the footsteps before you see him and you just knew there was a chance he would be the one to follow you.

You don’t have to turn around to confirm your suspicions, wrapping your arms around your body.

“What was that?” he questions lowly.

You groan. “What do you mean what was that? You were the one acting all cold.”

His hand reaches out to hold your upper arm, turning you to face him, except you don’t, opting to check out the floor.

“I was so-called cold,” he makes quotation marks once his hand drops. “Because you refused to acknowledge me. Do I also have to mention the way I saw you look at Jeno? Don’t think I didn’t see it sweetheart, because I did and I’m sure anyone else with two eyes could see it too.”

You shake your head, scoffing at his bluntness. “Oh, of course you would point that out, but it isn’t that deep. Don’t let jealousy cloud your vision, Yong,” you drawl and you see the way his eyes go dark. “It isn’t me you should be concerned about, when you were acting all high and mighty way before.”

He stays silent because he knew you were right, yet it does little to lessen his hard stare. “Listen you know we can’t be seen together or seen as if we know each other, it will raise too many questions.” You placed your hand on his bicep, his previous declaration about Jeno not holding any importance. Your eyes become so round and wide that he can feel his heart slightly crack. “I don’t want any of them to be upset at me or question my sensibility.”

He pursues his lips, “I understand that, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I understand and I apologize for the way I acted. I apologize for acting like an ass.” His attention moved to the floor, his strands of hair falling over his face and you let out a small giggle from his candor.

You maneuver your hand to cup his cheek, rubbing his cheek. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

The moment lasts for the shortest while all due to Mark’s loud voice calling your name.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping your hand. “He can’t see you.” You push Taeyong in the direction further down the hallway, that you hoped would lead somewhere away from where Mark would reach in a few more steps.

Taeyong doesn’t utter a word and paces down the hall without so much as a goodbye, just in time when Mark squints his eyes to make out your figure, but he wasn’t looking at you, rather behind you.

He caught sight of Taeyong and you were doomed.

“Angel…” he trails off, his eyes still squinted in scrutiny. “Why were you with Taeyong?”

“W-What?” You stutter in response, swearing at yourself internally at the fact that you gave it away in just one word. Mark knew you were hiding something whenever you stumbled over your words.

“You heard me, why were you with Taeyong?”

The way he was saying the boy’s name and the implications in his pitch of voice stirred something inside of you. You needed to defend him more than yourself.

“Why can’t I?”

He regards you with somber eyes and reaches forward to take your hand. “Angel...”

You step away from him, tucking your hands into your body. “No, answer me.”

He is startled at your seriousness and evident protest. You were never one to turn away from him.

“He’s just…” he pauses, struggling to find the right words, ones that wouldn’t destroy you. He decides against finishing his sentence, choosing the all too familiar words. “Be careful. Just be careful, angel.”

Your brows furrow and that is when you lose it.

“Be careful,” you scoff, letting your hands free from around your body. “Everyone says that. Be careful. Be careful, but of what?” You throw your hands up in the air, frustration seeping in your voice. “What do I have to be careful of Mark?”

Mark visibly winces at the sound of his name coming from your lips, you never called him that, not since you first met those fateful years ago. You called him Markie and always Markie, which is how he knew you were truly upset.

“Tell me. For goodness sake tell me! He’s just a boy like the rest of you in this forsaken frat house of yours. So why, oh why, can’t I be seen with him!?”

You pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to keep composure that you lost at the start.

Mark heaves a sigh, he knew where you were coming from, it was all too common and seeing you in this predicament made him ache more than you’ll ever know.

He whispers his next words carefully, scared at what your answer could mean when he asked. “You like him don’t you?” His eyes flickering close for the merest moment in wait.

You resemble someone who’s deepest, darkest secret just got exposed after trying so hard to cover the tracks when he peered at you.

“I never said that.” Your clenched hands relaxed as you now nervously fiddled with your fingers.

