#and maybe fish for attention a little cause i don't know if people still care about my writing

[galaxywhump]

Welp, it's been almost a month and I'm not sure how to proceed.

I've been in the whump community for over three years, during which I've made both wonderful and bad memories, and recently the latter has started to overshadow the former. I associate a lot of memories with my stories, like what was happening when I posted x chapter, and it's difficult for me to look at my writing and not remember the bad things. Maybe that's the reason why I've also been wondering if continuing my stories is worth it - I haven't given up on them, I'm still really attached to the characters and ideas, but I'm just not sure.

All these doubts and burnout might just be caused by stress as always - I'm still struggling with uni stuff and my mental health - and like I said I have some very fond memories from the community, so I'm not going to make any serious permanent decisions like leaving or abandoning my stories. I just needed to vent, I suppose. And maybe ask for advice.

[markbannersstuff]

Jealous Boy

Summary:Joel begins to notice certain behaviors from his Ex-Soulmate, he certainly isn't disappointed with what he finds.

Words:1259

Notes: English is not my frst language, i'm sorry if some parts don't make sense or there are spelling mistakes, i have dyslexia and that doesn't make it any batter.

I can't balive the first thing i post here is a Boat Boys One-Shot

Ao3 Link

Etho is a jealous man.

It's something Joel learned in the previous death game, his attention always came back one way or another to Bdubs, he's not an idiot, he notice each of Etho's attempts to separate "the perfect couple" that were Impulse and Bdubs, the redstoner's jealous and almost obsessive behavior was obvious to him, Joel didn't really care, not like people, and even Impulse himself, seemed to wait, as long as Etho did his part not to die, for him it's okay.

That doesn't mean he didn't become annoying a few days later, easily familiarizing himself with the feeling of not being wanted, although that seemed to change when he built the ship, Etho put aside Bdubs but not quite, quite understandable actually, both were quite close during the two games leading up to Double Life.

But one thing about Joel didn't expect is that the behavior that was once meant for Bdubs, was now destined for him.

You can't blame him for being shocked to realize what was happening, he started with something he at first thought was just a joke, maybe even a minor claim, "so you're going to make a boat with a new friend 'ey Joel", the death of the cow was just an afterthought, something he did just on the whim of doing it.

While Etho threatened to shoot anything or person valuable or important to Joel, while he stated out loud in front of Jimmy and Tango that they were now enemies, their behavior days later seemed to say otherwise, it took him a while to notice it, but once he did it was impossible to overlook, Etho was basically in his head for months in Double Life, He knows the things that bother him, so it's not hard for him to make him angry.

And if there is something that Joel hates in these games, it is the fishing rods, more specifically he hates when he tries to pull him with the damn thing, Etho himself hates it, he knows it because it is engraved in the minds of both since his red because of the same, so he really do not hesitate to threaten his ex soulmate, he was willing to take his own life if it meant being able to kill Etho.

And Etho seemed to take his threat seriously, a few days passed without further incident, that's when Grian decided it would be a good idea to go AFK, being basically a state of deep sleep, the problems started a short time later, he didn't go into details, his head still hurts just remembering, problems came and went and deaths happened in droves, being he the cause of some.

During that time there really weren't many changes in their interactions, maybe a comment here and there from both of them, things changed when he accidentally call Jimmy Babe in front of Etho, it's supposed to just be a joke okay? You can't blame him,

he usually calls his friends babe, it's a nickname that's stayed around over the years, and he's more than sure that at some point he call Etho the same way.

It was the next day that the changes began, they were small changes like prolonged eye contact, standing closer than necessary when he had the opportunity or even the tone of his voice, which went from being sharp and suspicious to soft and almost affectionate, it was almost as if they were back in DL, he had become so used to those little things that he don't even notice when they happened again.

Attempts to separate him from the Bad Boys occurred a few days later, passive-aggressive comments were directed at the other two men, Etho took it upon himself to point out Grian's affinity for ending the lives of his teammates, he also pointed out how Jimmy was always the first to leave the games, inevitably taking others with him. Pretty low blows if you ask Joel.

He was also in charge of spreading rumors, such as how Grian seemed to put more and more his eyes on Scar, how he heard Scott and Jimmy talk about teaming up again, the idiot is really going for his insecurity of ending up alone, not a lie, he almost accepted when Etho offered a place on the T.I.E.S. team.

But he remembered how a cold night in the nest Grian expressed his refusal to partner with Scar, he remembered how Jimmy said in a very serious way how he did not want to betray or be betrayed, so, although the idea was tempting, he sent Etho and his offer to shit, deciding to keep the songbirds by his side, Etho was clearly not happy with his refusal to be on the same team, he could perfectly see the frustration on his face.

And it seems that Bdubs also noticed, the man tried to make him talk, but Etho did not seem very interested in telling him the cause of his anger, he did not really seem interested in Bdubs at all, his days seemed to be divided between being with his team and trying to get Joel's attention, he on the other hand did not understand.

Not at least until contact began.

Etho doesn't shy away from physical contact, one of the things he caught on in Double Life, is that he actually seems to enjoy it, he never starts it, it's Joel, who after small pushes and tentative hands on his shoulders and arms, which began to be more susceptible to things like resting his weight on each other, Hugs also began to occur and they even walked hand in hand at times.

Double Life was full of physical contact between them, at least when Etho started paying attention to it, Bdubs seemed surprised, although he's sure it was the fact that Etho let Joel be so tactile with him that had him so surprised, the narcissistic little shit.

The thing is, Etho NEVER initiates physical contact, so you'll surely understand his surprise when one day Etho took his hand out of nowhere, he doesn't remember much of what happened before or even after that, only that his brain short-circuited when he again felt the familiar sensation of his ex soulmate's hand. he's pretty sure he had to be dragged out of the mansion by Grian, the only thing etched in his mind is what he was pretty sure was an arrogant smile from Etho as he left.

That and the phantom sensation of fingers intertwined with his own.

It was only moments later that he started going over all his previous interactions, and oh, he felt so, so stupid for not noticing it sooner, Etho was acting so desperately that it was painfully obvious, he wouldn't be surprised even if Scar and Jimmy have noticed it before him, Joel, who was so blinded by the sense of familiarity those actions gave him that he never questioned it.

It was a bit embarrassing that it took Etho to hold his hand on his own to notice everything, it was so embarrassing that I consider not coming back down from the roof, but the vertigo in his chest at the thought of not returning to his soulmate did not let him stay, knowing that the further he moves away from Etho the more is in his mind gave him a twisted feeling of possessiveness.

because if that was what it took for etho to chase after him, then goddammit he’ll run.

[xiowrites]

Maybe I'm the only one who feels weird upon seeing people treat their small flaws like they are big claws of a bunny, two big legs of a fish, literally something supposed to never exist. Cause I don't like never felt like that except very few times which can be counted by just fingers of one hand

Maybe it's cause of the absence of my parents and little attention on me which lead me to get raised by internet, maybe the people I watched when I was growing up, maybe cause I was never actually normal..?

Maybe cause I never actually feel the same things about other people, the normal people.

I don't know what it is, and I don't care, but there's one thing I learnt way back when I was just a small kid, who couldn't even understand emotions, that every being in existence had flaws, even the "most perfect" things had flaws.

Cute pets still gets old, can get diseases and get significantly changed due to many circumstances and lose their cuteness, or can have many flaws, like being too aggressive, peeing all around the house or place even after many training.

The best friends you say can have those too, even if you don't admit it or they dont show it, maybe its lying, maybe being too short or tall. Everyone has a flaw.

And that's okay, believe me or not it's up to you as you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. People doesn't need to train their flaws to make them disappear instead, in my opinion, cherish and accept them as one of their part to let them at least calm down.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

What you said about masking really kind of hit home, and it made me ramble way too much in this ask. So feel free to skip everything after this paragraph, and regardless I hope you have a good day

My mom still will get super aggressive over innocuous statements, like sometimes I'll say something like "I tend to try to avoid sugar" and she'll be like "well I like sugar" in a very attacked voice

This despite know what I mean is that I don't think sugar is that important, and a little goes a long way, and she literally cuts sugar in recipes all the time cause they're too sweet otherwise. So it's... it's not even like we disagree, I just get snapped out of nowhere sometimes

And... it just kind of... like I actually have a couple friends these days, and they're over all good friends, but it feels like pretty much everyone lashes out periodically in one way or another without ever apologizing

Like it ranges from like... trying to educate me on stuff, like how one time when I was complaining to a friend about how I get tired of my mom having meltdowns at me if I ask stuff like where something is ("oh god, I don't know")

And my friend is like "well I don't think she means to be hurtful, it sounds like she's just overwhelmed" and it's like... of course that's true. Like I know that, I just also know we can hurt the people around us even if we don't mean to, it's why I work so hard to thank people when they bring problems to my attention. I may be hurt, but I want to cultivate an atmosphere where people feel safe coming to me with stuff, cause I hate not having that with my mom... I know how much it sucks

It just really does feel like I always have to be the right person for people. Everyone likes me... to a point, and past that point they'd hate me if they knew me, and that's not self loathing talking, I can point to concrete things they've said or done that back me up that this or that specific thing they'd hate about me

...though the self loathing is bad these days. I obviously don't think anyone could ever love me, but I've even got to the point where I question why my cats want to be around me. I feel like it's just cause they don't have any other options, though I know that's really warped thinking

I just... I don't know, I literally bluntly say all the time that I'm just working with the evidence I have. I know it's probably warped, but I don't have anything to counter it

...I don't know, doesn't matter. Despite my mental health getting worse I've gotten more done lately. I really only care about moving forward, getting the stuff I want done taken care of. It benefits me and is my best chance at changing my mood maybe. Still, thankfully kind of shows my mental health doesn't matter at all, what matters is I figure out how to get myself to move regardless of how I'm doing

So sorry about this whole mess. I really hope you read what I said at the start, looked down at how long I went on for, and took my advice not to read it. I talk way too much and say more or less nothing to people who shouldn't have to listen... that's how it feels anyway

(See I work at it and try to catch stuff like that which is kind of unintentionally manipulative, it's how I feel but it's hard to respond to that, which is why I try to diffuse it as at least being my feelings rather than... rather than fishing for compliments or whatever)

I do hope you have a good day though. If you read all this you shouldn't have, but I do hope you have a nice day

Okay so it's going to sound like I'm off topic but I swear it's relevant.

There are phrases of speech called softening language that are essentially...verbal padding. It's all the extra words that get added onto a sentence to delineate tone, intention, etc. They're the words we add to manage other people's responses to our words.

When I was growing up, I was taught that you had one chance to make your point because only first impressions mattered. This led to me being an incredibly compelling persuasive writer, but an incredibly unliked and caustic little autistic kid because absolutely nobody enjoyed being "talked down to" by an eight year old even.

Problem was, no one could ever tell me what was so hurtful about my words because they all acknowledged I was technically *correct* I was just *upsetting* about it. Took me almost 20 years to learn that what I lacked was softening language. I have since come to understand that neurotypicals care A LOT about softening language. You have to use the right kinds in the right combinations at the right times and in the right ratios basically at all times or they simply Do Not Like You and they will never even be able to tell you why.

I'm really good at softening language now to the point that some neurotypicals gently suggest that I use less of it and I have to - equally gently - let them know that I used to and it went badly. That I appreciate their suggestion and would genuinely love not to invest so much time and focus into padding my language for neurotypical ears, but that when I say people used to despise me for the way I talked I truly mean it and I have no desire to return to that.

That said, I have learned that part of being "unmasked" at any given time is declining to use softening language. It's choosing to be straightforward, direct, and simple about my word choices. I usually only make this particular unmasking choice around other autistic people, but those moments of being able to speak simply and clearly are so deeply filled with relief that it's worth it.

Anon, sweetie, your ask is overflowing with softening language. A solid 75% of it is you minimizing your needs, adding caveats to your actions, justifying others' behavior, apologizing for taking up space, etc. I am not saying this to scold you or try to correct you, but I want you to know that I see you. I see YOU behind all that obfuscating padding. I see the loneliness, the heartbreak, the confusion, the stress, the countless tries at "doing better" only to be told it isn't enough. I see you shrinking smaller and smaller, compressing yourself into ever less visible space in order to accommodate others, all the while desperate just to be truly heard for once. I'm really sorry that your world squeezes you so tightly, Anon. I know that feeling, and I do not miss it. I hope the same distance for you some day, the same vastness of self. In the mean time you never have to apologize for hanging out in my inbox 💚 that's what it's here for.

I am 100% sure that your kitties love you very much. Kitties are like that. They love with their whole little bodies, but from a distance. Kitties aren't like humans, and they value very different things. They like when you pet behind their ears, they like when you meow back to them from across the house, they like when you give them catnip and a whole bag of treaties and leave them alone all day, and they like when you blink very slowly at them. The rest barely matters. That's what I love about cats. They love a fair bit like I do lol.

Boundaries are important, Anon. They protect you, and they strengthen your relationships. Cats are very good at boundaries, and I feel we can learn a lot from them. You deserve to take up space, regardless of what you seem to think.

[purityoflust]

The Smile [Jeff The Killer X Victim!Reader] [PART 2]

Jeff the killer X Victim!

WARNING: Yandere. That's it. Yandere.

I finally decided how I would write part 2 to The Smile, which is my first and most popular post on my account so far. Anyone new who has come to read this, check out my other posts as well if you'd like. I'll post more like this. I also have a Quotev account with more fanfictions.

9/12/20, 3/4 days after the top part: God, AFTER SO LONG, I FINALLY DID IT! Took me days! I'm so sorry if this is a bit lazy, it is a tiny bit rushed by the end but how would you guys feel about a detailed part 3? I'll probably go as far as a part 3 or part 4 for the final part.

The vibrations in your brain felt warm and numbing - almost like when you have a horrible migraine and you can finally feel it subsiding with your eyes closed and your fingers gently holding down onto your eyelids as if you're holding your eyes into place to prevent them from bursting out of your skull. Upon waking up you can feel cold air settling into your skin. You haven't been awake 3 minutes and you already know what you're resting on; an extremely uncomfortable metal table. You've only seen them in movies but this was real.

The sound of a singsong voice just slightly echoing through what seemed like a moderately empty room. You groaned softly as you turned your head to your right, very slowly opening your eyes. Your vision blurred in and out, which, you wanted to rub to clear it out but as you went to lift your wrists, you felt pressure around them.

Something was holding your arms down. This catches your attention, blinking multiple times while turning your head back up straight and attempting to sit up. You were hardly successful with that, struggling while grunting under your breath to pull your hands from under what seemed to be a thick rope. As you pulled harder, you sucked in your stomach out of habit before immediately coming to a halt and choking up in pain.

This whole time you were ignoring the voice that was singing eerily nearby, "You and me, always forever~"

The voice was of a male. Scratchy, shaky. Familiar.

Familiar.

You could feel a string of your heart pop out of place as your breath stopped. That's when you knew something was wrong, but it just doesn't add up. You gulp while your eyeballs vigorously glance around to see where the source was coming from, only to see a figure in a corner. It was doubled over and it was sitting down on a simple wooden chair. Doubling over a...table? An average male figure, nothing unique. Although, the clothing style was unusual. At least what was on the clothes. He wore a fluffy white hoodie and what seemed to be black pants and black-and-white converse. The problem wasn't the outfit, no. His hoodie was spotted and had patterns upon patterns of darkened and more fresh-looking blood splatter. He had long black hair down to his shoulders. And luckily, his back was facing you.

You were dumbfounded. How did you get here, why are you restrained, and why is there a blood covered man near you? Is that even blood? Maybe it's paint or a design? Some people do wear clothes that have different kinds of blood splatter designs on them. Hm. Or he's an actual murderer about to gut you like a fish.

You wanted to speak. You wanted to speak so badly but you just couldn't. As you parted your lips, your throat went dry while your gaze stayed locked onto the bloody male that sat before you. The singing made you shiver as you tried so hard to remember where you could have heard or seen him. Why can't you remember?

The male then turned around to look at you. His singing had come to a gentle halt. Your mouth closed as he did so, your throat going completely dry and your whole body feeling like an ice cube. You were greeted with cold blue eyes. They looked hungry and bloodthirsty, yet they held a warm affection as they looked into your traumatized eyes. It was almost comforting until you saw the rest of his face. His skin was snow white and his lips looked dry. That's when more attention is drawn to his lower jaw. He's smiling. Too big for a normal person.

That's when you realize. He has a large smile carved into his cheeks going from ear to ear while his own lips were curled within a smile as well. And that's when it hits you.

And it hits you hard.

The memories of hours prior start brutally crashing into you, flooding back into your numb brain. All of the realization replaced itself with agonizing anxiety, your heart starting to race at speeds that felt impossible. You could pass out, but something inside you kept you awake. Something about him and about this whole situation was making you dizzy. The male slowly stands and turns his body all the way to face you. He seemed deranged, yet, he had a very relaxed stance and body language.

Uncomfortable silence loomed in the air.

