#and now. neck stuff. (gentle applause)

[rad-roche]

well, the good news is they've made up. the bad news is if you're planning to get murdered today, reconsider: it's sure not getting solved

[charlieluver]

BREAK

Tap tap tap tap

The water droplets falling onto the plate in the sink. Room dimly lit by the glow of the tv, Carlos's interview on it. Only if you could still call him yours. The texts started becoming shorter, the dry replies from his end. He didn't share goofy pictures on his last tour, the calls being cut short by him, saying to call you later, but the calls never came. You tried to console him after losses, just to be met with silence on the other side.

"I-I need a break, right now this feels like a burden" He sighs, head down, afraid to even look at you. "Burden? Carlos what are you ⎯" "My game's shit, my focus is off, my points are dropping. Just, not now. I need a break, from this, from us. Please." His tired eyes meet your tear stained ones. Every bone in your body wants to confront, wants to know if all that you have given him wasn't enough, all that he gave you, about all of those times. "We can talk it out baby" you move closer to cup his cheeks, but he takes a step back. It made you feel distant. Going back and forth for god knows how long, breath shaking, a barely audible agreement, him leaving. Then silence. The silence was deafening. Your eyes refocus on the screen, he smiles at something in the interview, which just didn't feel....right. His hair has grown, his beard looked a bit unkempt. Face, mostly stoic. You could see how he uses his hands a little too much, touching his face frequently, like he used to do when he was not quite present, zoning out. This was background noise for you. You are in his hoodie, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. It feels as if the ghost of his memory is wrapping its arm around you, just like how he did numerous times. The weight of his arms around your waist after an exhausting day. His head snuggled onto your chest. His laugh ringing in your ears. Your mind drifts to glimpses. His socks lying in the corner of your wardrobe, folded neatly. His shirt, the dark blue one of RG which you loved (and stole from him), still hanging in the closet. His brush, that silly "carlitos" you had engraved on it with a permanent marker, was facing yours, in the cup holder. Except that his owner wasn't. Your apartment had parts of him still left, even though it had been a month. You didn't want to put his things away, this was the only way that you could cling onto him a bit longer. Neither did he say anything about coming to pick up his stuff from you. The loud sound of applause brings you back, as you see him leaving the court, his kit resting on his shoulders. He still has the keychain you made for him, dangling from his kit. You bring your feet closer to your chest, resting your chin on your knee. A sigh escapes your lips. The couch feeling a little too comfortable. Just like one of those rainy days, with Carlos holding your legs over his , a blanket over your bodies, as he told you about his childhood. Just like one time, when you both planned on a movie night, but then he fell asleep, the pout on his lips making him look adorable. The light causing a soft glow on his face, his cheek slightly pink, his face peaceful as he breathes out soft snores . You could watch him like this for hours, as you move a strand of hair from his forehead, bringing him closer to your chest. He snuggles, melting into you, the movie forgotten in the background. This is just a break, but why does it hurt like a breakup? Your chest feels tight and it's difficult to breathe. You don't even realise that tears have fallen, rolling down your cheeks, where his thumb used to caress ever so often, his touch gentle. How he used to hold your face, the green in his eyes gazing into yours, like you meant the world to him. How he would bend down, his lips, so soft, pressed against yours. He would kiss you, making you forget everything around you, just the warmth of his love radiating. How his fingers would hold your neck so softly, fingers grazing over your jaw, supporting your head. How he would take your breath away. The tv fell silent, the screen black. Your body sinks into your bed, finger hovering over his picture. You had secretly taken this when he was sleeping, sheets over his bare chest, hands over his head. Perhaps he still thinks about you, he still hasn't blocked you anywhere. Perhaps he still misses you, just like you do. Perhaps a part of you never left him, the duck keychain in his kit. Perhaps, he will come back into your arms again. But all you can do now is wait for him to come running home, to you. __________ part 2

masterlist

[cant-think-of-anything-creative]

OoooOOooooOooo guess what!!! This scene well and truly won't leave me alone so I have spent another night writing up my Thoughts and Ideas into something somewhat comprehensible!!!! I blame @jackdaw-kraai @darthstitch @bookwyrmie completely, congratulations y'all!!!!! You Did This!!!!!! 🤣🤣

In the middle of a crowded ballroom, Vader and the child currently held in his arms stared at each other. Luke had handed her to him before he fully understood that what he was receiving was in fact both alive and a small child, and not something inanimate and, say, less fragile. While he tried to recall what to do with an infant, she did something that, in hindsight, he should have expected.

She reached up and hooked her tiny fingers into the slots of his respirator.

"I would advise against that, child," he said.

"Aba," she babbled at him, her other hand joining the first.

"This is not a plaything," he gently added. A pop-up on his HUD alerted him to a blockage and the estimated time he could stay conscious with the decreased rate of oxygen. "It is a vital piece of medical equipment. I must ask you to treat it as such."

He carefully guided her hands away and continued to fend off her attempts to touch either his mask or the unit on his chest. Eventually she settled for his hand, gripping his thumb and pinky finger and manipulating them as much as she could.

"Thank you for your compromise," Vader said.

The child strung together a set of nonsensical syllables that nonetheless had Vader nodding.

He stood there for a while, half-listening to Luke's conversation and letting the child play with his hand until she got bored. His attention was recaptured when she began making small distressed sounds, ones that dredged up a spark of foreboding within him.

"What is it?" he asked her. "Are you hungry, perhaps?"

He looked at the selection of food -- none of it designed for a child. Moreover, he had no idea what kind of preferences or allergies this one may or may not have.

She whined more insistently and stuck her fingers into her mouth.

Vader turned to Luke, still chatting animatedly with his fellows. He placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"I will return," he said.

"Sure," Luke agreed, patting Vader's hand, and launched right back into his conversation. Vader looked to the guards stationed at the perimeter of the ballroom and only then did he release Luke's shoulder.

He walked a little ways over to the buffet tables and took a knife and fork from the offered cutlery.

"Look, child," he murmured, tilting the utensils this way and that so the glinting of the light caught her attention. Her eyes latched onto the shiny metal, reaching for them with the hand not currently occupied. Her distressed coos tapered off slightly, but began to rise again when Vader wouldn't let her grab them.

"Hm, not so interesting for you, I think," he mused. "But you may hurt yourself if I allow you to hold them."

She looked at him crossly, wisps of her brows furrowed in caricature of what she'd observed of others. She took her hand out of her mouth to babble insistently and slap the arm holding her, smearing saliva across the dark leather.

"Very well," Vader sighed. "Perhaps there is a mutually agreeable solution."

A fine ribbon of the Force wound around them, pulled deftly from the fabric of reality by an old weaver's hand -- the utensils rose on invisible strings, twirling gently around each other like a mobile. It had a similar effect, as well; the child returned her attention to them, now silent but for the small grunts she made as, again, she tried to reach out.

"I agree," he nodded. "A tactile distraction would be best. But these have far too many points for you to prick yourself on, child."

He twitched his fingers and the utensils collided midair, bending around and around each other until there was a packed ball of metal. One could hardly tell where fork ended and knife began. The metal squealed quietly as it was bent into shape, and the more pressure Vader Forced upon it the more it began to glow a red heat. The child watched as the color changed to a burning orange and eventually a bright, molten white.

Vader held the condensed ball of silver at arm's length, thankful now for the wide berth people tended to give him at these functions.

"I believe you would quickly become dissatisfied a simple ball. Would you not agree?" Vader asked. The child, now that it was well and truly out of her grasp, was already looking around with a lazy, hooded eye. "Hm. Something more complex, then."

He turned back to the metal and began twisting. Some sections pulled apart, some connected together, until the latticework of a great dodecahedron rested above his hand, spinning on all axes so he could ensure the angles were correct from every direction. A shape that would occupy her for some time, hopefully. He carefully rounded each vertex and smoothed every edge, and double-checked it with precision.

Then, once he was satisfied, he began to wick away the heat held within the metal. Slowly, the silver set and hardened. He had to be careful, so the lattice did not cool in sections and split apart.

The child began whining again. Vader idly tucked her more securely against his chest, mindful of his life support -- but something inside him he could not name seemed to both stir and settle once she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Almost finished," he consoled her. "I have to make sure it is not too hot for you."

Eventually, Vader released his grasp of the Force and the dodecahedron fell into his hand, cooled completely to ambient temperature. He turned it over once more, a last check for burs or points that he might have missed.

"Here you are, child. Will this hold your attention?"

She took it from him and immediately placed a rung into her mouth. If she minded the taste, she did not show it.

"I am glad to see it," Vader nodded. "This is the framework of a great dodecahedron, which is a regular polyhedron. Many are taught that there are only five regular polyhedra, but there are actually forty-eight in three-dimensional Euclidean space."

She looked up at him with attentive eyes and removed the shape to talk to him, waving the latticework about.

"Exactly. Perfectly foolish to exclude all but the platonic solids."

She resumed her chewing. Vader began explaining the finer points of three-dimensional geometry, and her attentiveness as a pupil only wavered once he started on hexagonal tiling. (Which was more than fair, in Vader's opinion -- the tilings were the least interesting of the lot.) He continued as her eyes drooped and she settled in his arms, turning her new toy in her hands as she listened.

Suddenly, the great dodecahedron fell to the floor, clinking softly to a stop a few paces away. Vader looked down and stilled in surprise; the child was laid fully on his chest and shoulder, eyes closed and breathing deeply in relaxed and restful slumber. She seemed unconcerned by the hard metal of his mantle, but he dared not shift and risk waking her.

He looked for the dodecahedron and found instead Luke, already rising with it in his grip and making his way over.

"This is cool," the boy said, twirling it in his hands. "Where'd you get it?"

"I crafted it from cutlery," Vader replied, wincing at the volume of his vocoder.

"Woah, neat!" Luke took a closer look at it. "I can't see any seam lines."

"No," Vader confirmed. By the grin Luke flashes at him, his tone had a prideful air to it. The vocoder interpreted his chuckle as a small burst of static.

Luke's smile turned sweet, looking to the child in his arms.

"How is she?" he asked, still fiddling with the toy. "Sorry I handed her off so abruptly. I got caught up."

"It was no trouble, little one," Vader dismissed his apology. "...She fell asleep."

"Ohhh," Luke cooed, hand to his cheek. "That's so precious. I wish I brought my datapad."

"And I am rather glad you did not," Vader lightly countered.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on. If I took a picture I wouldn't share it with anybody."

Vader was about to reply when--

POP!

At the other end of the table, a burst of applause followed as someone uncorked a bottle of carbonated wine. The child flinched awake in Vader's arms, blinked twice at the loud and bright surroundings, and heaved in a breath.

"Oh no," said Luke, right before she began to wail.

Vader hesitantly pat her back -- his mantle was too hard to bounce her on unless he wanted to give her a concussion. He looked to Luke, whose arms were already extended.

"Can I...?" Luke asked, and Vader readily handed her over. Luke started swaying in place, rubbing her back in gentle circles. "You were doing great, it's just--"

"My armor is not designed for comfort," Vader agreed. "I believe you are much better equipped for her, little one."

Luke's eyes stayed on him for a beat longer than he expected.

"Yeah, I guess not," he eventually agreed. He turned to the child still crying on his shoulder. "But wow, you've got a set of pipes on you, huh? Hey, what's this? You remember this? Did Lord Vader make it for you?"

Luke managed to catch the child's attention once more, her cries diminishing to hiccuping sobs once she had hold of the latticework again. After a couple of minutes it was back in her mouth, and Vader went to retrieve a napkin from the table so Luke could wipe her face.

While at the table, he let his irritation bleed into the space around him and the Dark responded, prickling eagerly up his neck. The gathered crowd immediately quieted and scampered off to another, less disruptive location.

"She really likes it," Luke said when he returned.

"Indeed. She is an exemplary student."

"Is that what you were talking about over here?" he asked, smiling. "Weird math stuff?"

Vader crossed his arms. "It is a fairly simple geometrical concept. She grasped upon the context immediately."

"Aw," Luke crooned. "That's the cutest thing I've ever heard. You're gonna be a scientist one day, huh, sweetling?"

He poked lightly at her belly, just enough to make her laugh -- and drop the dodecahedron. Vader buoyed it with a quick reaction of the Force, guiding it once more into her hands.

She stared at it with wide eyes, then brought it overhead and threw it.

"Oh yeah," Luke said as Vader retrieved it once again. "A scientist for sure."

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan part 53! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

“How do we track Krang?” Leonardo asked when the story concluded.