“No and you don’t need to, but it isn’t hard to tell. I saw the way you looked at him when we came inside. After all, actions speak louder than words.”

Silence.

The tick-tock of the clock somewhere in the hall, decreasing.

The laughs and chatters of those in the other rooms, muffled.

All that was heard were the steady breaths of you and Mark.

Mark disturbs the quietude first. “Angel I—”

You rapidly shake your head. “Mark…stop,” you whisper and he closes his mouth before he can finish. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. If I like him I do, and if I don’t then you don’t have to worry. Just let me figure out things on my own.”

You lock eyes with him, the tears prickling the corner of your eye as you stride forward. “Please…just please….let me live once on my own terms rather than your own.” You don’t lay your eyes on him again after your last words are spoken, you simply trudge away, leaving two boys who held pieces of your heart in different ways.

You couldn’t help but ponder over the words of Mark as you were plodding to the exit of the house, no longer wishing to stay because of the mess that was created all within less than an hour.

Twisting open the door and letting it shut close, believing that no one saw you leave, you were encompassed in the night. The twinkling stars overhead and the white glow of the moon shining down, the fluorescent lights of the house adding to brightness.

Peeping at the sky, everything flooded your mind at once.

Were you really starting to fall like Mark said? Was it really that obvious? That you had caught feelings for a boy that seemed to be off limits and that you were warned about?

Did you truly like Lee Taeyong?

Those were the questions floating around, all that you couldn’t answer because you knew you wouldn’t like the result.

You were never good at feelings or admittance of faults, you choose to ignore them, but this was one of those times you couldn’t entirely push them aside because they meant something more. They were unlike anything ever felt and you never truly liked mystery, no matter if it drew you in. You had to figure out what was different and if it was worth the risk to take.

You didn’t necessarily find out the answers to the questions that plagued your mind when your next friendly date came around with Taeyong, this one unlike the others before, being on a Friday after classes and at a cute ice cream parlor you had found one day, nestled between a bookshop and the farmer’s mart.

All the bad blood between you from last Friday had diminished into nothing, you forgave and forgot as he did as well. That was the only argument you ever truly had ever since your friendship blossomed, the last one you would ever encounter if you were lucky.

Stepping inside and finding a seat while Taeyong got the ice cream after asking for your order, you clasped your hands together tightly, your knuckles turning white.

You knew what you had to do today, before your outing ended and Taeyong left till the next time you would see him. Three words that had the ability to bring people together or tear them apart.

He scraped the chair across the tile, startling you as he sat down and placed a cup of cookie dough ice cream down along with a green tea flavored one. He took the latter for himself, and pushed the other cup in your direction, the small pink spoon poking out.

“Bon appetit,” he exclaims and takes a large spoonful of his ice cream while you leave your dessert unscathed. You suddenly lost your appetite, dreading what would come.

“Hey,” he says, tapping his index finger on your hand, the cool metal of his ring causing you to shiver. “What’s wrong?”

He takes his hand back and places it on the table. You always noticed how he never initiated skinship or desired to touch like you wished him to do. If anything his touch would only linger for a few seconds, whether it be a pat on the hand or a palm on your shoulder, nothing too grand that had to bear on for eternity.

You cleared your throat, not maintaining eye contact with him any more.. “I have to tell you something…”

He hummed in response as an indicator to keep you going.

“It’s frankly frightening for me to admit and I have no idea if you feel the same, but I just have to tell you. To get this weight off my chest, even if I am setting myself up for the worst,” you stop and reach your hand over the table to place it on top of his, being bold with disregard to your observations. You don’t even notice the way he slightly flinches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I guess over our time of getting to know each other, something further stirred in my chest. In fact it was already there but it was more profound once I got to know the type of person you are—someone who isn’t so esoteric or unexpressive. Someone who indeed has a fragile, yet caring heart and maybe it took a slap in the face to notice, but…Yong…”

Your thumb caressed his skin as you peered at him with so very gentle eyes and his own remained stoic.

You took a deep breath—make or break. “I like you.”

