#and stop thinking on the millions of au's running through my brain

[sesshy380]

Fuck, I want to write something so bad, but brain can no werd things in werd order to make non rambles.

[nariism]

kiss me stupid!

pair. isagi yoichi x gn!reader

content: fluff, a little pda, mutual pining, college au

synopsis. poor isagi just wanted to study. unfortunately, you had other plans

wc. 0.9k

"can i ask you something?"

isagi gazes up tiredly from his book, silently gesturing for you to continue. the pen by your ear clicks again and again as you open and close it with your thumb. click. click. click.

you're not looking at him when you ask:

"have you ever wanted to kiss someone stupid?"

he sputters in response, because who wouldn't? and you're still not even looking at him. you seem more interested in your notes than the fact that you just misaligned the planets by about 40 degrees for him.

thick silence fills the air, save for the clicking of your pen. click. click. click. cl-

he's going to go insane. he's going to go crazy. his brain is melting. he needs a second — just one second to think about what the hell you just said.

isagi reaches forward across the table with a frown, grabbing at the pen in your fingers and snatching it away from you. "quit that," he scolds.

you finally glance up at him from your notebook when he steals it, eyeing him carefully. he feels his face heating up both in embarrassment and from being slightly flustered. your gaze is so scrutinizing right now. he's convinced you can hear the thousands of thoughts running through his mind.

"don't avoid my question."

isagi huffs. you're too good at reading him and it's not fair. not when you look so calm and indifferent to the way you're flipping his entire world upside down with some silly grade school question.

"i just—" he sighs, cheek falling into his palm as he rests his elbows on the table. so much for getting any productive studying done. "i don't get what you're trying to ask."

"like, kissing someone 'til your brain is all mush." your hands come up beside your head to emphasize, massaging your temples. "until you're both laughing and can't think straight. 'til you can't breathe."

you're being oddly descriptive and it's not helping his situation at all. heat rises to the tips of his ears and he's sure his flush is entirely visible now.

"have you?" he asks suspiciously, because it sounds like you've put some thought into it. you simply hum in response, reaching over to grab your pen back from him. the action causes your leg to bump against his under the table and he nearly screams.

“so what if i have?”

“stop trying to be mysterious and answer me!”

"i asked you first."

"no, i—" you look at him strange and he crumbles on the spot. the honest answer comes before he can stop it. "yeah, i have. happy?"

you smile at his red face and furrowed brows. "really? who?"

he wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you aggressively and yell in your face: you, idiot! you! quit being a tease and kiss me already!

he just sulks in his seat instead, arms crossed and trying to hold onto his last bit of sanity. "like i would tell you, nosy."

you scoff in response, reaching back over the table and tapping his forehead lightly with the end of your pen. "promise i won't use it against you. please? pretty please?"

though you're still teasing him, there's genuine curiosity written all over your face. it's just mixed in there somewhere underneath that humour. and he knows you wouldn't tell anyone if he told you about having a silly crush. but the circumstances are... different right now.

he swats the pen away from his face. "no way."

you stand up, the chair you were sitting in scraping across the carpeted floor. your face leans in close to his. too close. he's going to have a heart attack. oh fucking christ.

you move in to examine him, eyes dragging all over his expression to read it. there's no way this behaviour is appropriate for a public library, but for some reason he doesn't shove your face away from his.

"i'm not dense, you know." your voice is quiet but it somehow feels like a million decibels ringing in his ear.

"i know that," he stammers out. he doesn't know how to handle himself when you're so close to him. he's never been good at steeling his nerves around you.

"then why are you acting like you don't want to kiss me stupid right now?"

"i- i don't- i—" he blinks at you incredulously.

"you don't what, yoichi? don't wanna kiss me stupid?"

"i didn't say that!"

"so you do wanna kiss me stupid?"

he leans in a little closer. "do you want me to kiss you stupid?!"

isagi notices too late that his voice is shaking, and that his involuntary increase in volume is earning him glares from other students.

whatever. he doesn't care any more. he can't focus on doing his project if you're distracting him like this.

for a split second you wonder why you're stumbling until the backs of your knees knock your chair. then you realize that his lips have crashed against yours rather clumsily.

it's only a few moments. for a beat you're convinced you're dreaming until his tongue lightly runs along your bottom lip and you get slapped in the face with reality.

you stare at him dumbly when he pulls back looking embarrassed to all hell.

what. just. happened.

he quickly sits back down again when he glances around and finds the other students staring and gawking at the both of you. he's completely red in the face, and he nervously buries his face back into his book. he can kiss you stupid later. right now, just this one should suffice.

"would you shut up and take your notes now?!"

4 my one and only 🤍

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[highhhfiveee]

smoke break

here ye here ye i'm having satoru gojo thots o_0

pairing: line!cook satoru gojo x blackfem!reader summary: workplace relations were always a no, yet, that doesn’t stop satoru gojo from falling for the new waitress.  wc: 2k tags: fluff [nothing suggestive, no smut, just pure CUTENESS]! non-curse au, line cook!satoru gojo, BOH shift lead!ryomen sukuna [LMAO], f!reader. cigarette smoking occurs. also i've seen the bear but all of my kitchen knowledge comes from my own work in kitchens and restaurants. this is slightly [highly] self-in[dulgent]sert lmao. a/n: y'all, okay. i’ve been writing part five of safety net but i CANNOT get this fucking thought out of my head cause i’ve been watching jujutsu kaisen and i am obsessed 😭 not only with the show, but the world, characters and everything [the big three is my family fr i don’t play ab them]. IN SAYING THAT, i was at work one day and boop! in my head pops a non-curse au of line cook!gojo. when i told my roommate this, they looked at me like i was certifiably insane because “there is nothing attractive about line cooks” [see exhibit A] but please please PLEASE Y’ALL HEAR ME OUT! Y’ALL ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO WILL UNDERSTAND!

like imagine being the new girl at your job, a diner-style restaurant parked dead center in a high traffic plaza on the outskirts of the city, and even though you swore you’d never work in food service again after leaving your previous hellhole of employment, of course you find yourself walking up to the employee entrance rehearsing your script.

“hi! my name is y/n, i’ll be your server today….hi! my name is y/n, i’ll be taking care of you today…howdy, i’m y/n…ugh, really? fucking howdy?”

you’re so caught up in your perfect waitress greetings, staring down at your non-slippable feet when you crash into someone [a tree] wearing all black exiting the bathroom corridor.

he’s so tall that only his torso knocks into your shoulders, jolting your step and causing you to lose your footing.

you’re squealing out a million things; gibberish because you’re falling, “i’m so sorry!” for not paying attention, and…”thank you,” rather quietly as you feel a strong arm keeping you from crumbling onto yourself.

the movement is quick, so light that you’re not sure if he actually helped you up or if you’d just levitated back to your feet; either way, you’re silent as he stares down at you with the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen, a glint in them that matches the small smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“careful now,” he playfully chastises, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair as he walks away from your frozen frame, his stride as confident as ever as he turns the corner to the kitchen.

you shake your head softly, knowing that you shouldn't think too much into the interaction. it was short, one, and two, if your years of work in this industry taught you anything, it was not to get involved with anyone that worked in the kitchen. front of house and back of house didn't mix, not that way.

you're grateful that you're not even able to think about it after you clock in, your brain unable to process your racing thoughts of gojo’s touch and the millions of tables that you’ve had to take; order after order after order stacks up against the feeling of his arm around your waist and a few hours into your shift, it becomes a passing memory.

while you’re not able to see gojo with the amount of back and forth you’re doing, he’s able to take you in in all your beautiful glory.

you’re wearing the usual all black: a button down that shows off a mole on your collarbone and well-fitting black slacks. your hair is thrown back into a slick ponytail, your black and white scrunchie nearly concealed by the sheer amount of dark brown curls it contained. little flyway ringlets frame your eyes, wide, brown pools that gojo knows will be impossible not to melt into; though he’s observed you for most of his shift, top to bottom, your lips captivate him the most.

full, bow-shaped and painted powdery red, he nearly burns himself on the grill watching you take someone’s order, a tinge jealous of the warm, genuine smile you give them.

“yo, ‘jo. focus! we got, like, eight cheesesteaks all day and you’re over there gawkin’ like a dumbass. look, the meats’ burnt!” he remembers where he is and what he's doing, senses prickling at the calls of "corner!" and "hot!" and the sound and smell of food cooking all around him.

“shut the fuck up, ryo….and it’s not burnt!” gojo sharply retaliates, looking down to the profoundly browned shaved steak. he grabs for his spatula, ignoring ryomen’s dickish chuckles behind him. “shit.”

he manages to focus somewhat, knocking out a few more hours of his shift without letting his eyes wander over to your slim frame as you shimmy between tables, or his ears catch the soft lilt of your voice as you ask someone what they'd like their side to be.

he tucks you into the back of his mind, keeping your presence within as small as he possibly can.

you’re still in residence up there when he takes his first [third] smoke break, stepping out back. he can still hear the plain muzak from inside reverberating against the insulation, the open and closing of car doors all over the plaza, and the rattle of the wind through the chain link fence that keeps him separated from the world 10 hours a day.

all he can do is sigh at the monotony of it all, leaning against the bricks while he fishes his cigarette carton from his back pocket.

deep down, he knows he should quit. he could count the number of people that have asked him to quit on both hands, but always waved off their concerns. there was nothing better to calm his nerves, or help relieve the agitation he felt from working with ryomen, friend or not.

he’d always said that a cigarette or four a day wouldn’t kill him, though he wasn’t sure why he always chose to tell such a boldfaced lie.

he snakes a cig between his lips, grabbing for his lighter and closing his eyes before that crackle he knows all too well fills the void around him.

not seeing the end of the cigarette flame red is another lie on gojo’s part; if he can’t see the chemical reaction working to activate the toxic substances, there’s no damage he can do to himself.

it’s illogical, once again, though it’s his own logic, and to him, it makes sense.

“my dad used to do the same thing,” gojo’s eyes fly open, his breath catching in his throat as he glances at you, your hand pressed against the cracked door. you give him a little smile before fully stepping out into the breezy summer air, taking a deep breath. “you light the cigarette with your eyes closed so you can fool yourself into thinking that you’re not actually harming yourself.”

gojo exhales smoke, watching with careful eyes as you pace before him. you catch his stare, blinking slowly before saying, “he lived by that until he didn’t.”

if he didn't know any better, he would've thought you were a completely different girl from the one he'd bumped into this morning; then, you'd seemed so reserved, so meek, but now, he realizes that he'd like to get to know the real you. he was sure you didn’t even know his name, but here you were, condemning his MO like it was your place.

he hated anyone telling him off, even slightly, but he found himself more than willing to hear you out; more than willing to let you do it again and again and again.

“you come out here jus' to scold me?”