He kept staring at you before slowly taking steps forward. You watch him carefully as your head feels like it's spinning, which you could notice your vision blurring a little bit here and there. The silence is suddenly disturbed with the male speaking up again, choking up in giggles. "Oh my sweet Y/N, you're awake~" He cooed, now standing over you. He leaned himself down and reached his hand to your cheek, gently brushing your skin with his surprisingly soft thumb. He leaned his face closer to yours. The smell of booze, blood, & smoke overwhelmed your nostrils. Yet it didn't seem to bother you that much.

His touch almost kind of made you feel...at ease. Your heart slowed itself and your breathing went back to pace. You felt fine, somewhat, but something in your stomach was still sore. The more you stare at him, the more memories come flooding back. The more memories flooding back, the easier you fit the puzzles together.

"M-my...stomach..--" You stutter out painfully.

In response to this, the male turned his head over to your abdomen and gently rested his other hand onto your bandaged stomach, applying very gentle pressure on it as to not hurt you. It was still slightly painful, causing you to groan under your breath.

"Oh, this...I'm sorry, my sweet butterfly. I had to make sure you wouldn't get away, and you didn't! Don't worry, Jack patched you up, so you'll be just fine!"

You remember now. You remember it all. The chase, your friend, the salty kiss before what you thought was your demise.

You naturally wondered as well; who's Jack?

"Wh-.." You weakly force air out of your throat again to speak, "why am I..tied-?"

"Oh, so you wouldn't be able to get away. I knew you would run away, or struggles, so I had to make sure you wouldn't do that!"

He was right. You would run away and struggle to get out of whatever the hell kind of place you're in. Well, knowing what he looks like. He DID stab you, after all. Who knows what this sicko wants.

He lifts his hand from your stomach and turns back to you, gently placing both of his hands at each side of your face. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So sweet and so innocent. I couldn't keep letting the others eat you up like candy. You're mine and only mine. I need to protect you."

"Wh-who- are you?" You weren't really all too scared for some strange reason now. You were pretty calm. Probably from all of the energy this is draining.

"His name is Jeff." A deep and gruff voice cuts in.

The both of you turn your heads to the door of the room where a tall figure in all black stood. He was about 6"4 wearing heavy boots, black jeans, and a black hoodie. His hair was a dark brown though while he wore a mask. The mask was a dark blue with black goo oozing from the eyesockets. He was pretty intimidating even just by standing idly like a character waiting to be loaded in.

"And I'm Jack." He continued, "I'm the one who took care of your wound."

Jack stepped closer, soon standing at the other side of the table. He stood at the left as Jeff stood at the right.

"He wouldn't stop insisting I help."

You just blink, unknowing of what to respond with. He pursed his lips under his dark mask, in his own thought for a moment while staring down at you. You seemed calm enough, and your still pretty fresh injury was gonna hold you back anyway.

"[P]-[Pronoun]'s gonna-!" He attempts to blurt out, only to be stopped by you.

"I won't."

You were untied at your wrists and ankles, allowing yourself to pull your legs up and rest your feet at the top of the table, propping your knees up. It made your stomach feel weird, but it felt kind of nose and felt like it was easing the pain. You wrapped your arms around your knees, looking around the room more. "What is this place?" You ask.

"It's a medical room."

"Huh.." You shrug it off. Your anxiety levels had died down and the more you actually think about it, this isn't the worst thing that's happened. Your life has been pretty fucked up and you have damaged relationships everywhere. Honestly, being around new people and being far away from others sounds not too bad right now. Not like anyone would care anyway.

The next few hours, you're introduced to everyone else at the Mansion. They've been so...unique and honestly, you're surprised some people and beings like them even exist. They were all equally surprised with how little fear you showed.

You actually got along with most of them.

The others have taken a liking to you and hope you hang around longer. Alone in the living room, you, Jeff, Jack, and others sit at the couches and chairs in the living room, chatting away and getting to know them as they get to know you.

You feel Jeff wrap his arms around you and place a gentle kiss on your forehead, making your heart skip a beat.

You found out Jeff has been stalking you for months at a time. Watching your every move, eliminating anyone in the way. Huh, no wonder so many people in your life kept disappearing. You...couldn't bring yourself to be upset or scared, let alone even sad. You felt kind of at ease.

And far from uncomfortable. Someone loved you. Maybe more than they should, but they love you.

You didn't even feel upset at the fact Jeff had murdered that friend earlier. I mean, you just met the guy, so he wasn't even a 'friend'? So you paid no mind to it.

If anything, you really liked the thrill of someone being obsessed with you. A serial killer being so infatuated with you. He could be so protective of you and get rid of anyone you asked him to! There's is an advantage here. You knew he could snap and probably kill you intentionally or unintentionally, but you didn't mind. You really had no one else, technically speaking. No one that really cared. Not as much as he did.

Maybe he isn't so bad.

[aftqrglow]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons

if you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

[yoonpobs]

cold | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc

genre: fluff, slight tsundere jimin, just cuteness tbh

words: 3, 339

summary: where jimin is ice cold but he wants you to warm him up (not in the way you think)

When Jimin pulls away for the first time in a year since you’ve met him during your movie nights, you suspect that something’s up. But, you also know Jimin—he would have said something to you if there was.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You good?”

Jimin sighs at you, frustrated and you can’t help but feel confused at the sudden shift of atmosphere. You thought picking La La Land was a good choice, but you suppose that since Jimin was a little emotionally constipated he didn’t like it as much.

“I’m not, actually.” He declares, tugging off the blanket that covered both of your lower halves and withdrew from the warmth that settled into the couch.

“Do you—” You contemplate on asking because being Jimin’s friend meant respecting certain boundaries, and you weren't intending to be that friend that stuck their nose in his business.

You choose to remain silent and purse your lips and settle back into the couch, though it felt a little empty without Jimin bunched up next to you. But he was an enigma of unopened thoughts, and the time you spent navigating the course of your friendship in the first few months was ... heavy.

He’d never tell you anything, let alone allow you to indulge in the greatness that was his mind. You’d always hear from Namjoon how much he looks up to and respects Jimin’s way of thinking and mindset, but you rarely get to see that part of him. Sometimes, you felt more of a seat-warmer than a friend. You appreciate him, nonetheless.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about it?” He pries you.

You shrug, covering yourself with the blanket in hopes that it masks your vulnerability and insecurity, too.

“I know you.” You tell him, “You don’t like being questioned unless you say something about it first.”

He purses his lips in a straight line and looks at you ... like he really looks at you. So much that you feel his eyes burning into the side of your head; as if he was attempting to unravel your mind and dig into its deepest depths to understand its content.

“I don’t …” He says after looking at you, head-turning to face the television. Was La La Land seriously still relevant now?

“But I’m asking you to ask me.” He says, and the look of surprise on your face doesn’t disappoint. You gaped at him, forgetting the fact that Ryan Gosling looked really handsome on the screen—because Jimin had just prompted you to ask him about his … feelings.

“I—I don’t understand …” You say, dumbly. He rolls his eyes at you, and you’re familiar with his expression because it’s the one he usually has when he wants to call you an idiot.

“Ask me how I feel.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Your words fail you because the entire situation was sprung onto you so unexpectedly, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about everything. Was this Jimin’s way of assessing you as a friend and throwing you to the curb after a year of being platonically involved with one another?

As if he could hear the millions of thoughts running in your head, he turns to you and grabs your cheeks in between his large palms, and this time you actually short-circuit.

Your intimacy with Jimin stopped at sitting next to each other during movie nights and embracing the warmth that your bodies radiated. Maybe even the occasional accidental brush of fingers when he hands you something, but besides that—Jimin was conservative with his touches.

You can’t lie and say that your heart doesn’t react differently, because for the most part of your friendship you’ve suppressed any romantic feelings that you had or could have had for Jimin. Mostly out of self-preservation because Jimin was just … Jimin.

Cold, aloof but still someone that cared deeply. Yes, he was emotionally constipated when it came to his own feelings, and yes —his gaze more often than not had you cowering in fear. But he never made you feel uncomfortable. Even in the silences, you spent with one another you felt safe. Home.

Not to mention, his entire brooding and stoic persona hit it really well with the women on campus—and the fact he was obscenely attractive. He and you were the types of people that remained just as friends. And suddenly, that could end tonight, too.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He hums, eyes chasing your own but you divert your attention away from him because your eyes tell.

You shake your head, “I’m just confused.”

And confused you were because this was a territory that was unheard of for you—much less for Jimin. If only you could telepathically speak to Namjoon right now because you had no idea what to do or say.

“Well, I’ll keep it simple for you,” He says, “ Ask me how I feel.”

He doesn’t ask you anymore, instead, he insists—as if there was a preconceived answer for you already in the back of his head. Maybe this was how he softened the blow.

“No.” You push him away, flustered. “I won’t let you friend break up with me like this!”

He raises an eyebrow at the sudden rise of voice you admitted, “I like being your friend even if you don’t—and—and I know that yeah, consent matters—but I do not consent to be friend broken up with.”

He listens to you, and his face is still in its signature blankness and you nearly scream at how you wished he’d display a little emotion or a reaction to your blow up. But it seems that between the two of you, you were the emotionally unstable one.

“I know I can be annoying and all over the place and loud but ...” You immediately opt to self-deprecate yourself because nothing could triumph the way it felt to do it yourself than have him say it to your face, “... you’re not allowed to leave me. Ever .”

You fold your arms across your chest and look away because what the fuck did you just do and your face was undebatably on fire right now.

As if he’s noticed the way your eyes widen in realisation, he holds you again—but this time he pulls you closer to his chest until you are forced to look up at him with your flushed cheeks.

“Silly girl.” He hums and you whine.

“What!”

“I have to do everything myself, hm?” He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ears and it was instinctual for you to pull away because you’ve never felt Jimin like this before. Close, and warm—and all yours.

“Jimin I don’t understand— mpf!” And it was like a scene straight out of a romcom, and you nearly forget that La La Land was still running in the background. You felt like the main character of your own movie, and Jimin was the protagonist's love interest because he kissed you.

Jimin was kissing you.

Kissing. Like lip-locking. Sharing saliva. With you.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, but you gape at him like a fish out of water.

“You—” You stutter, and he chuckles. You feel it more than you hear it because his chest was resting against your cheek.

“Do you understand now?”

You shake your head, “... you feel bad for me?”

He snorts.

“I don’t know if you’re actually this much of an idiot, or are you just hopeless in the romantic department?” He says, and you open your mouth in the offense, ready to defend yourself but he hugs you closer to him and all you could feel was him.

“Excuse me? I’m not an idiot.”

“I just kissed you and you thought I felt bad for you.”

You huff, “What am I supposed to feel! You never speak about your emotions to me, and the most I’ve ever got out from you was a chuckle from the time where I slipped in front of the entire campus during freshers week.”

“That was when we met, yes.” He hums, “Why did you think I’ve been with you ever since?”

You still looked confused and Jimin internally sighs at the way he let himself fall for a dense excuse of a human being like you.

“Cause … you felt 'bad for me?”

"Just because you air-quote it doesn't make it any different from what you said earlier ____."

He groans, “No you dumbass—it’s cause no one makes me feel things the way you do. Strange weirdo who slipped on absolutely nothing, and as a friend who forces me to watch shitty romcoms like La La Land.”

“La La Land is not shitty!” You gasp.

He blinks.

“Is that all you got from what I said?”

“La La Land is phenomenal! All from the artistic production, to the soundtrack—so I don't know why people keep shitting on it because personally I really enjoyed—” But he kisses you again, and you melt into him immediately.

This time he lingers for a bit longer, and when he pulls away you grab onto his shirt to keep him close. You realise your mistake and suddenly push him away, but his hold on you was tight enough to resist your poor attempt.

“I like you, dummy.” He says, and you gasp.

“Nooo.” You say in disbelief.

“I like you.” He emphasises again, and you gasp. Again.

“No, you don’t.” You tell him, and he sighs—knowing that this was going to take a while.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do .”

“Nope.”

“ Yes .”

“Nuh-uh—!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth and glares at you.

“Me. Park Jimin—likes you, ____ ____, and yes —I can’t believe I like a complete idiot like you, but I do because you fucked up and made me like you from the moment you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone so bad that it was probably the hardest I’ve ever cringed in my life—”

“Hey!”

“—but you quite literally stumbled into my life with your whirlwind of emotions and you made me feel things that I’ve tried to avoid my entire life.” He holds your chin between his thumb and finger so you’d look at him. And you know that Jimin never lies, but something in your heart doesn't allow you that moment of happiness for yourself.

“But I'm annoying …” You say, a little unsure. Jimin simply looks at you, and you're frustrated again at the lack of emotion on his face.

“Yes, you are.” Is all he says, and you gape at his audacity.

You huff, throw the blanket off your body and make way to grab at your belongings that lay idle on the floor next to the couch. You pulled away from Jimin who attempted to grab at your wrist and glare at him so vehemently that he looked taken aback.

“This isn't a joke.” You tell him, and you hoped you looked as strong as you sounded because you felt played. Jimin didn't do this—you were just the clumsy freshmen that somehow befriended him, and he had no way out of it. So you decided to give him a way out on your own.

“Wait—of course, it's not—where are you going?” He exasperates when you make a beeline go to his door. You've never seen Jimin move as quickly as he did, but he manages to secure a tight grip on your elbow.

You try to shove him aside all while you felt like an immense idiot for allowing yourself to feel this way. To feel so human, and raw when you were with Jimin when he hadn't shown an inkling of emotion even when he declared that he ‘liked’ you.

“____—what’s wrong? Is it because I kissed you without asking you? I'm sorry but— ” He apologises and you groan.

“Stop treating me like this!” You yell at him to cut him off, “I know I'm clumsy, and a ditz—but I have feelings and it's not cool how you're doing all of—” You gesture to the hand on your elbow and to your lips, “— this, making me feel things that I shouldn't be feeling.”

“You're missing the point—!”

“Am I Jimin?” You exasperate, and he lets go of you for a moment to allow you space. “You've never shown any sign that you liked me for the past year of being friends, and now you're telling me you do?”

You scoff, “If you wanted out of this friendship, here it is.”

You reach to his doorknob with your back turned towards him, but Jimin was far stronger than you and reached out at the same time; essentially locking you into your position with nowhere to go.

“Just let me go,” You sigh, “I'm giving you your out.”

Jimin turns your body to face him and you avoid his stare. He was taller than you so being locked against the door was a little intimidating, given the fact that Jimin’s stare was nothing short of intimidating.

“Why would I want out?” He asks you, and you blink at him as if he's grown a second head.

“Now you're just treating me like I'm stupid .” You pout, “Did you not hear what I said? I know I'm annoying and I'll get out of your hair, just let me go—!”

You pull at his wrist but he holds you tighter and uses his other hand to softly grab at your cheeks to look at him. You stare at him with wide eyes and mouth scrunched like a fish, and you're sure this doesn't look the least bit flattering at all.

“Dude!”

“Please don't dude me after I just said I liked you.” He grimaces, then sighs.

He proceeds to clamp his hand over your mouth, “Now I need you to listen to me. And I mean— really listen. Not the thing that you do where you completely ignore my point and go on some childish rampage of how I think you’re annoying and want out.”

You glare at him.

He sighs, “I don't know how explicit I have to be—but I like you. I like your presence, I like hanging out with you—and I want to date you. I want everything that's in the book of romance and relationships with you.”

Your eyes widened and you attempt to speak but he clamps down harder than you whine.

“I know I'm an emotionless brick but I've been with you for the past year and my physical presence is the way I show you that I like you.”

You blink.

“And, I don't know if you've noticed but I've been inviting you over every fortnight just to cuddle up next to you to watch movies that are cheesy as fuck because I know that it makes your heart flutter—” He looks straight into your eyes and you're sure he can feel the heat of your cheeks on his hand.

“—I didn’t say this earlier because I was under the impression that you were aware and that we were kind-of-dating but not really— clearly, I was wrong.”

You manage to rip his hand off in his moment of weakness and gasp, “Kind-of-dating? Since when did that even happen?!”

He pointedly looks at you, “You have a toothbrush at my place, half of your closet is in mine—you walk my dog when I'm not home, and I buy your favourite cereal when I do groceries.”

“But—”

“Nope—the only reason I explicitly told you tonight because it was now clear to me that you weren't aware—” He gestures to your frazzled state, “—and that you said you were going out with Taehyung. Alone. To a pizza parlour.”

You barely manage to respond because he exasperates, “Do you know how datey a pizza parlour is?”

You gape at him, “Well excuse me! I didn't even know we were kind-of-dating until a minute ago!”

He glares at you, “And you didn't even believe me when I told you I liked you.”

You fold your arms across your chest, “Obviously. You don't even hold my hand, and you've never kissed me until tonight.”

You punch his shoulder and he hisses, “You didn't even formally ask me out!”

“You’re a scaredy-cat and if I did ask you out you’d probably run away from me!” He exasperates with his hands in the air.