“You don’t.” Was Knight’s answer, “If Krang is free, he will be seeking revenge on the ones who trapped him; it may not have been you in this life, but Krang will not see the difference. All you can do is wait and trust your instincts. You wouldn’t have been reincarnated if you couldn’t complete this task. He will come to you, and after he does and you defeat him, the council will be there to clean up the mess…

~~~

Back at the lair, Leonardo was stewing in his own thoughts. He, for one, was never good at waiting. If something had to get done, it had to get done right that moment, as soon as possible. No delays, no time for second guessing. Sitting there on the couch, surrounded by his family, doing nothing was the worst kind of torment! He just wanted Krang to find them and fast so they could handle the conflict and return to their normal lives. All this waiting was driving him crazy and he just felt so helpless—

“I feel the same way, Leonardo.” Splinter’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade and made everyone look toward him.

“What?” Michelangelo asked, the fastest one to break out of the silence that had plagued them.

“I feel helpless too.” Splinter said with a slow nod, closing his eyes in solidarity.

“Too?” Raphael asked slowly.

“Yes.” Splinter said; now he too was confused as he opened his eyes and looked around at the faces staring back at him. “Like… like Blue said.”

Silence, followed by Leonardo saying, “No I didn't…”

“No?” Splinter’s ears pressed back. He looked from Leonardo to the rest, who all shook their heads. “Oh…”

Draxum hummed, unamused. “I guess we found Yoshi’s power.”

More silence. The faint trickling of water was a constant this low in the sewer. The rumble of Donatello’s machines across the lair, the hum of the fridge, the low drone of the television that even Splinter wasn’t paying attention to. Eventually, the steady tapping of Leonardo’s fingers joined the melody of background noise.

“I want a kitten.” Michelangelo stated.

“What?” Raphael, and all others, turned to Michelangelo.

“After this whole Krang thing is done, I want a kitten.” Michelangelo stated again, closing his eyes and nodding matter-a-factly, “A fluffy orange kitten and I’m gonna name him Klunk. And I’m gonna buy him the most expensive cat trees to ignore, and give him wet food every day, and buy him lots of feather toys to play with. And he’ll sleep with me every day.”

There were a few moments of the clan looking around at each other, Michelangelo’s hopeful statements ringing in their minds.

“After we defeat Krang…” Leonardo was the next to talk, mind set on breaking the awkward silence, “You know what we’re gonna do? We’re finally gonna finish that Hip Hop Christmas Album.”

His words were met with groans from his father and siblings and confused murmurs from his friends.

“You’re still on that?” April groaned, shaking her head and laughing.

Leonardo threw his arms into the air in surrender. “It’s a good idea! Just because you’re all lame doesn’t mean a hip hop teenage ninja turtle mutant album isn’t a good idea! Have you heard my voice?”

“More than I would care to have.” Donatello commented, rolling his eyes.

“You’re welcome!” Leonardo said, flopping over to rest against Donatello and pull the softshell close, “Love you brother! And Let me guess; you want uranium when this is all said and done.”

“No.” Donatello said with a scoff, then immediately added, “Well— yeah. But I also wanna rebuild Shelldon…” Donatello carefully removed his necklace so he could hold Shelldon’s memory chip in his hand. He stared at it for a long, drawn out moment before Leonardo carefully brought his hand against Donatello’s so they were holding Shelldon together. Donatello finally smiled. “It… it’ll be my next big project… I really miss him…”

Leonardo smiled and rubbed Donatello’s shoulder, which in turn made Donatello rest his full weight into Leonardo and lay his head on his twin's shoulder. Leonardo welcomed the affection gladly and wrapped an arm around the softshell.

April took a deep breath through her nose. “I… would kinda like to start sending in college applications.” She brushed her hair out of the way of her face, “Thinking about going into journalism…”

That was met with an uproar of applause from all but Draxum, who didn't quite seem to know what college was. April was swarmed by hugs and affectionate touches from her friends as they praised her.

“You know we’ll support you every step of the way, Apes!” Raphael declared.

“Yeah! Just way the word and we’ll get you into any school you want!” Leonardo prodded April’s chest. “Within reason, of course.”

“Okay, we need role models, teachers, sources—we’re missing the references, people!” Donatello immediately pulled out his phone and started on seeking out potential references.

“Guys!” April laughed as she shoved the turtles off of her, “All I saw was I was considering it! Still gotta finish up school first.”

“It never hurts to be prepared.” Donatello said.

“Well… I’m not so sure what I wanna do yet.” Sunita said, laughing weakly as she twiddled her hair, “Maybe just get out in the workforce, try some things out…? Maybe something with children?”

“There’s no rush.” Draxum reassured, “I was well into my adult years before I realized I wanted to be an evil, warring warrior scientist!”

“And ignoring that note…” Splinter said slowly, then cleared his throat, “I want to adopt another goldfish. Since Piebald was flushed and mutated, I’ve been feeling a little bit lonely.”

“We can get you another one, Splints.” April smiled as she patted the old rats back affectionately.

“Pathetic!” Draxum growled, jumping from his seat and onto the table so he could make his announcement loud and proud, “While you waste your time adopting a normal, puny goldfish, I shall adopt a shark! And name him Sharky and train him to fight for our cause.”

“It’s not a competition…” Splinter grumbled, slightly jealous that he hadn't thought of it first.

“What do you want to do Cassandra?” Michelangelo asked innocently.

Cassandra considered. Then, taking a page out of Draxum’s book, she kicked over the chair she was sitting in so she could stand on it like a sailor on the bow of his ship tasting the salty winds.

“I want to rip our enemies to shreds, dance on their graves, then dig them back up and—“

“CJ, CJ, CJ.” Leonardo had to repeat the name a few times before he got Cassandra’s attention, standing up to address her while she stared down at him, “We’ve all been talking about, you know, getting pets and jobs and stuff. Killing and then dancing on the graves of our enemies is just a liiiiiiiittle much. So bring the bar just just a little bit. Just a little. Think smaller.”

Cassandra took a while to answer, struggling to think of just one, small thing she really wanted to do. She flipped her chair back over so she could sit backward in it and rest her head on the backrest. Her eyes lit up all at once and she finally knew what she wanted to do.

“I… kinda really want to rebuild my parents old bakery. It was burned down when I was just a kid and… and it was never rebuilt. It’s their legacy and I want to restore it if I can…”

“Aw, that’s sweet Casey…” April wrapped an arm around Cassandra and gave her a gentle squeeze, “If anyone can do that, it’s the great Cassandra Jones!”

“Thanks, Apes…”

“Raph?” Leonardo said with a gentle urgence, “You’re the last one. What do you want to do when we win?”

“I… it’s kinda stupid…” Raphael rubbed the back of his neck.

“We’ll be the judge of that.” Leonardo said, “Lay it on us!”

“I… kinda wanna do a secret santa gift exchange.” Raphael admitted, “One where we all make the presents and don’t just buy the first cheap thing we see. You know… something more special…”

Leonardo smiled widely. “That’s not stupid at all, hermano. In fact? I think that’s the best one yet!”

[trueromantic1]

Of Takeout and Old Movies

Summary: After attending the Widows’ and Children’s Fund benefit, Olivia and Elliot decide to end the evening relaxing with takeout and a movie. As the night goes on though, they find themselves on the precipice of something more, something that they both know has been a long time coming.

Author’s Note: This was going to be a oneshot, but then I really liked how it ended before the smut started. So I decided to stop there and split it up, figuring that way anyone who doesn’t want to read smut can just read this chapter, and anyone who wants the smut can continue to the next chapter once it’s posted.

Rating: Explicit

ff.net: here

AO3: here

“I want to thank everyone again for coming tonight to help us raise money for the Widows’ and Children’s Fund. As always, your generosity is greatly appreciated.” To raucous applause, the Commissioner walked off the stage, ending yet another fairly successful night of fundraising that necessitated sprinkling the audience with plenty of New York’s finest for the donors to meet. Their only job was to mingle and to make the donors feel comfortable enough to reach deep into their pockets.

Checking the time on her watch, Olivia was glad she’d decided to let Noah have a sleepover with Amanda and her girls. All she wanted when she got home was to change out of her fancy but uncomfortable dress and relax on the couch with some takeout. She knew it was for a good cause, but these dog and pony shows were always so draining. Taking a sip of what was left of her wine, she scanned the room, as she’d found herself doing off and on all night, lingering an extra moment when her eyes caught on a blue pair across the room. She’d known he’d also been asked to attend, so she hadn’t been surprised to see him the first time her gaze had wandered the room and caught him staring back at her, but now that the night had wound to a close, she wondered if he’d be interested in winding down with her like old times. Before she even finished making the conscious decision to go over to him, she found herself over halfway across the room toward him. She watched as his eyes widened briefly as she strode across the room, and she felt a surprising amount of satisfaction as he quickly extracted himself from the conversation going on around him to meet her part way.

“Captain,” he greeted, that stupid smirk curling his lips, “fancy meeting you here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been purposely avoiding me all night.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you know better Detective.” She let her lips curl slightly, a smirk of her own forming. “I’m sorry Elliot. Garland found out you were also requested to attend, so he lectured me about how tonight I needed to mingle with the donors, not my former partner. I was going to argue about it with him, because I hate attending these things and I knew you’d make it more entertaining, but then I realized if I just went along with it for one night it’d be easier.” Her eyes crinkled at the corner as she smiled more fully as he reached to take her now empty glass away to place it on the tray near them, his fingers lightly grazing hers as he did.

“I know Liv. I could tell how frustrated you were all night, but I figured you had a reason for staying away, especially after you told me in May that people were telling you to keep your distance, and you turned around and ensured a veritable army in blue showed up when we had to take Wheatley to the feds without anyone being able to trace anything back to you.” He shot her that shit-eating grin, the same as he did anytime he mentioned her own version of ‘fuck you’ that she’d given the brass.

Eyes warm, mirth dancing merrily in the seemingly endless depths, Olivia made sure her face showed nothing but innocence, tinged even with a bit of confusion. “I told you before El, I didn’t do anything except show up, same as everyone else. You know I’m not tech savvy to have managed to leak that to social without leaving a trace. But enough about that; I was heading over to see if you felt like coming back to mine and relaxing with some takeout and an old movie. I don’t know about you, but these things always leave me more stressed than before attending. Noah’s at a sleepover with Rollins’ girls, and I really don’t want to go home to an empty house.”

“Chinese and a classic movie? I’m in. Ready to go?” At her nod, they turned as one, his hand a gentle pressure at the small of her back, and walked out the door.

-~-~

As the credits began to roll, Elliot glanced down at the top of his former partner’s head where it rested against his shoulder. He allowed himself a soft smile as he thought about their night.

They’d called the Chinese in on their way to her place, knowing that it would arrive shortly after they did that way. She’d gone to change, but came back still in her gorgeous dress with a pile of clothes clutched in her hands, offering it to him with a slight flush on her cheeks. He’d realized it was embarrassment a moment later after he looked at the clothes and found a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt that he recognized as his. His confusion must have shown, because she’d gone on to explain that cleaning out his desk and locker had been left to her, and she’d never had the heart to get rid of any of his stuff. After they’d each gone to change, he’d realized that her embarrassment had likely been due more to the fact that she’d clearly been wearing them in the intervening years than to the fact that she’d kept all his belongings. Their food had arrived not long after they’d both changed, and they’d sat down to eat and watch their movie. After she’d finished eating, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find her leaning her head against his shoulder as they watched the movie, the weight getting slightly heavier as she eventually dozed off.

Coming back to the present, he gently brushed her hair from in front of her eyes, trailing his fingers down from behind her ear to her shoulder where he gently shook her. “Liv. Time to wake up. The movie’s done.” Her unintelligent mumble made him smile. “Olivia. Come on, it’s time for Captain’s to head to bed.

“Mmm, El. What’s wrong?” She blinked, bleary eyes slowly focusing on him.

“There we go.” His smile spread. “Nothing’s wrong. The movie just ended, and I figured you didn’t want to sleep out here all night.”

“Hmm…Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. But I have to say, it was a lot comfier this time.” The impish smile she shot him as she slowly sat up sent heat through his veins. “Thanks for coming over El. I had a good time.” They both stood, gathering their dishes and tidying the living room.

Gathering his clothes from earlier in the night, he headed toward the door and his shoes beside it. “I guess I’ll see you later. I had a good time tonight too Liv.” He bent down to give her a hug, something they’d both become more used to doing in the several months since they’d talked at Fin’s non-wedding. As he started to pull back, he turned his head slightly to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, something that had become a more recent, but not unwelcome change. He froze for a moment though as his lips met skin that was softer than expected, realizing she must have turned her head with the same idea, causing their lips to meet instead. As he slowly pulled back, he searched her face for any idea of her feelings, worried that their accidental lip lock would upset her.

As Elliot slowly pulled back, she could see him worriedly searching her face. She knew he was likely worried she would panic, but all she felt was surprise. ‘Well,’ she thought as she placed her fingers gently against her lips, feeling warmth spreading from that initial touch, ‘maybe not just surprise.’

“Liv, I’m sorry. I meant to just kiss your cheek. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She placed the hand that had been against her lips on the back of his neck, the other against his cheek. “El, it’s okay. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I liked it. And I think we both know we’ve been heading this way for awhile. But maybe we should do it again, make sure it wasn’t a fluke.” She leaned forward, rising onto her toes and using her hand on the back of his neck to pull him toward her. She saw the worry on his face melt into surprise just as her lips touched his, her eyes slipping closed as she turned her head slightly to the side for a better angle. She worried for a moment as he remained unresponsive, but then she felt his mouth open and his tongue running against the seam of her lips, and she relaxed as she granted entrance.

Elliot’s eyes slipped shut as he deepened the kiss, one arm slipping around her waist and the other gently cupping the back of her head under her hair. As he felt her tongue slide into his mouth, tangling with his own tongue, he let out a moan and pulled her closer. He lost track of time as they lazily kissed, tongues tangling, lips sliding, hands gripping and roaming slightly as the room grew warm. Knowing they needed to decide where this was going before they got carried away, he slowly pulled back, another groan escaping as her teeth caught his bottom lip and pulled it slightly as she lowered herself flat to the ground.

“That was…That was amazing Liv. Even better than I’d imagined. And in the last few months, I have to say, I’ve imagined a lot. But we don’t have to do anything more than this. Whatever you want.” He watched her search his face. He wasn’t sure what she found, but whatever it was, she seemed to come to a decision.

“You’re right, it was amazing. Better than I imagined too. I know you’d never push me into anything El. But you don’t have to worry about that. I think if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ve been heading here for a long time. And I’m ready for more.” The hand that had still been resting on the back of his neck slid slowly across his shoulder and down his arm, until her fingers slipped between his. With their fingers entwined, she turned and started toward the bedroom, her arm stretching a bit as she pulled him behind her. “Stay El. I want you to stay, and I’m ready for whatever happens tonight.”

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Six! If you’d like to be tagged, please send an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Unrequited feelings. Sexual awareness. Guilt. Use of a currently nonsingle actress, but I love her. So...she’s here. Next chapter starts the steamy side of things ;)

Word Count: Roughly 2,900

The set was solemn as you walked onto it. Two sets of tiny hands tangled with yours as a third held onto your hip. Making your way to the guillotine slowly. Aware that cameras were rolling just around the bend.  

“And we just wanted you to hear from us that, um...” Jensen's voice was strong as Jared cleared his throat beside him. However, as you approached, you saw the strain all three men were under. All eyes were red. Puffy from the tears. The other two hunched around Jensen as if he were their rock. “Although we're excited about er...next year? Um...I...It will be, uh...” He looked towards Misha. Arms crossed over his chest as he talked, “the finale.”

Suddenly, you'd understood why Jared had texted you. Suggesting that the kids may be the boost Jensen needed to get through the day. Your heart broke all over again as a sniffle echoed from the side. Another broken crew member trying to hold themselves together.

No one made said a word as the men finished the beginning of their goodbye to their life's longest work. As soon as they were done? Applause rang through the air. The support in the room overwhelming with its intensity.

“Is Daddy okay?” Arrow's voice was soft as she watched in confusion. Brows pinched together tightly.

You didn't get a chance to answer before Justice Jay spoke up, “No...he's sad.” Her eyes moved up to meet yours. “But, Y/N will make him feel better. That's what she does.”

“Go hug him, Y/N!” Zeppelin insisted, lips tugged down. Upset at his father's pain.

“That's your job, kiddo.” Ruffling his hair, you urged them forward. It didn't take much prodding. As soon as the green eyes caught sight of the three children rushing his way, they lit up.

Your hands stuffed into your back pockets as you followed. Keeping your distance. As if they'd truly not let you be part of the fray. Jared tugged you under his arm as soon as you were within reach. Rubbing his knuckles into your hair affectionately. “Nice of you to answer your texts.”

“I figured you were on set,” A pinch to his ribs gave you a rewarding yelp from the giant. But, the glee only lasted a moment. “How're you holding up?” Growing serious, you looked up at the overgrown child. Fingers cocked under his chin to make sure he didn't turn away from your gaze.

“I'll be alright,” The shadows under his eyes said otherwise. But, the grumbling from Misha had you passed around before you could protest. Demanding a real answer.

Jensen watched as you were lifted into the bubbly man's grasp. Laughing at your long lost friend. Misha had a thing about adopting the unusual. And you fit right into the pack.

“Daaaaaad!” The drawn out cry forced his attention back to Zeppelin as both girls snuck off to hunt down the makeup crew and demand their annual glitz and glammer day. “You need to hug, Y/N!”

“I...I ne...need to what?” His held tilted as he crouched down to his son's level. To not only talk man on man, but to ensure his voice didn't carry as far.

“She gives nice hugs. She'll make you feel better.” Earnest as always, the boy tugged on his hand. Concern etched on his mini's brow as he stormed on in his mission. “Trust me, I know.”

“Oh, do you?” A firm nod was the answer. Lips puckered as he inspected the red in his father's eyes. “I bet you learned to give some pretty great hugs yourself, then.”

“They're okay.” The tiny shrug brushed it off. Still zeroed in on the idea that you'd save the day. Kicking at the ground all the while.

Jensen chuckled before reaching out to tug the boy into his arms. Zeppelin let out a giggle for the ages as he wrapped his tiny arms into a vice grip around the thick neck in front of him. “See? Told you.”

His eyes closed as he breathed in the moment. Squeezing his son tight. As if that would hold his life together. When they opened again, the E/C gaze was on him. A small nod your way said it all. An answering bob his way had his lips pulled up.

The day passed by in a blur of emotion. Social medias were lighting up from the announcement. Fans around the world mourning as much as the cast and crew. All three kids were out cold. Tucked into their beds in the lavish apartment. Sighing, you settled down on the couch. Rubbing at your eyes sleepily.

“Hey,” You yawned out without even looking as Jensen walked in. A muttered curse and small crash followed as he tried to tug his footwear off without bending. When you turned to see if he would make it, you found him looking worse than you felt. “I was starting to think you got lost.”

“Long day.” That much you understood. Slowly, you patted the tan material of the couch beside you. As he sank down into the fabric with a deep sigh, you passed him your own unopened beer. Knowing just a bit of relaxation made up for some of the struggles. “Thanks.”

“You good?”

“Not really.” The defeated huff had you looking over every line on his face. You knew the strained expression well. Grief had risen its head again. “I'm just tired. I'll be fine.” Silence stretched between you two. Tense and heavy. Then, the dam burst. Only, it was the furthest thing you'd expected to hear. “I've got a date next week.”

Excitement was the last thing you felt at those words. But, you weren't what was important in that moment. “You don't sound very happy about it.”

“Aren't you supposed to say 'congratulations' or something like that?” He huffed out. Surliness over ruling the sad. “Ya know, supportive?”

“I was just making an observation.” The unimpressed frown had you letting out your own, exasperated breath of air. “Okay, okay, fine. I'll leave that alone.” Against your better judgment, you crossed your legs. Turning to face him better, you decided if you were going to play the role of therapist? You might as well do it properly. Start where he wanted to. “Who's the girl?”

“Gemma Chan.” As you pulled out your phone, the head tilt of confusion was aimed your way. “What-”

“If I have to do the encouraging friend thing? I gotta do what women do best...research.” Captain Marvel. Crazy Rich Asians. She was bigger screen than him, certainly. Gorgeous. Just a few years younger than his forty three years. Single for a little over a year. There wasn't anything notable to find fault with, there. “Damn... how'd you land her?”

“Cliff had Jared and Gen set me up.” When your brow lifted in question, he diverted from the details further. Skittering back to where he wanted it. Only telling you in more ways that he was hiding at least one thing. “Anyways, I could use more of that support stuff right about now.” He waved you on.

“She seems like...a lot.” His exasperation at your answer was quickly cut off by the rest. “But, you're great, Jensen. Okay? You have the perfect kids. A hell of a resume of your own. Don't look half bad...” The last one earned the breathy, sheepish chuckle you'd been going for. His chin tucking down to touch his chest as his hand ran through his hair. “Even if it doesn't work out? It's not the end of the line. There's a whole world out there outside of this one girl.” A gentle squeeze of his bicep had him straightening up on the couch, “And if you're worried about what Danneel would think?” He hid it well. But, you caught the flash of it at the name. Vulnerability. He was losing his show. But, with the date? He was also losing another tie to his dead wife. You were certain that the pain you'd seen stemmed from all that loss. “Don't, Jay... She'd just want you and the kids happy. Okay? That's the goal, here.” He swallowed tightly. Nodding in agreement. “Good.”

--

“What do ya think?” Jensen turned to the small crowd on the black couch; showing off the brown leather jacket and black tie combo he'd thrown together over jeans.

“It's a no from me.” Justice Jay had no qualms about speaking her mind. She leaned back into the couch with a squinted up expression that looked so much like her mom that you had to bite back a smile. The whole thing was pulled off perfectly with the neon green head band she'd taken from her mom's closet years before. Offsetting the pink t-shirt she'd just grown into.

“Arrow?” Size had nothing to do with personality. The tiny little beauty had dressed herself in a pair of overalls. A bright yellow shirt rested under the jeans. Too loud pink frilled around her from the tutu wrapped around her hips. A red and a black sock covered her swinging feet. Neon green sunglasses rested on her nose. In order to bring the outfit together, she donned a sky blue bow in her fine hair. Looking every bit as solemn as she could, the tiny, rainbow themed child shook her head no; lips pursed into a frown. “Oh, who asked you?” The grumble earned a giggle that made Jensen roll his eyes. “What about you, Zep?”

“Dad...” The actor's mini-me stated very seriously. Folding his hands onto his grass stained knee. Oblivious to the ravioli crested dinosaur on his chest. “I love you.” That earned a raised brow. “But,” Kid or not, Zeppelin went right for the throat, “you need to work on your style.”

It was as if they'd all stabbed him through the heart. His hand rubbed over his chest. Brows furrowed as he took in the beings he'd helped create. Their own fashion statements blasphemy to the outside world as they shot him down. “You're all monsters.”

“It's just casual, right?” You asked from your perch on the floor. Turning away from the puzzle the kids had abandoned half an hour before to save the last shred of dignity on the actor.

“Right,” He was full of nervous energy. Shifting from foot to foot as you inspected his choice in clothes. His squared jaw was smooth from the fresh shave. Too spic and span for your liking.

“Lose the tie, drop a few buttons, and channel Dean. You'll be golden.” With that, you moved back to the puzzle. Forgetting about anymore of that extra bit encouragement he'd asked for when he'd told you about the night out. A deep tug of a frown graced his lips.

Jensen watched the way your fingers trailed across the pieces of cardboard. Pulling together the image of a raven carefully. The same way you seemed to go forward with everything. When did you ever really let loose in your life? Even a little?

“Dad! You're still blocking the TV,” Arrow finally spoke up. Not wanting to miss a second of her precious Rapunzel. Pulling him from his thoughts.

“Right,” He turned away, tugging off the offending tie like you'd suggested. Glancing at the clock to his right, again. The night was supposed to change his life. Get his mind back to reality instead of every lewd image it'd created of the nanny, as Cliff had said. His bodyguard had laid out the perfect plan. It was just a matter of pursuing it. “Alright, there's an hour until bed time-”

“Yes, daddy.” A mocking tone was nothing compared to the words themselves. His breath caught in his throat. The very reason he'd found himself about to go out lingering in the air. “I know the routine,” You chastised without looking his way. Sounding more like an exasperated mother than a nanny. “Go. Have fun on...” You glanced back his way. Knowing that he wasn't ready to let the kids in on what was happening. Quickly, you fixed your wrong. “With your friend.”

Unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, Jensen walked away. Muttering to himself to quell the nerves. It didn't stop as he paced to locate his phone and keys. Didn't even end when he shouted a final goodbye.

When the door finally shut behind him, you let out your breath. In Austin, you could escape his allure easier. Remind yourself that while they cared for you, you were ultimately a side piece in the family. But, in Canada? Things were more cramped. Intimate.

Hanging out on set. In the trailers. Being in the next room over from the father you needed to escape at nights. Torture didn't begin to describe it. So close. And yet, ever out of reach.

The announcement of the ending had only drawn more attention towards the cast and their families. Everyone trying to see what came next. And with that? Came the attacks.

Every kind of conspiracy theory existed. You'd be the next beard for J2. The cast and crew didn't give two shits about your existence, but needed the attention your closeness to Jensen could give them. How you used Jay's grief to trap him into some kind of toxic web. Posts existed about which child you favored and why. Bets on who'd end up in boarding school once the show ended.

You should have ignored them. None of them had any credibility. There wasn't one of them who could say they knew any of you personally. And yet, every one of them dug under your skin. Settling into a poisonous knot in your stomach.

Worriedly, you turned back to the door. Imagining what would happen if he were caught by a photographer. TMZ had eaten his wife's death up. Announcing it a mere hour after it had happened. A grieving widower moving on would be the perfect desert for them.

Shaking away the thoughts, you got to your feet. Ignoring the way Oscar's head shot up at the jerky movement. Sitting around and waiting was useless. There were things to clean. Time to kill.

Ten minutes after tucking the kids into bed, you heard the door click open. Icarus' head lifted from your lap as you turned to see Jensen stroll in. Looking like he'd been through the ringer. For the second time in the span of days, you found yourself about to nurture the head of the house.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” He sighed out. Unzipping his jacket sharply. When it was off, he tossed it haphazardly across the room. Not caring that it landed on the floor.

“Right...” The dirty look you got made you roll your eyes. You picked up the aging cockapoo from your lap. Moving close to the grumpy giant, and placing the snowy pooch in his owner's arms. “Sit down. Cuddle the dog. I'll be right back.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it, Ackles. Trust me!” You ordered. Walking away to raid the kitchen. A few minutes later, you found him less agitated. His hands running over the freshly groomed coat as he rested on the couch. “Take this. And then when you're ready? Spill the dirt.” Your legs tucked under you as you passed him a mug of tea.

“Thanks,” His voice was still gruff. But most of the tension had left his shoulders. After a moment, he finally opened up. Venting about the awkward silence. The pained, overly polite smiles. Everything that fit the fating scene. “Maybe it's too soon,” Jensen leaned back against the couch. Making himself cozy in the habit that had developed between you two.

“Or maybe she just wasn't right for you,” It was a relief to say it. But, you felt for the guy all the same. Dating sucked. “Or,” Being the good guy sucked even more, “maybe she was just as nervous as you were.” He seemed to think that one over. Nodding as if he agreed. “Drink up, kid. You have work tomorrow.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” He groaned out, taking another sip of hot liquid. “So...what about you?”

It was ridiculous how many butterflies swarmed inside of you when his eyes turned your way, “What about me?”

“You aren't gonna find someone if you never go out,” At that, your shoulders drooped a bit. Plopping back against the couch in an almost pout. “It's true, ya know.”

“I know,” You refused to look over at him. Pondering over everything. “What made you decide it was time?” The question had been just another thing eating at you.

“I just...” He wouldn't explain it all. Couldn't. That'd involve coming clean about every look your way. “I miss the little things, ya know? Waking up to a smiling face and all that jazz. I don't...” His throat worked as he talked. “I don't wanna be alone.”