“no,” you answer plainly, coming to a stop just a few inches from him. “i came to smoke too, but my pack was empty. i asked someone in the kitchen for one….who was it…oh! ryo said he didn’t have any, and that i should come out here and ask satoru."

gojo’s heart skips a small beat at you using his first name instead of his last; he forbade anyone he didn’t know from using it, ryomen knew that, but of course he’d play these juvenile games. gojo could see the shit-eating grin plastered over his face now, his full laugh radiating throughout the kitchen at his scheme.

“i assume you're satoru, unless he was just messing with me.”

"don't mind him. he's a dickhead," gojo swears, deliberating on how he's gonna make ryo pay for this as he begins to reach for his pack again. he's not expecting you to stop him with a gentle touch to the wrist, though.

“oh no, i don’t need a full one….is it okay if we share yours?”

gojo nods, silent and alert as your fingers glide against his in order to slip the cigarette to your grasp. he nearly closes his hand around yours, embarrassingly.

you take your first drag with a hum, your eyelashes fluttering as you turn to the sunset and exhale with no effort, no cough.

“i don’t usually smoke whole cigarettes. i go through maybe…two in a day? a couple hits here and there is usually enough to get me through."

“this must be your first food service job then.”

“try sixth,” you respond jadedly. you take another hit, and another, and another, and gojo doesn’t even mind that you’ve seemingly forgotten to pass the cigarette back to him. he can tell that you're lost in the tale you're telling, and he wants to keep you there with him. “i’ve been through my chain smoking days, trust me. seeing what happened to my dad definitely made me assess whether a pack a day was really worth it.”

with the mention of your nicotine journey, he begins to hear the scratch in your voice, noticeable more when you’re talking in this low, casual tone. as unfortunate as it is, its method of fruition, gojo can’t help but think about how sexy you sound and how he'd listen to you talk about anything if it always came out like that.

“why not quit then?”

you giggle, throwing gojo a pointed look that makes him want to swallow you whole. you purse your lips, ready to challenge him with your response.

“we all have our vices, don’t we?”

gojo returns your laugh, standing to his full height. he crosses his arms across his chest as he stares down at you staring up at him. your height difference is almost laughable, with your head barely even reaching his shoulders.

his mind begins to wander to X-rated places as you take your spot on the wall beside him, allowing the wind to graze your skin and create a conversation between the two of you that requires no words.

“shit!” you snap after a while, looking to the now small cigarette between your index and middle finger. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to smoke so much of it.”

“’s all good. maybe...you’ve convinced me to smoke in moderation.”

you give him that smile, warm and genuine, and his heart flips again as you slip the remnant of his cig back into his palm, letting your fingertips linger for just a moment longer than you should.

“maybe…i’ll have to hold you to that, satoru.” you dust your hands off on your pants before poising yourself to return to the hustle and bustle of the dinner rush. “i’m y/n, by the way. it’s nice to meet you. thanks for the smoke, andcatching me earlier, as embarrassing as that was."

“i’ve seen worse,” he reassures, but while he'd seen much, much worse, he was positive that he had never witnessed anything better than you. even in the small, nearly six hour window that he’d known you, he's unwaveringly sure that you’re his heaven personified.

“i’d hate to know what’s worse, but then again…if that means i get to talk to you, maybe i don’t.” you give him a wink, an actual good one, and he nearly drops to his knees, uncharacteristically ready to wholly give himself over to you.

you give him one more smile and a wave before leaving him alone, his brain alternating between reeling and shutting down.

he looks down to the filter in his palm, chuckling at the negligible amount of tobacco you left for him. he’s about to toss it into the stack of other disregarded butts as routine calls for when he notices the red marks smeared all over it.

he holds it a bit closer to his face, examining the soft, messy lipstick stains you’ve left behind. it’s art, something he thinks should be showcased in the MoMA or The Louvre, titled how satoru gojo fell in love.

while he wouldn't be able to get it to either of those places anytime soon, he decides that behind his ear works as a close third, and finishes the rest of his shift with that reminder of you close to him.

LIKE ISNT THIS SO CUTE????? I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS, PLEASE OMG! I PLAN TO CONTINUE THIS AU BUT PLEASE SEND ME YOUR JJK REQS! 

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

*exhibit A

i love you all 🫶

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 ꒱ 손영재

summary : you broke with eric a long time ago, and you thought you were over him until you saw him with another girl

genre : angst, eric x afab!reader, non-idol!au, bestfreind!chanhee, for plot purposes everyone mentioned is around the same ages of 23-25 tws : language, mentions of sex, depressive episode author notes : no happy endings with me ♡ word count : 2.3k

“chanhee, i didn’t even want to come.”

“well, neither did i, y/n, but kevin said he’d send his attack-snake out on me. and i don’t want to find out what that even means.”

“huh,” you said, shoulders motioning with your voice, “kinky.”

"of course you'd think that," your best friend of a couple years (but felt like a million, in a good way) started, rolling his sharp eyes, "you haven't fucked in —"

"alright!" you stopped him, taking the creese of his elbow, "i get it, i'm lonely. damn, what about you though, king? when was your last relationship? because if i'm remembering correctly, it ended before eri —"

"y/n!" running up to the pair of you was the host, a bright and inviting smile plastering his face. although, you weren't sure why you kept walking around like a knife was lodged between your shoulder blades still. "i'm so glad you could make it!" because the moment you saw a familiar stranger, a brunette clinging to his strong arm with a green cocktail between her manicured fingers, your heart suddenly was on the floor.

you don't know why the scene of the liquid covering her perfectly blown-out hair flashed through your head. or why you could imagine the little christmas tree decoration in it scratching the top of her mouth until it stung when she would talk. you could hear her musically-tuned laugh ring through the air at a joke you couldn't imagine was that funny.

"what the hell am i, chopped liver?" chanhee joked, oblivious to what you spaced out on, "you only wanted me to come because you knew i'd bring along my emotional support fish."

it seemed you were always on a one-way street you just couldn't turn off of, because no matter how many potholes you hit, you keep driving; and if your tires popped, you weren't sure the car would stop.

you shouldn't be allowed to be appalled by the sight of your ex having moved on, simply because you broke it off when he wanted to make it work. you dropped his heart when he let you hold it. and when he should've played his cards close to his chest, he let you join his team just to fold. you were making the ship sink, so how could you have the audacity to be mad when he jumped from it while you went down?

he loved you, but at the time you weren't sure what you wanted. sure, you blamed it on being 19, but it was because you were scared to commit to someone so committed to you. you didn't want to be, selfishly, tied down to one person — and now that you've purged it from you system, you, selfishly, wanted the same commitment he had given you 5 years ago.

now you stood in the foyer, two different faces from those kids, attached to another man, thinking about if he looked over, would he get the wrong idea? would it make him as jealous as you felt?

you've loved, had loss and even forgot it. but faced with the void you could never fill was more debilitating than you cared to admit. you wanted to be two ‘i miss you's’ that just needed a push, but evidently only one of you felt that way, as the other was happily coupled up during cuffing season. but then again, you had no right after half a decade to think like that.

you just had to be brave and pretend like it doesn't bother you. you can do that. you can do a lot... right?

chanhee rammed into your side, his desperate attempt to get you back down on earth, instead of inside your never-not-on brain. "did you even hear what kevin just said?" he asked, and you looked to said man, "he said the bands getting back together." your bestfriend made a joke, which did cause you to loosen up and laugh. you thought that as long as he was there, you'd inevitably be okay.

"well not exactly, a couple people couldn't make it — which is fine, but most of our old friend group is here." kevin explained, lacing your free arm with his so you were sandwiched between the two of them. "it seems like you and chanhee were the only ones who really hung out like we all used to."

you reminisced the old times for a second. you remembered when your name was connected with eric's, when you hung out like old times with them and him. you remembered the stupid parties kevin's frat would throw freshman year, that eric would drag you to, just for you and him to have a great time. you remembered when you'd have quiet study sessions with jacob and younghoon in the school's library, or juhaknyeon and sunwoo's soccer games. it made you feel a little messy, because after you and him broke up, it's like you broke up with them all. you habitually stopped hanging out, only being dragged by chanhee who was attached to you since first introduction.

you actually owe your level-headedness all to him. he's the person who convinced you that you didn't need to have a run-of-the-mill to finally find something good. he's also unfortunately the reason you remember eric like it was yesterday, even if you don't front like it. you knew you had someone so devoted to you, yet you let him go and now you had the audacity to feel bad about it.

"well, is sunwoo coming?" you asked, which earned a nod from kevin, "and what about younghoon and juyeon?"

"juyeon got a girlfriend!" chanhee exclaimed excitedly, his voice lowering when sangyeon's attention was caught on the three of you, "like last month."

the oldest of your friend's face lit up, "y/n!" he said, making you force a smile though you were cringing; because just a couple feet away was the love of your adolescence, with the presumable love of his.

standing next to him was hyunjae, "how've you been, oh my gosh, it's been like years hasn't it?" you voiced, bringing him in for a hug, which he reciprocated before you moved to sangyeon to repeat the process. it had been years since you've last spoken to them other than a happy birthday or congratulations once in a blue moon — you honestly wouldn't be surprised if their numbers had changed and you'd been texting a random person.

"good, good," hyunjae replied, sipping a bright red cocktail, "i actually just finished my business degree, thinking of either opening my own or investing in some else's."

"and I just got engaged, though she wasn't able to make it here tonight — ceo stuff — she's getting ready to go international after fully getting elected as the heir."

you couldn't help but compare, sure you had your teaching license, but it wasn't as impressive as either one of them.

they were making it hard to believe that the world was spinning too fast, and that you weren't stuck watching the same film over and over again.

chanhee began talking in your place, forcing you down into the barstool between them all. kevin went over to younghoon and juyeon who had just made their way through the door: a synthetic blonde attached juyeon's arm.

"what's her name?" you blurted, the three boys looking down at you, "she's pretty."

hyunjae was nonchalant, pretending he didn't know exactly what you actually meant. however, sangyeon replied awkwardly, "w-who? kim minyeon? or jang nari?"

"juyeon's girlfriend, n-not eric's."