“I’m not a scaredy-cat and I won’t run away!” You argue back and you were suddenly aware of how close he was to you.

You look up at him and notice how pretty his eyelashes were, and how he does look at you with an intimacy that you've only seen for yourself. The look that he reserved for you.

“I'm asking you out now,” He whispers, cupping your cheek.

“Date me. Be with me.”

You scoff, “God. Can’t you even be a little romantic? It’s like you’re demanding me to be with you.” You respond petulantly like a child.

He groans, “I'm not going to grovel you if that's what you're expecting.”

“Tell me why then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You clear your throat and fiddle with your thumbs, a nervous tick you have.

“Tell me why you like me.”

Jimin stares at you and you want to complain about his stoic expression but he cups your cheeks in his hands a little harder and forces you to really look at him—as if his face held all the answers.

And when you did, you see the desperation behind his eyes, the dedication that he possesses only for you. The way he looks at you like he's meant to prove something to you, and then everything made sense to you—he wasn't inexpressive—you were just too caught up in your own world that you never noticed.

“Jimin—” Your voice cracks but he shushes you, softly.

“Listen to me, okay?” He asks of you and you gently nod.

“I like you because you're here,” He starts off and you were about to scoff but he speaks again knowing your predetermined reaction, “You’re present— always. I don't mean just because we're always together, but because even when we're texting you're there. You're involved.”

“You're expressive in ways that don't need words to tell me anything, which is why I know you like me too.”

“Cocky, much?” You scoff but the burn on your cheeks give the truth away

He smiles a little before continuing, “But that's not it—I like you because you're patient. You stuck with me being emotionally constipated for the first half of our friendship, and yet you're still here.”

“Even though you nearly ran out of here spewing some bullshit about me taking you as a joke—”

“Okay … I may have blown it out of proportion.”

“—but I wouldn't want to have you any other way. Even if it took me literally trapping you against a door for you to listen.”

You melt into his touch and look up at him, “Do you really like me?”

“I really do.” He affirms you, and you tug him closer to bury your head into his chest.

“Can you hold my hand next time?” You ask, softly. And he chuckles against the top of your head, caressing it gently.

“Of course. That's the only way you won't run away from me next time, right?” He teases.

You whine.

“I'm never going to let you go.” He tells you, “You're pretty like this—all mine .”

You smile up at him and Jimin swears his heart melts to be rebuilt whole by you again.

“But you called me an idiot ...”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

You gasp, “Rude—!”

He shuts you up with a kiss more passionate, and a lot more eager that has your head spinning.

When he pulls away, you feel your heartbeat a little faster—especially at the string of saliva that connects your mouths.

“Mine,” He says. You can't help but nod.

His.

[inkofyoonkoo]

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in | Teaser

I know I'm a ghost and I should focus on my WIP, but I swear I'm writing and as soon as this oneshot is finished I'll go back to them. For the moment, please have this tiny snippet absolutely not edited and subjected to very possible changes! Also, please burn your eyes enjoy this awful banner that doesn't make sense at all, but it actually does if you read the story 💔 

(a very few info about it: there’s a 10-years age gap between the characters, but everyone is of age; character death; it’s not a carefree story -even if I’m trying to keep a lighthearted style! I don’t know what’s gotten in my mind but I needed to write something bittersweet 💔)

P.s. to the very kind people who left me a nice comment on the last chapter of "I'm on the run" or any other story here or on AO3/Wattpad and are still waiting for a reply: I'M SORRY! I swear I've read you a dozen of times, but between the holidays and taking care of my new house I don't have much free time (adulting sucks 😊). In the meantime, THANK YOU. I love you a whole lot 💓💓💓

You know it. The acquaintance the pair of you are nurturing day by day shattered somewhere, in a place so distant you can't easily reach to patch it up with a stitch of two. 

After all, Jungkook is just a boy. 

He doesn't know what it means to love someone with deep passion and end up on your own, carrying on your shoulders a tons of projects you'll never be able to fulfill because they seem perfect only with the person who left you behind. Maybe… Jungkook is getting tired to spend-waste his time with a woman who has more sad days than happy ones -actually, he's probably regretting the day he decided to let your lives intertwine. 

You hope he is...

"I'm sorry," you start, feebly. Jungkook doesn't look at you. "I really am. You should… you should be having fun at the festival. You could meet many guys your age." You bend your legs close to your chest, circling them with your arms. "You'd have much more fun there," you mumble, resting your chin on your knees.

Jungkook taps a finger on the bowl, the fishes dash away. "It's ok. I'm having fun here, too."

You turn to him, cheek adhering to your knees. Through your lashes, Jungkook looks like a disappointed kid who can't catch the attention of the two gold fishes swimming in a circle; deep inside your heart, you're aware that it's you, the main cause of his disappointment.

"Fireworks are about to start," you continue, ignoring his previous statement. Jungkook inhales sharply through his nose. "If you go now, you're still on time--"

"I said it's ok," he interrupts, pouty, "It's ok. I want to stay here, with you." Words fly out in a whispered hush, graze your spine in shivers. "I'm having fun with you, (Y/N). It's just…" he straightens himself, his hands flickering in the air. "I'd like to do more. You don't seem happy… never." His stare now trails to you, but there's no trace of boredom or annoyance in his doe eyes; the only visible crack is sadness, and it pinches your sense of guilt. "Are you happy, (Y/N)?"

You don't know if he's referring to the moments you've shared up to now, or in general. Whatever it is, you don't reply.

In all honesty, you aren't. For a very long time now. But… you sometimes are. There are little, quick-whispered moments in which your brain forgets about Namjoon and life seems a wonderful journey to discover again: when Jin spills one of his awful jokes, exhaling his windshield laugh; when he bumps into your house without warning, bringing a dish he personally cooked for you. When Yoongi delivers you his gummy smile; when he calls you in the middle of the night because he needs some advice. When Hoseok calls you only to make sure that you're doing fine; when he sends you souvenirs from all the places he's visiting. When Yoongi and Jin's mothers invite you to have some tea with them. When Jungkook… is here. 

Jungkook, waiting for you on the other side of the street, throwing rocks to entertain Bam. Jungkook, inviting you to have a walk together. Jungkook, showing up at your place with cans of beer and the proposal of a movie night made of trashy Z-movie. Jungkook, sitting on your sofa while watching cartoons and commenting out loud, Bam and Moon resting their muzzles on his thighs. Jungkook, letting out his airy laughter. Jungkook, bending down while drawing random sketches in his notebook. 

Jungkook… just him.

"I am. Sometimes…" you manage to say, still affected by your own thoughts revolving around the boy. 

"But you were more with your husband." It's not a question, the next comment tumbling off his mouth. You stiffen. It's like Jungkook immediately caught the reason behind the perpetual winter that's conditioning your life. "Would you be happier if he came back?" He hesitates, almost scared about the consequences his words might trigger. "If you miss him so much, you should tell him. Maybe you can solve things and he'll be back." A light grimace crosses his face, but he goes back to scrutinizing the fishes before you could actually notice it. 

"It's complicated." You brush your thumb on your wedding ring. "I feel like I'm suffocating when I miss him."

"What do you miss the most?"

The question is easy; the answer should be even more. His smile accompanied by two adorable dimples; his low voice; his chuckle; his hand resting upon your forehead when you used to use his lap as a pillow while he was reading; the passion dancing along his voice when he explained to you topics he loved; his: "I love you" blurted out when you least expected it, breathed out like they never weighed upon his heart...

"Small things. Things I only knew," you say, instead. Your heart quivers, he's the first you're revealing this. "Like… he couldn't dance well. But he always used to pull me into an awkward dance party while we were cooking. He was so clumsy. I lost count of how many things he broke because he accidentally hit them." You let out a chuckle, Jungkook gives you a little smile. "Or when he used to talk to his bonsai every morning. He treated them with so much care, like they were his little children." You swallow, the way his fingers used to caress the tiny leaves appear in the back of your mind. "Or… ahm, he used… since we've started dating, he used to dedicate small poems to me every day. He wrote it on napkins, ripped pieces of paper, sticky notes… I stored them all in a diary." Flush spreads to the tip of your ears, sweetness is dripping in your chest, washing away your sadness. "I haven't read them since he's been gone, but I remember each one of them by heart." Your shaky stare engulfs into his own, dark and intense. "I know that anyone can do these things--"

"But they're special because he was the one doing them," he completes the sentence for you, corners of his mouth quirking up. "I know what you mean." His eyes crinkle in the corners, then he turns toward the fishes. 

You stare at him. You'd love to open his skull and catch his train of thoughts -because it really feels like he knows what he's talking about. "Have you ever loved someone like this?"

Jungkook scratches his nape. "Don't know if it's love. But… lately, I think about all the things I love doing alone, and… dunno, it would be nice to do them with her." The moonlight kisses half of his face, you'd like to caress the visible portion and swipe away the sadness sprinkled on it. "Is it love, to you?"

"I don't know. Love is different for everyone. And I'm sure, you'll understand it on your own if it's love or not." You go back to watching in front of you. "Like… There were some things I loved to do on my own, and Namjoon too. But my whole life… I could only picture it beside him." 

"And I still do" is left unsaid, but judging from the heavy breath Jungkook just exhaled, he perfectly captured your meaning. It takes him quite a few seconds to stand up, hands brushing on the jeans to clean them. He's about to go away. You aren't surprised at all. He's probably tired of staying here, listening to the words of a woman who can't let go of her husband's memory. 

You stare at the garden, the moonlight kissing the plants and flowers. It's interesting this evolution, considering that Jungkook claimed more than once about his incapacity to let his past relationships grow in something deeper; you'd like to tell him that he's just to give himself time and be patient, that someday he'll meet a person and all the pieces will go to their right places on their own. That he's an incredible boy, and you're sure that the person he'll love with a passion of a thousand suns will be the luckiest soul on Earth--!

The screeching sound of footsocks pressing on the wood sends shivers down your spine, all your whirling thoughts sinking into oblivion. Cold wraps around your bones. You're used to people coming and going. Jungkook isn't different from all the men who came after Namjoon. Jungkook is…

Jungkook stays. He's standing there, across from you, hands curling around the hem of his t-shirt. He sits down, using his crossed feet like a cushion, fists laying on his lap.

"I envy your husband," he blows out, with an honesty that makes your muscles tense all at once. "You've got such beautiful eyes when you talk about him. Or when you… think of him." He scratches his head. "I wonder if I'll ever find someone who will look at me like this."

"You will."

He hesitates, nose scrunching a little. "And… What if the only person I want to look at me like this will never do it?" His question lingers between the pair of you like a broken melody out of tune, drenched with an awareness that rips your heart apart. 

You shift your stare on his face, scrutinizing the sombre expression dancing across his features. You're about to tell him that he should go. Panic cripples up your heart and you want to tell him to go. To go back to when he was a stranger and you were the only person treating him like he was invisible. To go back to the big city and live his life at his fullest and--!

A sudden whistle pierces through the silence, capturing your attention. You set your eyes up to the sky, watching a thin sparkling line crossing the dark veil before opening in an ocean of reddish sparks with a blow. 

"They started…" you feel guilty. He could've been witnessing them side by side with the other spectators, breathing in the excitement plaguing the atmosphere if you only didn't have a breakdown. "Namjoon loves them so much…"

"I love them too." A small pout tugs at his lips.

"You should turn, then. You're missing a wonderful sight."

"No. I'm not…"

You swallow. Jungkook stretches and you tilt your head back in the slightest, dizzy for his warm breath fanning against your mouth. "I… I'll go away this weekend. I promise a friend I'll spend it with him," he starts, voice dropping two notches deeper and reverberating through your chest. "But I'll be back on Sunday night. Like, I'm not going away. I'm staying." He breathes in. "So… Monday morning? Same hour?"

Your heart thumps wildly. 

You nod, tears threatening to roll down. The way he's treating your encounters like a promise between you two… it's a supernova explosion of tenderness that makes you all warm inside. You tell yourself that Jungkook is acting like this because you're the only one he knows. You try to keep in mind that he's doing it because it's summer, he wants to have fun. You remind yourself that all of this will be over within two months.

Two months…

Jungkook turns to the side, his cheek brushes for a second against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder, wrapping you in a feeble embrace. His breath is a nice sound amidst the explosions of the fireworks, the screaming and laughter of kids playing in the street. 

It-he reminds you of happiness. 

You can't get used to this.

[gisachi]

Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️

So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;

P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella. 46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)

.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.

She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.

So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.

She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.

Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’

He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.

Eventually.

“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”

Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.

“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.

“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”

“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”

She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.

For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.

Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.

And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.

“Ran? She’s pretty special.”

Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.

“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.

“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.

“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”

“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.

“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.

Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.

“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.

“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”

“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”

“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”

“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”

“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”

Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.

In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.

.

.

Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.

The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, just swamped with work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to assist?”

“No.”

Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.

“Ran, hey. Look at me.”

His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.

When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.

“You’re… stressed.”

“No, I’m… Eh?”

He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”

Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.

“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”

“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”

Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.”

“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”

He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”

Her heart throbs for him. So much.

She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.

After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.

With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.

Just for that night, she gives it to herself.

She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.

.

.

Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.

The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.

“I love you.”

Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.

“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”

The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.

Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.

“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”

“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.

“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”

Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.

“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”

“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Then he turns to her.

“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”

“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”

“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”

“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.

“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.

“Yeah...and?”

Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.

“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”

Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.

“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.

Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.

Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.

Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.

.

.

Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.

Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.

Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.

“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”

“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”

“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”

“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.

“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”

“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”

Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”

“In Akita.”

Her pupils constrict. “That far?”

“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”

Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he’ll return with a girlfriend, and—

“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.

Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”

Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.

“Ran, hey.”

She doesn’t stop walking.

“Ran.”

She ignores his call.

“Ran… you’re jealous.”

She stops walking.

“Excuse me?”

“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.

A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.

For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”

Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.

It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...

It stings, is her immediate reaction.

For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.

Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.

“Ran…?”

“I am not, and you’re a fool.”

In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.

If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.

After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.

“Stop... running... will you!”

She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you running?!”

“I can’t...deal with you!”

“Why? Was I right?”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because I am your best friend!”

On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.

“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.

“What are you— Let me go!”

He hugs her tighter.

“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”

“I am happy!”

Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.

Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”

“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”

“What? No! I—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”

“That’s not...You don’t underst—”

“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”

“Stop saying that, Ran!”

She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.

All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.

An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.

“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”

She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.

They look like a scene in a movie.

Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.

She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.

Best friend.

This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.

She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”

She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.

“Ran!”

He shouts her name. Twice.

On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.

She doesn’t.

.

.

Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.

It’s the start of winter break.

He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.

She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.

She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.

“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”

“Shinichi.”

His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”

Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.

“May I come in?”

“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”

“I’ll help you.”

“...”

She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.

Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.

On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.

She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.

What has he been thinking of for the past week?

Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?

Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?

The kiss... What about the kiss?

So many questions. So little words. So little time.

Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.

A ringing phone cuts the silence.

“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”

If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.

That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.

“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.

Ran’s eyes fly wide.

“How did you…”

He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.

Again with the throat-drying silence.

Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.

“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”

He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”

Unable to talk and move, she does.

“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”

He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.

“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”

She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.

“Ran.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.

“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”

All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.

“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.

“For you to keep repeating that ‘best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.

“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”

Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.

“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”

Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.

“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”

He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.

“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.

“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”

Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.

In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.

She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.

Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.

“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”

Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.

“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”

“I’m...I’m not dense.”

“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.

“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”

“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”

��You did though. Now we’re here.”

“Would you rather we aren’t?”

“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”

“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”

“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”

Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.

“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”

“Eh?”

“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”

“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”

Ran falls quiet.

“Geez…”

He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.

“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”

She darts her head sideways, realizing something.

“Were you also…?”

“No.”

Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.

“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”

“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.

“Shinichi.”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.

“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.

Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.

“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.

“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.

“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”

Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.

It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—

“Face me, Ran.”

The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.

She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.

Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.

“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.

“From best friend to... such a shift-”

“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”

She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.

“What about when we fight?” she asks.

“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”

“...Like right now?”

“Like right now.”

A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.

Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.

Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.

She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.

“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”

“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”

“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.

“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”

“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.

“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”

“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”

“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.

From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.

“Why?” He asks in a low voice.

“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”

“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.

Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.

But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”

The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.

She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry,  and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.

“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.

“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”

“Idiot, many people saw...”

“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”

Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.

“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”

“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”

So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.

“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”

The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”

“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.

Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.

.

.

.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

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

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

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

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Yes! Cute prompt (pre-relationship): Bill seeing (maybe even making, though that's optional) Hardy laugh for the first time and suddenly feeling things

Oooh, sounds like a good prompt!

I've finally came up with a bit of a timeline for this story, this takes place in 2016, so two years after series two's events, but a year before series three, so Hardy's been back for maybe a little over a year. He didn't stay away for long. I'm just mentioning this more as a reference to things for myself, but still.

On with the fic!

--

Bill should have been surprised to see DI Hardy sitting on the bench that Bill had unofficially claimed as his thinking spot, but really, with how they kept running into one another, he should have known better. He rolled his eyes and continued to walk to the bench, seeing the man in his ill-fitting suit.