Silently you absorbed everything he'd said. The fragile crack in his voice. Pain in each note. Relating to it more than he knew. Me either, Jay...Me either.

Part Seven

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​ @lilulo-12​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @michaelneedssomemilk​ @lemondropirwin​ @fanfictionismydeath​ @neii3n​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​  @woodworthti666​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord @smoothdogsgirl @ima-be-a-mongoose @briagallen @agusdoti @my-proof-is-you @deanwinchestersmydaddy @sucker-for-dean @blacktithe7 @thevelvetseries @sucker-for-dean  @sociopathtime @deans-baby-momma @aomi-nabi​ @brandinicole911 @demonqueen47 @c-ly-g @bakabozza @socalgem1124​ @hillface89​ @winchester-fantasies​ @redwineloves​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @mcshloemer @hillface89​ @chocolateheart

[bijvoorbeeldja]

Masterpiece

a fic in which Robbe is the live model for Sander’s drawing class and Sander is ENAMORED by this smol baby stranger

////////

Robbe had no idea how he got roped into doing this. It had all happened so fast. He was doing a late shift at the coffee shop where he worked, talking with a coworker who went to the local art college. They’d talk about nothing at first: classes, social activities. But somehow, that conversation had turned into her describing a friend’s drawing class, one that was looking for a model with his build. Soon, she was animatedly encouraging him to take the job, noting what a nice figure he had and how he could probably use the small sum of money the teacher was offering for the job.

He’d laughed and vehemently denied her attempted persuasions...or so he’d thought. 

Now here he was, in a second-floor classroom of the college, having to strip down nearly naked and pose completely still for an hour, two days in a row, in front of complete strangers. Thinking through it all again made him sweat and his knees go weak. He took his seat in the center of the room before the class came in, trying to reflect nonchalance. Breathe, Robbe.

....

Sander didn’t feel like going to class. It was the second semester of the school year and it had already been a rough one for him. He had moved out of his parent’s house, hadn’t felt mentally well enough to socialize with his classmates, and was bogged down by schoolwork. Mostly, he was lonely. He had broken up with Britt over a year ago, and even when he was with her, it hadn’t felt right, nearly from the beginning. He’d spent so much time alone. He felt like he just pushed people away, and would never be loved -- loved for who he��really was, flaws and all.

But somehow, he managed to drag himself out of bed, pack up his stuff, and make it to class. As he stepped through the door, he stopped cold, causing the girl shuffling in behind him to run straight into his back.

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled as she moved on he gathered his bearings. But he couldn’t move. In the center of the room was someone he had never seen before. A boy, a little younger than him, and small, but lean, sitting on a stool, with the students’ easels circling him. He had brown hair that twisted and curled, flipping up at the nape of his neck and around his ears. He had brown eyes and laugh lines around his mouth. His face was framed by a sharp jaw. The boy seemed nervous -- he was wringing his hands and adjusting his briefs, trying to get comfortable on the stool before the class started.

Sander felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t move, not until the teacher called for their attention.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s not waste any time. We’ve been prepping for this class all semester, and now we’re here: figure drawing. Everyone, please give a big round of applause and thank-you to our model, Robbe.” Everyone clapped.

The boy immediately blushed, nodding and looking down at his feet, avoiding the overbearing gaze of this attention.

“You have an hour today, and an hour tomorrow to complete this assignment,” the teacher continued. He clapped twice as if to send them on their way. “Use your time wisely. Get started.”

Sander shuffled to the last open easel. Of course, it was the one directly facing the boy, a head-on perspective. He gulped, his stomach filling with all sorts of twisted tangles. Butterflies. What was happening to him? He pulled out his materials slowly, placing them along the bottom of the easel and taking a deep breath.

.......

Robbe didn’t think there would be this many students. There were probably 15-20 easels surrounding him, and he immediately grew panicked at the thought of that many pairs of eyes looking, studying, analyzing his body, attempting to capture it on paper. A bell rang and the last remaining students came filing into the room, taking their place at various easels. He took a deep breath. As he did so, a series of squeaking noises near the doorway made him turn. 

It was a boy who had stopped immediately in the doorway, causing another student to crash into his back. He mumbled his apologies and turned his attention at Robbe. Immediately self-conscious, Robbe looked away, but not before noticing a few random details about the boy. He was tall, dressed in dark pants and a Bowie t-shirt. Bowie...like the guy who sang Space Cowboy? he wondered. He had on black Doc Martens (the source of the squeaking) and perhaps most surprising of all, had a full head of messy, bleached blonde hair. His eyes -- vibrant green, Robbe noticed -- were staring intently at Robbe, but with a hint of surprise that he couldn’t understand. Sure, he was a half-naked stranger in his classroom. That had to be it. Still, Robbe’s nerves were causing rollercoaster-like dips in his stomach. That was it -- he was never doing another favor for a friend again.

After what seemed like an eternity, the boy dropped his gaze and walked to an easel directly in front of Robbe. Remaining still and calm during the next hour was going to prove his most difficult challenge.

......

Sander was trying to concentrate, but he couldn’t. He had already ripped off several sheets of paper, tossing aside failed attempts at starting to draw the boy in front of him. He couldn’t get started the way he wanted to.

And as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he knew it was because of the boy. He -- Robbe, he’d heard the teacher say -- was so breathtakingly beautiful, and he couldn't concentrate on anything but that fact. Just knowing his name made him feel like he was in possession of a special secret. Robbe. The name just felt...right...in his mouth. 

He tried to shove away the feeling sneaking into him, but the truth was, Sander was immediately attracted to him. He couldn’t focus. And staring at him, trying to memorize the lines of his torso, the muscles in his stomach, wasn’t helping. Who was this boy? What was he like? What was he scared of? What made him laugh? What did his hands feel like? These thoughts came like a barrage in his mind, making his hands unable to move. The students next to him were already well into their drawings, lightly tracing the boy’s biceps, neck, and face. But looking at the boy again, he could see that none of them were getting him exactly right. No, his features were more soft, even with the taut muscle. Sander wanted to get him right. So he grabbed his chalk and started again.

.....

It had been a least 20 minutes. Or so Robbe thought. He was trying to keep his eyes focused on one spot, a cup of paintbrushes sitting on a table in the corner of the room, so he didn’t really know how much time had passed. But keeping his attention fixed was proving difficult. With the blonde boy in front of him, all he desperately wanted was to search his green eyes, analyze his movements, hear him breathe. To know him.

Robbe had come out more than a year ago, and while he still felt uncomfortable sometimes, he had grown much more confident in his sexuality. He had gotten involved in local LGBTQ+ social circles, flirted with other boys without shame,  and most importantly, had accepted this part of his identity. But this particular boy, whose name he would probably never know -- was making him nervous, self-conscious, and completely, totally, enraptured. What was it about him? 

When he felt bold enough to flick his eyes over to the boy, he was met with those green eyes, staring directly at him. Robbe’s stomach flipped, but he didn’t look away. Not immediately. He and the boy locked eyes, searching each other for several seconds. Moments ago, the boy had seemed flustered, tearing away pages and tossing them from his easel. Maybe he didn’t like looking at Robbe, or was frustrated trying to draw him. But now, looking at him, the boy seemed intent, curious, passionate. At that moment, the boy went back to his drawing, lifting his chalk in some gentle strokes along his page. Robbe wished he could see what he looked like from this boy’s view. Was it the way he often saw himself -- shy, weak, unimportant? He hoped it was different. And for a moment, he desperately wished it was just them two in the room.

But no. He was being stupid. The boy was an art student, for heaven’s sake. He was looking at Robbe for the assignment. Nothing else. He had to get a grip. He was already embarrassed enough. He was in his underwear after all. 

......

After making eye contact with Robbe, something clicked inside Sander. All of a sudden, he knew how to transfer the boy onto paper. In that glance, he’d memorized him somehow, and now, his hand knew what to do, flying across the paper in eager strokes. He almost felt like he could feel the boy's skin, wind his fingers through his wild hair, touch the tight muscles in his back. And in that moment, he realized, he wanted to. He wanted to touch Robbe, softly. To get close to that boy and never let him go. Just being close to him felt peaceful.

But fear and shame nagged at his insides. He couldn’t talk to the boy, know him. Of course not. He had known him all of 45 minutes. The boy would be scared to know what was going on in his head. And likely, he had a pretty girlfriend waiting at home for him. As much as Sander wanted to embrace the warm, peaceful longing he felt for Robbe, he had to stop. He had to focus -- not only on his assignment, but on not being someone that pushed others away, that scared them with his flaws, his demons.

At that moment, his teacher passed behind his easel, examining his work.

“Wow, Alexsander. Great use of line here,” he said, pointing to the space where he had been sketching Robbe’s hair. “And the mouth. You’ve really managed to define the shape of the lips and achieve depth. Good work.” He moved on to the student at the next easel, but Sander couldn’t prevent heat from rising to his cheeks. His teacher had spoken loud enough that Robbe had glanced over at him, moving his face only slightly to look him in the eyes again. Great. Now the boy knew he had been staring at his lips. Intensely. But he was an artist. It was what he was supposed to do. At least, he hoped that’s what the boy thought. He looked away, but not before seeing -- or possibly imagining -- Robbe give him the tiniest of smiles from one corner of his mouth, the lines deepening on his cheeks.

....

Alexsander. His name was Alexsander. It buzzed around Robbe’s brain, felt warm inside his mouth. It was all he could do not to keep looking over at the boy, taking in every little detail about him. He knew he must have turned a violet shade of red when the professor mentioned the boy’s rendering of his lips. Of course the boy was looking at him -- it was his assignment, but Robbe felt a little weak at the thought of being observed by this memorizing figure working in front of him. He’d have given anything to know what Alexsander thought of him. 

At that moment, the bell rang. Students began immediately packing up their things -- putting materials in cases and heading over to the sinks to wash their hands.

“Okay, you’re free to go, but please be on time tomorrow -- you only have one more class to finish the assignment!” The teacher called out as the students began filing out. 

Robbe exhaled, feeling like he been holding his breath for the whole hour. He slid off the stool, gently stretching out his neck, arms, and legs from the stiff ache of stillness. Out of the corner of his eye, he tried to look over at the boy, trying to justify any reason to approach him, talk to him, know more about him. He certainly couldn’t while he was dressed only in his underwear. But maybe....

But he didn’t have to pursue this thought any further. When he looked over, the tall, blonde boy in dark clothes was gone. 

........

Sander had to get out of there. 

He couldn’t risk looking at Robbe anymore or he might not have had the resolve to keep away. When the bell rang, he ripped off his sheet of paper from his easel and took it with his case and left the room quickly, leaving behind his chalk and other tools. He needed to get air, clear his head, breathe. He needed to think rationally. 

But his mind was already reeling with thoughts of what might have happened if he had stayed and approached Robbe. He tried to push it away, but he couldn’t stop imagining what his voice sounded like, how deep the lines on his face would go if he really smiled. He wondered what he smelled like. What he was interested in. 

He was agonizing over these thoughts as he exited the school. Why couldn’t he stop this? He sat down on a nearby bench for a moment, trying to calm himself. Taking deep breaths, trying to clear his head, he tried to shut out the noises of other students filing out of the building. It wasn’t until he had been sitting there for a few minutes when he finally opened his eyes. A little ways away, unlocking his bike, was the boy. He was dressed now, wearing jeans and a brown coat over a dark green sweatshirt. He had on a beanie that covered his head, his hair spilling out in small curls around it. Before getting on his bike, he put a pair of headphones on his ears. What was he listening to? Sander wondered. Once again, the boy took Sander’s breath away. Robbe couldn’t see him, so he just stared, enamored by his gentle movements and youthful demeanor. Why had he been so scared of him? Why couldn’t he have just talked to him? Maybe Robbe hadn’t even thought twice about Sander in the last hour, but suddenly, he knew one thing: he had to know him.

.....

Robbe could not sleep that night. 

He tossed and turned for hours, only stopping for moments to dream of a tall, blonde boy running from him. Sander had left the room so hastily that Robbe felt instantly humiliated by how much he stared at him. He had obviously scared Alexsander, assumed something that wasn’t true. How was he going to return to that classroom and face him again? Forget being naked. This was more humiliating. 

Why had he let that handsome stranger uproot his brain? Without even touching, without even speaking, Alexsander had made him feel something he hadn’t before. He felt like electric sparks were going off in his body, making him alive, excited....and safe, all at once.

But of course, he’d managed to completely cross the line and scare him away. Maybe even that was giving himself too much credit. The boy had probably not thought twice about him. He’d probably seen hundreds of models for his art. Robbe was nothing special. He probably had a girlfriend, for goodness’ sake. The boy was simply doing an assignment, and didn’t need to stick around to chat up the random stranger in his classroom. Robbe was nothing to him. And for Robbe, that thought was worse.

.....

Sander barely slept a wink that night, finally getting out of bed anxiously before the sun rose to get ready. He had barely rolled out of bed to get to class teh day before, and today, he wanted to look good, put together. He’d combed his hair, attempting to tame its usual disarray. He put on a black button-up and dark jeans. Maybe the boy would notice him, forgive him for running away. Or maybe he didn’t care. Or hadn’t even noticed. 

He walked into school early, but slowly, trying still to talk himself out of engaging with Robbe. He entered his classroom, taking a deep breath. No one was there, including Robbe.

......

Robbe was doing his hair, trying to keep his style even from yesterday -- he didn’t want to make the assignment more difficult for the students by changing his look too drastically. 

He didn’t rush to the school, not wanting to be reminded of his embarrassment by coming into more contact with Alexsander than he had to. He walked in behind the last trickle of students, trying not to be noticed. He left to change, then returned to his stool, mimicking the pose he’d taken yesterday. He didn’t look at the boy, even though the black in his peripheral vision was torturing him. He couldn’t look at him. 

.....

Sander had been waiting for Robbe for almost a half-hour. He didn’t show up early, instead entering with the last group of students and disappearing to undress. He’d selfishly hoped he could have had the room alone with the boy for at least a few minutes, a few minutes he hoped, by some design, would turn into many more. But the boy ignored him, sitting and focusing his gaze on another spot far from him. 

He knew it. He had scared Robbe away. Why did he always do this? No one would ever love him. He just had to accept that. That was simply his fate.

He stood staring at his drawing, not able to continue. He wanted to run from the room, burn the paper, and sear all thoughts of Robbe from his mind.

.....

Robbe was dying. Not looking at the boy -- at Alexsander -- was killing him. He wanted so desperately to turn to him, search those green eyes, plead with his own to make the boy want him. He held off as long as he could. He really tried. But when he felt like he might implode, he shifted his eyes the tiniest bit to the boy and his stomach dropped at what he saw. 

The boy was standing motionless, shoulders drooping, his face reflecting sadness and struggle. Even then, he was still achingly beautiful. His hair was combed to the side, and he wore a button-up shirt that made him look older. Robbe’s insides wriggled. What was wrong with this beautiful boy? Robbe wanted to step down from the stool, go to him, touch his cheek and lift his eyes to his. He wanted to hug him, make everything bad in his life, in his mind, go away. How could he care for this stranger he never met?

He kept staring at Alexsander, willing him to look up, to meet his eye. For whatever reason, he no longer worried about embarrassing himself. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t try to make sense of the connection he felt to this stranger. The longer he looked, the more convinced he was. He had to know him. In some weird way, he knew his future depended on it. 

......

Sander was still standing there. He didn’t see his teacher making his rounds, stopping behind him to observe.

“Are you okay, Alexsander? I haven’t seen you make any progress the whole period.” Shaken from his reverie, Sander looked to him.

“Yes, professor. I’m sorry. I was....trying to figure out how to get the arms right.” The boy’s arms. 

“Ahh, yes. Those are a bit tricky, but here, let me show you something.” He leveled himself next to Sander, pointing to Robbe. 

“See the curve of the muscle, lengthening the line?” Sander had no choice. He looked at Robbe, attempting to focus on his teacher’s instructions. “Start there and feel your way through.” 

He didn’t last. He eyes slipped from Robbe’s muscular bicep to his eyes, his breath catching slightly as Robbe’s doe brown eyes met his intently. He didn’t look away. No, he was staring deeply back at Sander, as if trying to communicate something. They stood like that, silently speaking, refusing to break their contact until the teacher spoke again. 

“Okay, now give it a try Alexsander. Mistakes are okay. Trust your feeling.”

Sander knew he was talking about the drawing process, but he had to think it applied to his connection to Robbe, too. Trust my feeling. 

.....

Robbe wouldn’t look away from Alexsander. Even when the boy resumed his drawing, Robbe kept holding his figure in his gaze, willing Alexsander to see him. To feel what he felt. His stomach kept doing tiny loops, but instead of shaming them, he embraced them.

When the bell rang and the teacher told the class to submit their drawings for grading, he didn’t immediately get up from his tool. He sat silently for a minute, making sure that Alexsander didn’t leave in haste again. The boy started gathering up his materials and cleaning around his easel, but stopping to glance up at Robbe as if to say: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Robbe stepped down from the stool, stopping to accept the teacher’s thanks and handshake before hurrying to change his clothes. He rubbed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. The next minutes might mean nothing. Or they might mean everything.

.....

Sander cleaned up slowly, washing the charcoal from his hands, and trying to formulate in his head what he could say to Robbe. He wanted to do it right. He wanted to find words that made sense, that truly conveyed what he was feeling without sounding insane. He took one more look at his drawing, committing to memory the way the boy had looked to him that day. That beautiful boy.

“So. That’s how you see me, huh?”

Sander jumped. Robbe was behind him, standing on his tiptoes to look over his shoulder at Sander’s drawing. He turned his head and bit his lip, analyzing. “Interesting.” He was smiling now, those lines on his face deepening around his mouth. 

Sander turned to him and smiled shyly. “I...” he stammered. He cleared his throat, trying to level his voice. “I liked drawing you.”

Robbe smiled again. Sander never wanted him to stop. He wanted to stare at that face forever. Up close, he noticed a million more tiny details about Robbe that he wanted to spend his life discovering: the spattering of freckles dusting his nose and cheeks, the impossibly long, dark eyelashes, the sharp lines of his collarbone, the way he smelled like pine.

Sander held out his hand. “I’m...”

“Alexsander,” Robbe finished for him. “I heard your teacher.”

“Actually, just Sander. Only my mom -- and the professor -- call me Alexsander.”

Robbe smiled. “Sander. I like that. It fits you. I’m Robbe.”

“I know,” Sander said.

They stood there for a minute, smiling at each other, looking down with flushed cheeks.

Sander breathed in deep before saying, “So. Would you want to go somewhere? Get a cup of coffee?” His stomach dropped, hoping his leap of faith wouldn’t end in a cosmic crash.

“Definitely.” Robbe nodded enthusiastically. “I know a place. Let’s go.” 

The two walked side by side out the door, glancing often at the profile of the other.

.......

ONE YEAR LATER

Sander opened the apartment door slowly, trying to muffle the loud squeaking of the hinge upon his entry. He knew Robbe had had a late work shift the night before and didn’t want to disturb him if he was sleeping. He usually was at this time, when Sander got back from class.

He tiptoed to his room, peering in to see his boyfriend curled up in their blankets, snoring peacefully. Looking at the boy, with his messy hair and sculpted cheeks, he couldn’t help but stare. 

It hadn’t taken Sander long to fall completely, madly, hopelessly in love with Robbe. That day they’d gone for coffee so many months ago had been a turning point in his life. Robbe had walked him to the coffee shop where he worked, stepping behind the counter and donning a maroon apron to make him the best cup of coffee he’d ever had. He and Robbe had sat across from each other at a table and talked for hours, sharing stories about their families, their dreams, their lives. Sander had easily shared his struggled with mental illness. And Robbe didn’t run. Instead, he listened intently and responded with patience and empathy. Sander soaked up his every word and asked to see Robbe the next day. And the next one after that. And the one after that. Then he’d kissed him. Easily.

Robbe moved in with Sander a few months later. Almost at once, everything felt right in Sander’s world. They weren’t just lovers. They were soul mates. The two spent long nights talking about their future. They kissed for hours in the bath together. Sander massaged Robbe’s shoulders after long days at work, Robbe praised and posed endlessly for Sander’s work...sometimes clothed...sometimes not. Robbe held Sander when he was having an episode, stroking his hair and whispering calmly to him for however long he was needed. They weren’t lonely anymore.

Sure, they’d had their share of disagreements. But they’d both felt the weight of the destiny that had brought them together. Robbe was the piece to his puzzle Sander had never been able to find. Their minds, their bodies, their souls just fit together. Sander would spend forever loving him. He knew it sounded overly confident. But it was true. Learning who Robbe was, he just knew. 

Closing the door to the bedroom, Sander returned to the hallway, where he pulled a large paper from his art case. He grabbed the special frame he’d stopped to buy on the way home and place the paper inside. He removed the framed that currently hung on the wall facing the kitchen -- an old painting Sander had done years ago -- and replaced it with the new one. To strangers entering their place, it might not have seemed like much. But the charcoal drawing, a detailed sketch of a brown-haired boy, meant everything to him. It meant the start of his life.

////////

OKAY I know this fic has issues and lots of angst but I hope you enjoyed it. I had fun writing it. Let me know what you think, and send me some more prompts! <3

[ddaenghoney]

chapter twenty; finale.

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5558

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“SoundWave Disclosed” trends within an hour the article releases. Briefly mentioning Jimin cracking the company’s glass by his brash statement in front of the most popular summer festival, the reporter you spoke with made sure to leave no detail forgotten. Like a proper interview, the article is not focused on literary conjecture, but instead the words you said verbatim. Unaltered, remorseless, and eloquently you state the bigger picture of the truth.

“When I think back on it all now, I’m angry at myself. I’m angry that I didn’t give my efforts the value they deserved by giving away my name. I shouldn’t have ever allowed myself to lie, but when I wanted to tell the truth, so many other careers were held over my head to keep me quiet. Either way I went wouldn’t be painless, but at least now people can decide for themselves what they think of me with the facts out in the open.”

You look at the public’s commentary with this reveal. Wanting to face the results head on, regardless of positivity, you scroll through various feeds, peruse videos, let the words find you in the height of spreading smoke. Wandering through the volume of opinions blindly, you believe it easier to find your way about when this article is unabashedly your perspective.

The frustration and petty verbiage thrown in your way clogs your ears, but the ground you step along is smooth like each step will undoubtedly be solid beneath your feet. It’s the apologies of YouTube idol news accounts that speculated on your intentions with Yoongi, the comments giving SoundWave’s manipulative dealings proper attention, and the familiar voices ahead of you calling for you to keep walking that let you feel confident in your strides.

You wear a cap and keep the large plaid shirt lent to you close to your skin while you sit with dangling legs. A bright pink type of flavored lemonade is half full in front of your loosely crossed arms. Namjoon’s voice speaks incoherently in the background behind you as the streaming site playlists blurs the ambiance of his cafe into a state of lulling energy.

“To be honest with you,” Seokjin’s finger scrolls the web page depicted on his phone that’s flat atop the bar. “I wish you took a picture for the article. I would’ve gotten you some kind of designer jacket or something so you could really tell everyone ‘fuck you’-- I’m the best of your friends in that regard, you know?”

“I already have people following my social media because of that article, I’m sure they can just see some pictures of me on my Instagram.”

“Admit I’m the best of your friends-”

“I think the one whose dorm room she crashed in for two years straight in college deserves that title, Jin.” Namjoon grasps his glass of water when he returns to you two. You huff as Seokjin nods his head admittedly in silent agreement. A sudden scowl escapes Namjoon’s lips when his neck arches to get an upside down perspective of the words Seokjin reads on his phone. “Don’t encourage her to look at comments. Lots of idiots out there.”

“A lot of people think I wasn’t the worst of the whole situation though.” You smile at Namjoon, and take a quick sip of your drink when he narrows his eyes at you with an unsatisfied gleam in them. You swallow the beverage and glance to Seokjin who swivels in his seat to look towards the front windows. A tiny nod brings you back to Namjoon and you meekly speak, “But I shouldn’t have been staring at them all for hours yesterday. You’re right.”

“You called me saying you made the worst decision of your life-”

“In her defense, she was four glasses deep in wine when she called you to say that.”

You point a finger to Seokjin’s sentence and nod. “In my defense.”

“All I’m saying,” Namjoon lightly chuckles as he leans against the counter behind him. “Worry less about them. It’s going to be crazy for at least a couple of weeks, so try not to look up all the commentary like you’ve been doing.”

“Yeah, go on dates with your boyfriend instead. Can’t he rent you a boat to cruise around the river on or something?”

“I could rent a boat.” You roll your eyes, shrugging. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. He’s been pretty stressed between my problems and figuring out all the aspects of starting up the company with Hoseok.” You rest your jaw on your hand, staring absently at your drink with pursed lips as you consider the option of a relaxing evening spent on the river.

“Just take a fishing rod with you for him. He sucks at fishing, but he likes it a lot.” Seokjin says, glancing back at a small group of young adults that chatter amongst themselves as they go to a table. After a moment of assessment he faces back towards you and Namjoon who look at him with narrowed eyes. “I was just making sure they weren’t stalking-”

“How did you become friends with Yoongi in the first place?” You blurt out in bewilderment, while Namjoon nods in agreement with your question. “You were friends with him before I even knew him, but never mentioned how.”

“He happened to be on the same fishing boat with me like a year ago.” Seokjin shrugs, reaching for his fork to continue munching on the half finished slice of cheesecake. “I may have knocked his expensive sunglasses into the ocean.”

Namjoon bursts into laughter as you raise an eyebrow. Seokjin ignores you both to stuff a large bite into his mouth.

“And you somehow befriended him instead of making him hate you like I probably would’ve if that’s how we met?” You ask with a tilt of your head, and Seokjin takes no time to properly swallow his food before speaking to you again with one cheek stuffed,

“Clearly, I have a way with people, Y/N.” You smile and shake your head, accepting the answer as you go back to sipping your drink. While Namjoon presses for more details, you click onto the internet typing in a search for evening rental cruises. Staring at the various options available and filtering them to a short notice, you can’t help smiling softly as the idea of an exuberant date goes through your mind. Such a public endeavor as well, though there would be ample space between the two of you and spectators, you won’t have to worry about any of them seeing the two of you. The simplicity of it feels relaxing on its own.

A startling familiarity enters your ears. Like ballads sung before the ambiance is similar, but lyrics new as you recognize the voice playing from the cafe’s speakers as Jimin. You look up from your phone, looking nowhere in particular, but focus on the words-- the song he wrote on his own from you with a hopeful intent of somehow putting it onto radios somehow. You bite your lip as the bittersweet melody crosses your senses and the gentle request he sings, “I want you to be your light,” brings a tightened and tiny curl to your lips.

“I could change it.” Namjoon speaks up and takes you out of the moment. You shake your head, refraining from any laughter at their worried expressions as they gauge your reaction to the song.

“No, it’s a nice song.” You say softly, meaning your words.

Jimin’s career is entirely up in the air at this point. With the release of this very song as a rebellious act towards SoundWave and him admitting that he hadn’t written any of his other songs, he finished the festival to receive a surprisingly loud applause from the crowds, you heard. Nonetheless, the internet itself isn’t as optimistic as the evening was for Jimin. You’re hopeful despite it all, but you can’t over estimate the ability of SoundWave and Jimin’s simultaneous scandals to beat every odds against them.

Though you avoid dwelling on the worry, knowing ultimately that you’ll find out through the media, and can simply hope.

---