"o-oh! that's minyeon."

nari. the feminine name meaning lily; new beginnings and rebirth. just fucking perfect, wasn't it? pretty, perfect and delicate, just like the flower.

you sighed and excused yourself, disguising it as having to use the bathroom. in honesty, you weren't sure how much more torcher you could take, and it's barely been twenty minutes. you thought you'd be fine, as long as chanhee stayed by your side, but the longer you watched the pair through your peripherals, the more you just ached.

you cared more than you'd like to have admitted. and the worst part is you had no one to blame — to be mad at — because everyone had rightfully assumed you both were over it.

like you were supposed to be.

it was pathetic, the way you stared yourself down in the mirror. you found yourself resembling someone you've never met, or maybe someone you had just forgotten in all the growing pains. nevertheless, you found yourself disgusted by the fact that you were disgracing your mother's eyes, father's nose, and sister's cheekbones with the self-pity. there was nothing more selfish than crashing someone else's party with one of your own.

so you choked the tears back, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. you took a powder from the purse slung over your shoulder and fixed your creasing makeup. you reapplied a red lipstick, fixing your hair and outfit. you thought that if you couldn't have him, maybe you could make it wish he had you instead — god, you were letting the delusions look too good under the fluorescent light.

however, you stooped lower than throwing a pity party. you exited the bathroom with part of your dignity still intact, but the moment you sat against the plush-cushioned bench against the wall your phone was illuminated with pictures of the pretty brunette.

you couldn't get yourself to stop once you typed her name out. it's like you were boarding the gossip train all the way back in high school.

you scrolled like you were obsessed, brain blanking out everything around you. you saw her go through a cherry red hair phase sometime in 2022. you found out that her and eric had taken a vacation to hawaii back in 2021, multiple bikini pictures and perfectly sculpted bodies clinging together like models being the tell. you scrolled farther back, dead-set on finding the first picture she ever posted of him… that must've been close to when they met.

why do you even care? you know he was too caught up following you around like a puppy to even believe that he would entertain someone other than you. so, why were you obsessed? maybe you needed a reason to be mad at him. maybe you needed an excuse to shift the blame.

maybe it's everything you needed that he could live without —

"i didn't meet her that far back, y/n. we were still dating then."

your eyes shut, finger hitting the power button. you took a moment, hoping that it was just your cruel subconscious playing tricks with reality. "didn't think you'd cared that much," he took a seat on the complete opposite end of the bench, "it's been five years... and honestly i didn't think you cared back then either."

you were too embarrassed to say anything. and frankly, you didn't know what to reply with. i'm sorry? i did care about you, but just not enough? nothing seemed to suffice.

"i met nari at work. she treats me —"

your vision was blurring over, but you couldn't find the courage to get up and walk away. you were just so damn pathetic, weren't you? you just thought that everything in this world belonged to you, peaking your freshman year of college in comparison to the people who still innocently call you a friend.

"better?"

"different, y/n. she's different than you."

you sighed, "that doesn't make it bet — i mean, it doesn't matter, eric. i'm sorry, i was just curious after not seeing you for so long." your eyes opened, but the scene was blurred over, almost like it was torrentially pouring while driving late at night. there were questions flashing behind your eyelids every time you tried to blink the tears away. you thought that you couldn't stoop lower, but for the past couple minutes you've done nothing but prove it wrong. "i'm so-sorry, i'm just gonna go."

you got to your feet, but his voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

"w-why does it bother you so much?"

you honestly felt like your heart was re-shattering, joining the dust on the floor at your feet. you thought the question would join the heaps of pathetic things you've said and done tonight.

you turned around, phone clenched between your fist. eric was still sat, dark hair styled so nicely you almost thought that it wasn't him — but her — outfit a matching shade to the dress you saw hugging her figure gracefully.

"do you honestly think i didn't care about you?" you asked, to which he raised his head at an alarming pace, "it's true, i know i fucked it up, eric, okay? i know what i did to you and i'm sorry. i-i'm sorry i waited so long to tell you that." clearing the air didn't feel like closure at all. the tears in his eyes didn't feel like hatred at all. and maybe he didn't mean it. maybe he only told himself that because you did break his heart so bad, still holding pieces he's afraid he'll never get back. "you can think whatever you want, hate me even, but please don't think for a second i didn't love you back then. i was naive and made a mistake, but it's too late to take it back. believe me, i've thought about it. but i always fucking cared about you, okay?"

you found it oddly satisfying, though knowing in the back of your head that he would curse you for saying these things while he's happily coupled up, you didn't regret it.

"i'll forever be sorry, so don't hold it over my head."

"i believed you didn't care about me... back when we were nineteen." he replied after a long pause, "but i haven't believe that for a long time. y/n, i've forgiven you."

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

[drowninginthoughts27]

10/10 Superstition Word Count: 1208

(injury, american football au) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus has never really liked high school football. The sickeningly loud crowd of fans packed shoulder to shoulder in the bleachers. Bright lights, streamers, and glitter everywhere you look. Food so greasy it's almost inedible. And the large hoards of irresponsible teenagers (not that he isn’t one of them from time to time).

But one thing he does like is James Potter. He’d even go as far as saying he loves James Potter. And if one way to show his never ending love and support for his boyfriend is to attend each and every one of his football games so be it.

When his parents first moved to America for work reasons, sending him to a Hogwarts public highschool, he vowed to stay as far away from anything remotely stereotypically American that he could. Never in a million years had he pictured this being his life. Supporting his football player boyfriend at each and every one of his games.

Nevertheless, there he stands at the top of the bleachers during a home game playing their rival school; Durmstrang. Next to an even more enthusiastic Pandora. Who's more focused on Lily, who is standing with the rest of the cheerleaders, than the actual game in front of her. He’s dressed in James’ spare jersey, matching glitter on his cheekbones, cheering him on.

It’s nearing the end of the second quarter with only three minutes remaining. The score is 45-3 with the home team in the lead and it's looking like they're gonna win.

James had been freaking out earlier because Regulus hadn’t been able to kiss him good luck before he ran out onto the field. Regulus had gotten there late on account of the terrible traffic around town and the incredibly long line to get in. Resulting in him not making it there in time to run out to the practice fields next to the field the team would be playing on. But James was superstitious like that, fearing that they would lose and as both their captain and their star player he would let down the entire team. Regulus would think it was a load of bullshit if it wasn’t coming from James Potter and his absolutely adorable pregame traditions.

Thankfully Pandora had saved Regulus a spot on the bleachers and he was able to get there before the kickoff. James was still spamming his phone with worried texts but he was starting to calm down due to the adrenaline of the game beginning to kick in. Regulus plans on running down during halftime to make it up to him.

Regulus has picked up a fair amount of football knowledge from attending so many games. He’s watching the field intently, following James as he runs. The ref calls a penalty on Durmstrang due to illegal contact, stopping the clock.

All the players go to return to their initial positions except for one. For whatever reason James doesn’t move, laying there helplessly on the 35 yard mark of the field. Of course Regulus isn’t the only one who noticed. The medic instantly runs onto the field as the rest of the players exit it. The cheerleaders and players on the sidelines kneel.

Regulus’ heart drops.

The world around him pauses. Everyone in the bleachers around him sits down leaving Regulus standing alone. “James, not my James!” is the only thought that runs through his brain.

In the distance, he can hear the muffled sounds of the commentator talking, something about number 17 being injured, and the indistinct chatter of people watching trying to figure out what's going on. He can vaguely feel Pandora tugging at his sleeve in an attempt to get him to sit down.

Eventually he does, heart pounding in his chest and the taste of bile at the back of his throat. He can barely think past James lying there on the field.

James appears responsive but barley. Regulus watches as the medic tries to get James to move, asking him questions in the process. James still doesn’t move much, unable to sit up from where he lays the field.

Somebody motions to the awaiting ambulance to send the EMTs out. Regulus grows increasingly more nervous by each and every antagonizing second.

The EMT’s rush out with a stretcher and yet another med bag. Approaching James and trying to get him onto the stretcher.

It’s no use, they’ve gotten James to a half sitting up position but he’s shaking his head frantically saying something Regulus can’t make out. The team manager is there now, radioing up to someone. Which sends Regulus into even further his distressed frenzy.

The commentator's voice booms, snapping Regulus out of his rapid spiraling, “Can we have Regulus Black on the field? Regulus Black to the field.”

Regulus remains frozen on the bleachers, all eyes now trained on him. Pandora nudges his arm, urging him to get back up.

“Go, go!” she whispers.

On shaky legs he stands, weaving his way through the crowds of people and off the bleachers. Everyone's eyes remain pinned on him, the faint hum of curious people filling the silence hanging in the air.

Once he reaches the side lines one of the many people standing next to James spots him, waving him over.

Picking up his pace he crosses the field crouching besides James and giving him a worried look. James returns it with a weak smile.

“He refused to get up without you near him,” one of the EMTs speaks up from behind them.

“You didn’t kiss me before the game,” James pouts at a whisper only Regulus can hear. James is clearly dazed and out of it but Regulus knows that even on a good day James would have requested for him to be there. The thought that even in the most trying times he’s at the front of James’ mind warms Regulus' heart a bit.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers back.

“I’ll get up now,” James decides, voice strained and cracking.

“Alright then,” someone else says.

It’s all a blur as they get James up and onto the awaiting stretcher, walking him off the field with Regulus walking besides him.

Once they get James into the ambulance he begins to protest yet again.

“I’m not leaving without him!” James cries.

The EMT standing next to James looks back at Reguous. He’s about to hit the doors to the ambulance. The EMT opens his mouth to protest but then sighs in defeat.

“Get in!”

—

Upon arriving at the hospital James had been diagnosed with a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. Rendering him unable to play for the next two to four weeks.

Later that night Sirius had informed them that their team did in fact win with an end score of 47-9.

The hospital admitted James to stay overnight for observations. Once again refusing to have Regulus leave his side. So there they sit, eating awful hospital food and watching whatever show is playing on the tv.

James randomly breaks the comfortable silence between the two, “I told you my superstitions are bullshit!”

Regulus only rolls his eyes, unwilling to give into James’ irrationalities. “Pure coincidence,” he argues.

Despite all this Regulus never again misses kissing James goodluck before his game. Superstition or not.

[lichfucker]

BRAIN DAMAGE IN D MINOR?

lmaoooooo "brain damage in d minor" is a placeholder title and I live in fear every day that it's going to stick. the only other thing I call it in my own notes is "music and lyrics au" so unless something better appears I'm afraid brain damage in d minor will end up the actual title

a million years ago the sunder server watched music and lyrics (2007) for movie night, which is my favorite rom-com of all time, and I. could not stop thinking about how well the conceit works as a silverflint au. because I am the one with brain damage (in d minor)

it's likely the only bs modern au I'll ever write bc in general I find the canon time period far more compelling, but I digress. flint is a washed-up has-been-- he was in a boyband with thomas and peter ashe in the early '00s but it's been twenty years and his career is dead. suddenly he gets a call from gates, his manager, saying, "charles vane just left his band to get out of a contract with guthrie records and he wants to kick off his new solo venture by singing a duet with you, so you need to write a new song. okay bye"

the problem is that flint is a terrible lyricist. sure he could come up with a pretty metaphor, but he can't write things that are Relatable, and pop music is all about being Vague and Relatable. help, of course, comes from the least likely of places: john silver, a guy flint hires to water his plants, just so happens to be an excellent songwriter.

yes, this is extremely contrived. yes, it is following the plot of the movie to a tee (except, y'know, set in 2023 instead of in 2007).

a meet-cute for your perusal:

The buzzer rings, piercing through the rhythmic discordant chime of Flint repeatedly bashing his head onto the keys of the piano. Great. That’ll be Idelle in to water the plants, and he can either stay in the living room composing Brain Damage in D Minor while she does, or he can spare himself the humiliation and retreat into the privacy of his bedroom. Perhaps he’ll run a bath and drown himself in the lavish tub.