Hardy didn't seem to notice him at all, he was sitting there with his eyes closed, and looked like he was sleeping, but Bill knew differently. The posture, the way he was breathing, the slight change in his facial expression from neutral to bothered was clear evidence he was awake.

And aware of Bill.

"Go away." Hardy said in that rough voice of his.

"No, I don't think I want to do that." Bill rolled his eyes again. "I came here to sit and eat my lunch, and I'm not letting some stick figure of a man tell me differently."

Hardy opened his eyes, turning to glare at Bill, before scooting down the bench. He returned to his previous position, someone trying to relax, but was clearly wound so tight that anything could make him jump from the bench and run.

"Thank you." Bill commented as he sat down with his take-out box, sitting it down between them. It was just fish and chips, that nice DS had recommended a place to him when he ran into her earlier in the day. At least she was trying to be nice to him, instead of watching him like he was a freak show attraction, thanks to that stupid article by that Olly guy, or ignore him completely, like he wasn't there at all.

Or, in the case of the man next to him, fight with him when given the chance.

He opened the container and pulled out a fry, popping it into his mouth. Alright, he had to admit, these guys over here knew how to make them delicious. He glanced out of the corner of his eye when he reached for another one, seeing that Hardy was looking at the container, his expression almost unreadable, but Bill knew better.

"You can have a fry or two, if you want." He said, catching Hardy's attention.

The man looked at him, before looking away. "Can't have it."

"Bull shit, I know you can. Not every day, of course, not with that ticker of yours, even with the pacemaker, but it doesn't hurt you to eat a few fries here and there. Go ahead, have one." He gestured to the container, where the warm food was sitting in tin foil.

Hardy looked at him, then took on, nibbling on the fry. Bill scoffed, smiling just a bit. "It's not poisoned, if that's what you're worried about. If it was, you'd have to blame the young man at the shop."

"I think his name's Wally." Hardy replied, grabbing a second one.

"Oh yes, that was what his name tag said." Bill mused. "Best you be careful of those young people, detective, you never can trust them. One minute, they're all smiles, the next, they're causing a scene! Why, I remember a patient once told me how she could never return to this one McDonald's she used to go to." He started, sneaking a look at Hardy out of the corner of his eye.

The man wasn't looking at him, but clearly he was listening, so Bill continued. "She said that the young lady behind the counter was always so chipper and nice to other customers, but when this woman would come up to the counter, the cashier would get all cold and sour! Being all, why are you here, go somewhere else, you can't be here! I'll have you thrown out!"

Hardy nodded, very clearly listening. "Any reason why? Previous bad customer service experience?"

"Oh no, turns out that the patient was the poor cashier's mother and she was embarrassed to see her at work."

There was a cough and Bill looked, surprised to see that Hardy was smiling, and then starting to laugh a bit, clearly caught off-guard by the answer. It was an honest-to-God laugh, something that Bill didn't expect to come from this man who looked like smiling hurt him.

For some reason, Bill felt a weird tightness in his chest as he watched the man try to compose himself. "Damnit, Masters, you can't just... you can't just say that so casually like that. God, sounds like something Daze would do if her mother or I ever entered where she worked."

He was still smiling, and it... honestly made him look a little younger, a little less weary of the world.

Bill looked away, coughing. "W-well, that's just how teenagers are, you know? Gotta be little shits."

"Tell me about it, tends to usually be the reason we get calls around here."

"Got a good story about any little punks giving you trouble?"

"I've got plenty, we'll be here all day."

"I'm fine with that."

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part five: Click here, butters, elpacho, last meheecan.

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Peeta and I end up helping Haymitch to his compartment, the reek of vomit and alcohol wasn't exactly pleasant.  Since we couldn't set him down the bed, we ended up hauling him to the bathtub, setting the shower on him. 

Peeta gave me an odd look when I laughed awhile ago; there was no humour in the situation after all. Forming a good impression wasn't really on my agenda. "It's alright; I can take it from here," he said.

I nodded, "Okay," I nodded, putting my lips together. "Do you—need me to call those Capitol people?" I asked, stumbling over my words. My confidence seemed to have been drained at some point.

He shook his head "No, I don't want them," he responded. I nod for the last time and head to my own room, relieved that I don't have to wash putrid vomit off Haymitch's chest hair, or something. Though it would be the perfect "revenge" for the people working here, I get why he doesn't want to see them. 

I wonder, why does he want to help such a wreck? Was he simply kind like the time he gave me bread? Or was he using this to gain Haymitch's favour? A feeling of nervousness bubbled up within me, a kind Peeta Mellark was way more dangerous than an unkind one. Not everyone in the district can afford to be kind, so kind people make such a mark on me.

I looked at the packet of cookies at the table beside the fancy bed—a lump formed in my throat. Kindness would've been nice, but not in this situation. I sighed, taking my attention to the window instead. 

There stood a lonely yellow flower, a dandelion. It took me back to the schoolyard, all those years ago. My eyes had just left Peeta's bruised face when I saw that dandelion; hope rose within me that moment, I plucked it gently from the ground and hurried home. I grabbed a small, broken bucket and grabbed Nal's hand and headed to a meadow. It was filled with the same flowers.

It was the first moment where Nal smiled after our Father's death. He loved the way the flowers smelled and looked. However, he was quite upset because we had to eat them, with the rest of the bakery bread. My father loved his plants, maybe a bit too much. 

I remember countless hours we spent in the woods looking for a specific type of plant, whether for eating or for medicine. He had me memorize them by heart, which took a couple of years because I got distracted halfway through. 

The next day, we were off to school. I hung around the edge of the meadow after, contemplating whether I should jump the fence. My mother couldn't get a job, well, she didn't want to. She thought the whole District would shame her the moment she stepped out of our crumbling home. It made no sense to me; we had nothing to lose anymore.

Which is exactly why I went under the fence, retrieved the old, leather-bound daggers my father made from scraps and wood. It was pretty frail, but if you handle it carefully and throw it properly, it won't break—most of the time.

I didn't go beyond twenty yards that day; I didn't feel confident enough to go deeper, fearing I'd get lost in the forest. I took home a small rabbit that day, we hadn't had meat for months, so it honestly looked like a full course meal, like the one we were served in the tribute train.

My mother isn't the greatest cook, so she burnt a couple of bits, mainly the thighs. But it still filled us. The woods became my second home, escaping the sad atmosphere my mother gave off and the pressure the Peacekeepers would regularly make us feel. 

The hunting started slow, but each time I went under, I went deeper. I stole eggs from nests, jumped from tree to tree and managed to shoot a squirrel or two down. I struggled with the fish; my father would always throw his dagger to the fish with little to no effort. Whenever I'd throw mine, it would miss. It took me a couple of times to figure out the water distorts my vision.

The plants were no effort; I knew which one to pick, which ones were poisonous. The signs of danger used to terrify me back to the fence until I gathered enough courage to climb the tall trees, then I stuck with it, not liking the feeling of being chased. The wild dogs would always leave me alone after a while.

On July 15th, I finally signed up for the tesserae, carrying the first batch of grains and oils in the same broken bucket I used to gather those dandelions. I patched it up with some scrap bark. On the 15th of every month, I would put my name once again. I still had to hunt; grains weren't enough. We still needed soap, milk, thread and many more things we used to have. I began to trade in the hob, learning how to hold my tongue in the process. My father used to trade there as well; he used to do all the talking while I watched, stayed silent. 

And so I simply tossed the game I had to their tables. They caught on fairly quick; I'd only speak up when it came to bargaining or when I'd change what'd I'd buy. Or when I would insult wild dog soup. My father was a charismatic man, always able to persuade people to buy whatever. Not me, though, I was like a sore thumb. Painful, to talk to at least.

My mother wasn't very enthralled with the fact that I had been hunting, too much like my father, she said. That's when we argued, "Don't be stupid like your father!" she shouted. I remember my face contorting to anger, how my fists clenched as she continued to scream. 

I finally exploded, "Why don't you go out and get a job if you don't want me hunting, then? You'd rather we starve?!" I said, slamming the table. "I won't die, I won't end up like father! I won't be Capitol's pig, neither was he!" 

"But if you do die?" She argued back, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped both my shoulders. "I'm only thinking of you, Y/n!"

I scoffed, glaring at her, "If you're thinking of us so much, then why aren't you helping us?! If I don't die being accused of rebellion, then I'll die because of those stupid games because of you!"

"Don't blame me for this! It was your father's fault for being brash—" She reasoned, but I cut her off by pushing her off me. I stared at her as if she grew three heads. "They asked you," I whispered, "All you did was nod, you could've lied."

Her green eyes shook at my words, "Lie to the Peacekeepers? The Capitol? And get us killed as well?! I only what your father wanted," 

"They didn't have anything on father! It was your voice that gave it away! It's your fault that he's dead, now we're over here starving because you can't get over yourself—"

Then there was a sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. My eyes landed on a crying Kunal; guilt surged through me, so I ran. I ran to the woods and slept on top of a tree, humming a soft tune to the mockingjays next to me. They listened and sung back. I fell asleep to their lullaby, surprisingly, not falling off.

I found my hand on the same cheek my mother slapped that day. I was going to die the same way I said, how ironic. I won't be able to apologize or tell my mother I loved her anymore. A sigh left my lips as I continued to stare out the window. 

I clenched my fists, punching the wall as my breath hitched. I let out a groan, holding the stinging part of my hand. I glared at the wall, grumbling under my breath before I decided to fall asleep, not wanting to think of my regrets and what I could've done. As I closed my eyes, I only hoped my dreams would be pleasant. 

"Up! Up! Up! It's a big big day!"

Effie Trinket's voice awoke me from my dreamless slumber. I groaned, muttering profanities as she left my compartment. I tried to imagine what it was like in that stupid wig--- well--- head of hers, it made my head hurt.

I had fallen asleep in the green shirt, causing it to become wrinkled, the. Not that I cared, there will be some stylist stripping me anyways. I shuddered at the thought of Capitol people touching me, what a nightmare. My eyes landed on the packet of cookies on my bedside table. I decided to grab it.

I entered the dining compartment, still half-lidded and yawning. Effie Trinket brushes me with a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities, probably because of Haymitch. Peeta held a roll, looking somewhat embarrassed  "Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said.

Peeta flashed me a smile, amused by how dishevelled I look. To be fair, I wasn't a morning person, I find waking up to be a tiring task. I rubbed my eyes, the packet of cookies still in my hands as I slid down the chair.

They served an enormous platter of food. I'd hate to admit it, but I was starving. So for the first time, I decided to stab it with the fork, not sure what to do with the cookies so I pocketed them. I figured I'd eat them much. . . much later.

I chewed slowly, glare on my face as my eyes struggled to remain open. I didn't even notice the orange juice next to me because of it. Peeta nudged me, handing me a cup of brown, rich liquid. It was quite warm. "They call it hot chocolate," he said. "It's quite good,"

My green eyes moved from him to the cup, then back to him. As if asking for permission. I sniffed, muttering a "thank you," before I took the cup from him. The moment the hot chocolate touched my lips I felt awake.

Not only was it hot, but it was also amazing. I've never tasted anything like this before. Coffee was a luxury, this I cannot even fathom. After I've drained my cup, I put it down and muster a sheepish smile. "Is there more?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Effie seemed to be excited by my sudden interest. "Glad you're finally appreciating the finer things," she quipped as another cup was passed to me. "Right," I responded, gripping the cup tightly.

I stopped eating when I felt somewhat full, only asking for more hot chocolate. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in his hot chocolate.

Haymitch hasn’t paid much attention to his platter, but he’s knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it’s some kind of spirit. I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be a mess again by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He grinned, "Here's some advice, stay alive," then he burst out laughing.

My brows furrowed, "Ha. Ha." I let out, unamused. I glanced to Peeta, surprised to see Hardness in his eyes. Usually, he looked mild. "That's very funny," he said as if adding to my remark. He suddenly lashed out at the glass in Haymitch's hands. It shattered, spilling the blood-red liquid on the floor. "Only not to us,"

Haymitch took this opportunity to punch Peeta straight in the jaw, knocking the boy out of his chair before turning around to reach for more spirits. I stopped him, driving a knife into the table, between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers.

I expected some sort of retaliation, but that didn't come. "Oh, well what is this?" he said. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta rose from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He started to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," Haymitch stopped him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena."

"That’s against the rules," said Peeta. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better," said Haymitch. He turns to me. “Can you hit anything other than the table?"

I shrugged, pulling the knife off the table. "Your head or. . ." I said, before tossing the knife in between the seams of two panels. If I was confident at one thing, it's my aim. But not so much with a bow.

"Stand over here. Both of you," ordered Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Peeta and I don’t question this. The Hunger Games aren’t a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. Though I do enjoy the fact that the stylists are likely going to have a hard time styling me.

"All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you," said Haymitch. "But you have to do everything I say,"

Of course, there's a catch. "Fine," Peeta said while I shrugged carelessly, sipping on my hot chocolate. "In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist," Instructed Haymitch

Oh, well there goes my plan on being a general nuisance. Damn you, Haymitch.

He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it’s as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains made them easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.

Peeta and I stood in silence. My finger raised, mouth opening but I decided it wasn't worth it and awkwardly shuffled to one of the windows. He seemed to have caught on, however. "Nice view, isn't it?" he joked.

"I guess if you're blind," I answered dryly, raising the warm cup to my lips. "Sophisticated darkness, my favourite type," I finished.

He chuckled, walking next to me, the train slowing on cue. My muscles tensed as the sunlight entered the compartment. It was blinding. After my eyes adjusted I finally saw the Capitol.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't beautiful. Rainbow hued buildings that tower to the sky, possibly beyond. Shiny cars rolling on the fancy, clean pavement streets. The cameras failed to capture its beauty. It would've been perfect if not for the fact that the oddly dressed colours, wearing blizzard wigs and painted faces exist.

They looked painfully artificial. I much prefer the natural tones of district 12. "Eugh, how do they look at themselves?" I muttered, catching the attention of Peeta, who chuckled at my comment.

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

The same disgusting people began to point at us, enthralled. I was sickened, they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other like wild wolves. I suppose that's better than ending up at soup.

I stepped back, a scowl on my face. No longer able to stand the obnoxious attires and the mocking smiles of scums. Peeta held his ground, smiling and waving at them.

He only stopped when the train stopped at the station, blocking up from their view. "Who knows?" he said. "Some of them may be rich."

My body seemed to freeze as I took one last sip of the now-luke warm hot chocolate. That's when I realized, I had misjudged him. Not that I can read people well.

Which made sense, if I could I would've known that his father visiting me, offering to help Haymitch only to challenge him and now, waving and smiling at those slugs. He had a plan in mind.

He hasn't accepted his death yet. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread was fighting hard.

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

Hey guys! sorry for the long wait! Had to take a break!

tags;

@nin3s

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Playin' With Fire: Into The Flames

Summary: Santiago has some shit he needs to figure out. THE MISSION. Dani has some shit she needs to figure out. Will is an angel. Catfish just wants to get home to his baby. Benny's just along for the ride.

WARNINGS: SMUT(18+), EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, Movie typical violence, people get shot, Tom is an asshole, like straight up, mention of pregnancy, because again Tom is an ASSHOLE.

Word Count: 7,453

At the bar, Santiago was outside waiting for Frankie and Dani. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, They needed to talk, especially if they were going to work this mission together. But a part of him didn’t want them to. He remembered how close they were. He knew he was being selfish. He had her to himself for three years.

He heard Frankie’s chevy long before it pulled into the parking lot. He parked it right next to Will’s. It took everything he had not to run to her. She and Frankie walked up to the entrance, his arm slung over her shoulder. Santi’s heart all but crumbled. Why did this bother him?

“Hey, Santi.” Dani smiled, removing herself from Frankie’s hold. Frankie opened the door for her but didn’t follow.

“I gotta talk to Pope real quick. Go on ahead. Ben’s probably thinking you left the country again.” Frankie told her. She gave him the stink eye, sticking out her tongue. Dani went on inside though because Frankie was right.

Once she was in the building and the door was shut, Frankie turned to his friend. “You’re an idiot.” He blurted out. Santi tossed him a confused look.

“Wh-what?” Santi was surprised at Frankie’s blunt words. Frankie kicked a rock in front of him, frustrated that his friend is being so dumb.

“You fuckin’ idiot. You had her, man.” Exasperated with Santiago, Frankie threw a finger in his face, accusingly. “You fuckin’ had her.”

Santiago scoffed, shaking his head side to side, “You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, hermano.” Santi shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans, turning away from the man in front of him.

Frankie’s fingers tightened into a fist. He wasn’t gonna hit him, at least not yet. “I know she’s heartbroken. I spent the last twenty minutes talking about it.” He scoffed. Santiago was not a stupid man, quite the opposite, so it blew Frankie’s mind that he was acting like this.