He retracted his hand so briskly, it was if he had gotten burned. He rubbed at his hand, where your touch still lingered. He shakes his head rapidly, “No…No…No. You can’t…”

This is the first time he ever denied to make eye contact with you and you felt your heart shatter both at his words as well as actions.

Rejection.

You should have expected this, but your all too positive outlook on life was your downfall.

You croaked out, “What do you mean you can’t?”

You deserved some sort of explanation, he couldn’t leave you hanging.

He turned his head to finally see you and you could make out the coherent regret in his eyes, with an ounce of pity. You didn’t want pity, you wanted understanding.

“Baby…” You cower back at the affectionate name, his hands holding onto each other so tightly you could only see white. He repeats himself again, the internal battle he was having with himself unknown to you. “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?”

Another crack and a few more you would be gone, submerging yourself in tears of regret.

“B-But it is. Can’t you see? I like you and you—”

He cuts you off, standing up from his chair abruptly, the sound catching the attention of those that sat at the tables near you.

“No,” he shakes his head one more, this time calmer than the last. “No, there’s a difference. You’re infatuated with me. You just like the idea of me so don’t call me your lover, don’t tell me you have feelings for me, when you don’t even love me.”

His words were an arrow to the heart.

How could he possibly know your feelings when he couldn’t even tell his own?

His warning echoes in your ears when he leaves, the slam of the door scaring those inside the parlor but you remain unfazed. This was more than rejection, it was a declaration, a calling for lonely souls that would never find love.

After all, they say all good things come to an end and after you were sparked with a surge of boldness to confess, Lee Taeyong walked away from you, when you thought he would be by your side.

He forgets about you that day and if only it was easy to forget about him.

You weren’t as good as hiding things as you thought you were because your somber mood could be seen for miles. Mark had an idea of why you were so upset, after all he seemed to know every detail when it came to your nonexistent love life, especially since he saw Taeyong nearly every day. On the other hand, Nicole had no idea since she didn’t know Taeyong and you never told her, but she had a hunch it had to do with a boy. Whenever you were down, even in high school, it always had to be because of a boy who wasn’t worth your time as she always reminded you.

You don’t know how much time had passed since your last encounter with Taeyong, since that last fateful day. Time either went by faster or slower whenever you were sad, though more often than none it was the latter. Despite everything you still found yourself meeting up with your best friends and staying on top of your classes, pushing aside any invitations you received for a frat or sorority party when you knew you had the potential to see him there. You knew you would crumble if you did and that weakness was one you weren’t quite ready to share.

So it was Wednesday of the however many days had gone and when you were poking at your salad, refusing to eat more than a few leaves, that Mark speaks up inside the cafeteria, at your usual meet up. Only small remarks were ever made at those now, they knew you weren’t in the right state of mind to talk, but he does so anyways.

“Angel, I’m sorry.”

His words burn a hole through your heart, of course he was, he was the one that said to be careful—him and Nicole.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you mutter angrily and swipe your backpack off the chair with your books in hand, your tray with you unfinished food in the other. You stand up and leave the cafeteria so fast it takes a while for Nicole and Mark to truly comprehend yet they don’t come after you. Some friends they could be

You dump your leftover meal into the trashcan and place the tray on the top of the metal your way out. You were more frustrated and pissed off than anything else. Today was clearly not your day, it hasn’t been in such a long time and it was why you decided to skip your last class for the day even if it would bite you back in the ass.

You had no problem getting into your car and speeding down the highway to your apartment, too gone when you arrived at your complex. You wanted to take a long awaited nap and maybe cry yourself to sleep to get rid of the icky feelings you had all over.

You stagger your way through the door after pushing it open and down the narrow hall to your bedroom. You don’t bother to change out of your school clothes, choosing to just kick off your Vans before you crash face forward into your soft mattress. Just when you are about to close your eyes you hear a knock at your door.

You hoick your head up with a groan.

Who the fuck would be here right now?