You sit criss crossed on your desk chair, perusing a boat rental agency leisurely and without much interest for what’s before your eyes. Your mind is further away, pondering words in your head in a medley of arrangements. Hoping some combination will strike you into an inspired mood, you simply scroll onwards on the page of various yacht sizes and at this point the action becomes more robotic than conscious.

Your head perks downs the direction of your front door beyond the wall where you sit in your studio. As you glance to the clock at the bottom of your screen, you refrain from gasping at the ten o’clock reading, having not realized how much time went away from you in the monotony of the day after leaving Namjoon’s cafe.

“Angel?” Yoongi’s voice calls out as you hop off from your chair to greet him.

“I’m in my studio!” You say out in return while shimmying your second foot into the pair of slippers and heading for the doorway. You open it fully from its ajar state and exit, but immediately scuff the floor as you halt to a stop so as not to bump into Yoongi. “Oh-”

“Careful-” Yoongi says, reaching for your arm so you don’t hit it against the framing, then chuckles softly. “Guess I interrupted something?”

“Not really,” You say sheepishly and sigh softly. “I just didn’t realize it was already this late.” You admit as you collect his hand within yours to lead him back into the studio space. “I was going to try and mess around with lyrics, but couldn’t think of anything, so I was trying to do something else while I mulled it over, but Joon keeps getting on me about looking at social media too much--” You shrug, turning to him to mumble admittedly, “Which he’s right about, I guess.”

“Guess,” Yoongi repeats with an amused smile as you ignore the teasing tone to sway your hands between you. He hums, glancing beyond your shoulder to the large monitor displayed on your desk. “Thinking about becoming a boat captain?”

“Oh!” You quickly turn from him to click an exit on the internet window, “What boat?”

Yoongi laughs, sliding into your desk chair as you click around to open up a clothing website instead. “I was looking for clothes, actually. An ad must’ve come up for yachts-” You sentence cuts off from a tiny squeal escaping your mouth as Yoongi pulls you back to sit atop his lap.

“That’s a pretty luxurious ad, babe.” When you whine in disagreement, Yoongi simply smiles a small kiss against your cheek. “Okay then. Ad then. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

“Pretend to be surprised if you ever end up on one for an evening too, please.”

“Okay.” Yoongi hugs you while you giggle from the ticklish ministrations he dances along your jaw. “Hey, guess what.”

“You’re going to let me keep this flannel?” You voice murmurs before placing a sweet, chaste kiss to Yoongi’s lips before he has time to react to the silly request. When you pull away, he glances down to the attire of yellow plaid worn on your figure and his head tilts contemplatively.

“Because it looks nice on you, I’ll let you keep it for now.” Your pouting lips used to plead do nothing to stop Yoongi’s warm smile as he kisses you again and says quietly. “Hoseok and I decided on a building.”

“Really?” The tone of your voice rises as your eyes widen with a happy surprise. Yoongi nods with an utterly bright smile adorning his face, accepting the quick peck you place against his expression and continuing on with bubbly interest, “Where at? No-- actually, what’s the name going to be anyways?”

“The building’s actually only a couple of subway stations from Namjoon’s cafe, so I guess you can visit him more often than now.”

“He’ll get sick of me.” You say, shrugging off the tiny shake of Yoongi’s head so you can press on with the subject at hand. “I can’t believe you both found a place so quickly.”

“Well, maybe that’s the easier part. Figuring out everything else will take awhile still, but a couple of investors are interested, and I think I’ve found a person that can do a better job at leading everything overall than Hoseok and I can.”

“So you’re both not going to fight for the CEO title?” You ask, fiddling with the hair on the back of his head as Yoongi just scoffs gently at the teasing inquisition. He shakes his head while his hands situate on your sides to help shift you on his lap as you turn slightly to better see him.

“That’s not something I’m interested in, no. I just want to make music.”

You smile at Yoongi fondly, unintentionally causing a little flush to peek on the tips of his cheeks. Considering the option to be in joint-leadership over the entirety of their company is so obviously available, you find it slightly jarring that Yoongi doesn’t feel any need to reach out for the position. Though you think his answer best suits him, especially when you remember that the manipulation of his image is what stopped him from being the musician that he had wanted to be for so long now.

Squeezing your waist with his hands, Yoongi kisses you softly. A hand of yours falls to his shoulder while the other remains interweaved in his hair to hold him close as the kiss lingers. Breaking away after a minute, Yoongi’s head tilts, appearing curious as he gently inquires, “What are you thinking, baby?”

“I’m just really happy for you.” Your voice trickles simply, though the sincerity causes Yoongi’s lips to tighten into a bashful smile while he just nods and lets his eyes glance downwards from the radiating endearment in your eyes. You take note of more pink decorating his skin, and just hug onto him tightly, mumbling sweetly against Yoongi’s cheek. “You’re so cute. I can’t wait to see whatever you produce next.”

“You should help me with a couple of the songs, angel.” Yoongi murmurs while smiling at your actions, rubbing his hands along your sides as you squeeze onto him. “I really liked working together.”

“We���re a good team, I think.” Yoongi hears the twinge of a bashful hesitancy in your words, making him have for force back an endeared sigh and replace it with a nod as you start to continuously press tiny kisses against his face to further yourself from the embarrassment you feel for the mushy words.

“I think so too-- what is your face so red for?” He laughs outright, not allowing you to hide away your rosy expression by catching your jaw gently with a hand. “You’re flustered for no reason.”

“It just felt like such a cliche thing to say-” You barely manage to mumble the sentence before Yoongi’s cutting your lips off with his own against them. Humming in thought as he pulls away and ignores the small pat of your hand against his chest for teasing you, Yoongi speaks with a smile,

“But it’s the truth, so it’s okay. You can be a Hallmark card all you want, and I’ll still love you-”

“Don’t tease me.” You attempt to sound firm, but nonetheless smile at the soft admission at the end of his sentence. Yoongi bites back any further jokes that you’re sure he’d enjoy to say, instead of giving you the quiet moment to wade off some of the meadow on your skin. “Can’t believe you came here at ten in the evening, by the way. When you’ll just have to leave soon to go home-”

“Who said I was going to leave soon?”

“Who said you’re allowed to stay over?”

Yoongi chuckles, reclining so that his back rests properly against the chair as you try to maintain your defiant expression. It’s utterly useless considering how there’s a playful smile etched into your face, so Yoongi just shrugs. “Tell me to leave then, baby,”

Refraining from laughter you instead bite your bottom lip, and cross your arms while Yoongi’s head tilts to wait for your reply with a coy gleam in his irises. Instead of a verbal reply for the moment, you scoot off of his lap, beginning to walk past him as he spins casually on the chair for his eyes to follow your movements. “If you’re staying, then you’ll have to sleep on the couch since I don’t have a guest bedroom.”

“You’re so,” Yoongi exhales like bits of laughter, shaking his head as he gets off the chair to catch up to you before you’re able to dip around the corner. A small squeal leaves your lips as Yoongi’s arms wrap around your waist to pull you back against his chest. Immediately he lays a buttery trail along your cheek as you laugh at his reaction and place your hands over top of his wear they fiddle with the buttons of his shirt that you wear, “If I’m staying on the couch, then I want this back, sweetie.”

---

In early February a small celebratory party causes Seokjin’s club to close its doors to the public. Though Yoongi told him over and over that the gesture was unnecessary, his worries were ignored by Seokjin who stated that he wanted to help give a nice evening to his friends and recognize the accomplishment of the official opening of Sope Ent. that would occur at the end of the month.

The employee pool was nowhere near the size of SoundWave at its peak the years earlier, but everyone working for Yoongi and Hoseok’s company were hand-picked and a feeling of camaraderie flourished throughout the months beforehand of work to become organized. The building was mostly finished, but a handful of office spaces and studios were still in the process of being completed, leading to you and some others opting to work from home while all the preparation continued on.

Because of your home studio being the location where you did practically all of your work originally, you had little care for the fact that you’d find your way to the building later than the majority of employees. The excitement of working with the artists that signed so far was a far more important focus to you, and in some instances surprising like when you noticed Jinsol’s name appearing on a list of accepted trainees (though Namjoon was more surprised as it meant he would need to find a replacement for her part-time position at his cafe).

Ultimately, you’re enshrouded in anticipation for future months and beyond of working as a recognized songwriter and producer. Yoongi’s unoften worried mentions that he’s apologetic to the fact that you’re in some regards starting from the bottom up are easily squashed by your vibrant energy assuring him that you’re nothing but happy to be able to continue working with the career you had always wanted.

Beyond that, you’re proud of Yoongi and Hoseok’s ability to get everything together in a considerably short stretch of time. Though it meant Hoseok’s plan of releasing music was pushed back so that it could be released under their company’s name, the wait ended up being worth it as it allowed media to cause an interest in what would come.

The weeks immediately following the article you released caused a dramatic shift in SoundWave’s perception in the public. With your name getting dragged early on for participation despite the manipulation, so many people decided to stop supporting the company and artists by association that they went through understandably hard times. Every group and soloist offered apologies, but the currents changed only when Yerin publicly apologized and stepped down from her position as CEO, with the board of directors promising for change.

You realize she was simply a scapegoat because the board did have a larger hand in what went on throughout SoundWave, but you manage to find satisfaction in this method, because the majority of artists came out with their careers still intact. Though trust has to be regained, at least they were able to have the chance.

The name you’re still curious to hear about in the future is Jimin. It was late in the year, only days before Yerin resigned, that news of him leaving SoundWave circulated loudly in every social media site available. More than anything, fans expressed utter sadness, demanding an answer from SoundWave to understand why he left when the majority of the public sided with him after his public apology acted as the first crack in the company’s secret crumbling. Which is why everyone, including you, were nothing but confused to hear that his leave was completely at his own discretion with the company evening expressing that they attempted negotiation to keep him.

“It just felt weird for him to be there.” Jeongguk told you during a small friendly lunch between him, Hoseok, Yoongi, and you. “With all of the history that went on.” You recall him biting back further information on that statement for the sake of the present. “Anyways, I’m sure he’ll be back to music eventually.”

As you look on from the bar stool you sit on, you smile as Yoongi finishes a speech egged on by the crowd of happy employees enjoying the evening. Hoseok cuts in with a cheery tone and his glass raised high in the air, while Yoongi remains beside him for the moment and simply sends you a glance that tells you he’s at minimum shy of all the attention currently on him. All you can offer is two thumbs up to which you watch him bite back a sarcastic smirk.

“Your speech was good.” You assure him with a grin as Yoongi returns to you after the loud cheers mark the end of the melodramatic speeches and the restart of music. He shakes his head at your words and takes the seat beside you,

“Thanks. I don’t know if I believe you, but thank you, angel.” Yoongi says with the usual gentleness of his voice making you so much more fond in that moment, especially as you take in his hand finding yours without hesitation to entwine the fingers. “You really look beautiful.”

“You said that already.” You comment though your heart beat skyrockets from the genuine tone he speaks with. Softly, he smiles and nods his head, finally finding your eyes again,

“And I’m probably going to say it again at least ten more times tonight, sweetie.” Yoongi’s teeth peek with his grin as he fondly watches you avert your gaze to the two of your glasses left on the bartop when he went to go speak. “Look at me, please.”

Inhaling quietly from all of the emotions amplified in your chest from the evening’s joyful ambiance, you eventually cast a glance back to him with enough time to see the sweet light in his eyes before he kisses you softly. Where your hands hold together, your free hand encapsulates the top of his hand to gently squeeze as Yoongi lets the kiss linger on a few seconds longer than you’d expect from him with the surroundings somewhat crowded.

“I know it’s only been a few hours, but can I take you somewhere?” Yoongi asks against your lips, so quietly that you almost miss it with the music that plays all around you. Though it takes you only a couple of seconds to respond, your mind captures a considerable amount of wonder for where exactly he intends to lead you to. Still though, you simply peck his lips once more to earn a smile from him as you nod,

“Yeah, wherever you want.”

Despite what you expected, Hoseok simply only grinned and waved the two of you off when Yoongi mentioned you would both head out. Seokjin similarly smiled as you told him a thank you and goodnight as well, and considering those two of your friends are quite close with Yoongi, you don’t stop yourself from a playful question as he settles his coat around your shoulders upon exit of the nightclub.

“I’m guessing they already know about where you want to take me to?”

“Well, it’s no fun to give any kind of hints, angel, so you’re not getting them from me.” He says, letting you hug onto his arm while using the other to hail a cab. “It’s kind of different leaving Jin’s club this time around, isn’t it?”

“A good different.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods as he opens the door to the taxi, smiling down at you before letting you enter inside. “Really good different.”

Outside of Sope Entertainment, you can’t help lifting up your head to take in the view of the small tower that you’d be working in from now on. Yoongi exits the vehicle after giving a tip to the taxi who drives off once the door slams. You turn your attention to Yoongi as he takes hold of your hand once again to lead you inside the sparsely populated building.

A security guard allows the two of you in after the flash of identification cards, and by the time you reach the elevator you’ve begin rubbing Yoongi’s arms to fuel circulation and warmth. Your actions result in a fit of chuckles from his lips as the elevator doors open wide to allow the two of you inside.

“I’m not that cold, angel.” He assures, but does nothing to stop you from hugging onto him as the elevator shuts. Shimmying the two of you a step forward he manages to finally click a floor number as your body clings onto his to give warmth.

“Please, you hate cold weather.” You retort and place a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Is this where you take me up to the roof and we look dramatically off at the city?”

“No, it’s way too cold for that.” Yoongi quickly admonishes the idea, causing you both to laugh at both the severe way he spoke, but also the implication that he is more cold than he lets on. “But maybe in the summer or at least the spring that would be a fun idea.” He says, watching the floor number climb as he rubs little trails on your back and your cheek settles against his chest. “C’mon, angel; this is the floor.”

You pull away from him to look at the number and know it to be the name one his and Hoseok’s studios are on. You exit out of the elevator with him quickly pressing a switch opposite of the elevator to turn the hallway lights on.

“Oh, is this about the song you’ve been telling me about lately?” You ask with a growing smile that’s excited from the idea. Yoongi huffs and pouts as he turns his head to look down at you,

“I said it’s no fun getting hints, angel.” His high-pitched rumble makes you laugh gently as you squeeze his hand. Coming closer to his studio, you hum and reconfigure a guess of what he wants to show you despite his protests, “Is it that you decorated your studio finally-”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls out as he stops a pace behind you to bring a halt to your stroll. Turning towards him, your eyebrows knit in confusion because his studio is a few more steps down. The confusion builds more as Yoongi just smiles before flicking his head to gesture to the room you both stopped in front of.

Turning to look in the direction, you see a door just the same as all the others and you’re about to question the significance of it before your eyes catch the polished metal plaque with your name engraved on it. In your stupor, you release hold of Yoongi’s hand to turn with widening eyes towards the door. Taking a step, you feel words escape your mind as you can only think about the obvious insinuation of the plaque, and turn your head back to Yoongi as though silently asking him to verify.

With a proud, soft smile he nods his head, stepping beside you to press a series of numbers into the lock on the door. “It took a little while longer than I expected to get it set up, especially without you realizing considering you walk down this hall so many times.” He chuckles only a little before pushing the door open to hold it ajar with his hand. Yoongi returns his gaze back to you as he happily admits, “But this studio’s yours, Y/N.”

After a moment to let his words sink in, you take another step to press your palm against the richly stained wood of the door and push it wider to enter inside. Following behind you, Yoongi presses the switch to turn on the lights that illuminate the rectangular space that you walk further into. A desk is already positioned on the far wall with monitors and equipment all arranged similarly to the way they are at your home studio. Shelves around the room are empty, and the couch against one side is free of pillows or throw blankets. The space is completely fresh to personal touch, but the door alerts anyone who reads it that the room is your own creative area as an acknowledged employee.

Turning back towards Yoongi who’s quiet yet clearly eager from his position beside the closed door, you walk to him and trust him to catch you as you practically jump into a hug that his arms catch you from tightly.

“Thank you so much.” You mumble against the fabric of his shirt, clenching wrinkles into the clothing on his back as well. Yoongi smiles as he rests his chin on your head, rubbing soothingly against your back as a tiny whimper leaves your lips.

“You’re welcome, angel, but this is really something you deserved all along.”

“But,” You pull your face from his chest to look up at Yoongi despite the tears welling in your eyes from gratitude. “Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten here the same way, and I wouldn’t have been able to do everything with someone like you to be beside me through it all. Yoon, you’ve really helped me do so much and everything was so crazy to get here, but I’m glad that it happened how it did, because I really love you. I can’t believe I got to meet you and fall in love with you.”

Cupping Yoongi’s face, you pull him down into a kiss as he moves his hands to better hold you against his chest. Following the kiss, Yoongi can’t help but lean his head against your shoulder, for a moment overcome by emotion due to your admission. You smile, rubbing his back as he squeeze you a bit tighter and exhales.

“You know, angel, if I hadn’t ever met you I’d still be practically a puppet to my old management team.” He kisses your cheek briefly before straightening up to properly look down at you. “I love you so much too. Whether you realize it or not, you really inspired me to finally fight back against them too, sweetie. I really am so proud of you and everything you’ve done.”

Yoongi kisses you gently once more, finding himself completely content as your arms wrap loosely around his neck to hold the two of you in place. When he thinks about it, receiving the recognition you deserved really was the only suitable outcome for everything that you’ve been through. Everything feels correct, even if realistically there are still trials to overcome where the company itself is concerned. At least there’s undeniable optimism in the future.

You hold his hand as you break apart to walk back around the studio space and explore the room. Coming up to the computer you go ahead and turn the power on just to see it and be shown that everything is as real as it seems to you. Yoongi stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to rest his chin against your shoulder. The computer brightly flashes with a screensaver already saved to a picture the two of you took on an evening boat date months earlier. You laugh at the sight of it and turn towards Yoongi whose eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

“This is what I get for letting Hoseok plug everything in for me.” He mumbles as you press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “You should change the passcode from what it is so he can’t come in here whenever to spam your studio with pictures or other pranks.”

“If I change the passcode, maybe I’ll keep it a secret from you too.” You ponder aloud, earning an expected poke in your side to tickle you from Yoongi. As your body jerks from the ticklish feeling, he simply hugs you tighter, pressing a kiss against your cheek in retribution. You eventually sigh as you smile and relax back against his chest, admitting softly, “But honestly, if Hoseok’s going to print out cute pictures like this one, maybe I’ll just keep the code the way it is.”

“Angel, the code is 1111. Please don’t do that.”

if you enjoyed please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i worked really hard on it! And if you’ve read thank you so much! below are some fun facts and final words about the series!

tag list: @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi @xionysus​ @baebyjoonie​ @honeyoongles​ @betysotelo18​ 

Fun facts:

Jinsol, Seulgi, and Jihyo the only non-bts named character that are supposed to be their real-life counterparts (from LOONA, Red Velvet, and Twice respectively)

To be honest??? I picked the name Yerin because it sounds so pretty to me

This series is as long as NOVEL! Deadass a fucking NOVELLLLL! like what??? I can’t believe I managed to write roughly 100k words wtf.

Seulgi was initially going to be considerably more important as an antagonist, but then it felt like it was going to be feeding too much into Hoseok’s character than help the actual story progress so I did away with her history with Yoongi (and Hoseok)

The spotify playlist for the series is actual set up into three different parts (four songs, an interlude, four songs, an interlude, four songs) and the purpose of this was to separate the songs into characters. The first four songs are about Jimin’s character growth, the second set of four songs are about Y/N’s, and the third four songs are about Yoongi’s. In some ways, if you looked at the lyrics for the song you may have been able to gauge a lot of the plot that way.

The name for the series, Veil, comes from the idea that something is covered by a cloth that is not completely opaque, but still blurs the perception of what is beneath it. 

I don’t remember exactly how I got the premise for this idea, but I knew that I wanted to make a Yoongi story. So that being said, this was always intended to be a Yoongi story, I wasn’t swayed in one way or another to pick the ending couple.

Although, my friend told me recently that after hearing about my plans for Jimin’s character in the last few chapters that she wanted him to end up with Y/N LOL; I think that’s mainly because, in this story’s universe, the song Jimin released at the festival was Promise, and in this story he wrote that song with the intention of supporting Y/N and also telling her that he wants her to be her own power source through all she’s gone through (I want you to be your light, baby, you should be your light)

Because I’m actually really fond of Jimin’s character, I was thinking about making a one-shot prequel about him and Y/N’s relationship long before Yoongi.

The Audi that Yoongi drives costs about $200,000. I needed to tell you that, just like I needed to give him that expensiveass car. Why? It’s h*t.

I couldn’t rationalize Yoongi or Hoseok becoming the CEO of the company they made together, because ultimately they still want to be performers lol. They’re more like founders, and have a lot of say in the board. 

Jeongguk, in this story, is a part of a band with Yugyeom, Mingyu, and Minghao. What a combination lol.

Taehyung is a lawyer for idols generally, but he starts to work more for Yoongi and Hoseok’s endeavors by the end.

In my mind, Jimin eventually went on to get signed at the same company Jeongguk and Seulgi work at. He would’ve been pretty successful there.

Also, I doubt that Y/N’s royalties with her songs at SoundWave would’ve been kept by the end of the series. Realistically, she would have to be credited, but she would no longer receive money for them, so she really did have to start over in a way.

Yoongi’s hair was always blonde until that scene where he went to dye it back to his natural hair color; this was a very freeing moment for his character.

In Y/N’s conversations with Yerin and Jimin, Yoongi was consistently just..,.,,,.,. chilling in the background..../., in the case of Jimin conversation he was making pancakes lmao. What a guy.

Again, if you’ve read this whole story thank you SOOOOOO MUCH! You’ve basically read an entire book in reading this fic, and that is unbelievable to me who never would’ve figured I’d have been able to make this entire thing! Thank you again so much for reading! See you in the next story! 🥰❤️

[akp-1327]

random drabbles for ajay bhandari x mc

Just some randomness for these marshmallows! 

Find the prompts I used on my first dialogue prompts set, << linked here!

Hope you enjoy these and that you’re doing well! <3

Ajay Bhandari x f!MC (Charlotte Parker)

#6 from Fun & Lighthearted ~ “Spider!”:

The lighting in Charlotte’s dressing room was dim as she hastily got ready for the show. Curtain call was in less than an hour and she still had to run through her lines with Rory and warm up. She frantically pinned up her hair in an sleek, elegant bun and applied her stage makeup.

That was when...when...

“Spider!” Charlotte screamed, nearly falling out of her chair as she jumped away from the huge spider that now relaxed on her vanity. Her hands came to her mouth right as she heard loud knocks chime at her door.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, please let me in!” She heard a voice say. She was too shaken up to move to open the door or comprehend who it was, let alone take her eyes off of the spider and risk it jumping or crawling on her.

“It’s open! J-Just come in!” Charlotte stammered, backing up into the wall. Ajay busted into the room and worriedly searched the room, finally meeting her wide eyes.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Ajay asked with a tone of concern. Charlotte nodded, though pointed to her vanity.

“S...S...Spider...” Charlotte stuttered, her cheeks burning red in embarrassment. Ajay followed her gaze and saw a large spider resting on her makeup bag. He held in a laugh as he looked back at her.

“It’s just a little spider, janu. It won’t hurt you,” Ajay said with a teasing smirk, picking up a nearby paper and dumping a cup full of pencils, “but I guess I’ll save you if it scares you that badly.”

Charlotte put a hand to her chest and let out a breath of relief, her heart still racing. She watched as he gently led the spider onto the paper and covered it with the green cup. “Thank you. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“Anytime.” Ajay said with the spider safely trapped underneath the cup. He was looking back at her with an amused grin across his features. “Now, finish up with your makeup. You don’t have much time before curtain call and I still want to wish you luck.”

Charlotte giggled and lovingly blew him a kiss, watching him walk out of the room. She then took a deep breath and walked back over to her vanity; her movements a bit more controlled and her eyes darting across the area in front of her every so often to make sure no other little “friends” joined her.

#23 from Fun & Lighthearted ~ “Salsa dancing?”:

Prom night had been everything and more for Charlotte so far; the perfect venue, the perfect dress, and by far the best and most handsome date. Her arm was tightly looped through his and her head rested on his green-sleeved arm as they stood to the side, waiting for a song to slow dance to.

“Want something to drink?” Ajay shouted over the loud music blasting from the speakers. She grinned, though the song changed over to a sultry and upbeat melody before she could finish her response. Charlotte’s grin brightened as an idea came to her head.

“Later,” Charlotte said, dragging Ajay onto the dance floor, “but first we’re going to salsa!”

Charlotte started to sway her hips flirtatiously to the beat, her movements skilled and catching Ajay by surprise. His eyes widened as she moved closer, her pace never slowing. His breath stopped as his heart started to race.

“Salsa dancing?” Ajay asked, his eyebrow arching, “I’ve never...um...”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip and moved away from him, bursting out into several seductive twirls that lifted the skirt of her dress to spin around her, its pink and sparkly fabric flowing in the lamplight of the dance floor. 

Ajay couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and he didn’t want to.

“That makes it more exciting! It’ll be fun, Ajay!” Charlotte beamed, moving back towards him and taking his hands in hers. “Trust me, okay?” He gave her a small and bashful smile as they started to dance. She rotated their hands in a circular motion and gestured for him to follow her steps.

“I step forward, you step back. You step forward, I step back! It just keeps going!” Charlotte squealed, grinning from ear to ear as Ajay became more comfortable. Their pace quickened as the music grew into a crescendo.

“You’re really good at this, janu!” Ajay laughed, focusing his eyes on her elated expression.

“You can thank my old dance lessons from cheer that I hated,” Charlotte said, continuing to up their pace, “now let’s add in some twirls!”

Charlotte led Ajay through the side steps that set them up for the twirls. It took him a few tries at first, though once he got a good grip on it, he was twirling Charlotte under his arm all around the dance floor; beaming whenever she’d go on her tip toes, despite her heels, to do the same for him.

Their dance caught the attention of several bystanders and they cleared a large circle for them. Charlotte giggled and leaned in to whisper, “Watch this! Get ready to catch me and then do a dip!”

Ajay’s eyes widened with confusion before she twirled him one last time, then let go of his hands. She broke out into a series of complex twirls and several enticing sways of her hips as she moved around the floor. Somewhere along her journey, someone had given her a rose and she had it clasped in her teeth, giving the (now rambunctious) crowd a dazzling smile.

Ajay’s heart could only swell with love as he watched her glide all around the floor, her smile and enthusiasm making him fall for her all over again.

“Ajay! Ready?” Charlotte shouted at him, the rose in her mouth making it hard for her to speak. Ajay beamed and nodded, preparing himself as she ran toward him. She collided with him, though he smoothly led her through a twirl, pulled her close, and finally, placed a hand at the small of her back. He dipped her with ease; low enough that her blonde hair brushed the wooden floor.

“Yes!” Charlotte gasped, though before she could go any further, Ajay pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, making the crowd go wild with applause and cheers. The rose was now clasped in Ajay’s teeth as he lifted her back up with a wicked grin.

“That was amazing.” Ajay grinned. Charlotte took the rose from him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his once more for a deep and tender kiss, overflowing with love.

“You were amazing! You have moves in that uptight body!” Charlotte cheered, holding him tight. The sultry beat slowly fizzled out into another pop song as they left the dance floor to retrieve the drinks that Ajay had mentioned before their show.