“Yeah? Did she tell you that it was her idea? That she didn’t want a relationship because of you?!” Venom dripped off of Santiago’s words. He wasn’t trying to hurt his friend, but Frankie had no idea what the fuck had transpired in the last 36 months.

“She did, actually.” Frankie informed his friend. “Pope, man. What is wrong with you?” Frankie removed his ‘standard oil’ cap, running his fingers through his hair. Santiago huffed a breath.

“If you would have just stayed away from Vanessa, you two would be together; She’d be Ellie’s mom. You’re the reason she ran to Colombia with me in the first place!” Santiago’s voice echoed through the empty parking lot. Without a second thought, Frankie's fist collided with Santiago's jaw.

“Oh. I didn’t realize it was my fault you can’t keep your fucking dick in your pants!” Frankie shot back at him, struggling to hold back the anger bubbling inside him. “I know I fucked things up with her, but I got Elena out of it. She’s worth more to me than anything. Don't ever think for a second that anyone matters more, including Dani.” Frankie relaxed his fists, thinking about his daughter. “What do you have, cabrón?”

Santiago let Frankie’s words sink in. He was right. What did he have? Santiago took a seat on the sidewalk of the bar, running a hand down his face, hissing when he rubbed the tender spot on his lip. “Fuck, Fish.” Santiago sighed, looking up at his friend, eyes pleading for help. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Frankie joined Santiago on the ground. “You tell her, hermano.”

“Tell her what? ‘Sorry for sleeping around on you, even though I’m pretty sure I’m madly in love with you. I just wanted to give you what I thought you wanted.’ I mean she’d go for that right?” Santiago rambled.

“Pope, you’ve lived with her, slept with her, and have cared for her for three years. Get your fucking shit together and talk to her." With that, Frankie walked inside to join the rest of the group. He left Santiago sitting there, mind churning over the words they had shared.

"FISH!" Benny yelled as he saw Frankie filter through the small crowd to their table. "Where's Pope?" He asked, and Frankie turned around to see Pope was nowhere in sight. Dani instantly noticed Frankie's red knuckles from where he had hit Santiago.

Dani looked up at Frankie with concerned eyes, "Where is he, Frankie?" She whispered. Frankie pointed toward the door. She shot up from the table, weaving through the crowd and out the door. She found Santiago standing by Will's truck.

"Santi?" She called out to him, causing him to lift his head. She could barely see the blooming bruise on his lip, but she knew it was there. She reached him in just a few short steps, wrapping her arms around him. He returned the gesture, holding her tightly. "Are you okay?" She whispered into his hold.

He didn't answer right away, he just pulled her closer. He nuzzled into her hair, breathing in the lavender scent. "I'm okay, beautiful. Don't you worry. Frankie was just knocking some sense into me." He mumbled against her. He was okay, as long as she was in his arms. The two of them stood there for a while, not wanting to let each other go. No other words were spoken, they only held onto the comfort that they had become accustomed to. Dani didn’t even realize she was crying until she pulled away from him, and wet stains were left in her wake.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, wiping her eyes. “Come on,” She grabbed his hand, “They’re probably missing us.” She told him as she pulled him back toward the bar. He let her lead him, enjoying her hand in his. He had to tell her. He halted in his steps, jerking her back into his arms.

“Wha-” She started, but was cut off by his lips on hers. Sighing, she melted into his hold. Their lips moving in sync. There was no rush, but Santiago kissed her with urgency, wanting her to feel the emotion flowing through him. When they parted, she sucked in a breath, her lungs burning for oxygen. She went to speak, but before she could he placed another soft peck to her lips.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that we need to talk before we leave. Promise me, we will talk.” Santiago still held her hand, looking into her eyes as he spoke, “Promise me.” He said again. She nodded, telling him that she promised. With her confirmation, they walk back into the bar with the rest of their friends.

Back at the Miller house, they all stumbled through the door, laughing like children. Dani thought it was nice for them to feel so care free before the mission. She left the guys behind, wanting to shower before bed. Santiago watched as she walked away. He wanted nothing more than to follow her down the hall, strip her down, and make love to her like he should. Instead, he plopped himself down on the couch with a groan.

Will sat himself beside him. “So, Fish clocked you, huh?” He asked. No one had brought up the fact that Santi had a busted lip and Fish had a busted knuckle. Santiago nodded. “Can’t say you didn’t deserve it.” Will shrugged, crossing his arms.

“Thanks, man.” Santiago scoffed, “I know I fucked up, okay. All I want is to make it right. But I can’t.” Santi wiped his face. “She deserves so much better than me.” Will shook his head.

“Let her make that choice. You opened that door when you asked her to go to Colombia with you.” Will advised him, “I’m sure Frankie told you this already, but talk to her.” Will slapped him on the knee before heading off to bed. Santiago followed suit, walking down the hall to Dani’s room.

He was wringing his hands as he stood outside of her door. It had already been decided that they would stay with Ben and Will until they left. He knew he was welcome inside, he just couldn’t find the courage to open the damn door. With Frankie and Will’s words prominent on his mind, he raised his hand, landing three small knocks to the wood.

She opened the door, clad in a towel, blonde hair still dripping from the shower. “Santi? Why did you knock?” She asked, moving back into the room to let him in. He walked inside, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, um. I didn’t know. I mean, I thought maybe you’d want privacy, since we weren’t in Colombia.” He fumbled through the sentence. Santiago wasn’t a nervous person. He could shut down, manipulate, whatever he needed to do to complete his mission. When it came to expressing his feelings though, he was a wreck. Dani noticed his change in demeanor.

She sat on the bed, the same bed where they first slept together. “I told you, while we’re here, this is your room, too.” She wanted him to feel comfortable. He just nodded in response, still standing by the closed door. “Okay, what is going on with you, Garcia?” She asked, the words coming out a little harsher than she wanted.

“Can we talk now?” His voice was low, his head even lower as he looked at the floor. She stood up, which caught his attention. His eyes roamed over her bare legs, up to where the towel rested right below the apex of her thighs. He felt his cock stir in the confines of his jeans. No, not now, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, let me just get dressed.” She disappeared into the en suite bathroom. Santiago took the moment to adjust himself in his pants. He needed to tell her with words how he felt, not his dick. She emerged from the bathroom in his Metallica shirt, the same shirt she wore the last time they had sex. She was not making this easy for him. “What’s up, Santi?” She hopped onto the bed, crossing her legs under her, exposing her deep maroon panties to him.

He groaned and turned away from her. “Querida, please. I’m trying here.” His voice was strained. He was fighting the urge to take her right there. He heard shuffling, and she told him to turn around. She had covered herself with the blanket. He mumbled a thank you before sitting on the bed beside her. It was all so familiar. This was where everything had started between them. Santiago couldn’t help but think it was fitting for this to be where it ended.

Dani watched as Santiago seemed to search for words to say. “Dani,” He started. He almost never called her by her name. This wasn’t good. She swallowed harshly, trying to ease the constricted feeling in her throat. “You are, fuck, you are phenominal.” Santiago said, taking her hand in his. “You deserve everything that is good in this world. And I’m sorry I kept you from that.” Tears pricked his eyes. Dani’s breath caught in her chest.

“Santi, I don’t. I don’t understand.” Her voice broke. She didn’t know where he was going with this.

Santiago squeezed her hand. “I was selfish with you. I was so fucking selfish. And I hurt you in return. There aren’t enough apologies that will fix that.” Santiago didn’t cry, but a single tear rolled down his face. “I have to let you go.” He sounded conflicted, and he was. He wanted to keep being selfish, but letting her go, getting her away from him, was the right thing to do.

Dani shook her head, “No. You don’t get to make that decision for me.” She cried, “How do you know what I deserve?” The sadness in her voice tugged at his heart. She moved to sit up on her knees, still holding his hand. “Santi, these last three years with you have been amazing. You are amazing. Why would you ever think anything less?”

Santiago met her eyes. They shimmered in the low light of the bedside lamp. “I’m not capable of being who you want me to be.” He swallowed hard.

“How do you know what I want, Pope?! You haven’t asked me!” She raised her voice, the alcohol in her system affected her volume control. Santiago was sure the whole house heard her. She pulled him closer, grabbing his other hand. “I don’t know why, but I love you, you dope, I would walk through hell and back for you.” She confessed.

Her blue eyes met his brown ones. “You shouldn’t love a man like me, princess.” Santiago protested, releasing her hands to caress her face. Her skin was soft, but wet from the tears. She shook her head side to side, moving her face closer to his.

“Too late,” She whispered before pressing her lips to his. He pulled her closer if it were possible. His lips parted, tongue prying hers open. She instantly gave him access. His hands found their way down her back, to her ass. He gripped the tight muscle, pulling her into his lap. He moved them up the bed with skill as they fought for dominance. The kiss got more aggressive. He was the one who broke the kiss, only to find his way to that spot on her collarbone.

“Santi,” She moaned. He continued his way up her neck, nibbling on her ear, before returning his lips for a quick kiss. His hands hooked her panties, dragging them down her legs, as he moved off the bed. He unbutton his jeans, removing them and his underwear in one go. Once his pants were out of the way, he took his place back between her thighs. She could feel him hard against her thigh. They both knew there would be no foreplay, that this was something else. He couldn’t say the three words that were floating in the air, he didn’t know if he was capable.

Her hands were buried in his salt and pepper curls, leaving love bites on his neck. “Fuck, hermosa. I need you.” He groaned, rocking himself through her wet folds.

“Then take me, Santi.” That was all he needed to sheath himself to the hilt in one swift thrust.

The ride into the jungle of South America was bumpy to say the least. Dani had made herself comfortable in the back with Frankie, almost falling asleep a few times. Santi backed the SUV into the jungle thick, expertly hiding it from the view of the road. Santi gave Dani the bag of comms. “Pass those out.” He instructed her as he gave out weapons. Dani didn’t like the feel of a gun in her hand, she was a healer, not a killer. They separated as they stalked through the jungle up to Lorea’s house.

Dani wasn’t sure why she let herself get caught up in this as she laid between Santi and Tom on the forest ground. The boys were clogging up the comms with witty banter and stupid jokes. She was barely paying attention until she heard Frankie’s voice.

“Pope. Pope, I have kids over here. Does he have kids living with him? Cause that’s gonna make things a whole lot more complicated and is not what I signed up for.” The worry was thick in his voice. Dani only assumed it was because he was now a father himself. Thankfully, she had planned for this.

“The family’s not the problem, Frankie. They’re the answer.” She replied instantly, and Tom gave her a weird look.

Frankie asked why and Pope had a simple answer. Church. “Lorea is very devout. Every Sunday morning, He sends three guards to the 6am service. When they get back, he sends the rest of the team, along with the family.”

“That leaves him and three guards in that house with the money. That’s our window.” Dani finished for him.

“Well aren’t you guys fucking cute, finishing each other’s sentences and shit.” Tom snickered into the comm. Dani wanted to punch him.

Will stalked through some brush, making his way to his check point, “Why would he do that?”

“He’s worried about someone taking his kids, and he never leaves his money. Also, I don’t think he believes anyone would have the balls to rob him.” Santiago answered him, chuckling a little at the end.

“That’s probably because it’s a stupid idea.” Dani could hear Will roll his eyes.

Benny broke the silence, “Pope, I got your girlfriend coming up right now. Holy shit, she is beautiful.” Dani clenched her jaw. She told Santiago that she loved him, and he never said the words back. The night of Benny’s fight, she was sure they made love. It was a completely different feeling. They still weren’t officially a couple, she didn’t know if they ever would be.

“I fucking knew it.” Tom groaned, looking over Dani to Pope.

“Fuck off.” Santi growled, not missing the look he received from Dani. Santi knew that he messed things up with Dani. He loved her and instead of telling her, he had sex with her. It was different that time, though. It was more passionate, more meaningful. He knew what he was getting himself into when he started sleeping with Yovanna, but that didn’t stop him from doing it. He just hoped that one day, Dani would forgive him.

“God damn.” Will whispered, “I got an execution about to go down over here.”

“Are you at the tennis court? That’s his spot of choice.” Dani responded, knowing that’s where Lorea liked to do business. The gunshots made Dani jump and Tom sighed.

“We can’t babysit you. If you can’t handle some gunshots, maybe you shouldn’t be out here.” He growls at her. She moves to get up, but Santi grabs her arm. She looked over at him, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't.

“Shit, we got ground sensors here.” Benny’s muttered voice crackled through the comm, breaking up the tension, looking down at his feet.

“Did you hit one?” Santi asked, quickly.

“I’m not sure.” Benny replied frozen in his place. “That stock boy job at wal-mart is starting to look pretty good right now boys.” He huffs out as two guards on motorcycles approach his location, but swiftly turn around. It was a close call; Too fucking close.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here.” Will huffed, once it was confirmed that the informant made it out.

The bar was quiet, minus Benny telling some dumb story about how he almost pissed himself. Santiago tossed back his shot and Dani sat quietly, enjoying their company, nursing her tequila on ice. Will asked what the plan was and how Santiago was going to present to the agency.

Santi told the guys the real plan. He wanted to pull the job with just them. He didn’t want to involve the local government. He knew that with his team, they could get it done and take the money for themselves. The guys were pissed.

“Who paid our fees?” Will asked him, and Frankie pointed to Will indicating that he had the same question. They all had the same question.

“It’s complicated.” Santiago told them.

Tom scoffed, “How fucking complicated can it be? It’s a hundred thou-” Frankie stopped him as a group of men walked in. Dani told the guys she was getting the bill. Frankie sarcastically thanked her as she walked away.

“Well fellas,” Benny started, “This turned out to be some full on cowboy shit.” He finished before down the rest of his beer.

The guys moved back to the car. Santi was mid speech when Dani rejoined them. “You may not believe it, but I have spent the last three years of my life trying to make a difference. But it’s a fucking mess.”

“Santi’s right.” Dani spoke and the five guys turned to her. “Lorea has people everywhere. You have no idea what it’s been like for us.”

“Come on, guys.” Santi started, and pointed at Tom. “This man is a goddamn hero and can’t even afford to put his kids through college.” He turned to Fish, “You are the most talented pilot I know and you’re grounded on some bullshit coke rap.” He finally looked at Will. “How many times can your brother get the shit knocked out of-” Benny cut him off.

“I didn’t get the shit beat out of me. I won that fight.”

“Sorry, Benny.” Santi apologized.

“How many more pep talks can you possibly give, man? I’m done. Both knees are shot. That neck surgery I got last year made everything worse.” Dani had never heard Santi sound so hopeless.

“What about her?” Tom asked, pointing to Dani.

“What about me, Tom? You got a fucking problem with me being involved?” She questioned him, wanting to know what his deal was.

“I just don’t see why your involvement is necessary.” He spat at her, crossing his arms.

“This was my fucking plan. I helped with every part of this recce.” Dani growled at him, hands clenching by her side. Santi noticed and stepped between the two.

“Come on, man. I’ve trained her. She helped prep all of this. She’s in or no one is in.” Santi defended her. Tom shut up real quick. “I guess the question is, do we finally get to use our skills to our own benefit and actually change something?”

On the drive back from the bar, Tom had come up with a fool proof plan, “Sunday Soft Hit” he called it. Dani sat in the back with Benny and let the guys talk it out. Tom made it very clear that this was their area of expertise, she was just along for the ride. She watched as rain drops rolled down the window. She really hated the rain.

The next day, Pope had left to meet up with his informant. Dani tried not to let them see how much it bothered her that he went alone. That he didn’t want her to go. She tried to let Benny distract her with his silly jokes, but still in the back of her mind, all she could think about was Santiago.

They met him at a shipping container yard. He had a key to one, pulling open the doors. Santi was prepared for this moment. Every fucking gun, bullet, toothpick was sourced in-country, he was ready to pin this on a local rival gang. Santiago’s informant had come through with the recording of inside the house and promised to get an extra van into the compound.

They had everything they needed; The bird, the extra van, and Lorea confirmed inside the house with the money. Tom was conflicted about the whole situation, and that made Dani uncomfortable. She kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to start another fight with the captain. Tom gave a speech about how they could get out now if they wanted. Dani honestly thought it was touching, but none of them were turning back; The six of them were really going to do this.

“It’s a good thing these guys are so devout.” Benny started, looking up at the sky as the rain poured down, “Our dad used to say ‘when it’s raining, it means God didn’t need us in church today’.” Dani smiled at the comment. She really missed Mister Miller.

They watched intently as the guards piled the family in the vehicle to leave. None of them caught sight of Lorea. The family had left for church, and the informant showed up with the extra van. “Damn, Pope. This lady is a keeper. Punctual, smart, and brave as shit.” Benny spoke into the comms. Dani rolled her eyes, jealousy did not become her, but she didn’t care.

She entered the house behind Santiago. Two of the three guards were subdued easily by the former Delta members, but Frankie shot the third in the knee when he walked up on him and Will. “Eyes out for Lorea. He sure as fuck heard us now.” Santiago groaned, helping Frankie bound and gag the guard. Dani quickly went to work setting off the charges in the security room.