You have no choice but to get your lazy and gloomy ass out of bed to answer the door, not prepared to see who is on the other side of the wooden frame.

You open the door to none other than Lee fucking Taeyong, in all his glory, with his smooth parted hair that fell over his forehead and his so very gorgeous face. His stylish outfit was more dressed down than ever with a simple blue Gucci hoodie, baggy blue jeans that were cuffed at the ankles, and some simple white sneakers. Yet, he looked the exact same as he did that day, no ounce of any toll the event had taken on him, but if you inspected closely enough, you could see the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been getting much sleep and neither had you, something that made you feel a little bit better, that he had his own fair share of pain after what he did to you—the both of you.

“Oh hell,” you muttered immediately, closing the door on his face, but his foot makes contact with the door, stopping you from fully shutting the entryway.

You groan, you determine you would have to deal with him eventually so might as well get it over with. You open the door widely, ushering him in with a dramatic gesture that he has to hold back a laugh from due to your annoyance.

You close the door, locking it shut while you regard him with deadpan eyes. “Okay what the hell are you doing here? No, no…wait. How did you get my apartment number? I never told you.”

The seriousness in your gaze slightly frightens him, he had never seen you look so unlike yourself. Your features were always soft and welcoming, but now they were rough and seemed so lifeless.

He gulps, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket, his left leg moving up and down. “I asked Mark where you were…actually no, he called me. He was worried about you and wanted me to check up on you, to resolve what’s going on with us.” He waves a hand between the two of your bodies and you can’t but roll your eyes. He couldn’t even say what the matter was, he had no idea what he did wrong.

When he notices you won’t speak another word, he continues on, “Listen, sweetheart.” He notices your wince at the all too nostalgic nickname, still continuing on. “Mark cares about you, he really does and you shouldn’t ignore him. You shouldn’t push him or Nicole away…please don’t for my sake at least.”

You scoff, crossing your hands over your chest, “You’re one to talk.”

“Trust me I know but—“

You cut him off, eyes zoning in on his face, diverting the conversation another way. You still didn’t know why he truly came. “What are you doing here Taeyong?”

“I already told you—“

“No,” you cut him off once more, eyes narrowing even further, “Why are you really here and don’t say for Mark or Nicole. Why did you decide to come?”

He stutters, you never saw him stutter. He was always calm and collected, so sure of himself. “I-I just really wanted to see you…I missed you.”

Those mere words are when you burst.

“You can’t say that! You can’t. You ghosted me for days, for weeks, I don’t know how long it has been. I reached out to your friends, your fellow frat brothers to ask where you were and they always deflected, saying you were too busy with assignments, with everything else going on in your life, especially finals coming up. But I could see it in their eyes, Taeyong.”

He winces at his full name. You always opted to call him Yong or any other variation of his name, but not Taeyong.

“I could tell they were lying to me. You weren’t as busy as they said. In fact you know…” You turn your attention away to look at the clock in the kitchen. “I saw you the other day when I came out of the library. It was already dark out and you know,” you could feel your tears slipping out and the look of absolute guilt plagues his face. He never wanted you to cry because of him. “Someone was with you, a boy, a girl, a frat brother, I don’t know, but you had this smile on your face that I could see for miles. You never smiled at me like that before and I knew in some small way that you were doing well, while I was over here beating myself about everything revolving around my stupid confession. So you know what? Don’t say you miss me when you don’t really mean it. Don’t give me too many words, too many excuses and not enough love…just…” you choke on your words, breaking down, piece by piece. “Get out.”

He looks destroyed at your last words and reaches out his hand, “I—”

You turn your body away from him, cowering into yourself.

He releases a sigh, he knew you wouldn’t budge. “Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

So he leaves, going out the front door and withdrawing from your life once more. You only wish he fought back and didn’t surrender to defeat.

But it isn’t even twenty-four hours later when Lee Taeyong comes knocking at your door another time, on your way out for your morning class for the day. He rushes in with messy bed hair, a striped black and red long sleeve shirt, baggy black jeans, and some brown Converse.