Later into the night, the couple danced once more - slower this time - as stars sparkled above them.

#26 from Sweet & Sappy ~ “Can I just snuggle you forever?”

The Bhandari household was uncharacteristically quiet on a chilly, spring evening; save for a frustrated Ajay and a tired Charlotte laying side by side on the soft carpet in the living room, their textbooks and homework materials scattered around them.

Ajay had turned on a random movie that neither of them recognized to provide background noise as they worked on their homework. They’d both been doing their math assignments for the past hour and a half. 

Ajay let out an exasperated sigh as he dropped his pencil onto his textbook and whipped off his glasses.

“How do you enjoy doing this stuff? Math is a literal nightmare.” Ajay groaned, rubbing his eyes. Charlotte hummed and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“I find it fun to solve stuff.” Charlotte said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I also find it fun to help you. What’s the trouble?”

Despite himself, he pointed to a problem in his textbook and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, math whiz.”

“Of course, babe.” Charlotte kissed his cheek and handed him his glasses, then took his textbook away to examine it for herself. Ajay rested his chin on his hand as he watched her eyes analyze the problem.

“Oh, you’re doing trig stuff! You actually know how to do this, deep down.” Charlotte said with a laugh, sliding his textbook back over and replacing it with her notebook. She started to scribble the problem down and turn it towards him.

“It makes no sense. What formula am I even supposed to use?” Ajay asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Charlotte smiled softly.

“Tangent,” Charlotte said, pointing at the angle, “you already have the opposite and the adjacent side measurements, see?”

Ajay watched and listened as Charlotte led him through the problem, faintly remembering how to solve the problem from class earlier that day. Once they finished and ended up with the correct degree, Ajay moved his homework away and turned to face her.

“I’m done with that headache for now,” Ajay said, leaning towards her, “take a break with me?”

Charlotte gave him a bright grin. “Sure!”

Ajay stood and held out a hand to help her up. Charlotte gratefully took it and let him lead her over to his couch. He glanced back at her, blushed a bit, then laid down on his side. Charlotte giggled as he patted the area in front of him, gesturing for her to lay in front of him.

“Yes! Cuddles!” Charlotte cheered, laying in front of him. Her back pressed against his chest as his arm loosely draped on her waist.

“Mmm,” Ajay hummed, burying his face in her neck, “I’ve been waiting to do this all day.”

Charlotte bit her lip and eased closer to him, trapping him between her body and the cushions of the couch. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he was pulling her even closer.

“Can I just snuggle you forever?” Ajay whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin. She closed her eyes and found his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tightly.

“I’d be very, very happy if you did.” Charlotte said, her tone exposing her sleepiness. Ajay smiled warmly, thoughts of their hopeful future filling his mind.

“You sound tired, janu.” Ajay said softly. After she didn’t give a response, he peeked over and saw that her eyes were closed and that her expression was peaceful. He beamed, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “Ah, figures; you’re already asleep.”

Ajay held her tighter against his chest and felt her breaths become deeper and slower the longer she slept. He was extremely, positively sure that she was out before he buried his face into her neck again, feeling all of the stress of the rough day melt away.

“I’m in love with you, Charlotte.” He whispered, mostly to himself, because he hadn’t exactly “told” her yet. Only when she was asleep, walking away, or not paying attention would he dare say those three words. “I love you so, so, so much, janu. I can’t even put it into words.”

Her sleeping figure moved slightly, sending a panic over him, though he relaxed as she let out a little mumble. She tended to mumble all the time in her sleep and it was one of the cutest things Ajay had ever witnessed.

Eventually, the gentle rise and fall of her back against his chest was all he could focus on in his sleepy state. He felt his eyes drift closed as well, the movie’s sounds slowly fading away as he fell into the best sleep he’d had in weeks.

[silver-lily-louise]

Souls are a Serious Business

She doesn’t have all of her memories back, not yet, but she’s still collecting little fragments every other day; the way light catches in a familiar stained glass window, or the thwack of a bō, or the burn of a particular rune triggering a sudden recollection. But she’s gained something different today, a security that slots into place as some fear inside her is soothed – because now, she’s tied to the Shadow World in a way she wasn’t before.

In which Clary and Izzy become parabatai. 

Read it on AO3, or below!

~oOo~

‘…If aught but death part thee and me,’ Izzy says, her voice strong and clear, her stance tall and proud. ‘If aught but death part thee and me,’ Clary repeats, a little breathless under the weight of commitment, because this is it.

With the final lines spoken, the bond shimmers fully into place, and Brother Zachariah smiles. ‘Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, and Clarissa Adele Fairchild. You are now parabatai. May the Angel watch over you and all those you protect.’

The room erupts into respectful applause (and one whooping cheer that Clary recognises as Simon), and Izzy’s professional composure breaks, her face splitting into a beaming smile as she squeezes the hand still linked with Clary’s own. ‘We did it,’ she says.

Clary laughs, pulling her new parabatai into a quick hug, a little giddy with the sudden doubling of her own happiness, her ribs feeling fuller for the second heartbeat she recognises beneath them now. ‘We did,’ she agrees. Not for the first time, her stomach twists in a strange sort of nostalgia and comfort – because she’s back. She doesn’t have all of her memories back, not yet, but she’s still collecting little fragments every other day; the way light catches in a familiar stained glass window, or the thwack of a bō, or the burn of a particular rune triggering a sudden recollection. But she’s gained something different today, a security that slots into place as some fear inside her is soothed – because now, she’s tied to the Shadow World in a way she wasn’t before. This bond is pretty much a magical guarantee of what Isabelle’s been telling her ever since her memories started to return, and brought with them the fear of losing all of this yet again: If the angels want to take you away from us a second time, they’ll have to get through me first.

With the ceremony over, the congregation start to advance, offering congratulations and well-wishes – and there’s a lot of them, both from within the New York Institute and from certain delegations of the Clave. Izzy’s Head of the Institute, after all – her parabatai ceremony was always going to be something of a political spectacle.

But eventually, the more politically-motivated guests politely take their leave, and their family are the only ones remaining in the ceremonial hall.

Simon is first – vampire speed and all that – and he darts from one side to the other for a moment, seemingly not knowing who to approach first, before apparently coming to a compromise and just pulling both of them in for a hug at the same time. ‘Congrats, you two,’ he says, flashing Clary a bright smile before turning to Izzy and giving her a gentle peck on the lips. ‘See?’ Izzy says, still grinning. ‘Not freaky at all.’ Simon looks back at Clary, his jaw dropped and his eyebrows knitted indignantly together. ‘You told her I said that?’ he asks accusingly. Clary shrugs, stifling a laugh at the look of utter betrayal on Simon’s face. ‘I mean, she’s my parabatai and my boss, Si. There’s not a lot of room for secrets.’

‘I don’t suppose you teach classes on that philosophy, do you?’ Alec asks, slinging an arm around Izzy’s shoulder as he gives a pointed look at the space behind Clary. ‘Hey!’ The offended voice comes from over her shoulder, and she smiles, leaning back as a circle of arms appear around her. ‘I tell you stuff. Eventually.’ She feels herself being turned around, and then she’s face to face with her boyfriend, automatically stretching up onto her tiptoes as she loops her arms around his neck. ‘Congratulations,’ Jace murmurs, his brashness fading as it always does when they’re like this, gazing at each other and letting the rest of the world fall away. Clary’s chest floods with a familiar warmth, and she pulls him down into a kiss.

Several minutes later, Clary and Izzy have almost made the complete rounds of congratulatory family members. Izzy is, apparently, determined to hug each and every one of them. In the spirit of family unity, Clary tries to follow suit, and almost makes it – even managing to secure a one-armed half-embrace from Alec – but then her and Robert’s eyes meet, and they freeze for a moment, before mutually extending their hands instead. There’s awkward, and then there’s awkward, after all. Maybe they’ll cross that particular bridge when she and Jace get married someday.

In any case, the last person Clary gets to – after extricating herself from Luke’s too-tight bear-hug, which possibly cracks one of her ribs but also makes her laugh because it’s so like old times – is Magnus, who was previously engaged catching up with Brother Zachariah when she glanced over. Now, however, his attention rests fully on her, and he gives her a warm smile as she steps into his arms briefly. ‘Well, Biscuit, how does it feel?’ ‘Good,’ she says honestly, returning his smile as she steps back, snaking her left arm around Jace’s waist again. ‘I’m glad we went through with it. Thanks for your advice.’ Magnus waves a hand dismissively. ‘It was nothing.’ He glances down at the spot just above her left hip, where the combo of low-rise pants and crop top leaves the new rune proudly exposed. ‘Left hip again,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Is it always placed there, then?’ Clary frowns, unsure of the answer – but at that moment Alec appears again, looming out of the crowd on the right and coming to stand beside his husband. ‘Not always,’ he says, gesturing at the rune, ‘but it’s a pretty common placement. It’s fairly accessible, and easily displayed, which has some ceremonial importance because of the nature of the bond. But it’s not as high-priority to reach and reactivate as things like strength or iratze.’

‘…Okay, starting to feel like I should have done some research before today,’ Clary says sheepishly. ‘This could have gone pretty badly, apparently.’ Alec shrugs, but he smiles a little, too. ‘Izzy had you covered, she knows all this stuff. You wouldn’t have ended up with it somewhere ridiculous, like your shoulder blade.’ Despite his airy tone, the comment sounds pointed to Clary’s ears – and a second later, she’s proved right as Jace sighs. ‘More than a decade ago, Alec,’ he says wearily. ‘Let it go.’ Alec raises an eyebrow in a way that suggests he is very much not going to do that, and Clary grins.

‘Well, regardless,’ Magnus says, as Izzy and Simon appear from the left and join their little circle of conversation. ‘It’s… an apt placement.’ His eyes seem to spark a little, and Clary narrows her own in suspicion. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Oh, nothing,’ Magnus says nonchalantly, even having the gall to throw a wink in her direction. ‘You’ll have to forgive an old man his little jokes. It’s not important.’

Clary frowns – but she hums in a grudging semi-agreement, preparing to let it go and change the subject. She’s interrupted, however, by Simon’s sudden laughter. ‘Oh my god,’ he says, and he looks practically gleeful. ‘He means that you’re joined at the hip.’

It takes half a moment to sink in – and then all three siblings seem to react at once. Alec rolls his eyes (though it’s Magnus, so he smiles too, of course), Izzy honest-to-god giggles (apparently, dating Simon is increasing her tolerance for stupid jokes), and Jace groans loudly (‘Come on, seriously?’). Magnus, for his part, shrugs – and then subtly offers Simon a low-five, which is quickly and eagerly accepted.

Clary, meanwhile, just smiles, looking around at her re-found family. These are some of the biggest players in the Shadow World, unbelievably powerful in terms of both magic and politics.

They’re also a bunch of idiots, and she is so, so lucky to have them back.

~oOo~

[serararku]

Duet: Under the Storm’s Chorus

  <Theme>

Buscarron’s Alehouse was remarkably busy for a Tuesday. The sound of plates clacking together, laughter, idle conversation, and footfalls created an almost deafening white noise that filled the building up to the brim. The two alehouse wenches scurried from corner to corner, refilling drinks and swapping out dirty plates with fresh food as quickly but as carefully as they could manage. Wall to wall the alehouse was stuffed with patrons, overflowing out to the outside pavilion; every chair at every table was occupied, except for the lone Miqo’te resting after a long day’s work in the back-corner of the establishment.

R’zevi had spent all morning and the better half of the afternoon patrolling up and down the South Shroud, fending off wild animals and roaming bandits alike from preying on Lalafellin merchant caravans. The pay was decent, but hardly worth all that effort, and now that he was sore from the neck down all that was left to do today was stare at the bottom of his tankard before turning in for the night. Yet unbeknownst to R’zevi, the alehouse wenches were giving him more than the standard attention issued to the other patrons once word got around that he was a surprisingly generous tipper; by the time he realized his table was gradually covered in untouched tankards of ale, it was too late to stop them. After all, he wouldn’t tell these women off for going the extra mile, and the last thing he wanted was trouble from the Roegadyn bouncer wandering around the alehouse.

"Excuse me…" A strangely familiar voice whispered beneath the discordant noise of the alehouse. He looked up to see a woman weaving in and out of view while she made her way to the bar, dressed in a black dress normally seen during a party or celebration. R'zevi swore he knew her from somewhere, and the bandages on her forearm was giving him the worst case of déjà vu in recent memory. The Miqo'te woman walked a little awkwardly in her high heels while she squeezed between two drunken patrons to get her drink; it wasn't until she turned around to search for a place to sit did he recognize her.

“S’era! Over here!” R’zevi called out over the commotion and waved to get her attention; she gave him a quizzical look at first, clearly not knowing who he was or how he knew her name- but no sooner did he recognize her did she recognize him, and a bright smile flashed over her face before she began making her way to his table.

“Good evening!” She sighed, brushing off her backside with her good hand before settling in the chair beside him. “You’re one of Lord Isenhart’s Ashen Wolves, right?”

“Yes, I am.” He paused only long enough to push some of the cups away to give her some space. “My name is R’zevi. How are you doing?” His gaze flashed to her outfit, but he successfully resisted the urge to glance down at her bare thighs through the slit in her dress. “What’s the uhh… occasion?”

She looked down at her getup while her cheeks flushed a vibrant red. “Oh… I was supposed to go on a date with someone, but um… they never showed up. I waited for them in Quarrymill for maybe an hour or so? Then I gave up and came here to get a stiff drink.”

“A date?” R’zevi gave her a puzzled look. “I thought… you were training to rescue someone? Your Nunh, right?”

“Oh I still plan on it, yes.” S’era paused to take a quick sip of her mug. “This was supposed to be practice. Nothing serious, just… something to help me get an edge on being his favored wife once he’s returned.”

It still didn’t make sense to him. “Practice? Do the women in your tribe take the Nunh out on dates often?”

S’era gave him a blank stare for a long moment. “No, the other kind of practice. The stuff that usually happens after the date.”

“Oh.” Now it was R’zevi’s turn to blush. “Right… that makes a lot more sense.”

“My sisters are pleasing the false Nunh of my tribe. If I’m to keep up with their experience, I need experience of my own.” S’era glanced over her shoulder at one of the bar wenches walking past the table before continuing. “Training with Lord Isenhart will only get me so far… if I don’t practice on pleasing a Nunh, then… I’ll be at a sore disadvantage once I finally rescue him.”

“You know…” R’zevi set his mug down to ruminate a bit, deciding to choose his words carefully. “You seem to be sacrificing a lot for the sake of your tribe. And, I know this doesn’t hold much water coming from a Tia who isn’t trying to become a Nunh, but, maybe you should reconsider your priorities for your own sake.”

S’era gave him a gentle smile- something he wasn’t expecting. “I know what it looks like… some naive foolish girl chasing a man she hardly knows. But I have to do this. My tribe is… everything to me, and… I want to do my best to make sure it remains strong."

“As long as you’re happy.” R’zevi didn’t want to press the matter further; this woman was clearly set in her ways and determined to see this through. Instead of trying to argue, he decided to change the subject. “What are your plans for the rest of the night?”

She pursed her lips and fell silent for a moment before answering with, “Probably get tipsy, and watch the sunset before I return to my apartment to go to sleep.” A defeated shrug raised her shoulders. “Not nearly as exciting as I was hoping, but it is what it is.” No sooner did she mention watching the sunset did thunder roll across the sky above. S’era leaned all the way in her chair to peek out of the open door, and her ears flattened against her head at the sight of the large black clouds choking out the warm but fading sunlight. “A-ahh… or I can just sit here and wait for this storm to pass…”

R’zevi raised a brow and asked, “Not a fan of storms, huh?” Another roll of thunder caused the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle, and her tail grew bushy. 

“Mmmn… a bad childhood experience with lightning…” She nervously fidgetted. “We don’t get many storms out in Thanalan near the Sagolii Desert… usually the worst is a heavy shower or two once or twice a year. But sometimes my tribe would travel all the way up to the outskirts of the Black Shroud, where lightning likes to strike. Gods, I can’t imagine why…” R’zevi opened his mouth to explain the nature of a certain primal the local Sylph have been known to summon, but refrained from interrupting her story. “A-anyway, I was climbing a tree in search of bird eggs, and a really big bolt struck the tree nearby. It was so… so loud… and it shattered the tree into blazing pieces. I fell maybe three stories, struck my head against a branch, and did a front flip into a bush. If it weren’t for my mother sending out a search party for me, I… I would have probably burned to death in that forest fire.” She let out a sharp sigh before chugging the rest of her tankard down. “I just freeze up when I hear thunder now… at least in Thanalan I had caves I could scurry down into…”

R’zevi ruminated on his thoughts again as he watched her become twitchy. Seeing her so jumpy at even the slightest movements around her was a tragedy indeed, especially over a little rain and the occasional thunder. “Hmm…” He hummed lightly, getting her attention. “Come with me, I want to show you something.” S’era gave him a quizzical look while he rose to his feet and headed to the door, but she reluctantly followed.

Outside it was pouring. The raging thunderheads above made quick work of any remaining clear sky, and most of the outside patrons had either retreated back inside or left for other shelters. S’era slowly opened the door and saw R’zevi standing out there between abandoned tables, already soaked from head to toe. “Come on out and join me.” He called, gesturing for her.

“Are you crazy?!” S’era called back, wearily glancing up at the sky as if the lightning was hiding just above the roof. “Come back inside! You’ll get sick out there!”

“It’s just a little water.” He raised his face to the rain and closed his eyes, basking in the bounty of the storm. “I want to show you that you don’t have to be terrified any longer. You won’t be struck by lightning out here.”

“You don’t know that…!” She shrunk away from the rain like it was acid. “Please come back inside! I don’t want to see you die!”

R’zevi opened his eyes and smiled warmly at her, despite standing in a growing puddle with soggy and soaked clothes. “Lightning only hits the tallest point in the forest, or anything wearing a lot of metal.” He touched his chest before gesturing to hers. “We’re both wearing leather and linen. We’re completely safe, I assure you. Come join me… it feels amazing.”

“I’m wearing silk, actually…” S’era didn’t like this idea one bit. “Gods, you really are crazy…” Much to R’zevi’s shock, she took off her heels before scampering out from under the roof. The woman squeaked when the rain splashed against her head and shoulders, causing her eyeliner and lipstick to run down her face; it was only after she was soaked did R’zevi realize he probably just persuaded her into ruining that dress. He would have to make a mental note to repay her for that. “Alright…” She mumbled, standing a few inches away from him. “Now what?!”

“Just listen.” He gently took her by the hands and held them together. “To the storm’s chorus. To the applause of rain surrounding us. To the harmless bark of thunder.”

“Harmless…? Hardly.” S’era glanced up at the sky again, but flinching every time raindrops struck her eyes dissuaded her from continuing that for much longer. Instead she looked down as she felt the cold mud squishing between her toes, and against her better judgment, she also braced herself for the rolling thunder overhead.

Booooooom…

R’zevi heard her squeak and nearly leap into him, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. Slowly he patted the top of her head before gently whispering, “It’s alright… it’s just thunder. It’s not going to hurt you.” He hesitantly ran a hand through her soaked hair. “You’re safe.”

He could feel her heavy breathing. Her heart pounded against his stomach, and her vice grip around his waist remained steadfast; she didn’t dare look up, fearing the flash of lightning would be the last thing she saw before joining her ancestors. Thunder bellowed again- louder this time- but she didn’t flinch as hard as she did before. “I’m safe…” She repeated, taking slow and steady breaths. “I’m safe… I’m safe… I’m safe…”

“I can hardly believe what I’m seeing.” R’zevi cooed, grinning madly. “A woman who traveled the four corners of Eorzea and shoved her hand into a fireplace for him is terrified of a little noise?”

“Mmmn… quiet you…!” She pulled her face away from his chest to pout at him. “This isn’t so bad… with you being much taller, I can at least survive the first strike, huh?”

“All you need is some time.” R’zevi pulled a few strands of hair away from her face. “Exposure is the best way to overcome your phobias. Just take a little bit at a time, just enough for you to handle… and eventually you won’t give these rainstorms a second tho-”

BOOOOM!

Forked lightning streaked across the sky and lit up Buscarron’s Druthers. Her grip around his body suddenly tightened, and S’era almost leapt right out of her skin. R’zevi wrapped his arms around her and looked around, somewhat relieved no one was around to witness two strange Miqo’te hugging in the downpour. “Shhh… it’s alright. It can’t reach you down here…”

"Alehouse is taller… trees are taller… R'zevi is taller…" S'era mumbled to herself, squinting from the rain as she looked up into the sky. "It can't reach me… I'm safe… I'm- huh?" Almost instantly the rain completely stopped, as if someone had turned off a giant faucet high above. 

"I knew it wouldn't last long when it started so suddenly and angrily." He smiled, reaching up to wipe his wet brow. "... I still figured it would last longer than it did."

"Thank you anyway." S'era beamed up at him awkwardly before she hesitantly let him go. "It really means a lot… and… you didn't have to do this."

"Defeating childhood trauma can't happen overnight." R'zevi gave her another warm grin. "A good memory in a storm to fight a bad one. That's one for one for now, S'era."

She chuckled nervously as she ran her hand through her soaked hair. “You can call me Era… if you like…”

“Era it is.” R’zevi blushed a vibrant red once he realized her ruined silk dress was now clinging to and highlighting her figure, and his gaze snapped back to her eyes to avoid ogling at the outline of her smallclothes keeping everything in place. Quickly he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you need an escort back to your apartment complex? I doubt you’d run into any trouble, but I really don’t mind accompanying you…”

A sly smirk spread across her face before she said, “Hasty, are we? I’d like to know you more before I take you back to my apartment.”

“O-oh! No, no no no, I didn’t-! That was not what I was implying!” R’zevi sputtered, his face as bright and red as a tomato. S’era let him ramble on for a few more seconds before she couldn’t take it anymore; she was gripped by a giggle-fit that only got more uncontrollable every time she looked at his face, but he was determined to explain himself. “Era-! I uhh…! I’m sorry if-!”

Once her laughter was reigned in, she quickly placed a finger on his lips. “I was just messing with you, Zevi. I can call you Zevi, yes?”

“Of course you can.” His voice was heavy with relief, which only forced her to stifle another fit of laughter. She wiggled her index finger at him to gesture him closer, saying nothing. R’zevi half-expected her to mock him right to his face, but when he bent over to meet her at eye-level, she gently wrapped her arms over his shoulders and embraced him in the most uncomfortably wet hug he’s ever had.

“You’re really cute when you’re flustered.” She softly whispered in his ear, before pressing her lips together and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. "Until next time, okay?"

Without thinking R'zevi reached around her waist just as she began to release him and pull away, pressing a hand against the small of her back, an ilm or two above her tail. He drew her back into his arms until their soaked bodies were firmly smooshed together again. As S'era gazed invitingly into his eyes, the fear of rejection fled into the night, and he did the only thing that felt natural. They both closed their eyes when their lips met. With their hearts pounding against each other's chests the two Miqo'te stood in silence, lip-locked and dazed. Eventually S'era tilted her head and parted her lips, while her leg lifted off the ground to give him something warm to hold on to. It wasn't until they were at the zenith of their deep kiss did they snap out of their lustful trance.

"You two'll catch yer death in the cold, pluckin' and cluckin' like that." An elderly Roegadyn groundskeeper grumbled, shambling by with a mop and broom in his grasp. “Damn kids, no restraint… back in my day you would get walloped and your girl snatched right out from under ya if you mmmn hrgmm mergmmm…” He was still rambling to himself when he turned around the corner and vanished.

S’era and R’zevi were left standing there awkwardly, the mood killed and the magic gone. “Um- Era, you’re um…” He gestured to her dress, which was now turned slightly to the side and riding up her thighs.

“Mmmn… you should look down…” She quietly retorted, motioning to the bulge in his pants. They both adjusted themselves, too uncomfortable and embarrassed to look each other in the eyes. "So…" She started again, now that she was wearing her dress correctly. "You should take me on a date soon…"

"I will!" He did a poor job concealing the excitement in his voice, especially when he tried to play it off by clearing his throat immediately after. "Where would you like to go?" She gave him a wide grin as she slowly walked back toward the alehouse, shrugging halfheartedly at him; despite being genuinely invested in the answer to the question, R'zevi couldn't shake the notion that where the date started didn't actually matter- but where it ended.

"Surprise me." S'era finally spoke, winking slyly at him. She ducked back through the doors and vanished, leaving him out in the night… cold, wet, and antsy.

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​

[emerald-eyes-8917]

The Fire and the Rose (Critical Role oneshot)

Just a little Critical Role oneshot that’s been kicking around my head for a while, featuring an OFC who encounters the group in an upmarket hotel establishment.

Might post a snippet and develop it further soon.  Not quite sure where it will go, but for the record, I’ve such a crush on Caleb Widogast and just want him to be happy.

Trigger warning for some sexual harassment and brief violence.

Thanks and enjoy!

Working in an upmarket establishment serving drinks and hot meals while keeping patrons company was never how she imagined her life turning out.  Yet here she was, making what coin she could while still keeping her virtue intact.

At least Madame knew her charm could sparkle and enchant the visitors to the Elysian Grande, a swanky inn and spa in Zadash that catered to the modest and extravagantly wealthy.

Her gift was often complimented after people left the establishment, and she would be offered jewels, flowers and proposals at any stage, but she always politely refused the final offer.

So it was a unique opportunity when a group of seven weary travelers ambled in the front door, all unique and colourful with a range of voices raised in conversation as they requested rooms for the night.

As she finishes clearing the tables in the adjoining dining room, she chances a glance outside the door, and casts her eye across the new guests, each interesting and striking in their own way.

A younger girl, Angelique, sidles up and begins marking the male guests out of ten and she shushes her in a firm, good-natured way, "If Madame Dubonnet hears you, you will be peeling potatoes until the next full moon."

Angie tosses her head in a posh huff, but takes her friend's advice.  One of the party present glances in their direction, a warm brown skinned woman dressed in navy blue robes with dark hair in a ponytail, and Angie puts a hand on her collarbones, glancing around to ensure she was truly the one intended, before waving towards her with her fingers.

The woman's lips quirk up in a confident smirk and she winks towards them, causing Angie to run away in a fit of giggles.

Turning back towards the foyer, she notices the woman lean towards one of the man and whisper to him with a chuckle.  He is reading a book with his head bowed low, long auburn locks obscuring his features, and the moment he glances up to acknowledge her, their eyes meet for a moment.  

Sapphires...

Momentarily flustered, she gives him the warmest smile one could give to a stranger and he immediately looks away back to his companion, appearing quite embarrassed.

Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she ducks back into the dining room and makes her way towards the back kitchen area, internally rebuking herself for almost pulling an Angelique stunt just now.

She grabs an apple from the kitchen and hides it in her skirt pocket, which was quite voluminous and trimmed with red lace along with a cream-coloured bodice and a matching lace wrap shawl.  Nothing overtly fancy but she sewed her clothes and kept them in good repair, not having enough gold for new shoes let alone buying food for her table.  She prided herself on keeping her skin from becoming mottled or her hair becoming tangled, and she was often the one who gave styling tips to the younger girls, such as curling rags and pinching their cheeks instead of applying expensive rouge.

Some of the other servants remark on the new guests appearing to be quite flush with money and would surely go on spending sprees during their stay, but the opportunity to even attempt to score an evening for some gold did not cross her mind.  It had been a busy week of entertaining some upper middle class nobles who had almost drained their wine and beer supplies as well as her patience when they did their best to drag her onto their laps.

Yet that group was some of the most ragtag bunch she had ever seen, that it was almost the opening ambit of a comical joke: a green skinned half orc, a blue tiefling, a gray and pink furred firbolg, a seven foot tall warror woman with facial tattoos and leather armour, a dark haired monk figure, a tiny green goblin and a red haired dusty robed gentleman walk into a hotel.

The punchline would almost write itself.

Reaching for the large pot on the stove, Bettina squawks in warning that it was too hot, but she picks it up with ease and setting it on the large worktable in the centre of the room, tilting her head at the cook with a smile, "The soup's been simmering to perfection.  I can serve it in a moment."

The older woman nods, glancing at her hands gripping the metal handle and back to her face again, "You young women are made of sterner stuff, it seems.  Or else you'll have blisters in the morning.  Either way, go on out of here before I have the vapours, young lady!"