The five men searched the house, but Lorea was nowhere to be found. They were almost frantic looking around the property. “Everyone to the office right now.” Tom growled into their ear pieces.

“What’s going on?” Dani harshly whispered into the comm but didn’t get an answer. Before she could ask again, Santi grabbed her, pulling her upstairs with him. Santiago walked into the office to see his former teammates. They were pissed.

“What the fuck?” Benny was the first to speak, tossing an empty money bag to the floor. Dani looked around the room. Something wasn’t right.

“Lorea?” Tom asked, and Santi shook his head.

“He’s gone with the money.” Will scoffed, dropping into a chair.

“Your girl gave us up, Pope.” Frankie sighed, leaning back against the desk. “We gotta get the fuck outta here.” Dani hated hearing the regret in his voice. What the fuck did she do?

Santi ripped off his hat, “No, no, no, no.” He repeated as he removed his pack. How did this happen? He looked around, distraught written on his face, before taking a deep breath. “What’s that smell like to you?”

Frankie looked up at his friend, “Like a serious fuck up.” Will chuckled at Frankie’s sarcasm.

“No,” Santi shook his head, pointing to the painting equipment by the desk. “Paint.” He scrambled to the nearest wall, running his hand down it, before drawing back and punching hard. Dani watched curiously, wondering if Santi had finally lost his mind. He punched again, breaking through the drywall.

He ripped the debris out of his way, reaching a hand into the wall, pulling out a wad of cash. “La casa es la caja fuerte.” She mumbled, “The house is the fucking safe.” She laughed, picking up on what Santiago had just figured out.

The six of them started tearing down the wall and stacks of money fell out. They quickly packed it into bags and carried them down stairs. Santiago was still concerned about finding Lorea as they pulled out more and more stacks, packing them away. The more money they dug out though, the less confident Dani felt in the situation. Tom was getting carried away, determined that they had time for “A couple more loads”. Benny assured her that Tom never missed a hard out, and here he was, making up some bullshit about a fifteen minute cushion.

“Fuck this. Time’s up, we gotta go.” Will growled, glaring at Tom. Dani finished packing her bag, handing it off to Benny.

“I want one more sweep for Lorea, alright! Then we burn it all down.” Santi all but demanded. “Tequila, stay with someone.” She nodded, and walked into the bedroom with Will and Santiago, gun raised. She opened the wardrobe door and there was nothing but clothes inside.

Suddenly, the whole thing moved, and Lorea shot at her. She returned a single shot, straight to where his femoral artery would be and the man fell to the ground. Santi walked up and fired one, two, three, more shots at him to ensure he was dead. He stood over the dead body, reloading his pistol.

“Fuck, I’m hit.” Dani and Will groaned together, Will dropping to his knees. Will was bleeding from his left side and Dani had a through and through on her left shoulder. Santi whipped around to see Will and Dani both kneeling on the floor. Blood was soaking her shirt, as he charged over to her.

“You’re hit?” Will asked, eyeing her shoulder, and she nodded. “Fuck, Teq. You shoulda stayed home.” He groaned the last word as she put more pressure on the wound. “Get me the clot kit. I’ll be fine” He grumbled.

Santi dug through the bag on Dani’s back, handing her a kit, getting one out for her as well.

“What are we shooting at in here?” Frankie yells as he walks into the room. He immediately notices that Dani is bleeding. “Fuck, Dani.” Even though he wanted to, he didn’t move toward her, because Santi was already there, applying her clot kit.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” Will spoke through clenched teeth, looking at both Dani and Santi.

“Yeah, you did Will. Here ya go.” Dani agreed, wrapping his abdomen with a bandage. She hissed as Santiago did the same to her shoulder. Things had shifted between them. Will had never seen Santiago so attentive during a mission.

“Sunday school’s over fellas. We gotta go. Oh, holy Shit.” Benny says as he sees the scene before him. His brother was bleeding from his abdomen, Dani from her shoulder. He told them that the first shift of guards were back and that they needed to go. The rest of it was a blur. Dani barely remembered getting down stairs, let alone into the van with Frankie. She looked back to the house and it was ablaze. It was over, they just needed to get home safely.

The drive up to the meeting point for the helo was a short one. At least, it seemed short. Dani had gone into shock. “Fish, I don’t feel so good. I don’t think the bleeding has stopped.” She whimpered with her head against the window, the hand holding pressure on her wound was bloody.

“Just hold on tight, hermosa.” She heard Frankie say before everything went dark.

She woke up with someone jostling her. It was Santiago, who was carrying her bridal style out of the van. “Hey, querida. You with me?” He asked, laying her on the ground, her head propped up on a bag.

“I’m here, Santi. I should have some bandages and extra kits in my bag. I brought them in case one of you idiots needed it. Turns out, I’m the idiot.” She laughed as he dug through her bag, holding up the tool once he found it.

“This is going to hurt, hermosa. You want to take a swig first?” He asked, showing her a bottle of tequila she packed just in case. She nodded, taking a generous swig, hissing at the burn of the liquor going down. “Alright, Teq. Ready?” She groaned as he redressed the wound. It would need stitches to ensure it heals decently, but they would have to wait.

“Thank you.” She whispered when he was done. “Let me go take care of Will.” She took the bottle of liquor over to Will. “This is going to hurt like a bitch. You might want to.” She offered him the bottle. He took a quick gulp, before gesturing to her. She shook her head no. She was able to stitch Will up while the other guys loaded the helo. She looked over and saw Fish yelling at Tom as she started working on the stitches.

“If we want to get to the ocean, we gotta fly over the fucking Andes, man!” Frankie yelled about the weight issue. Dani and Will leaned onto each other as they walked toward the helo. Tom groaned about leaving two hundred million dollars on the runway. “Fine! She’ll make it. Let’s go!” Frankie ordered.

Dani was seated in the back of the helo between Benny and Will. Benny was helping her stitch up her shoulder. Dani couldn’t help it but her eyes trailed over to Santi who was staring at Yovanna, the informant. Jealousy and bile rose in her throat. “I’m good, Ben. Thank you.” She looked up and saw Tom staring at her, his eyes dropping to her hand that was splayed over her abdomen, then back to her, with a knowing look on his face.

They dropped Yovanna and her brother across the Peruvian border. Tom escorted them off the helo. Santi joined him with a bag of money and an envelope with documents. Once Santiago was sure they were good to go, they were back in the air. “She’s lying.” Tom said and Santi disagreed. “There’s consequences to this shit. You know what we should have done?” He deadpanned.

Dani couldn’t believe him. He wanted to kill her? After everything she did to help? “That’s one you wouldn’t come back from.” Will attested. Tom just ripped the headset off before moving into the cockpit with Frankie. Santi didn’t spare Dani a second glance as he laid back against a duffle and shut his eyes. She sighed, leaning into Benny, closing her own.

Frankie was constantly watching the gauges on the dashboard. It seemed as if they were going to make it, even with the weight issue. Everything was going smooth until it wasn’t. “We’re red-lining, man.” Santi’s voice was on the headset as he peered over his friend’s shoulder. Frankie was adamant that they needed to lose some weight. Dani heard Tom complain about leaving fifty million dollars in the middle of the jungle. He is going to get us fucking killed, she thought. Frankie shot back, standing his ground, asking if he wanted to make it to the ocean. Tom conceded; Will opened the door so Santi and Benny could throw out some bags.

It seemed to work for a moment. Frankie tried raising the helo up over the lowest peak he could find. There was rapid beeping and the aircraft started jerking. One of the gearboxes blew and the helo started to drop. There was a reason Santi wanted Catfish. He really was the best. He immediately regained control of the craft, maneuvering it so that it didn’t go into a spin.

“I’m losing altitude. We should land. We should land now.” Frankie grunted, trying to come up with a landing plan.

“Crash land here and we all will die.” Tom snapped at him. Frankie gripped the cyclic tighter.

“I’m trying to get her back to flat. There was a farm, not too far back.” Frankie growled back at him, trying to make sure he gets the craft to ground as safely as possible.

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom called the warning over his shoulder toward the back of the helo. Dani had one hand gripped to the wall, the other was attached to Benny’s leg.

“I can’t land with this thing with that net under us. We lose the money, maybe we don't die.” Frankie tried to reason with him, but Tom didn’t want to budge.

“LOSE THE MONEY OR WE WILL ALL DIE!” Fish’s voice boomed through the headsets as he tried to keep the helo steady. “Pull the external load release on the wall!” Dani looked over her right shoulder to the lever. She looked back at Santi, like she wanted permission.

“Pull the lever, Tequila!” Santi yelled, giving her the okay. She pulled it down with a struggle.

Will opened the hatch. Dani took a spot next to him, looking at the net. “It didn’t work!” Dani was terrified.

“There should be a manual override on the cargo hook.” Frankie explained. Benny crawled out the hatch and kicked the handle. The net of money fell to the earth below them. The helo jerked before Benny could climb back in, knocking him further out. Luckily, Will was able to grab him, preventing him from dropping straight to the ground. It became obvious to the man dangling from the floor of the chopper that he would die if it crashed with him barely hanging on.

“I gotta jump!” Benny yelled, releasing the grip on his brother’s arm and tumbled to the ground, just in time for the helo to crash hard. He ran back to the smoking wreckage. “Tequila! Fish!” Benny bellowed as he dodged shrapnel from the crash.

Dani groaned as she moved from where she landed on top of Santi. “You okay, cariño?” He asked her, and she remembered that Benny fell out of the fucking helo. “Benny?!” She yelled into Santi’s face, scrambling to get up.

She stumbled up to the front, where Fish and Redfly were crawling through the busted windshield. “Benny?!” She called again. He kneeled down into view, reaching for her.

“I’m good, Tequila. I’m good. Come on, I gotcha.” He said as he helped her through the broken plexiglass. She crawled out, trying to make sure no one had any lethal injuries.

“Oh, Fish.” She whispered, looking at the nasty gash on his face. She pulled some gauze out of her vest pocket and tried to clean it, but he pulled away.

“I’m okay, Tequila. Tom, they’re getting into the fucking net.” Frankie yelled over her, pointing to the villagers.

Climbing out of the overturned helo, Santiago looked over at Dani who was next to Frankie. Pushing down the bubbling jealousy, Pope asked, “What’s the plan here?”

“Benny cover us from under that treeline there, to the right. Frankie, you and Tequila take the left, while Pope and I go look as peaceful as we can.” Tom paused, “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they probably already have weapons trained on us.” Pope was apprehensive about Dani leaving his side, but he knew she’d be safe with Fish.

“Comms are dead, so we use hand signals.” Pope informed the group before he stepped between Dani and Frankie. He caressed her face before placing a kiss to her lips. He didn't know what had possessed him to do it. They were in the middle of a cocaine field, and they just survived a helicopter crash.

“Be safe.” She whispered where only he could hear. Tom called him away and Frankie grabbed her arm, pulling her in the opposite direction.

Frankie and Dani moved into position on the left hill. She raised her rifle, peering through the scope. “Hey, put the gun down.” Fish told her, “You don’t need to do this.”

She scoffed at his words. “If it comes down to you guys or these people, I will choose you guys, no questions asked.” She trained her eyes back to the field. This wasn’t the same girl Frankie met almost five years ago. She was different, harder. Like the time she spent here changed her. Pope had changed her.

They watched as Tom and Santiago tried to reason with the Farmers. Dani could see through her scope that Santi tried to keep his hands up, away from his weapon; Whereas, Tom’s flitted above the hand gun the whole time.”Frankie.” Dani whispered, “What is that?” She asked him, seeing that one of the farmers looked like they were going to draw a weapon. All she could think about was Santi.

He hated being so far away, even through the scope, Frankie couldn’t get a good look at what was going on down in the valley. “Pope, is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke into the dead comm. Dani moved his hand off the button and shook her head. “Fuck!” Fish yelled, as shots were fired by Tom. He let off one shot before they moved down to the rest of the group.

Dani all but ran down the hillside. “Santi!” She called out for him, seeing him just beyond the bodies. He turned when he heard her voice. “Santi!” She collided with him. “You fucking scared me.” Dani's voice cracked a little. He didn’t speak, he just lifted his eyes to her. She could see the regret, the pain. Santi didn’t shoot, that much she knew.

Was it an avoidable blood bath? Probably not. Who knows though. What they did know, was that Tom fucked up. Santiago sat down with the village leader and was able to pay the ‘debt’ owed and acquire some mules to help carry the bags. Dani knew though, all the money in the world couldn’t replace the men, the family, that those people lost. As they moved away from the small village, Dani took one last look back. Her eyes connected with a young man for a split second before turning around and walking on.

Trudging through the woods was what they wanted to steer clear of, for Will’s sake, but here they were. The six of them led the mules down a beaten path. All of them stuck in their own heads until Will addressed Tom. He asked about the payment for the damage they had caused. Once Tom answered, Will stopped, turning to the man. “Which one of you shot first?”

Tom looked at his former teammate. “I don’t know.” The lie slid off his tongue easily. Dani watched from behind Santiago. Will rolled his eyes, not buying Tom’s shit.

“We need to watch ourselves here.” Will told him, before turning around, leading his mule on. Santiago nodded his head, agreeing out loud with Will’s statement.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tom growled at Santi.

“Nothing. We just have to watch ourselves, that’s all.” Santiago responded, not wanting to stoke anymore fires. They had to get through the fucking forrest. And it t was fucking raining, again. They found a rock formation to hold up under to try and wait it out.

“How far have we gone?” Benny asked Santiago as he looked at their map.

“About twelve clicks. And it’s another day and a half to the boat.” Santi responded, putting the map away.

“How are you holding up, princess?” Tom asked, condescendingly. Dani had been quiet since the farm incident. The other guys shot Tom a look and he just shrugged.

“I’m fine, jackass.” She mumbled, turning away from him, wrapping her raincoat tighter around her.

“You shouldn’t have come out here.” Tom scoffed, shaking his head.

“I’m starting to see why Molly divorced your miserable ass.” She gritted through her chattering teeth.

“The fuck did you just say? You want to get personal?” Tom shot back, “Does Pope know you’re knocked up?” Dani stopped breathing, eyes going wide. She could feel Santi’s eyes burning into the back of her skull. “Oh, yeah. I figured that out in the helo. That’s why she looked like a sad puppy while your informant girl was around. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s not yours. Could be Frankie’s.” He crossed his arms, and sat back against the rock. Clearly, he was proud of himself.

“You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about Tom. So, shut the fuck up, before I make you.” She stood up and whipped around to face him, ready to throw punches.

Frankie was the one that pulled her back. Tom laughed at this. “God, how is it that you leave the man when he needed you most, running off with his best friend nonetheless, and he is still wrapped around your goddamn finger.”

Dani shrugged out of Frankie’s hold and stormed away into the rain. Shit, she wasn’t pregnant. She had confirmed before they left for the recce. She never would have come out here if she thought she were. She didn’t know how long she stood in the rain before someone touched her shoulder. It was Frankie.

“Teq.” He started, but she cut him off. “Frankie, I’m not. I wouldn’t have-- I wouldn’t be here if I even thought for a second I could be. ” she sobbed. How could Tom just drop a bomb like that.

“está bien, cariño, está bien.” He whispered as he pulled her in for a hug, as her tears mixed with the rain drops on his shirt. “I think you need to talk to Santi.” He mumbled into her hair and she nodded. He walked her over to where Santiago was sitting alone. He looked up when he saw the two coming toward him. Frankie nudged Dani and she moved to sit next to him.

“Were you going to tell me?” He whispered, looking at the ground.

“If there was something to tell, yes. The test I took before we left was negative, I promise.” She tried to explain herself. Santi looked up at her.

“Why would you even come out here?” He mumbled, his eyes falling to her shoulder injury. “Fuck, you got shot, and you were in a helo crash.” Santiago caressed her face, moving his other hand down to her shoulder. “Lo siento, hermosa. I’m going to get you home safe.” He promised her, placing a soft kiss to her lips.

Frankie watched as Santi pulled Dani in for a hug, trying to push down the jealousy stirring in his gut. He had his daughter he needed to get back to, that’s what he needed to focus on. Dani lifted her head from Santi’s shoulder, her eyes meeting Frankie’s. What was she going to do?