He came back for you after all and it touched your heart, mending some pieces that were broken from his own faults, even when the rest of your soul wanted you to stay mad at him.

He places his hands on your shoulder, directing your eye contact solely to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart for what I said and how I acted. It was never my intention to harm you, but I was scared of the feelings that you voiced, the ones I wasn’t sure if I could return so I ran away from it, from you, leaving you in pain because I couldn’t admit anything to myself. I apologize and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.”

You could tell the sincerity in his words, how he was speaking from his heart rather than his mind. He truly was sorry and you both knew you would be all right even with a bump like this in the road. It was inevitable, everyone fought, for stupid or valid reasons, an aspect part of the cycle of life, but you could overcome that obstacle as would he.

You took Taeyong’s hand into your own, a smile on your face, one that made him release a sigh that you weren’t mad. “I get it, Yongie. I get it and I forgive you. You did hurt me, I admit, but hey what’s life without a little woe?”

He lightly laughs and squeezes your hand, the relief noticeable in his face. “Thank you.”

“But it still doesn’t bypass the fact that I caused you distress too and I apologize for that as well. We offended each other unintentionally, but I am glad we are somewhat okay.”

He steps back from you, his hands covered by his long sleeves. “I sure hope so, but sweetheart?”

You hum.

“I can’t return your feelings. I can’t, no matter how much you want me to.”

You nod your head, your smile now sad. “It’s okay. I might want something more, but you can’t give that and it’s okay. To be in love is both a blessing and a curse. I’ll just have to live with it and learn to get over it. You can’t have control over who you fall in love with.”

“I wish I could,” he mutters.

You shake your head, “You can’t change what’s meant to be.”

His regretful eyes lock onto you when he ushers his hand out, if not lovers then there was something even equally or more so valuable. “Friends?”

You latch your hand onto his, “Friends.”

Then all is well with Lee Taeyong as you go back to your usual routine, hanging out on select days, whenever you both were free, but with the end of the December having rolled around you saw less and less of him. You were both busy with taking your finals, but he had more on his plate being a third year. It was hard to set aside time to go out or even text as he became drowned in his ever increasing workload.

You suppose that should have served as a warner because then everything goes downhill like the rollercoaster that explained your life.

Mark is the one that delivers the news at the end of finals week when you all gathered at your apartment for a much needed Disney movie marathon—the trio back again after a much stressful week. You rarely saw each other, too immersed in your studies and wants to receive high marks.

“Thank goodness hell week is over,” Nicole groans, stretching her body on the couch. “I felt like I was going to pass out by the time it was Wednesday.”

“I feel ya, sister,” you murmur, planting yourself down on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. “I was about to give up.”

Mark rolls his eyes when he sits down next to you, placing the bowl of assorted candy on the floor. “You guys are exaggerating. First year finals aren’t too bad. Just wait till next year.”

Nicole reaches over and whacks the top of Mark’s head as he lets out a whine. “Hey!”

“Shut up, you motherfucker,” she states, sneaking a hand into the popcorn in your grasp. “This isn’t about you.”

“I never said it was.”

“You always complain. Do you ever shut up?”

“Guys!” you yell amidst their argument.

“Why the hell are you attacking me?”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“Guys!” you yell once more, your voice raising that catches their attention.

Mark sheepishly smiles at you, but not before sending a glare at Nicole, one which she returns.

“Sorry, angel.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him. “Can we just pick a movie?”

He nods his head and grabs the remote on the glass table, opening Disney Plus and scrolling through the selection of movies.

You hear the chewing of Nicole and the clicking of the remote, filling up the quietness in contrast to the noise that was prevalent before.

You ask a question, meekly, not particularly addressing anyone in the room once Mark lands on a movie suggestion. “Do you know how Taeyong is?”

Nicole’s chewing ceases and Mark looks over at you, still holding onto the remote. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I hadn’t seen him since the week before finals. He said he would text me once it was over, but I haven’t received anything and today is the last day before break.”