A sigh hauls itself out of Flint’s chest with all the effort of the tow truck that time in ’04 when the tour bus got impounded, and it takes similar heft for him to stand up from the piano bench and answer the door.

Flint registers long black hair before anything else, and his skull is so thick with cement that he nearly turns heel and stalks off to his room without so much as a grunt in hello—but he stops.

“You’re not Idelle,” Flint says.

A very astute observation: the person in the doorway has bluer eyes, tanner skin, and a significantly fuller beard.

The man’s gleaming smile falters. “No,” he says. “Sorry, did she not text you? I’m taking over for a few weeks while she’s away. Can I come in, or are all your plants out in the hall?”

Flint blinks. Considering the man looks like he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in his entire life, Flint hadn’t expected his voice to be so… smooth. Nor so English, not in Manhattan. Before Flint lets this stranger into his (admittedly, very thieve-able) apartment, though, he looks through his phone and—oh. Idelle had texted. Three times over the last two weeks. He’d even given her a thumbs-up emoji. Well, all right, then. He steps aside to let the man through.

“Thanks,” the man says, his bright smile back and full of teeth. “I’m John, by the way. John Silver.”

“James McGraw.”

Silver drops his messenger bag on the coffee table beside the chaise, looking around with cataloguing eyes at the veritable garden lined up along the floor-to-ceiling windows, the crystalline chandelier hanging over the dining table, the glossy baby grand on the shag carpet, the unmasked luxury in which Flint lives. “Watering can?” he asks.

“Under the sink,” Flint says, pointing him toward the kitchen. He waits a few beats and then follows, trying to keep a wary eye on Silver while appearing casual rather than paranoid. He leans coolly against the kitchen island just as Silver finishes filling the watering can. “So, Joe—”

“John,” he says, not unkindly. “Most of my friends just call me Silver, but I’d rather you call me John. No offense. Less personal, you know?”

“Using your given name is less personal than your surname?”

He gives Flint a pointed look. “I can be one of eight hundred Johns you’ve ever met, or I can be one of half a dozen Silvers, if even that many. Maybe we’ll be friends someday and you can call me whatever you like, but for now I’ll take John, thanks.”

Flint just barely suppresses a grin. “Fair enough,” he says. “Where are you from?”

Silver—John hesitates, and then he says, “London. And you?”

“Cornwall.”

“Really? You don’t sound it.”

“I trained myself out of it, a long time ago.” Flint watches John tend to the orchid on the counter, careful not to over-water it; he’s gentle and methodical with it, which isn’t what Flint had expected. He’s not sure what he expected, in truth. “So,” Flint says, “you’re a friend of Idelle’s? Where is she, anyway?”

The question earns him an indignant snort. “Idelle is in the Bahamas getting married, and I,” John says, crossing the living room to the ficus by the window, “got the great honor of not being fucking invited. She tried telling me it’s because they wanted to keep the guest list small, but I know that’s a damned lie. She invited Muldoon, of all fucking people. Logan I understand, because he and Charlotte are attached at the fucking hip, but Muldoon?” John scoffs. “No, it’s because Augie—her husband—never liked me, not that I have any idea why. Truth be told, I think Idelle herself only tolerates me because she’s close with my sister, and she knows not to say a bad word about me to Max if she intends to say any words for the rest of her life.”

He keeps talking as he progresses down the row of plants. “I told Max to bring me as her plus-one just to piss them all off, you know, but she’d already committed to taking her girlfriend, and, honestly, that’s comeuppance enough. I am far more fun at weddings than Anne is. Luckily for you, I’m also a far better plant-sitter, so—Fuck!”

John hisses in pain and turns around to face Flint, sucking on the pad of his thumb. “Fucking cactus,” he mumbles around the thumb in his mouth. The two of them stand there, twenty feet apart, for an odd moment, the air thick with… something. John narrows his startlingly blue eyes, scrutinizing Flint. Flint hasn’t a clue what he might be looking for. His lips work at his thumb all the while.

And then John’s thumb leaves his mouth with an obscene smack, the sound so loud in the dense silence that had befallen them, and he says, “You look really familiar. Are you famous or something?”

[loopspoop]

Guess what I decided to do? Write! Welcome to the first chapter of the Midnight Jacket AU! The boys are having a rough time with the normal amount of Lupin violence! Hope it’s enjoyable! It’s angsty as hell! Stay tuned for more!

“Don’t be so hasty. I want the brain of a genius villain.” Dr. Mad observed him through the door. He would make an excellent specimen…

“Brain?” Lupin hesitated, frowning more. He wanted his brain? Not this tired plot again!

“That’s right. That’s why I coughed up 30 million to buy you. Let’s get to work right away.” Dr. Mad smirked, lifting his cane as he grabbed the handle.

“Wait. First I have a question. Jigen. Where’s my partner Jigen?” Lupin stood and quickly made his way toward the door. He needed to make sure he was here and safe.

Dr. Mad pulled his tranquilizer gun from the handle of his cane. He pointed it through the bars, aiming at Lupin. He needed to start his work soon.

“Wait, wait, wait! Wait a minute!” Lupin’s eyes widened as he took a step backwards. Shit shit shit shit-!

Dr. Mad pulled the trigger, the tranquilizer hitting Lupin square in the forehead. He watched as the thief stumbled back against the wall before falling to the ground unconscious. This was going to be a grand experiment!

Goemon stopped in front of the cell door, frowning as he looked inside. Two weeks in this prison hadn’t been easy on Fujiko and Jigen. They were both dirty and definitely needed a good meal. It was odd that Lupin hadn’t gotten them out sooner…or contacted him…

“You two look like you have seen better days.” He spoke up, causing Jigen and Fujiko to look toward him.

“Goemon! Fuck- took you long enough!” Jigen stood, going to the bars quickly. “Where the hell is Lupin?”

“Yeah! He’s got some nerve leaving us in here for this long!” Fujiko stood, dusting herself off. “He better have a good reason for it or else he owes us big time.” She pouted, crossing her arms.

“I have not heard from Lupin since the three of you went missing. I heard he was sold to Dr. Mad from Inspector Zenigata in passing.” Goemon frowned, slicing the bars quickly before stepping back so they could fall.

“Wait, so…you haven’t seen him at all?” Jigen hesitated, stepping out from the cell as he looked around. What the hell?

“No. I was hoping he was with you two..if that is not the case then he must be somewhere else here..” Goemon frowned, looking down the hallway as he handed Jigen and Fujiko their weapons he had found on his way in. Something was really off….

“What do you think Dr. Mad has done with him?” Fujiko frowned, looking down the hallway worriedly. She certainly hadn’t figured he would’ve been in any danger.

“No idea.” Jigen frowned, checking his Magnum over. “Fujiko, scout us a getaway car. Goemon and I will meet you outside with Lupin in five minutes.”

Fujiko frowned, nodding a bit. “You two better get him and yourselves out in one piece or I swear I’ll sell all of your stuff online.” She wouldn’t really do that…but the threat was hopefully enough motivation.

“We will be back together, that’s a promise. Now hurry.” Goemon nodded, gently ushering her toward the way he had come from.

Fujiko gave them one last glance before running off for the exit. Goemon and Jigen watched for a moment before exchanging glances. They began their search of the rest of the lab, hallway after hallway. This building was confusing as hell and…why did this doctor need 35 plus storage closets?! All of the doors were either cells or closets…rarely a lab, but not one with Lupin inside. Jigen was getting anxious, which meant he was also getting prickly. Lupin was never this hard to find any other time someone tried to trap them. Something was up..it was making them both increasingly uncomfortable as thoughts of what could be wrong kept growing in their minds and getting more extreme.

“Something is wrong..” Goemon mumbled, gripping Zantetsuken tighter as he glanced around. He was good at staying calm but…this situation made him anything but calm…

“You’re telling me..Lupin usually isn’t this hard to find..or this quiet..” Jigen frowned, cracking a nearby door. “How the hell is this another storage room-?!” He hissed angrily. How the hell were they supposed to find him-?!

“Shh-!” Goemon’s hand quickly found its way over Jigen’s mouth. “Listen.” He looked at him as he frowned.

From down the hall they could hear the faint sound of rattling chains and something thudding against metal. Goemon took his hand off of Jigen’s mouth, glancing at him as he stepped toward the door silently. Jigen followed, holding his magnum tightly. Whatever this was…it was either Lupin doing something stupid or Lupin in a bad situation. Hopefully it was just him being a dumbass and they could all chew him out for it later…but somehow it seemed less and less plausible as they got closer to the sounds.

The two took position on either side of the door, Jigen’s hand on the doorknob as he looked at Goemon. Goemon nodded, holding up his hand as he began to silently count down from three. Whatever was on the other side had to be related to Lupin. They held their weapons tightly, Jigen throwing the door open once Goemon’s countdown ended. They both quickly ran into the room, Jigen’s Magnum raised and Goemon ready to unleash Zantetsuken and-

They stopped, eyes wide. Jigen nearly dropped his Magnum and Goemon faltered. The sight before them…this..was this actually Lupin? This was a joke right? A dummy put by Lupin for the doctor to find at an inconvenient time..? But dummies didn’t breathe, especially not the fast, shallow breathing of someone in severe pain. No, this was actually-

“Lupin-“ Jigen quickly made his way to his side, crouching beside him. Shit…

“What did he do to him..?” Goemon breathed, standing anxiously behind Jigen. This was all wrong..

Lupin sat against the wall, his wrists shackled and his legs bound. He was littered with fresh wounds and his body..his left eye was gone..and his left arm and both of his legs…and it was all replaced with metal. Burns littered the skin around the metal implants, the areas around the implants and wounds looked angry and painful, definitely infected. His body trembled, despite how much he was sweating, rattling the chains and causing his head to knock against the wall from time to time. That explained the banging.. He was stripped down to his boxers, his body looked dirty and worn down. He seemed…smaller..than normal. It made them both sick to their stomachs to see Lupin in that state. He just looked..wrong.

“Son of a bitch..” Jigen frowned, his hands raised but unsure of where to touch. “We need to get him out of this..” he began looking for locks on the shackles.

Goemon frowned, his face tense as he quickly cut through the cuffs and the binds around his legs. They needed to get Lupin out of here. Whatever ideas this doctor had were all sorts of twisted and disturbing. He should’ve come sooner to get them out of this..