Translations:

Hermano: Brother

cabrón: Bastard

Hermosa: Beautiful

está bien: It's okay

cariño: Sweetheart

Lo Siento: I'm sorry

Tags: @mylifeisactuallyamess @danniburgh @speakerforthedead0 @221bshrlocked

[beomglocks]

colors ; k.th

part of the badlands series!

colors: “you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.”

based off halsey’s badlands album.

warnings and other: museum curator!taehyun, old money!y/n, mentions of depression and grass smoking, little bit of angst i guess??

taehyun sighed as he took down the 11th painting this week. the museum hadn't been very busy in the past couple of weeks, maybe because the weather was getting colder. one part of him figured that many people just wanted to be bundled up at home watching holiday themed movies and drinking warm drinks rather than appreciating enchanting artworks.

he couldn't fool himself though, he knew the truth. today's generation didn't care about the fine arts anymore. a shame, seeing as everything around them seemed to be inspired by it.

kang taehyun worked at his local museum. he had been offered the position by the owner one night while roaming the place. this should've been a red flag looking back. the owner seemed desperate for someone to fill in the position since the previous employee had left without notice. nonetheless, taehyun took the job and didn't regret it one bit.

open 24/7, the red haired boy was always working on the clock. not that there was much to do seeing as most of the people his age or even a bit older didn't hang around museums purely for the joy of it. actually, his only job was to exhibit the newly arrived collections, clean and dust them off, and conduct regular tours and workshops for the public. due to this and the fact that not many people even came by he would take regular breaks.

once in a while you'd see the occasional old person or art expertee roaming around the small museum. if you were lucky, you'd see the local edgy teens posing next to a piece they didn't understand just to get an aesthetic picture. taehyun would also have the unfortunate job of shooing them away or scolding them for getting just a bit too close.

recently his boss, who was the museum manager and maybe the only other person besides taehyun that worked there, had informed him that due to funds and unfortunate unforeseen events, the museum would be closing down in about a month from now. this caused taehyun to fall deep into a depression since this was his only job and he loved it here. the museum was like his second home. he found comfort in the silent images displayed throughout the building. they always told him a story and when new pieces came in he would sit and stare attentively at the new anecdote being told to him.

taehyun smiled sadly at the piece he had just taken down. it was a painting of 2 people kissing however both of their faces were covered by white cloths. this was his favorite and he didn't even have a clue as to why. probably because of the uncertainty of what the other was feeling or because of the fact that the other couldn't see each other's faces through the cloth, that would've made the kiss more exciting in his opinion.

he stepped out of the museum and into the frosty air of the outside world. it was only autumn so why was it so cold? he thought to himself. he discreetly pulled out a prerolled blunt and his white lighter from his pocket. he lit it and stuck in between his slightly chapped lips.

maybe smoking dope wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, especially for a boy so young, barely 19, but it helped taehyun get his mind off the inevitably of losing his job and being homeless for the winter. he shuttered at the thought. he would have to room with one of his friends, he sighed shaking his head. no, he didn't want to be a burden, yeonjun had helped him enough as it is.

he looked at his surroundings taking in the cold autumn afternoon. the trees had long lost their leaves and were bare. the sky was a murky gray color as if it were threatening to rain any time soon. he noticed a girl bundled up in winter clothes near the entrance of the building glance at him. he smiled at her and she jumped at the eye contact, thinking that he wouldn't catch her. taehyun chuckled as he watched her rush into the museum. "back to work," he said out loud to himself.

once the blunt had been almost gone, he smoked what was left of it and headed back into the empty museum. he was feeling light-headed, the effects of the blunt finally taking action, but taehyun was used to it so it barely affected him as much.

he made his way to the girl who was now starting to take off her jacket and scarf. taehyun tapped on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. "hi," he smiled at the girl, showing off his dazzling smile. "if you'd like, i could give you a tour of the museum." well what's left of it anyways, he thought to himself.

"oh...no thank you," said the girl. she smiled warmly at the worker. "well not to be invasive of your decision but it's sort of in my job description," taehyun replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. the girl sighed in defeat, "i guess i have no choice then."

taehyun laughed as he took her coat and scarf to hang up in the public closet, "yep, trust me. they say im not that bad of a tour guide, im quite fun to be around if i do say so myself. i promise not to bore you too much." the girl nodded, not entirely convinced. "if i do end up bored i will hold you accountable..." she took a moment to take a peek at taehyun's name tag, "kang taehyun," she joked.

as they walked through the museum the girl couldn't help but notice that it was fairly empty. "why are there almost no paintings in here?" she laughed hesitantly. "i thought this was a museum?" taehyun stopped walking, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

"the museum is expected to close in about a month or so," he stated simply. "oh...that's terrible. may i ask why?" the girl responded. "my boss says we've run out of funds or something like that," taehyun chuckled bitterly. "people don't really give a shit about good art these days anyways."

"that's a shame..."

they continued to look through the various paintings that were still up and occasionally the girl would ask to see the ones that were taken down and left on the floor. it seemed the two were lost in each other's company as night started to approach.

"thank you for the tour of this lovely museum taehyun. it was fun but it's a shame such a nice museum like this is closing down," the girl said softly. taehyun nodded solemnly, he just wanted to get this day over with and crash at his apartment. he didn't blame the girl before him but talking to her reminded him of his harsh reality. a notification coming from the girl's bag made both of them jump as they were both lost in their thoughts.

"ah, that must be my father. he's kind of annoying when it comes to my curfew," she chuckled, digging her phone from her bag. taehyun watched her with a bored expression until his eyes reached her bag. he hadn't noticed this earlier but she had been carrying a louis vuitton bag. his eyes bulged at the expensive item that was so close to him, they got even larger when she fished out the latest iphone from it.

taehyun wasn't poor per se, he had just enough to get by since he was living paycheck to paycheck. however, he had never been in such close proximity to any luxury items. he suddenly felt weird being this close to this girl.

"what do you mean by curfew?" taehyun asks hesitantly. the girl sighs, "my father is one of south korea's richest chaebol's, maybe one of the big three at his point." she rolled her eyes as if this information was nothing. "he's super strict with me because i guess i'm just his show pony daughter whom he can show off to say he's a good father."

taehyun gulped, had he just been casually hanging out with the daughter of one of the richest men in korea? he felt sick at this. she looked up at taehyun's uneasy expression, "oh my god im sorry i just dumped that all on you! i just needed to catch a break so i came here, i didn't mean to drag you into my life story."

taehyun fixes his face, laughing nervously, "no- no its fine really. we all need a break sometimes right? im glad you got to have that time here." the girl smiled up at him, completely misreading his nervous laughter, "im glad i got to spend it here with you taehyun."

"oh before i go!" taehyun watched her pull out a checkbook from her bag and his stomach dropped. he silently watched her scribble some stuff onto the slip and tear it out, handing it to him.

"there's not too much i can take out of my account without my father flipping out but i hope this helps even just a little. whether it be in your personal life or with the museum."

taehyun eyes the check and chokes when he sees 50,000 dollars written neatly on the black line. he swears he can feel sweat going down his face like in the cartoons. "i- i cant possibly take this from you." he moves to hand the check back but the girl refuses to take it back. "taehyun, you love this museum with your entire being. i see the way to look at the paintings and the passion with which you explained them to me. i'd hate to see that taken away."

"plus, if you're gone who's gonna give me the tour when i come back?" she laughs as if this is something casual. taehyun's hands shake as he pockets the check, "i seriously cannot thank you enough...you don't know how much you just helped the museum and m-"

the girls phone dings again and she grumbles, "ugh why can't he just leave me alone. sorry but i think i really gotta go for real before he tracks my location or something crazy like that."

taehyun nods wistfully at the mention of her having to leave. he was really starting to enjoy her company.

"oh by the way," the girl giggles as she pulls her coat on hurriedly.  "was that you smoking weed at the corner of the museum earlier?" the girl chuckled to herself again just remembering it. taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, "why would you say that kind of thing at out loud and at my job?!" he scolded in a playful hushed voice.

"i just thought it was funny and you also smelled of weed the entire tour, i didn't mind though so don't worry," the girl concluded. she was starting to walk away towards out the door now. "i'll walk you out," taehyun offers. "such a helpful employee. is this in the job description too?" the girl jokes, turning to him while a smile on her lips. "well, not exactly," taehyun says smoothly.

she shakes her head, "i'll see you soon taehyun." he watches her walk off into the darkness of the night when he suddenly remembers something.

"hey what's your name by the way?" he shouts after the girl. for some reason taehyun really was hopeful of seeing her again.

"y/n!" came the disembodied voice of the girl he had just met.

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Sixteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Fifteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Seventeen

Luke pov.

“Do it again.” Ashton asks, staring at me intently.

We were about to leave my house for my surprise party, which I discovered in less than an hour. I was rehearsing a face of surprise so as not to end the surprise, cause I know everyone worked hard for it.

I widen my eyes, breaking into a smile.

“I can't believe you deceived me.” I say with my voice altered by the ‘surprise’.

“Don't say that, it will be very obvious that you know. Says ‘I can't believe you threw a party for me’.” he suggests.

"I can't believe you threw a party for me." I redo the entire acting.

“Yep! Me either. But what doesn't M&Ms ask, that I don't do?” Ash dries the water bottle with a shrug. “I'm just kidding.” he laughs after seeing my face.

“Speaking of her…” I fill my glass with some more wine, since it's too early for us to go. “Something new?” Ashton denies, frustrated too.

“I commented that she was acting weird, but she just changed the conversation and said that she's been busy and that she was nervous about the party.” he sighs. I massage my forehead, annoyed.

"Am I going to have to put her against the wall to get something?" I look at him, not knowing what to do.

“You know this isn't going to work. She's going to run away, you're going to fight, she's going to walk away and you're going to be more annoying than you already are.” I appreciate my friend's attempt to change the mood with provocation, but it has no effect.

"I can't find any reason to give me any sign of what's going on. Was it my fault? I knew I shouldn't have stayed with her that Saturday, I pushed the situation too hard and now she's pulling away, avoiding me-”

“Oh shut up! Don't even start with that.” Irwin raises his voice, cutting mine off. "Marnie isn't like that, she doesn’t do these things. If she wasn't comfortable she was going to talk. You said yourself that she asked you to sleep there. She let you pick her up on Monday and asked you to take her home, even after you dedicated Best Years to her. She didn't run away there, because it was remarkable how much she liked the song. You should pay more attention to the way she looks at you.”

A silly laugh escapes my lips when I see Ashton imitate her looking at me and smiling. My heart warms at the possibility that she is actually falling in love with me, just as I already am with her.

"Luke, if she didn't want to get back together, she wouldn't open up so many gaps and opportunities for you to be together. She must just be confused about the feelings. That's how it looked for the first time. Look, let's analyze her behavior today, after all the stress of the party and then we get stressed.”

I agree with my friend. I'm freaking out over something that shouldn't be very important. Maybe it's all the pressure with finishing the album. The release date is approaching and sure enough, Jim freaking out in my ear for the publicity trip we were supposed to be doing, but we're still going against it due to Marnie's accident.

I don't know how many times I have to tell him I'm not leaving LA yet. This delay wasn't hindering anything, so I don't know why he makes such a point.

“Go, get rid of that dead face and let's enjoy your party.” Ash slaps my shoulder.

We left the house, heading to Jack's house, where the party would be. I've been training my face the entire way, wanting it to be as realistic as possible, even though everyone already suspects that I know.

Even if I didn't know it, the moment I see the street full of cars, I realize that I would find out there. Irwin tells them we're coming and I notice the noise of the music fade away. Discreet.

We entered the house, finding everything quiet and tidy. But when we turn to the kitchen and garden, a lot of people scream in surprise. I take a step back, like I'm really shocked.

"I can't believe you did that." I look at Ash, wanting to see that I did well. But his expression ‘so so’ disappoints me.

“In the car it was better.” he says before walking away and letting people get closer.

I don't know how many people I hugged, but I know the only one I wanted to see was the last one to arrive. I hold my breath, seeing her in a black leather skirt and a transparent black blouse, highlighting her tattoo between her breasts.

I swallow hard, cracking a nervous smile as she approaches with a huge grin, almost jumping into my lap. Unlike yesterday, where I just got a congratulations message, M&Ms hug me, leaving a lingering kiss on my cheek.

“Happy Birthday!” the gleam in her eyes proves to me she's already a little high.

I resist the urge to steal a kiss from her lips, just kissing her cheek back but giving her waist a squeeze, pressing her against my body. She seems to notice my intent, drastically changing her breathing.

"I wanted to talk to you later. If possible.” I say against her ear.

“About?” her eyes sweep me for any clues.

“Surprise.” I reveal, seeing her roll her eyes in agreement.

I watch her walk away with the girls, but she doesn't fully break eye contact with me, looking at me from afar. I let out a breath, realizing it's going to be a long night and another long battle to resist her and the urge to take her to a dark corner.

In the kitchen, where most of the drinks are, I start my work, drinking the alcohol, enjoying the burning sensation that the liquid leaves in my throat. I get distracted with video game conversation and allow my mind to relax with lighter, more relaxed topics.

The party had been going on for a few hours. My head is already light, due to the high alcohol content my body retains. I know I'm laughing at some bullshit Brian is talking about, even though his words don't make any sense in my mind. Maybe I've already had too much to drink and it's better to stop for a while. I don't want to be sick at my own party.

The term vibrates in my mind and I start searching the crowd for the cotton candy hair, worried about her condition. The feeling pulls my head out of the air, sobering me up for a few minutes.

I find her dancing hand in hand with Noah, laughing at the older man's exaggerated steps. I stare at the scene, happy that she is enjoying herself. Unlike at the beginning of the week, Marnie is now upbeat and not acting. Maybe Irwin is right and she was just stressed about the birthday party.

I push my thoughts away, concentrating on yet another beer pong game. I've played more times than I could count and I'm starting to doubt the two arms Jack has won since my last drink.

“Problems.” Michael sings beside me, pointing to the door. Pam walked in smiling excitedly, holding hands with a guy who sure as hell didn't want to be there. It's not possible…

Sobriety hits me like a cannon. All the alcohol and smoke that was in my body is gone and I am able to think clearly for the first time since I arrived.

I massage my forehead, bringing my gaze to Marnie, who's already staring at Pam without a specific expression. I cross the room with incredible ease, reaching for her, hugging her waist, pulling her to me.

“We can talk now?” Marnie didn't even seem to hear me, still staring at Pam, who was greeting some people. "M&Ms?" I call closer to her ear, but no effect. “Hey!” I drop a kiss to her temple, squeezing her waist.

Her green eyes cross mine and I can palpate the insecurity in them. Marnie just nodded, letting me lead her out of the room. We went up to a room, being alone. I look at her face, still half lost, and I approach slowly, feeling that little box weigh tons in my pocket.

“What do you want to talk about?” she gives a slight smile, turning her full attention to me.

“First I wanted to apologize for Pam. I didn't know what she was going to come.” Marnie rolls her eyes, shrugging.

“It’s OK! No need to apologize. My head is so full I don't even care about her anymore.” she sits up in bed, crossing her legs.

“And I believe she won't even mind us today, after all, she came with someone” I sat beside her.

“Yeah! Poor guy.” I let out a laugh at her pity for the poor boy. “It was just that?”

I lose myself in her eyes for a few seconds, wondering if that's all. I draw her face in my mind once more, recording every feature I fell in love with. My lips tingle as I landed my eyes on her mouth, slightly reddened by the drink.

At another time, right now she and I would be locked in some bathroom or bedroom, succumbing to desire and the alcohol in our blood. My fingertips ache amidst the memories of all the times I have run across her skin, feeling it burn under my touch.

My mind starts to cloud and the flashes of the two of us become more and more vivid. I try to push those thoughts away, but they seem to sink into my mind with force. My body heats up with every scene my mind plays. I feel the blood running the wrong way and I don't know how to stop it.

"Luke?" I'm startled by your touch on my hand. Marnie was looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Are you okay?” I watch her hand squeeze mine, like she always did when I was angry or upset.

And just with that touch, everything stops inside me. The fire is gone and now I'm seized by a gigantic pain and rage in my chest, a rage for her being ripped from me so abruptly. I stare at her fingers moving gently, transmitting a caress throughout my body.

"Luke?" now she was looking at me extremely worried.

“Sorry. I think the drink hit.” I open a smile, trying to calm her down. M&Ms don't seem to buy much, but she smiles smugly.

“I already told you you're drinking a lot. In a little while you'll be passed out and won't even enjoy your own birthday party.” my smile widens in the midst of her care. "Don't give me that smile." she pushes my face away. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

“No!” this time I answer faster. “Actually, I wanted to give you something.” I fish the little white box in my pocket, feeling my fingers as soft as jelly. What if she doesn't like it? What if she gets angry?

“You know it's your birthday, right? You're the one who should get presents, not give. Especially for me.” she looks at me angrily, not wanting to accept the box.

"Well, it's my birthday and I'll do what I want, in which case I give it to you." I place the object in her hands. “I wanted to wait until your birthday, but it's still far away and I can't take it.” I lift my shoulders quickly, making her laugh.

Taking advantage of the fact that she was involved with the present, slowly, I move closer to her body, contenting myself with the least contact we have. I notice Marnie hold her breath at the sight of the blue quartz necklace, just like the one she had.

With no more reaction than that, I start to convince myself that I've fucked up and she hated it. It wasn't the time yet, as much as everything was going well, it wasn't the time yet.

“I can't believe you did this.” her voice comes out in a breath in surprise. I let my mind race to our first Christmas, where she gave me my necklace and I gave that star to her.

“If you don't like it…” my voice trails off as I see her eyes watery and filled with joy. It was the right time.