You see Mark lock eyes with Nicole, them having a silent conversation that you had no clue to decipher. Nicole gives a nod to Mark and your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, allowing Mark to speak up in a whisper. “He didn’t tell you?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Tell me what?”

He swears under his breath, moving closer to you to grasp your hands. “Angel…he’s leaving.”

You try to tug your hands away, but he won’t let you go. “What do you mean leaving?”

“He’s going to the states for a master’s program at Harvard, he received a full ride to study neuroscience. He finished all his credits early so he was able to graduate this semester instead of in another year like he was supposed to. His flight leaves tomorrow morning. He wanted to get an early start to settle down and everything.”

Mark finally lets go of your hands, giving a squeeze when you pull away. Water was prickling in the corner of your eyes, waiting to be released. “W-What? Y-Your lying. W-Why didn’t he t-tell me?”

Mark tilts his head up, contemplating what to say next when you were readably getting emotional and he didn’t want to wound you further. “I’m not, angel, but I think why he didn’t tell you was because he didn’t want to upset you. You had only gotten close this year and him telling you he was leaving would give you more hurt than he ever would want you to bear, especially considering you both had a tough couple of weeks that placed a stain on your friendship.”

“T-That shouldn’t m-matter b-because doesn’t he know this h-hurts me too? Him leaving w-without saying goodbye?”

You feel the weight of Nicole’s hand on your shoulders once more, rubbing the clothed skin. “You have to know where he’s coming from love. I am sure he has a reason.”

“Yeah, a bullshit one!” you croak out, some tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Hey, angel, hey,” Mark speaks out, resting his hand on your thigh. “Calm down. I can drive you to the airport tomorrow. I know when his flight leaves. How about that? Give him a piece of your mind and a proper goodbye.”

You sniffle, wiping the tears from underneath your eyes. “Y-Yeah…that s-sounds good.”

Mark smiles. “Good. Trust Taeyong to be stupid as fuck sometimes.”

You chuckle at your best friend’s attempt to lighten the mood, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. “You can say that again.”

The next morning you are all jitters, waking up at six in the morning sharp to drive an hour to the airport, in hopes you would arrive before his flight departs at eight.

Mark had served as a wakeup call, being on facetime as you both got ready. Nicole couldn’t join the two of you for some reason, giving the excuse that she needed to sleep in after her emotional and mental exhaustion from finals. You couldn’t complain, you needed sleep too, but catching Taeyong mattered more.

Mark kept calling you out for your nervousness, your leg moving up and down throughout nearly the whole ride and when he put his hand on your thigh to calm you in some way, you switched to messing with your fingers.

There was more traffic than you realized and Mark drove exceptionally slow to where you arrived at the airport twenty minutes to eight. You rushed between the crowds, Mark hot on your trail as you searched for the correct gate that so happened to be at the opposite end of where you parked.

You glanced at the time on your cell phone, it was now five minutes to eight and your eyes peered over the heads of countless people to look for gate C7.

Then you spotted the neon yellow sign of the gate of where Taeyong would hopefully be. You glanced at the waiting area near the gate, searching for a familiar mop of hair and superb fashion sense, though to no avail, he wasn’t there, until a voice spoke up behind you, one light, yet masculine.

“Sweetheart?”

You didn’t think twice, turning on your heels and latching your arms around his neck. He didn’t flinch away this time, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you closer.

“You’re an idiot, Lee Taeyong. A dumb fucking idiot,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, holding back your tears the second day in a row. “You were really going to leave without saying goodbye? Who the fuck does that?”

He loosens his hold on you and puts you at arm's length to properly take a good look at you, wiping his thumb underneath your eye at the stray tear that falls down.

“I know, trust me, I know and I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I was leaving…I didn’t want to break your heart a second time.” He gives you a sad and soft smile.

You shake your head, bringing your sleeve up to wipe at your eyes. “That’s a dumb excuse, Yong. I’m only ever yours to break.”