The rebuke is sharp but not unkind and she hurries away, not bothered by the hot steam rising from the thick soup ladled into eight bowls that the carried on a tray upstairs into the dining room, breathing in the many aromas that the guests would soon enjoy.  Perhaps she could sneak a cup of the dredges before supper.

The next few days passed in an almost ordinary fashion, and as the new group made use of the facilities and luxuries, she would observe them quietly and always offer a warm smile and a curtsy.  All were equally intriguing with varying personalities and manners, treating the servants with politeness and flirtation in some cases.

One night culminated in a raucous party where the ale flowed, many songs were sung and dances performed all through the night, and she had been roped into an impromptu waltzing circle with several of the gentlemen including two members of the travelling group, who each led her with differing levels of confidence and experience.

Meanwhile, the blue tiefling girl is darting among the dancers, her laugh tinkling like a bell as she taps people on the shoulder, nudges people towards the dance floor and twirls like a ballerina, causing a great deal of mischief.

The half orc, who she had discovered from the many conversations through the days was named Fjord, spun her round quite quickly, his teeth bared in an uncomfortable but charming smile, and she hears a loud female voice heckling him, high pitched and lilting, "Lift her on your shoulders, Fjord!  Show us your strength!!"

Fjord grumbles a few curses under his breath as he gives her one final twirl and she ends up in the arms of a younger man who is extremely clumsy and prone to drool on her shoulder rather than actually dance with her.  As the Fjord gentleman is staggering towards the rest of the group, reaching for a stool, the tiefling called Jester hooks her arm in his and drags him back onto the dance floor, his groan of exasperation cut off by the music.

Fortunately, she is rescued by the towering firbolg who was called 'Clay', who politely interjects and takes her across the room in a very humble foxtrot as the previous man falls like a plank of wood onto the floor.

"You're very gallant for cutting in just now," she says in a gentle whisper.

"I'm sure you could have handled it," he replies, and his fur begins to darken around his cheeks as he hiccups slightly and confesses to her, "I'm not the best dancer... been in the woods for a while."

All she can muster is a nod and sparkling eyes as he takes her around the room amid the more enthusiastic solo dancers, before he departs with a bow and a light kiss to the back of her hand as the music comes to a brief pause.

There is applause and a few enthusiastic cheers as the musicians take a quick break.

She was pleasantly tired but not quite dropping from exhaustion just yet as she notices the third man from the group leaning by the wall, drinking a large goblet by himself.

As he looks across the room at her, she gives a friendly wave and he immediately turns away, blushing quite red.

She twirls a lock of her hair, not quite sure what to make of this shy, reluctant figure.  He appeared uncomfortable in this setting, even isolated, but before she could think to approach him, she looks over her shoulder to see that Angelique is giving a signal to her that one of the other girls was in a spot of bother in the far right corner.

Nodding, she gathers her skirts, puts on a determined expression and walks stridently to the corner where three men have surrounded Charlotte, a younger girl with ebony hair in long ringlets, who is clearly uncomfortable at the attention as one man takes a piece of her hair towards his nose and another tugs her skirt.  

She bats their hands away with a measure of courage and each time she breaks away, the tallest man would reach for her waist, drunkenly bellowing, "Come on, darling, you've been such a delight.  Come back to my room for the night, I've got some ideas on what to do with you."

Bracing herself, she inserts herself right in the centre of the group after swiftly ducking beneath the legs of one of the other men, interposing herself between the lecherous man and her friend, taking hold of his meaty hand and dragging it away from Charlotte's waist with no hint of misunderstanding, "She's not going anywhere.  The girl clearly said no."

Immediately, the circle breaks as two of the men take a few steps back, thinking better on being brutes, but the ringleader who had propositioned roars in laughter, clearly much more inebriated than the others, "Two for the price of one.  Come on, love, give us a kiss."

He begins to raise his hand towards her bodice, more than likely about to grope her, and time appears to slow down, down, down.

Not even blinking, she shifts on her back foot as her hand moves quite quickly, balled into a fist, it makes sharp, swift contact with his throat and he staggers back, clutching his neck, dropping like a sack of potatoes, falling heavily onto a table and upending it, sending goblets and plates flying and smashing to the floor.

He lays on his back, chest heaving and eyes glazed over, spittle drooling from his mouth as he groans in pain.

Silence descends on the room as people take in the scene, some murmurs beginning and the atmosphere simmering with tension.

She breathes out slowly, shaking her hand which is tingling from the punch.  Charlotte is trembling behind her and she reaches back to take her hand, squeezing lightly, "You're alright now.  No one's going to hurt you."

The other two back up, nearly stumbling over their own feet, hands raised in surrender, stammering about not wanting any trouble, giving second looks to their comrade who still has not moved.

Her voice is steady and carries through the entire room, "Look to your friend.  Bring him to the apothecary at the west end of the thoroughfare.  Something to do for his hangover, as well.  Nothing we can do about wounded pride, though.  If he tries anything like that again, he will deal with the Madame and will not get off so lightly.  Understood?"

The men whimper and scurry to assist their friend, lifting him up and dragging him from the room, tails firmly between their legs.

Turning to Charlotte, she tilts her chin up and looks her over, seeing only flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes, smiling gently, "Come on, let's get you some milk and honey.  I'll have Bettina find some candied fruits in the larder..."

With a nod from the younger woman and a whispered word of gratitude, she links Charlotte's arm, keeping her hand on top of hers and walks through the room, giving pleasant nods to all in attendance, becoming the gracious lady once again.

As she passes by the adventuring party, feeling their eyes on her all the while, the little goblin girl hops up and begins to applaud, "Woo!!  Woo hoo!!  What a shot!  What a punch!  You showed him, yeah!!"

The rest of the gathering begin to clap as well. some banging on the table, hooting and hollering, joined soon by the rest of the guests and the musicians strike up a triumphant fanfare.

Turning back, she allows herself a bemused smile at all the attention.  Charlotte releases her arm and claps as well.

Feeling overwhelmed at the attention, she chooses to remain outwardly calm and composed as she gives a low curtsy, her hand on her heart, drinking in the celebratory atmosphere.

As she stands, she looks towards the man with auburn hair and blue eyes, who is tapping one hand against his glass in an appreciative but much more understated manner, and gives her a nod with the faint hint of an impressed smile.

Overcome with showmanship, she closes her eyes and plucks the red rose that had been nestled in her bosom and throws it in a deft arc into the crowd, the amusement and cheering growing louder still, and she winks at Charlotte before they make their exit.

The tale was told throughout the establishment all night and for the rest of the week, her actions always justified as defending a woman from three hulking brutes, though her manner of dispatching the man became more and more elaborate and the injuries he suffered varying between his throat, his losing an eye or having been kicked in the nether regions.

Through it all, she demurred to any compliments and neither confirmed or denied the details, only smiling to herself in a secret, enigmatic manner.

A few moments after the two women of the house had left, the rose still lays on the floor off in a corner away from the music and the partying crowd, not being trampled on or disturbed, simply forgotten.

A pair of dusty boots approaches and stops a few inches away from the flower, as Caleb kneels down and picks the bloom up, holding it carefully in his hands.

All he does is tilt his head, deep in thought, names and faces rushing through his head as he inhales the scent of the petals, the stem having its thorns removed.

Glancing towards the group of his companions, his eyes falling on Jester who is giggling with Nott at a joke just imparted, thinking as well of the woman in red who just showed great courage, he places the rose in the inner pocket of his coat, not quite sure what he would do with it just yet.

Carrying the flower like a secret, he returns to the group, offering smiles and dry banter to the ones he now called friends.

[vwritesaus]

reflected in prismed moonlight | bokuaka

Three empty bottles of sake sit on the balcony table amongst five, equally empty glasses. Prismed moonlight splays through the glassware, across the laminated surface and the backs of five wicker chairs. The streets below are empty, cars parked in straight lines along the kerb and shop front windows arranged in a blacked-out and spotlighted pattern: an alcove of silence in the busiest, perhaps liveliest city in the world.

      The air is stagnant and warm, tinged with a promise of a crisp change in the next hour, and the sky clear and painted with shimmering stars around a high moon. It’s the perfect night to submit to the serenity and contemplate without any qualms or nuisance work things that needed to be done for Monday. Akaashi finds himself doing just that, sinking into one of the wicker chairs instead of tidying up the bottles and glasses, eyes drinking in the high-rises across the road and the sparkling city centre upon the horizon.

      It’s been a good night. For the past four hours, the apartment and this balcony, five levels up, had been filled with chatter and laughter, stories of high school, and cheers and promises to catch up again soon. Konoha and Yukie had arrived arm-in-arm around six o’clock, sporting matching menacing grins that Akaashi knew from the get-go would make him and Bokuto targets of their incessant teasing. Komi had come about ten minutes later, laden with bags of promised chef’s specials from the restaurant he worked at and wagashi from the sweet shop two minutes down from it. Bokuto’s key had clicked in the lock not long after that, announcing himself with a crow of I’m home! and the three sake bottles tucked into his elbow.

      They had helped Akaashi set the table in the kitchen, even though he had almost been done, but Konoha insisted he set up the chopsticks and glasses and Yukie wanted to hurry up the process by arranging the bowls so she could dig in as soon as possible because Komi-kun’s cooking smells amazing and I’m starving. Bokuto had been too busy unpacking the sake and food with Komi to come to Akaashi’s aid so he had given in rather quickly. It hadn’t taken them long to settle down and start eating; Akaashi smiles at the recollection of Yukie’s delighted expression upon her first bite of katsudon. It was nice to see some things hadn’t changed.

      Metal rattling grabs Akaashi’s attention as the door behind him slides open. Next second there are a pair of hands rubbing along his shoulders, firm and soothing, and a soft mouth drops a kiss on the top of his head. Akaashi hums and is about to succumb to the touch when it leaves him, Bokuto choosing to weave between the chairs and reach for the glasses and bottles. He grabs Bokuto’s wrist before he can pick up the glassware, sliding his fingers over the slightly damp skin of his palm and snugly fitting their fingers together. In his mind he’s saying the rest of the washing up can wait and he knows Bokuto understands his wordless plea as a smile crawls onto his face. Bokuto lowers himself into the chair next to his with a tired groan, breaking their handhold in favour of draping his arm over the back of Akaashi’s chair, the tips of his fingers brushing against the point of his shoulder; Akaashi doesn’t hesitate to nudge his chair closer to Bokuto’s, allowing himself to snuggle into Bokuto’s warm body as much as he can. He lets out a content sigh when Bokuto brings him in closer and knocks their feet together.

      Akaashi’s voice is a borderline whisper as he asks, ‘You have fun tonight?’

      ‘Yeah, I did!’ Bokuto replies in a volume that nearly matches Akaashi’s. ‘Had a great time. How about you?’

      Humming in affirmation, Akaashi adds, ‘It was nice seeing everyone again.’

      ‘Yeah… too bad the others couldn’t make it,’ Bokuto mutters sullenly. ‘I know they’re busy with work and stuff but… would’ve been nice to see ‘em.’

      ‘It would have,’ Akaashi agrees, ‘but at the same time, I don’t think our apartment can accommodate our entire high school volleyball team.’

      Bokuto laughs and Akaashi feels a smile tug at the corners of his lips at the sound.

      ‘That’s true,’ he says, ‘but still, I haven’t seen Tatsu and Yama and Kaori in ages, and Shuu-chan and Wata-chan had to go and do awesome stuff overseas and who knows when they’re gonna come back? I miss ‘em, Keiji.’

      Akaashi’s I miss them too comes out as a gentle squeeze at Bokuto’s knee.

      After high school—or rather, after Akaashi’s third year senpais had graduated—everyone had gone off in different directions: Washio and Bokuto went off and tried out for local professional volleyball teams; Sarukui, Yukie, Kaori and Konoha started their university degrees; and Komi dove straight into his apprenticeship at a nearby izakaya as a kitchenhand. Despite their diverging paths, all of them (be it all at once or in twos and threes) had visited Fukuroudani at different points during Akaashi’s third year, so much so it was like they never left. They sat during training sessions, watching Akaashi bring out the best of his kouhais as both a setter and captain. Their presence had been comforting, Akaashi can admit that even now.

      But that comfortable presence, the pride they had exuded in the stands at the Spring Tournament (because yes, of course we came to watch you and the rest of the team, why wouldn’t we?), the pointers from the sidelines and the cheers of joy at each new point they scored was what made their abrupt loss a few rounds into Nationals unbearably painful.

      It had been excruciating to look down at his captain’s jersey, its meaning withering away before his very eyes. Looking at his kouhai’s disappointed, exhausted, saddened expressions as they lined up before their cheer squad in the stands had been knives in his chest with every step he took away from their—and his—last game. He hadn’t been able to meet any of his senpais’ eyes when he thanked their section of the stands for their support, bowing as low as he could. The applause had been deafening, undeserved because they had lost. Akaashi hadn’t been able to see or think clearly as they left the stadium, heading towards the change rooms to switch uniforms and pack up. Along the way, he had heard variations of his name from familiar voices, treasured voices—Akaashi-senpai, Akaashi-san, Akaashi—but nothing had made him stutter in his step and his brain trickle into ringing silence more than a clear and confident shout of Keiji!

      When he had managed to focus his gaze on the owner of the voice—and who else could it possibly be other than Bokuto-san?—Akaashi had expected intense eyes that flashed gold, or a sad smile and open arms, or even Bokuto with the whole gang, determined to give him a good talking to about they had played fair and square and well. He had been presented with none of that: Bokuto had been alone and he glowed not with determination or sympathy but with such overwhelming pride that Akaashi had felt the last of his resolve crumble into pieces. It had well and truly shattered when the rest of them filed through the open doors, Konoha yelling out oi, thanks for waiting, dickhead, resulting in Bokuto squawking in offence I’m not a dickhead! Kaori and Washio had calming smiles while Sarukui and Komi decided to join Konoha in berating Bokuto for abandoning them; Yukie had laughed at Bokuto when he cried out for her to help him—Yukippe, please! They’re so mean!—the sound the loudest out of everything, drowning out the whistles and shouting of a new match taking place on the court.

      Even though Akaashi had broken down in front of them for the second time (scaring his kouhai in the process because not once had he shown weakness in front of them that past year save for Onaga and Anahori) he had been smiling. Yes, they had lost. Yes, it had been Akaashi’s last game. And yes, it had royally sucked, but if Akaashi had learned anything that day was that the bond that existed between him and both his former and current teammates wasn’t just something that appeared in their best moments. It burned brightly in the darkest spaces: an eternal flame that time would not extinguish. It was a special tie that kept them together even when apart, the kind that existed between Hinata and Kageyama, Kuroo and Kenma, and (perhaps in a roundabout way) the Miya brothers.

      And when Komi demanded Akaashi and the team find them in the barbecue place down the road, that lunch is on them, Akaashi had realised something else. He and Bokuto had something more between them, and the way he had cried out Akaashi’s given name like it was second nature had made his heart race. Irrationality had been a big factor, kindled with a desperate kind of hope, in Akaashi claiming his only victory on the outskirts of the hallway, shadowed in a private nook.

      (Bokuto’s hands had been gentle in wiping his tears away, expression bright and fond, but Akaashi had been fierce in closing the gap, consecutive expression one of horror and tongue heavy with an apology. It, however, never saw the world beyond his lips, not when Bokuto’s own had stretched in a delighted, tearful grin.)

      So Akaashi misses them more than he can admit out loud, because when they’re all as close as this, it’s hard not to miss each other when they’re apart. But there is not much he can do when Sarukui has a night shift he can’t badger his way out of; when Kaori has night classes on the other side of Tokyo; when Washio’s new team favour long and gruelling training sessions on a Friday night; and when Onaga and Anahori are exploring Europe and Australia, blowing up their senpais’ phones with new landmarks and delicious treats at any given opportunity.

       What he tells Bokuto is, ‘We’ll see them eventually. We can organise something in the future so that everyone can attend.’

      ‘That’s a good idea, Keiji,’ Bokuto says pensively. ‘Hey, we can invite Coach Yamaji, too!’

      Craning his neck to gaze into Bokuto’s face, Akaashi’s mouth forms into a half grin. It’s enough of a response for Bokuto’s eyes light up and his smile is so big Akaashi cannot resist kissing it with his own. The taste of sake lingers and Bokuto pulls away with a low sound after a moment, massaging the space between his eyebrows.

      ‘Fuck, remind me never to challenge Yukippe again,’ he grumbles and Akaashi can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of him.

      ‘Shirofuku-san can drink us all under the table if she wanted to. I just hope she managed to get Konoha-san home,’ Akaashi muses. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he knocked into every person on the street and missed his stop.’

      (Konoha was not a great drinker, and three glasses of sake in, he was already red-faced and misty-eyed as he reminisced about high school. Komi had been in tears trying not to laugh, and both Bokuto and Akaashi had simply nodded along, providing fuel for the fire by bringing up completely random and unrelated memories just to see what reactions they could elicit. Yukie had been beside herself, choking on her drink multiple times when Konoha would let out a wail.)

      ‘Serves ‘im right!’ Bokuto exclaims, but there’s amusement in his tone. ‘Yukippe’s kinda responsible though… she’ll get him home. She kept us in line and all, didn’t she?’

      ‘She did.’ Akaashi looks out over the balcony railing, just in time to see a pair of birds flying amongst the inky sky. He doesn’t know why it causes him to remember a certain high school moment, but he aims at Bokuto, ‘Remember that summer training camp? The year Karasuno joined us? When she burst into our room to tell us off for waking her up in the middle of the night because we were too busy playing cards?’

      ‘Oh yeah, I forgot about that!’ Bokuto laughs and smacks a hand against his chest. ‘She scared Kuroo so bad—remember his scream?—and he was in the other room and everything!’

      ‘And then Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun wanted to join in, but Sawamura-san told them off too. Their faces, I’ll never forget—’

      ‘—they were so scared, oh nooo, too funny—oh, and remember when we were playing charades—Tatsu’s impersonation of a puppy? I died—’

      ‘“I’m a small version of a big cute thing. Wan-wan.”’

      They dissolve into loud cackles, clutching onto each other as they go back and forth with remember this? Akaashi’s stomach aches from how hard he’s laughing, but he’s drunk on mirth and nostalgia (and maybe a bit of the sake) to care. Never mind that their laughs echo in the silent streets (he’ll apologise to the neighbours when he sees them, but not right now) and never mind that it’s nearing eleven, Akaashi is happy. It’s the happiest time of his twenty-two years and yes, he can afford to be silly now, because he’s alone with his best friend and love of his life and who needs masks around someone like that?

      It takes them a good few moments to calm down, giggling every time they heave in deep breaths because the sound is just too funny.

      ‘Oh man—we sure had fun, didn’t we?’ Bokuto muses, wiping away a few stray tears from his eyes. ‘What a time.’

      ‘Indeed.’ Removing himself from Bokuto and standing up slowly, Akaashi turns to face him and holds out his hand for him to take. ‘But I reckon we’re having a great time now, aren’t we?’

      His face hurts from all the laughter, but it doesn’t wipe the smile he has when Bokuto grabs his hand and stands up too, immediately wrapping an arm around Akaashi’s waist.

      ‘Hell yeah we are,’ he says, a ferocious grin gracing his mouth. He leans in to Akaashi’s ear and whispers in it, ‘Last one to the couch has to make breakfast in the morning.’

      Gasping when Bokuto moves away, Akaashi pulls his shirt and his eyes catch the glint of silver for a split second on his hand before he squeezes past Bokuto’s body and into the apartment. Bokuto screeches in mock offence and runs after him. They fall into a heap on their couch—fiiiiiine, I’ll make breakfast tomorrow, even though you cheated!—and Akaashi seals their lips together.

      (Three empty sake bottles and five empty glasses sit on the balcony table, splaying prismed moonlight through the door and into the apartment, highlighting fingers lined with silver, stark against a broad chest and dark hair.)

 also on ao3

[bnhascribbles]

Better Late Than Never

Kirishima x Reader

Music AU, Fluff, Pining; A (late) birthday present for the vibrant @sunlikesthis!  Kirishima is precious and SO ARE YOU MY PAL.  YOU’RE FRIEND CAN’T FINISH STUFF ON A DEADLINE SO HAVE SOME FOOLS THAT HAVE THE SAME PROBLEM.

Words: 3K

Warnings: Swearing (only slightly because Bakugo)

The first thing that strikes you is the fact that it is absolutely freezing in the hall.  Then again, that was the case at all of these concerts; the AC always seemed to be cranked up to “Antarctica,” and the fact that your clothes are sopping wet only helps the chill seep into your bones that much faster.  The second thing you notice is that the lights are already out, the stage already lit up, the quintet already...performing?  No, they couldn’t be—maybe they were just warming up.  With the lights off.  For a silent crowd.  You hang back against the wall, checking your phone and doing what you can to cover up some of the light from the screen.  When you see the time, it takes all the restraint in you not to gasp over the sound of the group onstage.

You were late, and not in the fashionable way either, if that rule could even be applied to musical performances (it can’t).  The rain—it must’ve been the rain.  People always forgot how to drive when the sky got even a little cloudy, and you could never trust buses to arrive on time, even on sunny days.  You thought you’d accounted for that.  Keyword: thought.

The musicians were already well into their piece and you’d just walked in and slammed the double doors behind you like some sort of moron that’s never been to a recital before.  You become acutely aware of the eyes on you—the old woman shaking her head in the corner, the mother and son glaring daggers at you as you just stand there, frozen and looking just a little too casual in your soaked tee and sneakers.  The way they saw it, you were probably the poster child for “what not to do as an audience member.”  Your head throbs, the weight of the sheer embarrassment threatening to topple you and create an even bigger scene.

With legs like jelly, you shuffle down an aisle, crawling over more than one frustrated concert-goer and sinking into the first empty seat you find.  You can still feel their stares though, and somewhere at the back of your mind, a little voice tells you to stand right back up and nope out of there before anything can get worse.  It’s tempting, but then again, listening to it would mean you’d have to do that weird seat-waddle thing through the aisle again.  Your shoes are full of water too—there’d definitely be some sloshing on the way out, and that wouldn’t really help make your escape any more subtle.  It would also mean you’d be breaking your promise to Kirishima.  That would be worse than any amount of embarrassment you could ever experience.  You might be a disaster, but you were a disaster that supported your friends, dammit.  That meant that your personal policy on tardiness at recitals was a bit more lenient today—a “better late than never” sort of deal.  

Hands pressed firmly to the sides of your face (like that’ll do anything to hide you from the looks), you peer up at the stage.  Kirishima’s there beneath the blinding beams of light, sitting right of center-stage with his trumpet propped in his lap.  He looks impossibly casual—in his element—even decked out in a suit and tie instead of his usual cargo-pants-and-crocs getup.  Casting a quick glance at Bakugo across from him, then to his music below, Kirishima lifts his instrument to his lips, begins to play.  You’ll never understand how he does that, how he just performs and forgets about the hundred pairs of eyes trained on him while he does it.  You know from experience (some of it very, very recent) the way that any sort of attention could shake a person, make them feel like they’re breathing underwater—dizzy and nauseous with lungs that can’t seem to do their job right.  But you suppose that’s the difference between him and you.  He’s meant to be a frontman: his sound is strong and his disposition perpetually sunny—he’s the sort of person that people flock to without even realizing it.  And of course he has to be humble about it; Kirishima couldn’t just be an egotistical jerk like Bakugo.  No, he had to be perfectly kind, perfectly charming, and perfectly out of your league.  In regards to friendship and...anything else.

Not that you need more with Kirishima.  Friendship is fine.  Friendship is awesome.  Sure, that intense look he gets whenever he practices makes something curl up on itself deep in your belly.  Sure, whenever he gives you one of those playful pats on the back, you wish he would linger for just a little bit longer. 

Sure, you can’t seem to shake the image of his hard body melting into yours—a fantasy where your hands are knotted into his wild hair, dragging him in closer as you gasp, finally begin to understand what all those long hours spent perfecting embouchure and technique were good for when he starts to—

But friendship.  Right.  Your friendship with Kirishima is perfectly acceptable.

The piece ends in what feels like a minute.  You barely notice.  It takes thunderous applause all around you to snap you from your trance, and you join in clapping before anyone can find another reason to accuse you of being disrespectful.  The group stands, instruments at their sides, and they bow, but you’re hyperfocused on Kirishima.  He’s squinting into the audience, nose crinkled and sweat dripping down his forehead.  Searching.  You can’t imagine it’ll do any good; you’re not in the seat you’re supposed to be in—the one he’d reserved specifically for you—and the blinding stage lights shining down on him probably don’t make looking for any one particular person easy.  Still, the silent moment of recognition that passes over his face when his eyes scan over your area of the crowd makes you think, just maybe, he sees you there.  Kirishima grins wide, lopsided, and you can feel your heart do a minuet in your freakin chest.  Because he looks good when he does it.  Really good actually.  And he isn’t looking away, even when he sits—when the rest of the quintet starts fumbling through their sheet music in preparation for the next piece.  

It takes a subtle, but firm, kick to the shin from Bakugo and a whispered something from Sero on his right to get Kirishima back in his “performer mode,” emptying the valves on his instrument and flipping through the paper on his stand.  Kaminari and Ashido turn to each other with these smirks plastered across their faces, and it’s barely a second before that earns a murderous glare from Bakugo.  Their smiles don’t fade, not even a bit, but they shift in their seats, sitting up a little straighter.  The damage is done though—you feel fuzzy and hot and hopeful.  And maybe you’re reaching, but you think you see a bit of a pink color creeping up Kirishima’s neck.  That’s only fuel for your fire.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur.  You can’t say you exactly remember standing up for the final applause, nor elbowing your way out the hall and into the lobby, nor walking outside and looping around the building to stand, shivering at the backstage entrance.  Your damp clothes feel like they’re covered in icicles by the time someone finally swings open the door, nearly knocking into you in the process.

The encounter is a surprise for both of you, so much so that for a second, you’re seriously concerned Ashido is going to use her French horn case to bludgeon you.  Thankfully, she only gets as far as drawing her arm back in preparation for the swing before a bit of light from inside reaches your face.  Ashido lowers her “weapon” and clutches her chest in relief.

“Oh my god,” she pants, leaning on the doorframe for support, “oh my god, oh my god, you scared the shit out of me.  I thought you were gonna murder me or something.”

You swallow hard, choking down most of your own shock before speaking.  “I could say the same for you.  Do you always swing first and ask questions later?”

Ashido lets out a short laugh, having caught her breath a bit.  “Only when the other person looks like the fuckin’ grim reaper.”  She blinks and gives you a once-over.  “Seriously, how are you not actually, like, dead?  Or at least frozen?  You’re soggy and...where’s your coat?”

“Didn’t have time to grab it; had practice earlier today, so I ran home to drop my instrument then booked it to the bus stop.  I still wound up getting here late.”  You sigh, remembering the horror of it all.

“So you were late—big deal.  You know, it’s fine to miss a concert or two if you’re busy.”

“It is a big deal, Mina.  And it’s not fine to just be a flake when—.”

“—when Eijiro is the one inviting you.”  Ashido finishes your sentence, lips twisting up into a familiar smirk—mischievous and all-knowing.  Your brain shoots into panic mode at the suggestion, and you frantically search for anything witty or sarcastic or just plain contradictory to shoot back with.  You’re at a complete loss though, your mouth forming the words without any sound coming out.

“Just get inside already.  Things’ll never get interesting between you two if you die of frostbite now”  Ashido ushers you through the door and into the warmth, still doing absolutely nothing to contain her smug expression.  When you scowl, she rolls her eyes and gives you a gentle shove forward.  “Kidding, kidding.  Come on, ever heard of a joke?”

“No.”  You deadpan, peering back at her over your shoulder.  Ashido gives you another shove, and you’re about to tell her off, but before you can, you’re colliding with something—something that feels like a boulder wearing a suit jacket.

Kirishima grabs your shoulder as you bounce off his chest, steadying you before you have the chance to fall back too far.  Ashido cackles the entire way out to the parking lot—you can hear her shrill laughter long after the door slams behind her.  