“Okay, boss.” Jigen took a breath, gently trying to maneuver Lupin to get him off of the ground. He could’ve thought of a way out, he should’ve known Lupin wasn’t well off if he didn’t come for them…

Lupin jerked, gasping out raggedly as he began to weakly push away from Jigen and struggle. He was nowhere near conscious, but he knew being grabbed meant another new pain somewhere and something not feeling…right. Between the increased sensitivity of his cybernetics fused with his nervous system and the infected wounds across his body, everything was too much. He needed to get away, he had to get the hell out of here and get everyone to safety-

“Lupin-! Shit, Lupin, it’s us!” Jigen tried to steady him, grunting when Lupin managed to elbow him in the face to try to get him off.

“Lupin, it’s us! Let us help you!” Goemon tried, grabbing his other side as carefully as one could manage with a struggling, semi-conscious thief.

Lupin whined, struggling more fiercely. Smaller parts of his cybernetics began to break off of his arms and legs in the struggle, causing him to cry out. He had to get away- the others needed him! Something was wrong! He needed out! Escape-! Escape, escape, escape!

“JI-gEN-!! Go-GOEMON! Ple-EASE!” Lupin began to scream out hoarsely, jerking and twisting against the hands grabbing him. He needed out, he had to get out! He screamed louder, tearing up as he thrashed and hollered desperately. “FUJI- PLEASE! PL-PLEASE!”

Jigen froze, his grip slackening as his eyes widened. Goemon quickly let go of Lupin, his eyes frantically going to Jigen. They had never, ever, heard Lupin this desperate or pleading. They had never seen him so earnestly panicked, near tears. Lupin was a lot of things, but he was never this terrified in all the years they had know him…

“Lupin..” Jigen carefully took his hand in his own, his grip light. “It’s us. We’re right here, Lupin.”

“We will not let any more harm come to you.” Goemon frowned, gently trying to support Lupin with a hand on his back.

Lupin trembled, gasping and panting as his hands fumbled. He looked toward them, his eyes unfocused as tears streamed from his right eye. Was it really them? Or was this a hallucination brought on from pain? Could he handle it if it was a hallucination…? If he was hallucinating at this point it wasn’t good…

“Easy, Lupin. We’ll get you out of this, alright?” Jigen spoke softly, squeezing his hand faintly. He was going to kill that bastard doctor..

Goemon nodded, his thumb stroking against Lupin’s back softly. “Breathe. Everything will be alright. We are here now.”

Lupin whined softly, slumping toward them as he struggled to grasp more consciousness. “Jig’n…Go’mn…” he slurred, his body losing strength from the fight he had tried to put up. He hoped it was actually them…this being a hallucination would suck…

“That’s right. It’s us. Just take it easy and we’ll get out of here just fine..” Jigen carefully repositioned Lupin, holding him bridal style as he tried to stand. “Shit- he got heavy-!” He hissed, struggling a bit to stand.

“It must be all this metal..” Goemon frowned deeply, studying his replaced limbs. How could someone do this..?

“It is. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll put my project down and surrender yourselves now.” Dr. Mad snarled, holding his gun as he stood in the doorway.

“You-!” Jigen growled, holding Lupin closer as he stood behind Goemon. He couldn’t fire and hold onto Lupin, Goemon was their best bet.

“‘Project’?! How dare you!” Goemon glared angrily, his grip tightening on Zantetsuken. “Lupin is a person, not a machine or a specimen to be studied!”

Dr. Mad scoffed, smirking. “With a brain like his he could be the perfect super weapon! I’m merely improving the body! Once he is under my control fully, there will be nobody who could stop me! A genius thief with an indestructible body can get me anything I desire!”

Jigen scowled. This guy was disgusting… what the hell had Lupin gone through in his time here? How much had he suffered while they were just down the hallway? Was he even going to be able to recover from all of this? He glanced at Goemon, frowning more. They needed to get out of here and get rid of this bastard…

Goemon narrowed his eyes. “We failed Lupin before, but not again. You will never lay a hand on him again!” He unsheathed Zantetsuken, lunging at the doctor quickly

Dr. Mad fired at them, causing Jigen to duck out of the way behind a table with Lupin before he side stepped Goemon. “I’ve studied you too, samurai! You would all make perfect additions to my cyborg army!” He shouted angrily. “You can’t beat me!”

Jigen ducked as a bullet narrowed missed his hat, glancing at Lupin as the man flinched and trembled. He wasn’t doing good.. “Goemon!” They needed to hurry up and get the hell out of here…

Goemon glanced back at Jigen, his eyes flicking to Lupin before his clenched his teeth. Jaw set, he sliced across Dr. Mad quickly, sliding back in front of the table before clicking Zantetsuken’s sheath shut again.

Dr. Mad’s gun dropped to the ground in pieces. He laughed, looking at them as he smirked. “You-“ he hesitated, choking as his eyes became unfocused and blood began to pool at the front of his suit. “…missed-“ he gasped, stumbling forward before he fell onto the ground, blood spilling out around him.

Jigen frowned, stepping out from behind the table. “Good riddance…” he mumbled, stepping up beside Goemon. “Let’s get the fuck out of here..” he started toward the door.

“Mm..” Goemon grimaced at the body in disgust before looking back at the lab. He quickly grabbed some notebooks that were at a nearby desk and slipped them into his kimono before following Jigen. They would need all the information they could get..

The two made their way through the halls silently, only their footsteps were heard besides Lupin’s whining and shallow breathing. They’d have their work cut out for them in treating his wounds. Fujiko wouldn’t be pleased about this either, especially since they had definitely taken over five minutes..When they stepped outside, Fujiko glared at them from the getaway car.

“You assholes! What kept you so-“ she hesitated when she saw Lupin, her eyes widening. “…oh my god-“.

Jigen stepped up to the car, frowning. “We need to get to a hideout. Whichever is closest. We need to lay low for a while.”

Goemon opened the back door, getting in as he helped Jigen lay Lupin half across his lap and half across the backseat. “Preferably something well hidden.”

Fujiko bit her lip, taking a breath to steady herself as she nodded. “Alright…alright, I know a place.” She got into the car, starting it up quickly.

Jigen got in, glancing back to Lupin through the rear view mirror. He was obviously still in pain..and he looked like shit in light outside the dark lab. Pale and tired..dirty and wounded…he wasn’t used to seeing him that way..

Fujiko drove, keeping her eyes strictly on the road. She didn’t think she would be able to drive if she looked at Lupin too much… “what happened to him?”

“That doctor..” Jigen growled, grabbing a cigarette his pocket as he frowned. “Wanted to make him into some sort of cyborg to help him steal shit..”

Goemon frowned, running his fingers through Lupin’s hair to soothe him as he held him steady. He looked uncomfortable to begin with but the bumps in the road weren’t helping either..

Fujiko frowned, glancing at Jigen. She might not read Jigen as well as Lupin could..but she could tell whatever they had seen wasn’t something anywhere near good…she could at least assume that the doctor was dead and relax a bit about that..not that any of them would even be able to begin to relax any time soon. For now, they had to find a hideout that was secure enough for them to stay for a while while they sorted this out…

[kaaragen]

YES IM SO GLAD YOU REBLOGGED THE ASK GAME! 😍 I’d like to know ❤️💕🦋🦈💘🚦📚🎨

❤️ Argh! this is the one I was hoping I wouldn't be asked because I remember having a line I was very proud of but I can't remember what the damn thing was now! XD

Of the lines I remember liking, I'd say this one is one I'm very pleased with looking back, as sentimental as it is. Ignore the fact that I'm cheating because there's more than one, but the context of the previous line is necessary:

"Because you, and millions of others, have fought and suffered through a war that’s killed billions, wrought by the most sophisticated minds of the age.

"So maybe childish, naïve and idealistic is worth a try."

💕 It has to be And if we Fell Together, which I think is also the best thing I've written. It honestly still boggles my mind how popular that became, and especially when I think about how close I was to never actually writing or posting it. But I'm very glad I did, and reading it back gives me so much joy. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank the people who read it enough, or convey how much it meant to me, not least for the confidence boost it gave me when I was at a really low point.

🦋Oof, that's actually a tough one...I like writing Ahsoka and Barriss for different reasons; mainly because they are interesting foils in how they hide their insecurities. Barriss presents with a lot of poise and decorum, but internally she's a hot screaming mess; whereas Ahsoka outwardly projects confidence, but is very insecure and almost uses 'running headfirst at things' to stop herself from thinking and being paralysed.

But lately, I'm really enjoying teenage Tatooine Leia and pre-fuck-up-with-the-Duchess Sabine. Both are quite fun to unpick and work backwards from their canon characters and think 'okay, but if they were in this environment and didn't have that what would they be like?' without removing their essential natures as characters.

🦈 It used to be Luminara, as I really struggled to get a handle on her. After her confrontation with Barriss, where she loses her poise, it became a lot easier as it clicked that she's devoutly committed to the Jedi Order and the spiritual ideals of the Force, but is also using them to mask her uncertainties about what to do in situations.

As of now, it's probably Seventh Sister - who is fun to write, but also needs care as she is a mess and it's easy for her characterisation to split too far too soon and there's less in canon to anchor with.

(The Spectres as a whole are tricky, because you have to give each of them something to do, and also have them react in ways that fit each character, without that becoming a litany of reciting. God knows how Tamsyn Muir manages to do it so effortlessly in The Locked Tomb...)

💘It will surprise no one when I say angst XD My brain just seems to be wired for it (and I like to think I do it pretty well). But I maintain that angst makes the fluff worth it/better when it comes. So there!

🚦I've changed on this one. I used to think I was more of a 'bad' ending person, but perhaps years of reading Grim Dark stuff has worn me down. Or, writing has made me realise I'm more sentimental than I thought. Either way, I like plausible happily ever afters or ambiguity tinged with hope.

📚Ooo, that's a good question. I couldn't narrow down to just one, so I'll say that The Padawans (by someone you may not have heard of, called JediMasterBailey :P) and The Erosion of the Spirit by @425599167 are different, brilliant, takes on canon-compliant Barriss redemption arcs; Down to my Knees (Up en Pointe) by @cafffine is the best Inquisitor Barriss fic I've ever read, with Tomorrow, She'll see the Sky Again by @thevalaxy being the best post-Inquisitor Barriss fic I've read. Then there's Where I've Always Been and Coming Home to You by Gabby (Kirahsoka), which are amazing and made a sceptic of modern-world AUs and fantasy-world AUs like me rethink my scepticism.

Special shout-out goes to Pity and Reforging by @mylordshesacactus, which were the first Barrisoka fics I read and Jesus Christ, I think they fundamentally altered my brain chemistry and will haunt me until my dying day.

🎨Well, someone (not naming because I don't know if they want to be) very nicely asked if they could do fanart inspired by And if we Fell Together, which was about the happiest day of my life! I've seen some drafts and it looks incredible and I'm incredibly excited to see the finished version!

If there were to be a specific scene, I'd go for Ahsoka and Anakin's starfighter duel as I really like the imagery in that one! Oh, and also the first kiss!