I'm not afraid to advance towards her, covering your lips with mine in a short kiss. The cherry taste becomes my favorite for the rest of the night. Marnie wipes her tears as she calls herself pathetic for crying.

"I know we used it as a dating ring, but it doesn't have to be-”

"Could you put it on for me?" she interrupts me, not caring about my fear. With my hands still trembling and cold, I close the necklace around her neck, enjoying the scene of her smiling enchanted by that stone. “Thanks!”

This time it is she who steps forward, stealing a kiss. The mood changes drastically. The screams outside seem to die in my ears, leaving only silence. The music that used to burst had ceased to exist.

That little kiss breaks, but she doesn't pull away, keeping her forehead still glued to mine. I'm startled when her eyes return to mine, I can see her perfectly there, in front of me, in my arms. I recognize that glow, that look and what it wanted to convey.

It was her there. The reason I get up every morning. The reason that makes me want to be better and better. The person I always want to impress. My girl. My Marnie.

I bring my hand to the back of her neck, bringing our lips together once more. I feel goose bumps as our tongues touch and her hand cups my face, holding me there. If she knew the last thing I want is to run away…

I'm surprised I feel despair on her side. The urgency on her lips. The need for the touch of her hands, the way they ran through my hair, the back of my neck and chest.

Easily, I pull her onto my lap, moaning, feeling her body against mine after so long. The fire that had previously ceased inside me, runs again through my veins, making everything too cloudy. I can't reason whether this was right or not. We both drink too much. She still hasn't given me full openness to so much attitude, even though she's still here, kissing me.

I try for a few minutes to clear my mind, to be a little rational and not get carried away by emotion, but the sound her mouth makes when I touch her neck with my lips ruins whatever train of thought I was building.

I touch the exact spots that make her moan and scramble for more friction. I watch thirstily as her eyes roll back and her lip is bitten in an attempt to control the moans. Her nails scratch the back of my neck, releasing an electric current that migrates between my legs.

I gasp when I feel her rub against my groin, spreading a current throughout my body. I want to beg her to do it again, but it's not really necessary, she knows and she does. So excruciating, but so good. Again I am startled to find that glow that I knew so much. I wonder where this Marnie was all along.

I shove my hand inside her shirt, enjoying her burning skin. I stroke the spot below her bra with my thumb, wanting not to frighten her. I suck the skin under her ear, lapping it with my tongue. My body combusts as she stirs and presses her crotch harder against mine. I cup her breast with enjoyment, hearing her call my name the way I liked it best.

Her desperate hands run inside my jacket, wanting to throw it away. I was ready to help when a heavy knock on the door disrupts our moment.

"What the fuck is it?" anger rips up my throat, causing a very angry scream. So much time to interrupt.

"It's time to cut the cake." I hear Calum's voice and feel like throwing him from the second floor.

“Serious? Stick the cake in your-” two small hands cover my mouth, preventing me from continuing.

“We're on our way, Cal.” Marnie yells louder and breathless.

I watch your body soften, lost and, I fear, even regretful. She is no longer there. She avoids looking at me, perhaps out of shame.

“It was better this way.” her sweet voice comes closer to a whisper.

“Was?” I stare at her, not wanting to accept that I was the only one to feel it. I know I wasn't, because her expression tells me I'm right.

“Was! You know it was.” her tone is still sweet, but her gaze is hard. "I think we'd better go downstairs." she gets up carefully, getting out of bed. I throw my head against my hands, visibly frustrated.

"Go ahead, I need to get both heads in place." I throw my body against the mattress.

“Sorry, Luke.” I can't stand her feeling guilty when she's the biggest victim of all this.

"M&Ms?" I leap out of bed, grabbing her before disappearing through the door. “It's not your fault. I'm the one who lost control, I'm sorry. You didn't give me the opening to attack you like that and I let myself go…” her lips silence me.

“It wasn't anyone's fault, can we do that?” I nod, stealing the last kiss before I let her go. "I'll wait for you downstairs." she announce.

I turn around, heading back to bed, still feeling frustration coursing through my veins.

“Hey!” I turn to see her there, standing in the doorway. My chest races with yearning from the many times I've seen her do the same scene. My ears and heart ache wanting to hear those words that always came next. Those three words that were so beautiful in her mouth. “Thanks for this.” she smiles and leaves.

I stare at the wood, snapping back to reality. I'm such an idiot for thinking she was going to say she loves me. I hide my face, exhausted. I look across the bed, able to see the two of us there, so given to each other.

I replay the scene in my head, tasting her kiss on my lips. Feeling my body tingle, still wanting her touch. The pressure on my pants becomes bigger and more uncomfortable. I need to make this go away. I scramble my mind for many things to calm myself down, but I can't. I can still feel her hands running around the back of my neck and her groin against mine.

"Shit!" I give up, going to the bathroom and locking myself in there. I don't care if I'm late, or what they think. I won't be able to eliminate this with thoughts alone.

I lower my pants and underwear, releasing my already throbbing member. I run my hand over it, making my body vibrate in relief. I let my mind flood with all thoughts and memories with her, feeling my body inflate further.

I increase my speed, being able to feel her touch through my body. I punch the wall, feeling my stomach contract. I rest my forehead against the cool coating, letting out several sighs. Her eyes flash in my mind.

The many times I've seen her face twist in pure orgasm under my touch. That smirk and that vulgar glow she always lets off before pulling me aside. And I always did, like a puppy.

My breathing gets out of control as I reach my orgasm. A wave of relief and lightness overcomes me, along with a wave of guilt. It must have been the 15th time since it all happened.

I can't have her. I can't stand the idea of ​​looking for someone else, even though we are not officially together, so I have to get by with baths and my bare hands, but as a result I feel like the dirtiest human being, as she doesn't even suspect.

I walk down the stairs, not attracting any attention. I find her sitting on the couch, on Leah's lap, laughing at some imitation Ashton was doing. I approach the group, who make no fuss about my delay.

I pick up the bottle of white wine on the coffee table, flipping half the contents. I feel her green eyes burn on me and I don't even have the courage to reciprocate by ignoring her.

“Is everything OK? Sorry if I messed something up.” Hood says next.

“It's OK! In fact, it was better, if you didn't show up, we would have done something stupid.” I say dry.

"Is that why this sour face?" he raises an eyebrow.

"I'm feeling awful for almost bringing her to this and not having the conscience to stop." I reveal a part of the guilt that burns in me.

“Luke, you are not complete strangers. And maybe she really wanted to go further, she just didn't know how. After all, at that moment she was supposed to be your f-”

"I know!" I cut it off, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence.

For my salvation, someone starts to sing happy birthday and the matter is closed. I open a smile disguising the shit my head was on. Michael puts a little purple hat on my head, blowing a plastic horn, very excited.

The scene makes me laugh, relieving the stress. I watch Leah and Kyleen swing colorful pom poms behind Marnie, who is holding a small cake with several candles.

I look deep into her eyes, noticing her happiness to be there and somehow mine too. After all, she's here, even if she doesn't remember much, she's still here. The accident could have been a lot worse and I could have lost her forever.

I push the damn thoughts away, blowing out the candles and driving everyone crazy. I'm surprised when Marnie leans in, stealing a kiss, not caring that she's in front of everyone. Her rosy cheeks manage to steal a smile far bigger than Michael did.

In the back of the room, I notice Pam with her arms crossed and sulking. I don't know if Marnie did it on purpose, intent on teasing, but something she did, and if Pam is pissed off, we're happy.

The clock was already showing around 5:00 in the morning. I've already fluctuated my alcohol level more times than I can count. While the boys filled me with rum, M&Ms filled me with water and food, afraid I would go into an alcoholic coma or whatever. Of course I took advantage of her concern and all the attention she was giving me.

At some point during the party, Michael took over the DJ's table and there we were, jumping up behind him, singing I Want It That Way at the top of our lungs, with the lost girls trying to do the choreography. That was definitely the best thing about the party, right after my moment with Marnie in the bedroom.

Right after his moment commanding the party's playlist, Clifford decided to climb on the roof to jump into the pool. Something that was already taking a while to happen. What he and no one expected was Marnie yelling at him, worried.

“It's comical, because if it weren't for the amnesia and the lack of alcohol, she would be the one on the roof.” Irwin comments lying beside me, watching the scene of her yelling at Michael, asking him to come down.

“And we called the fire department because she got stuck again.” I shake my head, wanting not to laugh at the memories. “Good times.” I'm toasting my friend, still watching her worriedly behind the older one.

Sitting in the garden, talking to some friends, I watch the girl laughing in a circle with Noah and Calum. She gets up, walking into the house, returning in a few minutes. I watch her come around, stopping behind me.

“Now the one who needs to talk is me.” she whispers in my ear. I don't think twice about taking your hand and heading out of the wheel chat.

I can see a large package in her hands and the idea of ​​being my gift makes me anxious. A little farther away from the mess that remained, she hands me the black box with a gold bow on top. Before opening it, I take a look at her excited smile, letting out a laugh.

I find five rings and three necklaces arranged around the box. I can't hold back the smile, seeing what she's chosen. I know I might look like an idiot for some jewelry, but it's amazing jewelry she picked out.

“You liked?” she bites her lower lip, curious.

“I loved!” I hug your body, thanking her. I know she has no intentions other than to give me a birthday present, but of course I will wear these rings and necklaces with more affection than usual. “Thanks.” I mean, still ecstatic.

Hand in hand, we approached the crowd again, bumping into Kiki, Sophie and Michael.

“We were thinking about going to Michael's house. The party is already boring and I'm hungry.” Kiki comments. I look a little offended at her, after all, that was my birthday party. “Oh! Nothing personal.” she laughs, slapping me on the shoulder.

“What do you think?” I ask the M&Ms, who shrug their shoulders. "Have you talked to the rest?"

“Leah was going to call Noah and Ash, we were going to rescue Calum.”

“OK! We'll get our stuff and meet you at the door.” Marnie agrees and so we disperse.

Still holding hands, we walked back upstairs, looking for her bag. In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of vodka, a tequila, and a whiskey, trying to put everything in my bag, but it doesn't quite work.

“We should take advantage of the gathering and have your liver funeral.” I turn to Marnie who glares at me, seeing three bottles in my arm and me struggling to open one of beer.

Easily, we made our way to the front door, finding Kiki and Sophie. Gradually, everyone arrived and so we left the party, without saying goodbye to anyone.

“Uh, tequila?” Hood comes towards me, hugging the bottle.

Michael's house was the closest and, having drunk too much, we thought we'd better walk.

On the way, we stopped at a bakery, buying a bunch of things to eat. The day was already showing signs of life when we arrived at Mike's house. At the dinner table, we spread out the stolen drinks and food, starting our round table, as well as picking up several board games that Michael kept.

“I wanted to propose a toast to Mr. Luke Hemmings.” Noah draws the toast, making everyone raise their glasses and bottles. “One of the few people worth meeting in this hellish city where you can't trust anyone. The other people are unfortunately not present…”

A shower of paper balls and food flies towards the 20 minutes older twin. I'm surprised when I watch Marnie leave my arms, standing up.

“I also wanted to give a speech.”

“You didn't have to, babe.” I say, shaking her hand that still had our fingers intertwined.

“It's not about you.” she sticks out her tongue, causing everyone to scream.

“Ouch!” I put my hand to my chest, accepting the blow and still feeling my heart race.

“Shut up.” she screams, laughing. “Well, I wanted to make this toast in thanks to all of you. I know it's been three years of friendship, but for me it's only been a month and even with all the confusion and breakup.” her fingers squeeze mine and I move them, giving them a light caress. “You still took me in and took great care of me. I am eternally grateful for that. Leah doesn't even start crying, I need to get this over with and if I cry it's going to go wrong.” the mood breaks a little with the laughter. “Bottom line, I just want to say that whatever the future holds, I like you all a lot and that this isn't just a bunch of crazy friendship the universe threw at me, it's the family I've been looking for. As Noah said, you're the few people worth living in this hell of a city and I love you all so much. Cheers!”

Everyone raises their glasses once more, toasting her speech. I cross my gaze with Leah, who has also noticed something odd. She still hadn't commented on Monday's episode and I still had it hanging around in my mind.

It was very visible that something was troubling her. Her eyes wandering lost, her disappearance since Monday until today, claiming to be super busy and out of time. Everyone was sensing that something was wrong, but she wouldn't let go or comment on it.

“Especially you.” I focus my attention on her, who settles back into my arms. “Regardless of our future, I like you very much.” she whispers, before pressing her lips to mine. “Please never forget that. Promise?”

I get lost in her eyes, noticing a hint of fear and pain in them. It's horrible to see her like this and not know what to do. For nothing in this world I want her to feel unprotected or alone, she said herself that we are a family, so she wouldn't have to face anything alone.

“Only if you promise me you'll tell me what's going on.” I play hard, not caring if this becomes an issue between us, or if it pushes her away a little.

“Luke…” my name comes out in a painful sigh.

"Marnie." I say her name harshly, wanting her to understand that I won't change my mind.

“I'll tell. Just not today. Today is your day and that's what matters to me. So please let's enjoy?” she begs. As always, I surrender, nodding. I drop a kiss to her forehead, before pulling her to my chest again.

Hastings still looks at me suspiciously and unfortunately I only have reason to agree with her. Something was up with Marnie and she didn't want to tell us.

A minute of silence, our baby is turning 25 today and I am not knowing how to handle it.

[mlmxreader]

Liking | Black Noir

request; ""We make a damn good team" with black noir. Doesn't sound angsty or too fluffy so the whole field is your choice" // anon

summary; Black Noir discovers that you've taken a liking to him during his day off.

notes; gender neutral reader, spoiler free!, this is about show!Noir

No one was going to tell Black Noir that he couldn't take a day off, not even Homelander, as although he was probably the biggest asshole to exist, he wouldn't say anything to Noir, no one would; which was what brought Noir to the field, silent footsteps leading away into the woods as he made his way down to the river.

The river ran so freely, the leaves whispered in old languages that were long dead, the birds sang along with the wind and the trees, every now and then, a deer would step on a twig and crack it beneath its weight; Noir didn't mind as he took a seat on the bank and watched the river flow. The olive coloured water didn't look so deep from up high, but he knew that appearances could be deceiving; he brought his knees to his chest, embracing them as he watched the water. Pikes would chase after smaller fish beneath the surface, sometimes their tails would thrash and cause a small splash that sent the water rippling; bullheads and tenches and minnows and rudds would splash about in a frenzy to try and get away.

Noir sat there silently. Not making a sound. But he soon jerked around and tilted his head when he heard the sound of running footsteps, quick and harsh, pounding the ground the way a horse would, he tensed up until you came into view, crashing through a bush and dusting spider webs and leaves from your shoulders.

“Noir,” you smiled, only daring to sit beside him when he patted the ground to his side. You were breathless from running, chest heaving and smile fading as you attempted to catch your own breath. “Hey.”

Noir turned his attention back to the river, leaving his hand at his side, not really caring when you grabbed it tightly and laced your fingers with his; he had done unspeakable things, he had caused unutterable acts of violence, he was far from a good person. But you liked Noir. His silence was a comfort, the smell of something metallic that always seemed to hang on him was a reassurance. You knew that he liked to come to the river on his days off, he often invited you and walked with you, but not today; not today solely because you had been busy.

“Y'know, we make a damn good team,” you told him. “I had another look at the bedroom, and it looks great. Maybe we... maybe we should work together more often.”

Ah, yes, the bedroom. Noir had helped you to paint it after he had noticed that the paint looked streaky and uneven; he didn't even wait to be asked, simply picked up a paintbrush and got to work. He liked painting. He didn't like it when you beat him at a paint-throwing fight, nor was he that keen that his good suit, the one he used for public appearances, had gotten splattered in white - you were lucky he liked you, as had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have hesitated to commit an awful act of violence.

He gave your hand a little squeeze, his way of agreeing.

“I was gonna ask if you could help me with something else, though,” you admitted, and when Noir looked at you, his head slightly tilted, you shrugged. “You see, there's this person that I like... really like, actually, and I'm... I'm not too sure if they feel the same. They haven't told me if they do or don't. And I... how do I go about asking them?”

Noir shrugged, placing his free hand on his chest. His way of saying, “I don't know.”

“They're great, though,” you started, “strong and silent type. Sure, they kill people and trek blood through on my freshly mopped floors, which I wasn't too happy about, but... I like them, a lot.”

It took a moment for Noir to realise you were talking about him, and he stiffened for a moment, still as a statue as he allowed the thought to rush over him; it was risky for him to admit that he liked you, that he found the way you talked so comfortably around him so calming, that he enjoyed your presence and your ease around him, he liked the fact that you talked to him as if he was someone you completely trusted, the seven weren't really supposed to have relationships - but he was Black Noir, what would anybody do? For a split second he wondered if he could protect you if someone came after you, if Vaught found out and decided to remove you; he knew he could. He knew he could protect you.

Squeezing your hand again, Noir moved a little closer, resting his head against your shoulder as he stared out at the river again, his way of admitting that he liked you, too.