“Hey!” Kirishima greets you a little too loud, obviously caught off guard by the whole scene.  It only takes him a second to recover though, and once he does, he flashes a toothy grin and gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Fancy bumping into you back here.”  

You groan.  “Puns don’t suit you, Eijiro—leave em’ to Kaminari.”

“Aw, really?  I thought that one was pretty good, though!”

“Nope.  Stick to trumpet; if today’s concert is any indication, you’re way better at that anyway.”

He chuckles and ruffles his hair with his free hand, smile softening a bit.  “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too.”  You say, a smile forcing its way across your lips.  That always seemed to happen when you were around Kirishima, and you like to pretend you don’t know already know why.  “The rain slowed me down so I wasn’t even sure I’d make it in time.  But better late than never, right?”

“Right.”

There’s a moment of silence between the pair of you—the sort that happens when neither person has the slightest clue how to continue the conversation.  You definitely weren’t going to be the one to say “see ya’” or “bye,” mostly because you really didn’t want to; Kirishima had been busy all month prepping for today, and seeing as you hadn’t even gotten to speak with him before the recital (once again thank you so much public transportation), you were seriously falling short of your “Kiri Quota” for the week.  Consequences associated with a failure to meet it included: an empty feeling in your chest, an unexplainable preoccupation with the color red, a sudden desire to google pictures of crocs, and the inability to stop thinking about how good his lips would feel if he’d just lean in a little and—

No!  Bad!  You need to stop doing this—stop daydreaming, stop making up these impossible scenarios in your head.  Your crazy games of what if were the reason these awkward silences even started happening in the first place.  

One little comment from Bakugo had been all it’d taken.  Seriously.  One exasperated exclamation of “just fuckin’ get together already” shouted in a drunken stupor had been enough to create a rift between you and Kirishima.  Which was ridiculous really, because if anything was meant to happen between the two of you, it would’ve happened already.  One of you would’ve abandoned all your fears of horrible embarrassment and a wrecked friendship and would’ve just gone for it.  That's the way it worked, right?  Because if it didn’t...well then, hell, you didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

The buzz of the lights is almost deafening.  Kirishima shifts in place while you clench your jaw tight in a desperate attempt to keep your teeth from chattering.  

“Are you—”  You both begin at the same time, then stop abruptly.

“You first.”  The two of you do it again, laughing nervously when you end up copying each other a second time.

“You cold?”  Kirishima offers.  You raise an eyebrow and his eyes drift down to your folded arms, hands nestled tightly beneath your armpits.  The moment you notice his gaze, they fly out, adopting a frantic, placating gesture.

“Oh, I’m fine!  My clothes are just a little wet from earlier and you know how the staff likes to turn up the air, even when it’s negative whatever degrees outside.”  You shove your hands back to their original place.  “It’s alright—really.”

Kirishima nods like he understands, but still pulls his hand back from your shoulder and shrugs off his suit jacket.  

“Eiji—”

He cuts you off before you can finish.  “I was actually thinking it was hot in here.  Besides, I’m gonna be hauling chairs and stuff and I don’t need to sweat while I do it.”  Kirishima reaches around you and places his coat over your shoulders.  “So this works better for both of us, right?”

You huff, but that’s the extent of your complaining.  Because it is warmer—you can still feel the residual heat from Kirishima’s body lingering in the fabric.  You try to pretend that fact doesn’t make the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

You clear your throat, resolving to ask your question and distract yourself.  “Are you sticking around to pack up?”

Kirishima sighs, heavy.  “Yeah.  There’s not a ton to do, but Katsuki will kill me if I leave before him.  As it is, he’s already pissed that Mina bailed on us.”  

“I can help if you need a pair of extra hands.”  You offer.

“Nope.  You’re my guest, so I’m not gonna have you lugging around our stuff for us.  That’s what Hanta and Denki are for.”

“But I’m—”

“We’re good.”  Kirishima assures you.  “With the four of us, we’ll have it done in, like, 10 minutes.  Just hang tight and, if you’re willing to wait, I’ll give you a ride home.”  He extends his hand outward towards you.  “Deal?”  

You take it, but make sure that he can see you rolling your eyes when you do it.  “Fine, I’ll wait.”

Kirishima gives your hand a firm shake.  But once that’s done, he doesn’t let go.  When his thumb brushes up against your knuckles, just barely there, you tell yourself it’s chance—he has something he’s forgotten to say and he doesn’t want you rushing off into a dressing room before he can say it.  When he rubs at the bottom half of his face with his free hand, covering the beginnings of a blush, you convince yourself it’s because he really is hot—in the temperature sort of way, of course.  When his face seems to drift in closer to yours, agonizingly slowly, millimeter by millimeter, you discount that as...well, you don’t have an explanation for that yet.  At least, not one that won’t get your hopes up.  

Still, you can’t help it.  You find yourself chewing on your bottom lip and leaning in, determined to meet him halfway.

Before you can, a gruff voice calls out from beyond the stage door.  “Take your fuckin’ time, Kirishima!  Not like we’re waiting for you or anything!”

Kirishima practically throws your hand and hops back, expression looking almost guilty as he peers over his shoulder, then back at you.  Then he laughs, but it’s completely forced.  Awkward and full of tension.

“Uh, I’ll be right back.  So just—” he rubs furiously at his jaw, “—don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I’ll wait right here.”  You say, scratching at the back of your neck and praying that your feeble voice doesn’t betray you.  

Kirishima nods and, as you watch him hurry away, your insides are churning.  Damn Bakugo for starting this fiasco, and damn him for not letting you see it through to the end.

Thankfully, you don’t have much time to feel sorry for yourself.  Kirishima groans just as he reaches the stage door.  He presses his clenched fists to the wall beside the doorframe, just for a second, then turns on his heel and faces you once again.  His expression is much different than it had been before.  It’s intense—like the look he gets when he’s practicing.  When he has a goal in mind.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”  He says, his voice gravelly and strained.

Kirishima stomps back over to you in a hurry, and before you have the chance to question him, he takes the sides of your face in his hands.

“Better late than never?”

You understand the meaning of the question immediately, and your pulse beats wildly for it.

“Better late than never.”  You exhale, pressing your forehead to his.

And then he kisses you.  Hard.  You suppose that his way of making up for lost time.

[ukulelewrites]

Veritaserum

A/N: my first nct dream fic!!!! this has been in the works for 5 months now bc i kept getting sidetracked with other fics and miscellaneous personal affairs but here it is~~~ i hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: NCT Dream’s Jaemin x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Slytherin!Reader x Hufflepuff!Jaemin AU

Word Count: 5.4k 

Veritaserum:  "Three drops of this and even You-Know-Who himself would spill out his darkest secrets."

Don’t you ever feel like the universe ever just looked down on you and went, “fuck you, Y/N?” This was definitely one of those days.

See, you were mindlessly walking back to the Greenhouses since you had to ask Professor Sprouts an extremely pressing question regarding the cultivation of peaches for a certain potion you were concocting. Simple stuff really, no way you’d get harm doing something as simple as walking, right? Wrong, 100% completely wrong. Just as you turn the corner of the corridor leading to the Greenhouses, a sudden force comes barreling right into you, knocking you off of your feet and falling backwards onto the floor. The last thing you saw before screwing your eyes shut was a blur of peachy hair. Your back comes upon impact with the floor, and you could feel the weight of your barreller on top of you. However, your mind comes to a rushing halt when you realized that there was also something brushing against your lips very softly before the feeling is gone. Your eyes snap open when you hear a murmured apology, and all you could catch of your first-kiss-stealer’s appearance was his peach-colored hair and his yellow & black robes flowing behind him.

“What happened to you?” your best friend, Donghyuck asks when he spies you storming through the Great Hall’s doors and towards the Slytherin table. The moment you sat down, you slam your head down on the dining table and let out an obnoxious groan, earning a handful of curious glances from your peers. “Okay, Y/N, what crawled up your ass and laid its eggs?” Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his mashed potatoes when he asks, already used to your dramatics. You give him a grunt in reply. “I swear, Y/N, with your dramatic ass, I’m surprised the Sorting Hat didn’t drop you in Gryffindor,” he says with an eye roll.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about us Gryffindors,” Mark pouts, arriving at the table just to check on you. Unfortunately for Donghyuck, he caught the Slytherin boy’s remark.

“Just look at them!” Donghyuck scoffs, waving his fork in your general direction.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Mark asks. His brows furrow in concern. You lift your head from the table and gave the upperclassman a pout. Donghyuck just scoffs.

“Don’t give my boyfriend that face,” he huffs. You stick your tongue out at the brunet.

“I lo...ss...day,” you mutter.

“What’d you say?” Mark asks, leaning in closer. Donghyuck does too.

“I los...my...irst...ss...day…” you say again, this time just a decibel louder.

“Yah, Y/N, how can you expect us to comfort you if we can’t even hear what you’re saying,” Donghyuck snaps. Mark hits his shoulder and sends him a warning glare.

“I LOST MY FIRST KISS TODAY!” you yell, causing the entirety of the Great Hall to snap their head towards you. “Great,” you mumble, trying very hard to sink yourself further into the bench, “just great.”

“Who would kiss you?” Donghyuck snorts, earning another hit from his boyfriend. “Fine, who kissed you?” Right when he asks, a certain peach-haired boy walks into the Great Hall; this time, however, his hair is much more mussed up, dirt and grass stains his shirt and cheeks, and the yellow and black robe was no longer draping his body but carelessly thrown over his shoulder. You freeze up once your eyes land on him. Your two friends quip their eyebrows at your odd behaviour before following your line of vision.

“Wait, hold up,” Mark starts, “are you telling me—”

“Na Jaemin claimed your virgin lips?” Donghyuck hisses. You quickly lunge forward and cover your best friend’s big fat mouth with your hand.

“Shush it!” you snap, your voice barely above a whisper. “He might hear you!”

“I can’t believe you let the biggest flirt in the entire school kiss you?” Mark questions, “Like, Y/N, our beloved cynical snake, let the smiliest, flirtiest boy kiss them? And it was their first kiss too?” The poor Gryffindor sits down for a second to process the overwhelming information. “Wow, that’s actually wild,” he utters.

“It wasn’t like I purposefully let him kiss me,” you mutter, suddenly becoming way more interested in your soup.

“Are you trying to tell me he accidentally kissed you?” Donghyuck teases, but at the notice of your miniscule nod, his eyes widen. “Oh shit, how’d that happen?”

“Muffliato,” you mutter, waving your wand under the table. Once you ensure none of your fellow housemates were eavesdropping, you retell to Mark and Donghyuck exactly how a certain peach-haired Hufflepuff stole your virgin lips.

“Think he knows what he did?” Mark asks. You look over to the Hufflepuff table. Jaemin has the sleeve of his dress shirt rolled up and his tie loose; he was currently in the middle of recounting some anecdote from Quidditch practice to the flock of yellow & black-robed girls situated around him.

“I doubt it,” you snort, “It doesn’t matter anyway; it’s just a kiss.”

“You’re a filthy liar, Y/N L/N,” you curse under your breath. Ever since the incident, you have been spying that cursed, albeit beautiful, boy much more often. Like, you knew you share classes with him, but now you find your eyes wandering towards his direction during Herbology and Charms and Potions.

“Y/N L/N?” Professor Flitwick’s voice breaks through your reverie, “May you go ahead and demonstrate the proper motion for Aguamenti? It seems that a certain group,” he sends a pointed look towards Jaemin and his friends, the party looking significantly singed, “seemed to have forgotten what we had learned in our previous lesson.”

“Of course, Professor.” You get out of your seat and stand in the center of the room. Your eyes flicker across the room for a second, briefly making eye contact with Jaemin before focusing back to the wand in your hand. You will your face to stop getting so hot after realizing exactly how intently the peach-haired Hufflepuff was staring at you. “Aguamenti,” you state, moving your wand in a fluid motion, mimicking the movement of the waves. A gentle stream of water spurts from the tip of your wand and into the potted plant placed on Professor Flitwick’s desk. The class gives you a polite round of applause, and Professor Flitwick beams at you.

“My pansies are quite happy they’ve finally been watered,” he jests, “10 points to Slytherin for Y/N’s excellence in the Augamenti charm!” His eyes then flicker back to the Hufflepuffs’ side of the classroom. “And I advise you,” he says looking pointedly at Jaemin, “to follow Y/N’s example the next time I ask you all to demonstrate the charm. Class is dismissed!” You gather your books and parchment into your bag and catch up with Donghyuck at the door.

“I think your 10 points just put us in the lead for the House Cup,” your best friend cheers as the two of you made way towards the Quidditch field; he sits on the bleachers and works on homework while you whiz around on your Nimbus 2001 and run drills with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. “Now just continue being the giant ass nerd you are, and we might finally kick Gryffindor off of their 3-year win streak.”

“I thought you told Mark you weren’t salty about them winning last year?” you ask, turning towards your friend and quirking a brow.

“Sometimes, little white lies won’t hurt the relationship. It’ll only preserve it,” he says sagely, “Plus, you’re always complaining about how they win everything, so don’t pretend you’re not plotting to steal the House Cup away from them this year.”

“Well-”

“Y/N!” a voice rings out from behind you, promptly interrupting your sentence. You whip your head around to see Jaemin running up towards you, his yellow and black robe billowing behind him. Immediately you tense up.

“Hi, Jaemin,” Donghyuck greets. The Hufflepuff gives him a nod of acknowledgement before turning towards you.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks you.

“You kinda just did,” Donghyuck interjects again. You glare at him, and he simply raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave. See you at the field, Y/N.”

“What’s up, Jaemin?” you ask, trying to play it at cool as possible.

“Um, well,” he dips his head, and you’re faced with a mop of peachy hair. When he looks up at you, his face is adorned with a boyish, shy smile. Jaemin rubs at the back of his neck before he asks you, “Can you help me with Charms?” You’re taken aback by his question. Mainly because you were surprised it wasn’t about the accidental kiss the two of you had shared. He must’ve sensed your hesitancy because he immediately spoke up. “I know we aren’t close, but you’re the best in our N.E.W.T level class, and I’ve been struggling a lot with the technical side of it. I figured you would be able to help me?” he pleads.

“I guess I can?” you reply, “I can’t today since I have Quidditch practice, but I’m free after dinner to help you.”

“Really?” he beams, “That’s awesome, Y/N. Thank you so much!” Jaemin’s smile catches you off guard because you never thought any guy with pink hair could look that beautiful. “I’ll meet up with you after dinner!”

“Watch out, L/N!” your team captain, Yuta, shouts from above you. However, his warning was absolutely useless when a Bludger comes barreling into you and knocks you to the left. The Quaffle you had in your hand went falling towards the ground. “Time out!” Yuta bellows, and the entire team flies back towards the ground.

“You alright, Y/N?” Hyunjin, a fellow Chaser, asks once everyone reached the ground.

“Yeah, sorry for being distracted,” you apologize, “I just had something on my mind.”

“Well get your head in the game, L/N,” Yuta barks, “We have a game this Saturday against Hufflepuff, and they’ve actually been good this year. I’m not about to lose our Quidditch Cup streak to them.”

“Got it,  Captain,” you reply, mounting your broom and heading back up.

“God, that looks like it hurts,” Donghyuck mutters as he peers at the blotch of red that mars your right arm.

“It’s definitely going to leave a bruise,” Yuta chimes in as he plops himself down across the table from  you. “Now, Y/N, I have some ideas for drills next week and-” Your captain stops talking to glare behind your head. “What do you want?”

You quirk a brow at Yuta, and he juts his chin forward in response. You turn around and find yourself greeted by the yellow and black tie of a certain Hufflepuff.

“Uh, I just wanted to see if you were still down with meeting up after dinner?” Jaemin asks, trying not to waver under your captain’s glower.

“Yeah, there’s an empty classroom we could use on the 2nd floor. Just meet me there,” you reply.

“Awesome! I’ll see you later then!”

The moment Jaemin settles back down at the Hufflepuff table, Yuta kicks your leg from under the table.

“What’s that for?” you snap, already fed up with the number of bruises accumulating on your body.

“I can’t believe you’re flirting with Hufflepuff’s Seeker! Right in front of my salad too!” Yuta exclaims, exaggeratedly gesturing towards his plate.

“We weren’t flirting,” you reply, “I’m just helping him with Charms.”

“But if you don’t help him with Charms, he’ll fail and won’t be able to play in the upcoming match!”

“Guaranteed win for Slytherin,” Donghyuck chimes in with his mouth full of cake.

“And this is why we’re considered the ‘evil’ House,” you mutter, not even sparing your friends a chuckle.

“Fine, but if we lose the game this Saturday, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Cap'n, it’s on me.”

“How did you do that?” Jaemin exclaims as he watches water flow out of the tip of your wand.

“It’s the same thing Professor Flitwick has been trying to teach you for the past week though?” you say with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t really pay attention in that class,” he mutters at the end of his sentence.

“What do you pay attention to then?” you prod.

Jaemin averts their gaze. “I, uh, well, I just watch Yukhei shove copious amounts of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans in his mouth and pray he doesn’t die of sensory overload,” he pauses to run his excuse over in his head again before nodding, “Yeah, that’s what I do.”

You don’t believe his excuse at all, but you ignore his horrible lying skills and revert your focus back onto the task at hand. “Anyways, the trick to perfecting Augamenti is to make sure your arm motion is fluid. Even if you tense just a bit, the charm won’t work 100% like you want it to,” you explain, demonstrating for him again the motion. He stares in awe at the steady stream of water flowing from your wand and nods in understanding. You train your eyes on Jaemin’s form and pick up his mistake instantly.

“Uh, is something wrong?” he asks, shifting awkwardly under your gaze.

“Here, let me fix something,” you reply before moving towards him. You take his arm and position it just a bit further outwards and nudge his right leg forward a bit with your foot. Once his stance was correct, you take a step back to look over his figure again. “Tsk, you’re still too stiff. Loosen your muscles a bit, Jaemin.” He does as you instruct, but you could only grumble at how off it looks. His shoulders were slightly hunched over, and his arms were too tense. Your eyes drift meticulously over his body and your spirits dampen further when you see his locked knees. Taking matters into your own hands, you place your palms on his shoulders to slightly push them back. You then trail your hands deftly down his arms to loosen them up, trying especially hard not to notice the toned muscles that flex beneath your fingertips. Before you could even think about kneeling down to address the knee problem, Jaemin unlocks his knees. This time you notice the adorable flush dusting his cheeks.

“Well,” you awkwardly coughed, “your stance is right. Try the spell now.”

“Augamenti,” Jaemin says smoothly, producing a stream of water from his wand. “Woah!” he exclaims, “I did it!”

“Looks like my work here is done. Goodnight, Jaemin,” you state, turning around to leave.

“Wait, let me walk you back to your Common Room.”

“You want to come down to the dungeons? Even with curfew starting in 30 minutes?” you ask, quirking a brow at him.

“I can’t just let you walk back by yourself! That’d be rude of me!” he exclaims.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle walking by myself,” you say, trying to ward off the smile threatening to form on your lips.

“Still…”

It didn’t matter how many times you tell him that you were completely capable of walking to your Common Room by yourself, he still trails behind you, chattering away, and pulling laughter from your lips. You were enjoying his company so much that you didn't even notice the two of you already standing before the entrance.

“Morior invictus,” you say. The entrance opens up, revealing the long hallway leading to your Common Room. “Well,” you say, turning back towards the peach-haired boy, “Good night, Jaemin.” You want to smack yourself at how smitten you sound.

“Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams,” he says softly. You watch as he turns around and runs back the way the two of you came from. His sweet voice still lingers in your ears, making you smile even brighter the more times you replay his words in your head.

“Ugh,” you snap out of your reverie, “He’s not even that cute.” You pause for a second to collect your thoughts before breaking the silence, “Don’t lie to yourself, Y/N. He’s extremely cute. The cutest, smiliest-”

“Who’s extremely cute?” a voice speaks out from your left, causing you to jump back.

“Donghyuck! Don’t scare me like that!” you scold.

“Anyways, who’s extremely cute?” your best friend goads while wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Not you, you toad,” you jest. He sticks his tongue out at you in return, and you just huff and start walking towards the stairway leading to your room.

“Is it a certain cotton candy-haired Hufflepuff?” Donghyuck asks nonchalantly, matching his step with yours.

“It’s actually peach-colored,” you reply absentmindedly. However, you catch your mistake quickly and whirl around to face your best friend with wide eyes. “Wait, actually-”

“Aha! I knew it! You do like Na Jaemin!” he exclaims.

“Donghyuck, please, I swear keep your voice-”

“Mark owes me unlimited butterbeers for a month now! Heck yeah, high five, Y/N, couldn’t have done this without you!” He cheers and holds out his hand for you. However, you could not find it in you to share his joy.

“You can’t tell anybody. Do you understand me?”

“Why not? It’s no fun to keep secrets,” he teases. “Speaking of that, when are you gonna tell the guy?”

“What?” you look at him in horror, “Never!”

“Aw, c’mon, Y/N. He obviously likes you too!”

“You’re shitting me, right?” you deadpan, “He absolutely does not!”

“Why did he ask you to help him with Charms then?”

“Because he’s failing Charms? And I’m the best in the class? Donghyuck, if he was failing Potions, he would’ve definitely asked you.”

“But, he didn’t have to walk you all the way back to the Common Room,” Donghyuck retorts. You don’t reply. “Heh, I gotchu there, didn’t I?” he teases, earning a smack to the head from you.

“I’m going to bed,” you deadpan, “And I’m promptly ignoring you for the rest of the week.”

You rush down the corridors towards the Great Hall while pulling your Quidditch jersey over your head. “God, I can’t believe I slept past my alarm,” you grumble, already dreading the earful you were going to get from Yuta upon your arrival. You barge through the throng of first-year Hufflepuffs and rush towards the Slytherin table, snatching the piece of toast out of Donghyuck’s hand, and plopping down next to him.

“You’re 10 minutes late, Y/N,” Yuta comments.

“Well, Hyunjin isn’t here yet, so I don’t see the problem,” you retort with your mouth full of food. Donghyuck silently hands you a glass of apple juice which you accept gratefully. However, you catch him eying you warily mid-chug, so you place the glass down and send him a questioning look.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks.

“I’m not mad, just annoyed with you,” you reply, picking up the glass to chug down the rest of your juice. Donghyuck just hums in response, but you notice the mischievous glint in his eye. “What did you do?”

“What?” he feigns innocence, “Nothing! When I have ever caused you any harm?”

“The time in our first year where you turned my morning apple juice into orange juice, the time in our second year where you chucked a Quaffle at my head while I was trying out for the team, the time in our third year where you shoved a-”

“Okay, I get it! But, you know you love me.”

You open your mouth to give him a snarky response, but instead you reply with, “Yeah, I do,” much to your own surprise. “Huh,” you muse outloud, “I guess I’m in a good mood today.” Donghyuck just nods along, and Yuta rolls his eyes at the two of you.

“Finish your food, Y/N. We have a game to win today,” Yuta states before getting up and heading towards the Quidditch pitch.

“Nervous, Y/N?” Hyunjin asks as the two of you mount your brooms.

“Yeah,” you reply, frowning at your honesty. You never show people your nervousness. You’re gnawing away at your lip when you catch Jaemin’s eyes staring at you. You shoot him a small smile, and he beams right back before mouthing the words, “Good luck!” A sudden giddy feeling bubbles away in your stomach, and you could not help as your smile widens. However, you quickly remember you’re about to compete in one of the most important Quidditch games in your life, so you revert your attention back onto Madam Hooch. The moment she threw the Quaffle into the air, you fly towards it and easily gain possession of it before volleying it to Hyunjin, who was already racing towards the goalpost. A Hufflepuff Chaser named Felix tries to intercept your throw but gets knocked back by an expertly hit Bludger.

“Hell yeah!” you cheer when Hyunjin scores the first goal of the match. He sends you a smirk and a nod towards Yuta, who was smugly swinging his bat. Your celebration is cut short when the opposing Goalkeeper chucks the Quaffle back into play; however, you weave your way through the throng of Hufflepuff Chasers, narrowly dodge a Bludger, and catch the ball with ease. Hyunjin prevents any opposing Chasers from stopping your flight, and you score yet another goal for Slytherin. A cheer echoes throughout the pitch. The game continues with both sides scoring until the scores were neck-in-neck; Slytherin was only leading by a 20 point margin. If Jaemin catches the Snitch before Ten, the Slytherin Seeker, did, your team loses the match. You grit your teeth and lean your body forwards, keeping your eyes trained on the Quaffle currently in Felix’s hand. You’re just a hair behind him before you feel something whiz past your ear. Your eyes widen when you realize the Snitch fluttering in front of you. With a quick motion of your hand, Hyunjin assists you in body-checking Felix, allowing your third Chaser to catch the Quaffle and fly back towards your goal post. Hyunjin follows suit to ensure a Slytherin goal, while you pause to look for Jaemin and Ten. Soon enough, the two boys come barrelling through the pitch towards the direction of the Snitch. You curse under your breath when you realize Jaemin has a slight speed advantage over Ten.

“What to do, Y/N?” you mutter before it dawned on you. Slow Jaemin down. You knew Bludgers couldn’t be targeted towards him, and you couldn’t physically slow him down, but a little bit of heckling never hurt anybody. You zero your focus on the peach-haired boy and fly towards him.

“Jaemin!” you call out, not even sure if your plan was going to work. He falters for a second, head perking up at the sound of your voice, allowing Ten to gain an advantage in the pursuit for the Snitch. You could practically see Jaemin kicking himself over his rookie mistake and refocusing his energy on the Snitch, but you are persistent. “You know, you wouldn’t have lost the Snitch if you just brushed your perfect hair out of your eyes,” you taunt. However, horror dawns on you at the realization of your words. What the hell did you just say?

“Wait, what did you just say?” Jaemin throws back, but his attention doesn’t waver.

“I said your hair was perfect just like the rest of you!” What the hell are you saying? You couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up, and you had absolutely zero clue why you couldn’t stop your mouth from saying the dumbest things.

“You think I’m perfect?” he asks, slowing down just a little bit. You don’t know how to respond, but your mouth moves before your brain could stop it.

“Yes.” With those words, you mentally kick yourself and fly back towards the Chaser action happening above you, arriving just in time for Hyunjin to throw you the Quaffle. You push back the odd interaction with Jaemin to the back of your head and throw the ball through the goalpost, earning another 10 points for Slytherin.

Suddenly, Madam Hooch’s whistle rings through the stadium, and you hear the Quidditch announcer, a seventh year Ravenclaw named Doyoung, call out, “And Ten claims the Golden Snitch, earning 150 points for Slytherin! With a game of 210-50, Slytherin wins the match!” A thunderous cheer roars from the stands as your Housemates rejoice in a landslide victory, ensuring Slytherin’s spot in the House Cup finals.

“Hell yeah we won!” Yuta cheers the moment all team members touch the ground. “Who knew Ten could overtake a youngster like that?”

“We’re not that old,” Ten retorts, wrinkling his nose at the idea of being one of the oldest on the team. “And I couldn’t have done it without Y/N being a little shit towards the guy. Who knew Jaemin had such a weakness for our star Chaser?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I’m the one that has a crush on him.” You freeze at the sudden confession, and your team does too. “Oh my fucking god, why can’t I keep my mouth shut,” you groan.

“It’s like you’re always telling us the truth, Y/N,” Hyunjin mentions, “Like this morning, they told me they were nervous.  For the first time in my entire life, Y/N told me they were nervous!”

You mull over his words before the realization hit. You suddenly recall a lesson from Potions a week ago.

“Professor Slughorn, what is that?” you ask peering into the cauldron that sat upon his desk. The liquid inside is  so clear that you could easily make out the scratch marks at the bottom of the pewter cauldron.

“It’s Veritaserum, you idiot,” Donghyuck chimes in, “Supposed to be the strongest truth potion. Three drops and even You-Know-Who would spill his darkest secrets.”

“Voldemort?” you ask with a quirked brow. Nobody calls him that anymore.

“No! Yuta, of course,” your best friend replies with a wave of his hand, “I always wonder where he disappears off to after curfew.” You shrug in reply, deciding to just head over to your seat as the rest of the class filed in. As Donghyuck answers every single one of Professor Slughorn’s questions like the snivelling know-it-all he is, you focus on doodling in your notebook. Somehow you were able to draw a quite perfect peach.

“Professor, how do you brew a Veritaserum?” Donghyuck asks, pulling your attention away from your parchment.

Professor Slughorn raises an eyebrow at him. “Considering how highly regulated it is by the Ministry, it is not in my best interest to let you know until your seventh year N.E.W.T course. However, you can expect it to be extremely laborious.”

“Is there no way to learn how to brew it, professor?”

“Well, the steps are written down, but those potions books are all in the restricted section of your library. We don’t want any students accidentally conjuring up anything dangerous,” he says with a chuckle. “Why do you ask, Mr. Lee?”

“No reason, professor. Just a little curious, that’s all,” Donghyuck replies smartly, and you snort at his words.

“Oh my god,” you say in horror. He did not. He absolutely could not have. But knowing how brilliant your best friend is in Potions, he most definitely had. You pull away from your team and march towards the stands. The moment you caught sight of him you bellow, “Lee Donghyuck! Get your ass down here now before I invert your ears!” He freezes under your glare and turns to his boyfriend for some sort of backup, but Mark just shrugs and walks off, leaving Donghyuck to defend for himself.