[pcrtgas]

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄 — 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐨𝐧.

pairing: ( caronte ! ) corazon x ( female ! ) reader.

cw: divina commedia ( divine comedy ) au!

synopsis: during your voyage through hell, accompanied by your guide virgil, you met a quite interesting man who happened to be the ferryman of the sinful souls.

author note: this is self-indulgent to the core. dear dante, thank you for the inspiration.

your eyes followed the little waves gently splitting the dark water beneath you. the air was hot against your skin, sending chills running down your spine as you lowered your fingers down into the warm water of the river. a pair of brownish eyes watched your movements in complete silence as he slowly paddled the boat where you laid on, beside him.

sighs flowed out from your lips, the atmosphere was lulling you into a deep slumber, and your guide left you resting for a while. the blonde ferryman didn’t mind your company, he didn’t even let the souls get into the boat as you were having moments of absolute peace. when you turned around to face the man, he stopped his activity, letting the little boat sail on its own. “what’s the name of this mortal creature?” he asked, referring to you who couldn’t do nothing but stare at him, as if you were intoxicated by some sort of devilish spell. your breath hitched when his eyes looked directly into yours, was he hypnotizing you? no, he was just looking, wondering why a living being would visit hell, a place of sins and pain.

with a slow whisper you managed to say him what your name was, to which he nodded slightly, before talking a few words. “i am the guardian of the Antinferno, the ferryman of all the souls whose only place to be is hell.” your tired eyes watched his figure attentively, his clothes were unusual for an hell’s guardian, not that you saw one before. his black coat made of feathers covered his white pants and shirt as if he directly came from your world.

time passed so slowly, minutes felt like hours, but you couldn’t explain how it was so comfortable for you to rest with the guardian, keeping you company. you could sense he was a good person, you could feel kindness and a slight sadness coming from his body, from his heart. “how come a kind creature like you is damned to live eternally in hell?” your words caught him surprised, he would’ve never expected someone to call him ‘kind’ nor talking to him so gracefully. he was used to the sinners’ loud curses, he couldn’t have possibly imagined someone like you would initiate a sort of conversation with him.

“corazon is the name of the guardian you are addressing to, but the name of the man whose soul is being blessed by such a creature is donquixote rosinante.” his words falling from his lips sweet as heaven, his coat’s feathers softly brushing against your cheek as he leaned down so that he could sit next to you. “i’m no kind creature, you must’ve mistaken my soul for another.” you shook your head, you were sure of what you saw inside him, and his attempts of making you think the opposite made you frown. “your lies leave me unfazed, rosinante.” million chills ran all over corazon’s body, not even when he was still alive someone calling him by his real name made him feeling like this.

what were you doing to him? why did you decide to stay on his boat and talk with him? why was he answering you? questions flooded inside corazon’s brain, he tried with all his will to stop thinking about you and bringing you to the other side of the river, but he couldn’t do nothing but feeling himself opening up to you. he found himself talking to you about his story, and he didn’t know why he was doing it nor who let him do so, but he wasn’t able to stop, so he didn’t.

your heart tightened inside your chest, every word he said only made you feel worse. your breath hitched when your eyes met his teary irises, all you wanted to do was pulling him into your arms and give him some kind of comfort, but your guide warned you about doing so. what you did was simple, yet for corazon was a total change in his entire existence.

“rosinante, once i’ve reached heaven and god will allow me a few words, instead of forgiving me for my sins, i will ask him to let you inside the purgatory…so that you can redime yourself and be ready to live the rest of your eternity in heaven.”

© pcrtgas

[inkedaztec]

Happy Monday!

Test ask (or real, up to you) who’s your favourite version of Bucky and how do you think he’d react if you came home with a new piercing/tattoo?

Oooh let me think

It would so have to be modern au neighbor Bucky. I want him to have a normal life and not have to fight so bad. As for the tattoo 😉

When you had moved in next door to Bucky Barnes, you never in a million years would have believed your life would have changed so much, and in so many ways become so much better. You had thought that having to start over, leaving everything and everyone behind would have meant you would be spending countless nights alone. But Bucky and his friends had welcomed you with open arms and told you their doors were always open. And that was before you had started dating the brooding man with the ice blue eyes.

Bucky had become your rock. He was always there to listen to you and your problems. He didn't care if you just wanted to unleash about something bothering you. He always seemed to know when you just wanted to unload and when you wanted his help with problem solving.

You were there for him too. You had helped him see that he was more than his metal prosthetic, given to him by the Stark family when he has to have his arm removed after an accident crushed the bones beyond repair. He had told you that he hadn't even thought twice about himself getting hurt when Morgan had been in danger. Then it was convincing him that the age gap between the two of you was nothing in your eyes, that it didn't matter his beard was starting to get a little gray in it, that he was the one who made you feel at home and at peace.

Natasha had pulled you aside, shortly after your five month anniversary, to tell you that she had never seen Bucky smile as much as he did with you. That you somehow had made his past haunts leave him. Even though you knew Steve was his best friend, earning Natasha's approval somehow meant so much more.

Now, as you were hitting the two year mark, you knew that you needed to do something to show how much he had come to mean to you. So you called up your tattoo artist, and told him you had to get something done today.

You hadn't told Bucky yet what the appointment was, not fully knowing how he would react. Sure you had other tattoos, but you hadn't mentioned wanting to get one for him. But he was endgame for you. He was stuck with you until he decided that he was done, because there was no other way you would willingly leave him.

When you arrived home, Bucky had already let himself in, and had started pacing in the living room. His hair looked windswept, like he had been running his hands through it constantly. Even though you had told him it was nothing serious, with his past he must not have been able to relax.

"Bucky? Sarge are you okay?" You asked him as you closed the door behind you, and set your purse down.

Bucky looked at you, looked you over from head to toe before taking in a deep breath, filling his lungs finally. He went over to you, hugging you tightly, "Better now that you're home. I know you said it wasn't anything serious, I just couldn't get my brain to let the thought of something bad going on."

You hugged him tightly, knowing that because of his past, it was hard for him to not see mountains when dealing with the unknown. As his hands went down your arms, he felt the wrapping around your left wrist. His gaze met yours once more before he softly asked, "Doll?"

You smiled back at him before removing your jacket. Around your left wrist was gauze and black wrapping tape. You carefully peeled it away, knowing enough time had passed for the bleeding to stop. Once it was removed, there against your skin, in Bucky's own handwriting was 'till the end of the line '. You waited patiently for his reaction, your nerves starting to spike slightly.

Bucky's eyes watered as he took in the tattoo. He could barely believe that he got to call you his girl before, now you had gone above and beyond in showing the world that you were his and his alone. "You got this for me?"

"Of course I did, your it for me."

Bucky smiled as he once again took in the words in your wrist. His words on his girl, nothing could be better than that. He smirked before pulling you in for a heat filled kiss, branding your lips with his. He barely pulled away when the need for air finally arose. He rested his forehead against yours, not giving you room to get air of your own. "Call up your guy, I want your name on me."

[fratboykate]

So I’m thinking about the lovers through the ages AU as always. And I just saw a pic of Hailee from True Grit on one of my feeds snd it just had me thinking…

KY!Pioneer/Oregon Trail AU

Did you ever see that movie with Vanessa Kirby and Katherine Waterson, The World To Come? I’m seeing those vibes, but like…it could go several ways.

One way it could go is that Kate is traveling with her parents/family while Yelena is traveling with her husband. Of course Kate catches some suss activity between them one night when she wakes to pee and is creeping around the campsite, wherein said husband beats Yelena and she’s stone cold/turns the other cheek defiantly, which you know, shouldn’t Do Things to Kate, but it kind of does because it’s something she’s just not used to seeing…so she sneaks back to her wagon and has to squeeze in between her siblings (one of which will inevitably die on the journey RIP little baby Frederick) and tries to go back to sleep but now she can’t stop thinking about the other woman and also what the actual fuck is happening to her, why is she feeling so hot all of a sudden??? Anyway, as the days carry on, Kate starts to watch them more closely and can’t help but notice they aren’t like the other couples traveling. She starts trying to sort of not-so-subtly step in and Yelena is like, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back the fuck off bitch, you’re going to get yourself killed. He isn’t somebody to mess around with. If you could see the scars on my body, you would know. So naturally, fighting and flirting and sneaking around shenanigans ensue until Kate accidentally kills Yel’s husband in an effort to try and defend/protect Yelena, and it becomes An Issue because of messy reasons. But this also completely shifts the way Yelena views little miss Katherine Bishop because until now she’d thought little of her except how spoiled and innocent she seemed.

The other route is that Kate is married to a man and Yelena has bought her passage West as a helping hand to the pair…lots of livestock, that kind of thing. Kate is, of course, inexplicably attracted to Yelena as she watches her driving the oxen or making bullets or whatever else they’ve got to take care of because we know that women who were a part of the wagon train often had to step outside the bounds of what was considered “traditional” domestic affairs for the sake of survival AND DAMN IT ALL if this woman can’t give any man a run for his money, which has Kate going absolutely feral. Like one of the oxen breaks a leg while getting the wagon over a rough patch of ground, and not only does she put it out if it’s misery, she steps in and pulls the fucking wagon out from where it’s gotten stuck. Picture Yelena with a human yoke absolutely hauling ass with buckets of water and not a drop is lost because she might be strong like bull but she’s also delicate as fuck when she needs to be. (*cough* Kates about to find out just how delicate she can be…and not be *cough*) Anyway. She absolutely breaks Katherine’s brain. Then one night Yelena saves Kate’s life by shooting a coyote or wolf or something that’s about to attack her, after Yelena has already told Kate like one million times that’s it’s a bad idea to go out walking alone in the dark 🤷‍♀️ and Kate’s just like “oops…think you could reach me how to use that gun??” And Yelena just rolls her eyes and is like you’re going to get killed if I don’t, aren’t you? but BUT halfway through the journey, Kate’s husband dies of dysentery and now they’re traveling alone…except it’s totally within reason that Kate would become the head of house, because Wagon Train Rules…did this just become a domestic partnership? Well, it’s not *not* that.

In either case, Yelena has A History and maybe it involves murder, maybe it doesn’t, but either way, she’s leaving the life she had on the east coast to find her sister, Natasha, whose last known whereabouts was a cathouse called the red room. Katherine Bishop is just along for the ride and didn’t really want to be there at all until she met Yelena. Now she finds herself oddly invested in making it West.

Boom. I don’t care if anyone else is into this, I’m frothing. I’ll be here for the next several days…sorry I went a little overboard there.

YOU KNOW WHAT...........I kinda like it when y'all decide it's "story hour" in my inbox tell ME little gay things. Then I don't have to do the work lol

[dreamy-jaeger]

Love Thy Neighbor | Ch. 5

Neighbor!AU, Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Content: Enemies to lovers

Summary: Eren is saved from the lasting chill that finds him when he’s locked out of his apartment, and the two neighbors are struggling as they try to figure out how to be normal after what happened in the readers living room.