“I wish that wasn’t the case, my love. I don’t think I deserve that right.”

You interlock your hands together with his, giving him a squeeze with fondness in your gaze. “You deserve everything, Yongie. You deserve the universe.”

He chuckles, letting go. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Your smile widens as you tear up once more from his words. “Guess fate made us both lucky.”

He nods his head. “Indeed it did.”

You converse further, “I’m proud of you, you know, I’m proud that you’re achieving your goals.”

“Now boarding passengers for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Proceed to gate C7.”

His eyes widen at the announcement and he latches his hand onto your wrist to pull you into his chest one more time before he leaves, holding more tightly than he ever did, both of you afraid to let go.

Time ran out.

He whispers with his chin resting on your head and swaying your bodies back and forth, “I am proud of you too, my love.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can sense the sadness exuding off of him at the fact that he truly had to leave you behind when he was wishing he didn’t have to.

He steps back, letting go at once, his smile making you all cozy inside even with stained tears on your cheeks. “Goodbye, sweetheart. Take care of yourself for me. Take care of Mark and the rest of those obnoxious boys.”

You laugh at his use of words and nod your head, the smile on your lips wavering.

“But most importantly, don’t be a stranger,” he winks, grabbing the handle of his luggage and duffle bag as he advances forward to the gate. “Don’t forget about me,” he whispers to himself.

He is mere steps away from going through the gate when he turns his head back, giving you a small wave and you wave right back till he turns around again.

Then you realized you couldn’t leave him like that, with a small conversation, without anything to remember you by in that moment, so you run forward without thought, yelling out, “Wait!”

His eyes are wide with curiosity when he sees you run full speed ahead and you catch the front of his unbuttoned black silk shirt with gold patterns etched into the material, to pull him to a kiss.

You mumble against his lips, “Just love me once,” and he does, kissing you back with so much fervor it makes you dizzy, your heart going haywire with its frantic beats.

You don’t know how long you remain locking lips till the intercom announces overhead another time.

“Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Proceed to gate C7. Proceed to gate C7.”

The announcement serves as your deal breaker for he steps back, his arms leaving your waist bare and cold. His lips are swollen pink and the black sunglasses fixated on the top of his lead is lopsided, his shirt a little wrinkly from where you held on.

You giggle at his appearance and he shakes his head, leaning forward to peck your forehead, not making a direct comment about the kiss.“Tell me baby, would you still love me even if we weren’t together?”

Your smile widens, fixing up his silk shirt, “I’ll always love you.”

You wore your heart on your sleeve for him and even if he couldn’t return the favor you knew he didn’t invalidate your feelings because candidly he returned them. He liked you as much as you liked him, but he couldn’t confess, he couldn’t proclaim the feelings that kept him up at night and made him feel whole. No, he couldn’t because he was slightly afraid of what it meant and because the timing was off when his entire future laid ahead. To him there was no point to have a relationship when he would leave almost a month later so he pushed those emotions connecting the two of you to the back of his mind for the greater good. For you to be happy with just knowing him, getting to befriend rather than longing after him when he would leave.

He would only prevent you from loving and that was something he couldn’t let you do.

Your answer to his question was the one he was looking for, the one he always wanted to hear coming out of your lips one day, for his smile is enough to set the whole world ablaze. He takes your hand to give the skin a kiss, a lingering touch of remembrance. “Perhaps I do too.”

His last words are permanently engraved in your mind for he had admitted his true feelings indirectly and that was enough. That was enough to keep you hoping when he vanished through the airport gate to go to another part of the world, somewhere where he could thrive again and live to his fullest potential.

After all he was just a flickering flame, there one second then gone the next and not so easy to tame for flames always had the want to be free.

Though sometimes flames are reborn, with new intentions and motivations.

You hoped he would be too in some other life, where the two of you could have a happy ending, instead of one where he leaves you behind in the dust at the start of the finish line with a love that he couldn’t hold steady.

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