“I cannot believe you would pull something as irresponsibly illegal as pouring Veritaserum in my apple juice! Donghyuck, you idiot! How could you ruin something as sacred and holy as my morning apple juice?” you yell at him under the stands. A strong Muffliato charm keeps any peers or professors from eavesdropping on your tirade. Donghyuck withers under your voice.

“Sorry, Y/N, I was just tired of seeing you pathetically pine over that Hufflepuff, so I took matters into my own hands,” he mumbles.

“By drugging me?” you screech.

“You weren’t being honest to yourself or him, and it is so obvious Mr. Cotton Candy Headass likes you too! So I figured why not? I’m good at brewing, so I gotta use my powers for good!”

“How can you still be so arrogant at a time like this?” you mutter.

“But am I wrong?”

“...No”

“Well then, looks like you have someone to talk to,” Donghyuck says suddenly, pushing you out from under the stands, and making you slam into the body of an incoming person. You look up and see Jaemin peering down at you.

“Y/N?” he asks, “You alright?” You immediately back off of him and send him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I should really look where I’m going. Anyways, good game, I gotta go!” Before you could create any real distance between the two of you, he reaches for your hand and stops you.

“We need to talk.”

“Ha, what do we need to talk about?” you ask, chuckling awkwardly.

“What you said today on the field,” he states, “Look, I don’t know if you were just messing with me to win or if you were being completely honest about what you said.”

“I was being completely honest,” you say bluntly. Well shit, looks like the Veritaserum still has some effect.

“Oh wow, really?” Jaemin asks. He ruffles his hair a bit, and you notice the flush creeping upon his cheeks.

“You know, you’re really cute.” He sputters at your comment. “Like, your hair is the same shade as a peach, and when you blush, your cheeks also turn the same shade as a peach, and it honestly makes me want to pinch your cheeks and cover you with kisses. Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that, but I also can because I’m under the influence of Veritaserum and-” Jaemin takes short strides towards you before cupping your cheeks with his hands and leaning down to capture your lips with his.

Your eyes flutter close at the contact, and you felt him smile into the kiss. When he pulled away, your eyes stay closed for just a couple moments longer before opening to drink in Jaemin’s face post-kiss, blushing cheeks, starry eyes, and all. He smiles gently at you and presses his forehead against yours, eliciting a shy smile from you. He then runs his thumb along your lower lip before whispering, “Even better than the first time.” You look at him questioningly before the meaning of his words sank in.

“You knew I was the person you kissed after barreling into me?” you ask, pulling away from him slightly.

“I could I forget? You have like, the softest lips known to wizarding kind,” he teases.

“Why didn’t you say anything beforehand,” you pout, “That would’ve saved me all the embarrassment on the pitch.”

“Well, I heard a very scary Slytherin complaining about how I stole their first kiss, and I prefer living, so I decided not to bring it up.”

“Then the Charms thing?”

“I actually was failing Charms. I guess fate wanted us to be together so much it made me bomb my last essay,” he jokes. “Plus, I started noticing you around more and figured why not get to know you better. Who knew I’d end up falling for you?” He says the last question so nonchalantly you don’t even notice it until you catch the teasing look he sends your way.

“Shut up,” you mumble shyly, “I have many likable charms.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replies before wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Now, if this Veritaserum is still working, what exactly do you like about my perfect hair?” he teasingly asks. You glare at him, but before the answer could bubble itself out of your mouth, you break from his embrace and run towards the locker rooms. Jaemin chases after you, but stops himself so he can watch on in amusement as you struggle to keep exactly what you liked about him to yourself.

“I’ll get it out of you, Y/N! Even without the Veritaserum!” he calls out.

“You probably will!” you reply, shortly followed by a, “Oh my god, Y/N, shut up!” Jaemin laughs at your adorableness before retreating back towards the stand where he spied Donghyuck lurking. Maybe their sudden “friend-in-law” status could help him procure some Veritaserum, you know, for emergency purposes; definitely not for getting the exact reason you liked him out of you, absolutely not.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Crush // Shawn Mendes mini-series part 4

okaaay so this is the final part of this mini-series, i hope you enjoyed it! hopefully i’ll come with the next part of boundaries very soon, im working on it, promise! take care xx

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

masterlist

I keep my word. I try my best to forget about all my worries and just… chill. I spend some quality time with my family in the remaining time of the year. I mostly just help Mom with everything around the house, I go grocery shopping with Dad on the evenings and I go ice-skating with Eric once. My nerves calm down, I don’t think too much about Shawn. We keep in touch in text though, I ask him if Maddi can come along and he assures I can bring anyone I would like.

Maddi returns on the 30th and I go back to the apartment that day too. I say goodbye to everyone at home and promise to visit sometime in January as well. Maddi is already there when I arrive, her suitcase is wide open in the middle of the living room.

“Hey!” she greets me with a wide smile when she walks out of her room. We exchange a quick hug before I bring everything into my room and just leave the bags on the floor. “So, are you excited?”

“Um, a bit, but it’s fine,” I shrug.

“Cool, I’m happy you are not stressing about spending New Year’s Eve with your future boyfriend.”

I roll my eyes at her, but she just giggles to herself poking my side gently. “Okay, I promise I won’t nag you about it, let’s just have a great time tomorrow.”

“That’s a plan,” I nod agreeing.

 We sleep until noon the next day knowing we wouldn’t be getting any sleep on the last night of the year. Getting ready with Maddi is like one big party. She has a playlist she always puts on, it’s full of jumpy, dynamic songs that are perfect to get you in the mood. She does my makeup using her magic skills and I end up with the most dramatic and perfect cat-eye I’ve ever seen. While she does her own I curl some light waves into my hair leaving it less bold, I definitely don’t want to look ridiculous with a too flashy look.

It’s past five when we get to the outfit part and by the time we are ready it’s surely time to leave. Shawn sent me the address earlier and it’s almost as far from our place as my home. So dressed in our partly fancy, partly cozy outfits we pile up into my car and leave.

I’m driving and Maddi is in charge of the music from my phone, so when I get a text she sees it before me.

“Oh, Popstar just texted!” She sings happily and I glance to her for a moment. “Can I open it?”

“Yeah, read it to me would you?”

“Okay, it says… Hey, just wanted to make sure you are still coming. You can park in the garage, can’t wait to see you. Ah, he is such a cutie!” She grunts in excitement but I just chuckle.

“Charlie, why are you so sceptic about him?” Twisting her body she looks at me questioning. I’m glad I have to focus on the road so I don’t have to look her in the eyes.

“I’m not sceptic,” I object, but I wouldn’t be able to say what I’m really doing.

“You are sabotaging yourself and I’m not a fan of it,” she continues. “I know Dylan screwed you over, but it has been years. Now this handsome, nice, successful Adonis is basically running after you, but I feel like you are ready to shut the door on him. Promise me you’ll be open tonight. Just go with the flow, let him charm you and let yourself fall for him a bit.”

I keep my mouth shut as a painful feeling wraps around my body, pulling me into my deep anxiety.

“But if I let myself fall for him a bit, I will fall hard. And I won’t be able to recover.”

“Recover from what? Charlie, if this guy screws you over I’m gonna do your laundry until one of us moves. I’m a hundred percent sure he is pure and perfect and I haven’t even met him!”

I don’t say anything, just keep my eyes on the road, escaping Maddi’s examining gaze.

“Charlie?” she calls out.

“What?” I snap letting out a tired sigh.

“Promise me! Please!”

“Okay, I promise. I promise that I will let him charm me,” I say grudgingly earning a round of applause from her.

Not that he hasn’t already charmed me, I think to myself, but decide to keep this small little detail to myself.

  Shawn’s place is… amazing, but I don’t know what I was expecting, he has the money to have a home like in a catalogue. It’s modern, has a lot of rooms, a huge kitchen and his TV could fit our TV in it like ten times. And the view is the most amazing thing about the whole place. I can clearly see the CN Tower through the window and there is a nice and comfy sitting area right at the window. I imagine him sitting there in the night, watching the lights of Toronto and playing the guitar.

I don’t actually meet Shawn in the first twenty minutes, but I do see some people from my high school and it’s making me feel weird at first. My high school years weren’t the best and because of Dylan I was quite a controversial person. Half of the people hated me for dating him and then the other half tried to be friends with me so they could get to Dylan, but since Dylan was such an asshole I never really made friends with anyone. Now they are weirdly staring at me from the distance, only a few of them actually dare to come up to me.

Maddi is having a blast, but I’m not even surprised. She has always been great at making friends, her nature is just simply so easy-going and open, she can charm anyone in a minute. We are chatting with a guy who graduated a year before me, I think his name is Chris, when I go to get a drink and actually look for Shawn. I make my way into the spacious kitchen that is filled with people, I look around but I don’t see him anywhere. I lean against the counter and pulling my phone out of my pocket I start typing a message to him, but I don’t get to finish it.

“Well, hello there, Charlie!”

Glancing up I find a smiley Shawn right in front of me, a Corona in his hand, his eyes beaming at me. I quickly forget about the message and curl my arms around his neck pulling him into a hug.

“Hey! I thought you are not even here!” I giggle sliding my phone into my back pocket and turning all my attention to him. He is looking amazing, as always wearing a khaki long sleeved shirt with black skinny jeans, his curls are messily framing his face and for a moment I feel like I need to run my fingers through them, but I control myself.

“Sorry, I’ve been all around the place.”

“It’s fine, you are the host,” I smile at him.

To his suggestion we take a shot as a welcome drink and then he hands me a beer just to start my evening properly. We stay in the corner of the kitchen talking, but mainly it’s just me listening to him and getting lost in his features.

I completely forget about Maddi and the drink I promised to get her and only remember it when she shows up in the kitchen. Her face is a bit upset at first but the moment she lays her eyes on the tall guy next to me she forgets about that drink completely.

“Hey there!” she chirps smiling, eyeing Shawn from head to toe.

“Um, Shawn this is my roomie, Maddi. Maddi this is-“

“Shawn Mendes,” she chimes in holding out a hand for him that he takes grinning.

“Nice to meet you, Maddi. I hope you are having a good time,” Shawn says handing her a beer as well which she takes gladly.

“It’s nice, you got an amazing place gotta admit.”

“Thank you. Though I’m not here that much.”

“I can housesit for you sometime. Anyway, I heard a lot about you lately.” Her eyes turn to me and I immediately feel myself blushing. She is not gonna bust my crush on him, right?

“Really?” Shawn’s eyebrows raise and he glances at me playfully.

“You know, I told her about our stressing reuniting,” I chuckle nervously and think about having another shot to make my anxiety go away. I’m truly fearing that Maddi will say something awkward in front of him and I really don’t want that.

“It was… surprising, yeah,” he chuckles nodding his head, causing a curl of hair to fall to his forehead. My eyes follow the shape of it until he combs it back with his fingers and catches me staring. I quickly turn away feeling my cheeks turn even redder than before, but luckily he doesn’t mention it.

“Mhm, and I heard about other stuff too,” she adds with a knowing look and God, I just want her to stop talking even though I love her to death. Shawn’s eyes shift between us as I dart her a deathly stare and she finally gives in. “Alright, I’ll look for that cute guy I’ve been eyeing, you two have fun. Charlie, text me if you need me,” she shrugs already turning away to search the place for the guy.

Shawn mumbles a bye to her before she disappears and we are alone, well, as much as you can be alone in a crowded apartment.

We stay in the kitchen, but privacy is not really a thing when you are hosting a party. People keep coming up to Shawn and being the sweet person that he is he doesn’t turn anyone down, but because of this I feel like I’m keeping him up. After all, I’m also just a guest and I shouldn’t own him from all his friends.

When he is talking to this guy he used to work with I decide it’s better if I look for Maddi and let him do his business for a while, hoping to get back to him around midnight, which is only an hour away. I grab my drink, a vodka soda he made for me and with an excusing smile I’m about to leave the conversation I wasn’t even part of, but his hand finds my wrist and he pulls me back. The force of the pull smacks me against his body a bit, giving him the chance to put his arm around my waist and giving it a gentle squeeze and honest to God, this is the smoothest move I’ve ever seen.

I’m blushing like a school girl, standing close to him with his arm around my waist and my smile is so wide I probably look like a fool. He keeps me by his side until the guy leaves and his hand doesn’t move even after that. Not like I would want it to, or like I would want to leave him, I’m feeling better than ever with him and at first I thought it’s just the alcohol, but I’m barely just tipsy, it’s all him.

Not much before midnight I excuse myself to the bathroom. We are sitting on his couch and he unwillingly but takes his hand off my waist so I can stand up, but before I could slip out of his hold he grabs my wrist and holds me back.

“You’re coming back, right? We only have twenty minutes until midnight.” His eyes are fixed on my face and I smile at him kindly as I place my free hand on his on my wrist and give it a squeeze.

“I’m coming back,” I tell him and he finally lets go of me.

There are two people waiting for the bathroom so I stand in line patiently. I keep checking the time making sure I don’t run out of it. I’m excited for midnight and I can’t even lie, I’m hoping Shawn feels the same. From the last few hours I’m guessing he is, but first I have to make sure to be there when the clock hits midnight.

When I finally finish my business I only have five minutes left. I make my way back to the living area looking for Shawn. Soon I spot him on the couch, almost where I left him and a smile spreads across my lips, but as I’m approaching it soon fades away when I see that he is not alone, and I know exactly who is sitting next to him, laughing along with him on something.

Lauren seems comfortable next to him, her long legs are crossed and her whole body is tilting in his direction. I remember what Shawn told me about their relationship, that he only dated her just to distract him, but seeing them so close and smiley is more painful that I would have expected it.

Suddenly I feel like I don’t belong here. Looking around I see all these people I used to see every day but I don’t even know them, and maybe I don’t know Shawn at all either.

The guests start buzzing as everyone realizes how close midnight is. The excitement is rising and everyone is finding the person they want to celebrate with while I push my way through them and with a glass of champagne someone hands me I exit to the balcony seeking some privacy.

As the glass door shuts behind me the chattering and music fades and the cold Toronto air hugs me around. The lights are still breath-taking, I step to the railing and stare at the CN Tower in the distance. I wrap my arms around my body trying to keep my heat, but it’s useless, though I don’t want to go inside just yet. Maybe I’ll just freeze to death here until Maddi finds me and we go home. Standing there I contemplate on everything that has happened to me in the past years. Seeing Shawn with Lauren really hit me hard, I guess I should have just listened to my brain. Maybe I’m upset because I feel like he lied to me when he said his relationship with Lauren was nothing. Maybe he said the truth but he has been rekindling it lately and it is something to him now. I never really knew Shawn and there is a chance I read the signs incorrectly, maybe he has been just extremely friendly all along. After all, he himself said that he is over his crush on me, I shouldn’t have let Maddi make me believe there could be something between us.

I can hear as the people start the countdown inside and I bring my glass to my mouth, getting ready to start the new year with the champagne, totally alone.

“Four!... Three!... Two!... One! Happy New Year!” Everyone chants inside as screaming and laughter follows the wishes.

I take a sip from my drink and just when I’m about to turn around and go back to escape the cold I hear he door opening and closing, then a familiar voice speaks up.

“You said you’d come back.”

When I turn around Shawn is standing there, his hands are in his pocket and he doesn’t seem too happy. I’m lacking the right words, I’m not sure why he is standing here, he should be making out with Lauren on the couch.

“I um… I just wanted some fresh air,” I say not really sure about what should be said. He walks closer and stops two steps away from me. He is so tall, but his features still amaze me even in the dim lighting. His silhouette is shining as the light is coming from behind.

“At midnight? Who wants to be alone at midnight?” he shakes his head with a confused chuckle. I just shrug my shoulder. No one wants to be alone at midnight, and that includes me as well.

“Charlie I-“ he starts but then just ends it with a sigh as his eyes roam around the city skyline before they return to me.  “I was hoping to celebrate the New Year with you,” he then says.

“Me? Why not Lauren?” I ask before I could think twice. He furrows his eyebrows.

“Lauren? What are yo- Charlie, you saw me with her and came out here to be alone at midnight?”

“No?” I say severely ashamed of this fact. It sounds dumb now that I heard it from him.

“She just came up to me while you were alone, but left before midnight to be with her boyfriend. Because she has one and she wants nothing from me, we’ve been friends since we broke up.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Shawn.”

“Yes I do. Because…” He pulls his hands out of his pockets and reaches for my free hand and takes it between his warm palms. I look down at our hands and up at his face as he takes a step closer to me. “Because I don’t want you to think I’m into anyone. Look, I’m terrible with talking about my feelings, I only write songs about them, but I can’t just start singing all the time,” he chuckles and it makes me smile too. My heart is pounding against my ribcage as I’m waiting for him to continue. “Remember when I told you I was over my crush on you?” he asks.

“Yes,” I nod shortly.

“I lied,” he straight up says making my suck my breath in. “Charlie, I still have the biggest crush on you. When you walking into our house at Christmas I knew I was screwed because I felt just the same as in high school even though I really thought I was over it. And then it just got worse because we started hanging out and you are such a sweet soul and so kind. By the end of our little nostalgia walk I was… head over heels in love with you again, or maybe I’ve always been, I don’t know. But what I know is that I really wanted to be with you midnight because I’ve been building up my courage to kiss you and you just ruined my whole plan,” he chuckles nervously and I can’t help but laugh with him. He really did just turn everything around in a few minutes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your plan,” I finally tell him earning a boyish smile that looks so good on him, I could just kiss him right away, but I give him the opportunity to take that first step himself.

“It’s alright. But I guess you owe me something now.” “Oh really?” I giggle biting into my bottom lip and he moans painfully.

“Oh my God, Charlie, stop biting your lip! It’s making me crazy, for real.”

“Sorry!” I laugh but when his large hands slide to my jaw and tilt my head upwards I immediately stop. He leans in, but stops right before our lips could meet.

He doesn’t say anything, just examines my face and I’m just about to ask him what’s wrong when he finally kisses me. I melt into his hands, his lips fit mine perfectly as they are moving against them slowly. I bring both of my hands to his wrists, wrapping my free one around his and because I’m still holding the champagne in my hands I can only brush my knuckles to his skin with my other hand. He is taking it slow, lazily nibbling on my bottom lip, taking his time savoring me and I’m perfectly fine with it. Moments pass by and we part when I jump from someone screaming inside. His face is still just a few inches away from me, his warm palms are on my cheeks.

“Why did you stop before it?” I question curiously.

“Because I let my high school self admire the moment he has been longing after since day one.”

His words melt me and instead of saying anything I just pull his head down and kiss him again. And again, and again…

  My fingers are drumming against the wheel as I’m rolling in the traffic, singing along the song blasting through my car’s speakers.

“Be my summer in a winter day love…”

The sun is beaming which is odd in the middle of February in Toronto, but I’m not complaining. The warm rays are caressing my skin and the smile on my face is wider than ever. As I reach my old neighborhood I let out a satisfied sigh. I park down on our driveway and grabbing my bag from the car I head to the front door.

“Hello! I’m home!” I sing loudly when I walk into the house. I spot dad on the couch, probably watching a documentary. He smiles at me widely as he walks over and hugs me.

“Hey Chipmunk, how are you?” he asks walking back to the couch.

“Everything is fine,” I smile. I head to the kitchen and find Mom at the stove and I can smell the chili from the doorway.

“Hey! Are you hungry? It’s almost done,” she says caressing my face when I stop next to her.

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Charlie!” Erik barks when he walks into the kitchen through the backdoor. We exchange a highfive and he immediately tries to sneak a spoonful of the chili, but Mom quickly smacks his hand away from the pot. “When do you want to leave?”

“Leave?” Mom asks lifting his head. “She just got here!”

“Not leave leave, we are going over to the Mendes house,” I explain and Mom’s smile immediately grows wide.

“Is Shawn back in town? Why don’t you invite him over for dinner?”

“Because we have dinner plans,” I chuckle at her enthusiasm. Her disappointment amuses me, she is really fond of the whole Mendes family.

First Aaliyah made my brother fall in love and become a more decent person we’ve ever thought he would turn out to be. Then dinner at their house at Christmas was nice, she found so much in common with Karen, Eric told me they met up twice since then. And the latest news of me and Shawn getting together threw her over the edge. When I told her a few weeks ago I thought she would start crying over the phone.

“I told you! I told you he would be great for you!” she told me with joy-filled voice and I just rolled my eyes, but I knew she was right.

Things has been going better than ever. New Year’s Eve changed everything, I went to Shawn’s place single but left taken by none other than one of the most famous singers in the world. To be honest I had my doubts and fears, but it turns out Shawn and I can make things work easier than I thought. We had our first official date two days after the party and had several since then, but we agreed on taking it slow. Meeting again was quite sudden and we have a lot to adjust in this new situation. He left Toronto two weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since then meaning we spent Valentine’s Day apart and this is why we are holding our own V-Day now. It’s an understatement to say that I’m excited to see him again, but spending time apart was actually kind of useful, because I started to get used to the fact that we can never be like other couples, his work will take him away a lot and until I finish school I can’t always go with him.

“Okay, but we have to have dinner together sometime, like an official thing,” Mom says bringing me back from my thoughts that are already a few streets away.

“It’s not like you haven’t met him,” I point it out but she shoots me a look.

“Yes, but you weren’t dating him then. I haven’t seen him since Christmas and I would love to have him over for dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to him about it,” I sigh giving in knowing she won’t stop nagging me about it.

Eric and I leave soon to meet our spouses at the Mendes residency. I have never thought I would ever be going to my boyfriend’s house with my brother, or date my brother’s girlfriend’s brother. Or that I would date a famous person. Of course, Shawn is not like a celebrity for me, he is an old friend, someone I’ve known in the past, someone who I’m happy I met again.

“So… How are things with Shawn?” Eric asks breaking the silence between us as we are walking down the empty streets of our neighborhood.

“Um, good! I have to get used to a lot of things, but it’s going great.”

“Charlie, I have to tell you something,” he then sighs nervously making me look at him suspiciously.

“What?” In the blink of an eye millions of theories run through my mind about what he could be hiding, neither of them seems too great so my anxiety is slowly creeping its way up on my spine.

“You remember when I said I didn’t think you’d care about the whole Shawn is Aaliyah’s brother thing?”

“Yeah?!”

“Well, that wasn’t true.”

“Eric, what did you do?” I gasp completely blown.

“It’s not that big of a thing! But… Aaliyah might have known about his crush on you and she might have told me about it. The dinner was about to happen at another time but we convinced everyone it’s better if you and Shawn are there too, this is why it was held at Christmas, because that was the only date when both of you were home.”

“Eric! I asked you specifically about this and you acted like you knew nothing!” I gasp in total disbelief how my little brother and his girlfriend just played me.

“Don’t be mad, it all turned out well!” He laughs nervously and I guess he is right. If it wasn’t for their little plan I wouldn’t be with Shawn right now. I might have never knew how he felt in the first place.

“I’m not mad, but next time let me know when you want to set me up.” I narrow my eyes at him and he holds his hands up nodding.

“Promise!”

Arriving to the Mendes house Aaliyah welcomes us and invites in. Looking around I don’t see Manny or Karen anywhere which is odd. I thought they would enjoy an evening to themselves now that we are all going out tonight.

“They are not home,” Aaliyah tells me smiling as she is putting her coat on. “You should take your jacket off by the way,” she suggests and I look at her confused.

“Why? We are going out too.”

“No, we aren’t,” I hear Shawn’s voice coming from upstairs and a moment later he appears in a dress shirt tugged into his deep blue pants. He looks hot as always, and the smirk on his face is just irresistible.

For a moment I don’t even process what he just said, I’m more focused on him and seeing him again. When he reaches the last step he immediately wraps his arms around my waist pulling me close to him and kissing me. I cup his face in my palms as I kiss him back and savor his sweet lips. It takes a few moments for the pink cloud do disappear and then my brain finally starts functioning again.

“So what’s with us staying here?” I ask still a little dizzy from his lips. He smirks down at me pecking my nose before letting go of me.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiles at me.

Aaliyah and Eric leaves and once Shawn closes the door behind them he takes my hand and walks me into the dining room where the table is beautifully set for two people, candles are lit in the middle and there are even rose petals all around the table. It’s straight out of a romantic movie and needless to say, no one has ever did such a thing for me. I turn to him in disbelief as his arms snake around my waist.

“I also cooked, it’s not the best, but I tried. Aaliyah helped a little,” he admits and I see his cheeks turn rosy.

“I’m sure it’s amazing,” I say caressing his cheeks.

As I look in his eyes for a moment I go totally speechless. I think about how different things would have turned out if I wasn’t that obsessed with Dylan, noticed Shawn from the beginning. He would have been my first boyfriend, my whole high school experience would have turned out better.

But right now all these doesn’t really matter. Because I look at him and I’m just happy we happened to meet again.

“Eric told me something interesting today,” I say. He hums and kisses my forehead softly. “Did you know him and Aaliyah worked together to get us meet again?”

He freezes mid movement and looks at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently Aaliyah knew about your crush and they twisted everything to make Christmas happen with both of us present.”

“What? You gotta be kidding me!” he gasps with wide eyes. “How did she know about it?”

“I don’t know, but our siblings are master minds,” I chuckle and he nods laughing.

“Well, I gotta thank her though. If Christmas didn’t happen I would still be just longing after you and occasionally think about high school.”

“You were still thinking about high school because of me?” I ask raising my eyebrows at him.

“Honestly, yes. Not that much, but I still kept thinking about you. And now… I get to kiss you.” He leans closer and pecks my lips softly. “Whenever,” another kiss, “I want,” another one, “because you are my girlfriend.”

“Mhm, I am,” I grin at him in awe. “So, does this make me a celeb too?” I ask playfully, making his chuckle.

“Well, we haven’t made it official. Wanna do it now?”

“You mean you want to post a sloppy couple picture?”

“Exactly,” he nods.

“Well, I guess we have to take this step sooner or later.”

He pulls his phone out and I try to fix my hair to look presentable. Suddenly I think about the millions of people that will see this photo and I feel very insecure about my look. I keep running my fingers through my hair.

He wraps his hand around my wrist and stops me. I look at him and see a warm smile on him.

“Stop, you look amazing.”

“Uhuh, you have to say this, you are my boyfriend,” I arch an eyebrow at him, but he just rolls his eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t take this photo, or just not post it, I don’t kno-“

His lips crash to mine stopping me from talking and honestly, this is the best tactic. I get lost in his lips, kissing him feels like paradise and I just never want to stop doing it. Though when I lean back I see that he has his phone held up.

“Shawn! Did you just sneakily took a picture?” I ask turning to the screen just to see a photo of us, very much lost in each other. I have to say it’s a good photo, my favorite of us so far. His defined jawline amazes me and I just want to turn back to him and kiss it.

“Mhmm,” he hums as he opens the photo in Instagram.

I watch him write the caption “from high school crush to girlfriend” and then tag me on the photo, but he doesn’t post it just yet. Instead he turns to me.

“I’m not posting it if you don’t want me to. I’m excited to share with the world how happy I am with you, but if you are not ready just tell me.”

I smile at him caressing his cheeks with my hands.

“Post it. I only care about your happiness.”

He smiles down at me stealing a short kiss before finally posting the picture. A wave of anxiety washes over me but then I calm down pretty quickly. I see the comments and likes flow in and for my biggest surprise it’s mostly positive. People are freaking out, but they also seem very happy to see us together. A lot of them are confused about who I am, but I’m sure they’ll do their fangirl magic and find everything out very soon.

“Well, I guess you are officially linked to me. Can’t run now,” Shawn jokes and I turn to him hugging his neck with my arms.

“I’m not a fan of running, so you are stuck with me,” I smirk at him before kissing his sweet lips. We soon forget about the chaos our photo just caused and just get lost in each other, happier than ever.