Masterlist

A/N: I seriously have no self control... but since this chapter is pretty lowkey I thought it wouldn’t cause any harm to post it, and it looks like my finger slipped ;) 

Chapter 5

It was fucking freezing. Eren had been sitting outside of his locked door for almost an hour now, and the later it got, the more the cold started to puncture his bare skin. At this point his teeth were chattering and goosebumps covered every inch of him. And all he could do was think longingly about the hoodie he had given up so easily. 

He didn’t even know why he gave Y/N his hoodie, when she could’ve gotten one of her own. They were in her apartment for fuck’s sake. And he was pretty certain she had, like, a million throw blankets in a basket next to her couch. So, why did he give her his hoodie?

Eren thought back to the incident that occurred only an hour prior. He thought about when it ended, and how she looked sitting on the opposite side of the couch from him. She looked so vulnerable, with her arms wrapped around her body, shivering the same way he was now. And since he wasn’t the ‘boyfriend-type’ proven by his words earlier that night, Eren didn’t have the courage to scoop her into his arms and hold her close. But he was never a cuddler. So he gave her his hoodie. 

He tried to tell himself that it was repayment for the robe she lent him the other night. It couldn’t be anything deeper than that. Because if it was, that might mean that he would want to do something like that again. And even as the sound of Y/N’s moans and the touch of her lips were still vibrantly present in his brain, he wouldn’t ever want to do something like that again. 

A very long time ago, Eren made a rule. A rule that he would never hook up with a girl more than once. It only led to the girl he was with to grow attached, despite the terms they had set for themselves, which ended up with her being hurt. And Eren wasn’t going to do that to Y/N. Or rather… he wasn’t going to do that to himself. He had a very strange inkling that it wouldn’t be Y/N in fear of growing attached.

From the first press of Y/N’s lips against his own, Eren knew that something was different. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, his hands were shaking as he touched her skin. Never had he been with a woman where he felt so unsure in his movements. Usually it was so easy, he knew how to make women feel good, he was always so confident in his skillset. Obviously he got the hang of it eventually since the taste of Y/N’s cum was still present on his tongue. But it was like Y/N had clouded his senses. She wedged herself into his mind, replacing every single memory of any other woman he had ever been with. If he tried to think of anyone else, it was her face that appeared. Her body. Her moans. Her taste. Fuck.

“You are an idiot.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Eren looked up to find Armin standing above him, his arms crossed, an amused smirk across his features. 

“How did you manage to get locked out of your apartment? Shirtless for that matter.” Armin chuckled, stepping over Eren’s long legs to get to his front door. With the spare key already in hand, Armin swiftly unlocked Eren’s apartment. 

“It’s a long story.” Eren grumbled, pushing himself up off the floor and following Armin into the warmth of his home. He let out a breath of relief as the cold started to fade from his skin. 

“Thanks for coming, by the way, I know it’s late.” He added, before moving into his bathroom. He stopped in front of his sink. Not daring to look himself in the eye as he focused on washing his face.  

“It wasn’t a problem. I was already up, anyway.” He heard Armin call out, through the running water. 

When he emerged from the bathroom a second later, he found his best friend lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. Eren plopped down next to him, the leather hissing under his weight. He sighed, running a hand over his freshly cleaned features.

“Wanna tell me about this long story?” Armin tried, letting his phone slip through his fingers, where it landed next to him with a dull thud. Eren appreciated that his friend was ready to give him his undivided attention, but he wasn’t exactly ready to discuss anything related with what happened tonight. 

“Not really.” Eren shrugged, reaching for the remote. The room was washed in blue light when the TV sparked to life. 

Armin watched him with pursed lips, as Eren switched the input to his console, turning on a game that he could mindlessly play, forcing any other thought out of his brain. His friend was quiet as he thumbed through the start screen and Eren was starting to grow self-conscious under his blue gaze.

“Armin, please don’t make me talk about it.” He begged, holding out the other controller, hoping that Armin would take him up on his offer of ignoring his problems.

He paused, looking down at the controller and then back up at Eren. “How about the abridged version?”

Eren groaned, throwing his head back against his couch. 

“Come on, Eren, don’t do this.” Armin urged.

“Don’t do what?”

“You totally suck at talking about the things that are going on in your life.” Armin responded. “Don’t try and shut me out again.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t shut you out, I tell you everything.” Eren argued, looking over at Armin, incredulously.

“Okay, sorry, let me rephrase that.” Armin said, rolling his eyes, “You totally suck at talking about your love life.”  

“My love life?” Eren sputtered, sitting up straight, “This has nothing to do with my love life.” 

Armin scoffed, grabbing the controller that Eren tried to hand him earlier and sat back against the couch. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You were right.” Armin shrugged, starting up the game, his fingers already moving at an increasing speed against the controls. “You tell me enough about your life. I should just quit while I’m ahead.” 

Eren narrowed his eyes, studying his friend while he played through the motions of the game flashing on the TV. 

“What do you mean you know ‘enough’?” Eren asked. Armin paused the game, folding a leg underneath him so he could face Eren head on. 

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” He started, and now it was Eren’s turn to roll his eyes. “We grew up together so I already know what you were like as a kid. I know what you like and what you hate. I know where you went to college. I know what you do for a living.”

Armin listed off, counting each item off on his slender fingers. 

“But I don’t know anything about your love life and that’s because you refuse to talk about it.” Armin continued, his tone speaking as if all of this was fact. Which it was. 

“So I can only assume that the only reason you won’t tell me about this ‘long story’ is because it includes a girl that’s thrown you off your game.” Armin finished. Eren’s eyes were wide. He was slightly impressed. 

“I’ve talked to you about girls before.” Eren offered, a bit lamely.

“No, you’ve talked to me about the girls you’ve hooked up with.” Armin countered. “It’s always different when you actually like her.” 

“I don’t like her.” Eren grumbled as he slumped deeper into the couch.

“So there is a girl.” Armin grinned, and Eren cursed at his slip up. “Who is she?”

“No one important.” Eren articulated, unpausing the game. 

“Come on, she must be something special if she’s got a hold on the almighty Eren Jaeger.” Armin laughed, turning back to the screen and grabbing his own controller again. 

“Shut up, dude.” Eren groaned, throwing out his hand to hit Armin. But with his attention still on the screen his aim was off, and Armin was able to dodge him, laughing harder than before.

“It doesn’t even matter who she is.” Eren shrugged, “She’s… seeing someone.”

That caused Armin to stop laughing. “Oh, man, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just the way it is.” Eren replied, “I don’t think I’m her type, anyway.”

“What’s her type?”

“The ‘relationship’ type.”

“Ah, I see.” Armin nodded. “You’re delusional.”

“What? Me?”

“You really think that you’re not the relationship type?” Armin questioned, performing a combo move on screen as he spoke.

“I’m not holding out any hope.” Eren replied, coolly, trying to beat Armin’s combo but failing miserably. His character crumpled down onto the floor. A visual representation of how Eren felt. He dropped his controller down into his lap.

“Just wait and see,” Armin chuckled, shaking his head, “One day you’re gonna meet a girl, and she’ll prove to you that you are, in fact, the relationship type. And then you’ll eat your heart out, Jaeger.” 

“You’ve become quite the romantic ever since you got that girlfriend of yours, you know that, right?” 

“I know.” Armin replied, a goofy grin spreading over his features at the mention of his girlfriend. “She’s the best.”

Eren couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his best friend being so uncontrollably happy. Lord knows the kid deserved it. Especially after he mooned after this girl for weeks after he kept running into her at a tea shop all those months ago. Armin would not shut up about her. He still hasn’t, even after they’ve been dating for so long. But Eren loved it. He believed that good people deserve good things. The only question was if Eren was included in that.

A nudge to his shoulder brought him back to reality, he looked over to find Armin smiling softly at him.

“You’ll find someone like that too.” He told him, as if he was reading Eren’s mind.

“Maybe.” Eren murmured. He thought of Y/N. Then a white-cloth covered table. At the end sat a knife and fork on either side of a silver platter, which held his lonely beating heart. Ready to eat. 

~

Copies were missing. Pens were dropped. Papers were scattered. Everything that could go wrong at Y/N’s desk, did inevitably go wrong. She was a mess. 

The final straw was when Y/N accidentally knocked her coffee all across her most recent photoset. She was now having a breakdown. Or at least a silent one as she held her head in her hands.

“Woah, was there an earthquake?” She heard Mikasa joke. Y/N groaned, lifting her head to find her raven-haired friend standing at her desk, the handle of Y/N’s empty mug hooked around her forefinger. 

“Something like that.” Y/N mumbled, sitting up straight in her chair so she could get to work cleaning this mess up. Mikasa set the mug aside to immediately start helping.

“Off day today?” Mikasa offered, and Y/N nodded, not really wanting to get into it. Mikasa accepted her non-verbal answer as it was, as they continued to silently clean. She was good at that. Her friend always seemed to know the appropriate time to push for answers. Clearly right now wasn’t one of them.

But the silence had Y/N’s mind reeling. She couldn’t get rid of the memory of what happened last night. It was like Eren’s tongue was a phantom. Y/N could still feel it on every single spot he touched on her body. Which could get pretty annoying when she sat in an office with all of her peers most of the day. 

However, her annoyance didn’t stop the shivers that ran down her spine every time she thought about the events that took place in her living room. 

Which was happening now as she wiped at the soaking wet mess that was her desk. Y/N hoped that it just looked like she was cold. She didn’t know how she would explain to her friends that the guy who had been annoying her endlessly for the past couple weeks made her cum with only the use of his tongue. 

All that she knew was that it couldn’t happen again. It was obviously a one time thing. It’s been a long time since she hooked up with someone with no strings attached. She much rather prefers it when it’s with someone who actually cares about her. She doubted that Eren ever thought of her as anything more than a potential conquest. Eren said it himself. He wasn’t the type of guy who could be her boyfriend.

And Y/N didn’t want him to be her boyfriend. She was perfectly content with him playing the role of the obnoxious neighbor that was strangely becoming something derivative of a friend. That would only get more and more messy if they kept up whatever they did last night. Especially if she wanted to continue seeing Bertholdt. Which she was planning on doing, since he already asked her out for a second time this morning.

When she found the text on her phone, she honestly didn’t know how to respond at first. Some part of her felt like she betrayed Bertholdt with what she let happen last night. It felt unfair that she went on such a nice date with him and then went home to immediately get eaten out by another dude. 

But it wasn’t like she knew that was going to happen and there was no predetermined promise that had been broken. Her and Bertholdt weren’t even exclusive yet. She was free to do whatever she wanted. Sure, maybe she secretly wanted something like that to happen with Eren, but now it’s over. And if she had to choose which relationship she’d rather pursue, there was an obvious choice. So Y/N texted him back telling him that she would love to go out with him again and now they have plans to get dinner tonight.

Eren on the other hand… Y/N would just act like it never happened. Because it never will again. And she didn’t want him to see her as a pathetic loser who got hung up on him just because they hooked up once. She would play it cool.

After Mikasa helped her clean, the two went on with their day. With her thoughts now collected, Y/N was acting considerably more normal and she had no more mishaps at her desk. It was smooth sailing, all through the rest of her work day, during her drive home, until she ended up at her parking spot. Eren was already there. She put on a brave face. She could do this. She could act normal.

“Hey.” She said simply as she turned her key, cutting off the purring engine of her moped.

“Hi.” He blinked back at her, slightly taken aback by her abrupt entrance and nonchalant demeanor. He watched as she hopped off her moped, pushing her weight against it to place it in it’s usual spot in their shared space. She didn’t look at him. But not to avoid his gaze. Her focus was set on locking up her moped.

“How are you?” Eren asked, Y/N looked up at him, her eyebrows pulled together with amused confusion.

“I’m great.” She smiled, though a bit warily. Maybe it was strange for Eren to suddenly be so interested in how she was doing. Eren felt like an idiot. As Y/N removed her gaze from him to finish locking up, Eren turned to head inside, trying to save himself from any further embarrassment.

“How are you?” Y/N returned the question, after picking up her pace to catch up with his stride. And Eren was surprised for the second time, as she fell into step with him. His lips formed into an overturned smirk as he tried to hide the full extent of his smile. 

“I’m good.” He nodded, opening the door for her. His grin came out at full force as she swept past him with a soft smile and a ‘thank you’. 

Silence fell over them as they waited for the elevator. But it wasn’t awkward, like Eren feared. He had been worrying about this interaction all day and now that it was here, Eren wanted to laugh. It was normal. No, it was better than normal. Eren couldn’t put a name to it, but maybe this was the feeling Armin was talking about when he obsessed over the tea-shop girl. It felt good to be standing here with Y/N, smiles plastered to both of their faces as if they were both in on some inside joke. 

Eren rocked his weight back and forth on his heels, glancing over at Y/N every so often. This felt like the right moment to say something. Maybe something that would put him on the right track with Y/N. Maybe he could make Armin (and that random girl, Hitch) proud. 

“Hey, so—”

“So—” 

They both spoke at the same time. They both laughed. Y/N looked down at her shoes. Eren rubbed at the back of his neck. The elevator doors dinged, and they both stepped inside.

“You go first.” Eren offered, when the elevator spurred to life, carrying them up to their floor. 

“Bertholdt asked me out for a second date.”

Eren’s smile immediately faded and suddenly everything made sense. 

Thank god he let her go first. 

Y/N wasn’t smiling because of him, she was smiling because of Bertholdt. She was acting normal because she didn’t care. Here Eren was, his mind reeling all day, going back and forth on what he should do, while she was busy planning dates with someone else.  

“That’s great.” Eren breathed, when he realized she expected a response. 

“Thanks.” She replied softly. Eren wondered if she could see his disappointment. 

“When is it?” He asked, despite his inner protests of not wanting to know more. 

“Tonight.”

“Wow…” Eren replied, “You’re seeing each other two nights in a row?”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you really like each other.” Y/N laughed. 

“And you really like Bertholdt?” Eren questioned, seemingly a masochist. 

“I’m starting to.” Y/N nodded, biting at her bottom lip, her eyes gleaming as she thought of the tall fireman. Eren wished that he was the one who made her look like that. He also wished he didn’t ask. He didn’t like knowing that she was capable of making that look.

“He’s taking me to dinner.” Y/N added, once the silence became too much. She didn’t know why she kept telling him about her date. Maybe she wanted to seem unfazed. Or maybe if she filled the silence she would stop thinking about how she wanted Eren to press her up against the wall of the elevator and kiss her senseless.

“Maybe I’ll take your advice and put out.” She chuckled, awkwardly.

“Please don’t.” Eren murmured. 

“What?” Y/N breathed. Eren’s lips parted. This was his chance to be honest. To say something that might actually mean something. He looked down at Y/N, her features twisted with confusion. He laughed, flatly.

“It would be too out of character for you, Kid.” He told her, instead of anything honest. “You might disrupt the order of the universe.”

“Shut up.” Y/N retorted, rolling her eyes with a smile as she smacked his chest with the back of her hand. Eren ignored the sparks that flooded through his skin at her touch. 

More laughter fell into the empty space between them, some of the tension disappearing and Eren realized that this was always how it was supposed to go. Y/N got to go on and have a relationship with the guy who could give her one, while Eren got to live his erratic life with no interruptions. It was better this way. Easier to understand. 

The elevator doors slid open to reveal their floor. And they found themselves doing the exact same dance they did everyday. They walked side by side, silently and secretly enjoying each other's company, and when they stopped at their doors they nodded their goodbyes.

But before Eren could hide out in his apartment for the rest of the evening. Y/N stopped him one more time.

“Oh, wait.” She called out, Eren stopped where he was, looking over at her with eyebrows raised. “What was it that you wanted to say earlier?”

Eren paused. He smiled gently at her and then shook his head.

“Nothing important.”

~

Bertholdt’s hand was rough and cold. That was all Y/N could think about as they walked hand-in-hand down the quiet tree-lined street. 

The feeling of Betholdt’s hand wasn’t bad to say the least. In fact, the cool touch of his skin was actually quite nice since Y/N over-corrected for their last date and wore a sweater far too thick for the current weather. 

But some sick part of her brain was reminded of how warm Eren’s hands were when they were pushing open her thighs…

Y/N was a horrible person. Or at least that was her own opinion of herself. She had thought that she would forget everything about Eren the moment she met up with Bertholdt. But now here she was comparing the two men’s hands while Bertholdt told her a story about his job. 

“... It took us way longer than I’d like to admit to realize it was just a prank call.” Bertholdt finished, pulling Y/N from her thoughts. She chuckled, not really knowing how to respond since she didn’t listen to his story at all. But it seemed that Bertholdt accepted her laughter as a good answer as he swung their hands between them and continued the conversation.

“But enough about me.” He said, bringing his arm over her head and around her shoulder, their hands still intertwined. “Tell me more about your job.”

“I don’t know… It’s not really as interesting as fighting fires.” Y/N teased, bumping her hip against his.

“Hmm, somehow I doubt that.” Bertholdt grinned, “Try me.”

Y/N thought about all the stories that she acquired while on the job. None as interesting compared to the stories that Bertholdt told.

“I don’t really know where to start.” Y/N shrugged, “What do you wanna know?”

“What made you interested in photography?” Bertholdt asked, thoughtfully. Y/N grinned. She loved that question.

“I like capturing the unexpected.” Y/N replied.

“Okay.” Bertholdt nodded as if he understood, and then quickly added. “What does that mean?”

Y/N laughed, “Well these days, during the digital age, I think most people know what to expect, right? Everyone posts the same type of pictures, the same milestones and happy endings that they want to remember. But I think they all forget the most important thing about life.”

“And what’s that?” Bertholdt asked, smiling down at her.

“The moments in between.” Y/N said. “I think the pictures that come from those moments are way more interesting.”

“Give me an example.” 

“Hmm okay… let’s say there’s a family photo. It’s lovely, everyone’s smiling and they all look happy.” Y/N explained, “But then let’s say, that right before that, they were all fighting. I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather see a picture of that. It’s more real.”

“So you’d want to see pictures of families fighting rather than everyone being happy?” Bertholdt laughed, guiding Y/N as they turned the corner, her apartment building now in sight.

“Everyone fights.” Y/N shrugged, “And arguments usually come from a place of love. Capturing the unexpected tends to unravel the human experience. There are layers to this.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Bertholdt smiled, stopping when they reached the parking lot of her apartment. “But I think I’ll stick to the happy endings.”

Y/N pouted at his answer, but Bertholdt bent down to kiss it away from her lips, his hands gently cupping her face. She sighed into his kiss, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Can I walk you to your door?” He asked, between small kisses. Y/N nodded in his hands, and they resumed their journey, their hands finding each other once more.

They were quiet as they stood in the elevator and walked down the hall. And Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of certain expectations upon her shoulders. And how this usual insignificant event of walking down the hall felt far different when she did it with Eren. Her movements were stiff when they stopped in front of her door.

“This is me.” She pointed awkwardly to her apartment. For some reason it was an odd reminder of what took place there last night. A reminder of Eren’s hands. She tried to keep her focus on the man in front of her.

“Cool.” Bertholdt nodded, just as awkwardly, “I guess this is where we say goodnight.”

“Yeah.” She replied, her tone shaky and unsure, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bertholdt smiled, tucking his hands in his pockets. And then he began to walk away. That was until the girl's hand shot out and grabbed the crook of his elbow. Y/N tugged Bertholdt back to her, crashing her lips onto his, hoping that this moment would force away any thought that involved Eren. 

Bertholdt’s hands instantly found her waist as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He kissed her with far more urgency than she was used to when it came to this man, but she decided it was nice and allowed herself to sink further into him. Her mind went blank and thoughts about anything (or anyone) else were put on hold.

Y/N didn’t realize they weren’t alone in the hallway until they pulled apart. 

“Eren.” She blurted, when she caught sight of him, standing a little ways down the hall. He was wearing nicer clothes than usual and Y/N realized that this is the first time she’s seen him come home from a night out. The white button up he wore under his leather jacket, had one too many buttons undone, showcasing most of his tanned skin. His hair looked messy, as if someone was running their fingers through it and his teal eyes were bright and wide as he stood there in the middle of the hallway.

“Hey, man.” Bertholdt chuckled, hands still on Y/N’s waist, his cheeks blooming with a light shade of pink, obviously embarrassed they were caught in the middle of their makeout session. 

Eren didn’t say anything in return. He just nodded his head curtly at them and then continued on his way. They both turned back to each other as he moved past them, trying to ignore the jealousy that sparked to life in his stomach. 

He stopped in front of his door, his hands slowly searching each of his pockets. He made a show of it. Hoping they didn’t think he was there to listen in on their conversation. Which he was. Because as he discovered earlier— Eren was a masochist. 

“So…” He heard Bertholdt say, when he finally wrapped his fingers around the cold metal of his keys in one of his inner pockets. 

“So…” Y/N repeated. Eren unnaturally flipped through each of his keys as if he couldn’t remember which one unlocked his front door. It should’ve been obvious what he was doing because he only had three keys on his chain, but neither Bertholdt or Y/N seemed to take notice of him. His head slightly tilted to the side, straining to hear what was going on.

“I had fun tonight.” 

Eren refrained from rolling his eyes. God, this guy so obviously wanted to get into Y/N’s pants. 

“Me too.” 

But maybe… she wanted to get into his pants too. Eren suddenly moved at a quicker speed. He was certain that he didn’t want to hear her invite him inside. Oh god, inside. Where they share a wall. A wall that held no secrets, and shared every little sound. Maybe Eren should just book it. He could spend the night at Armin's, he was sure the blond wouldn’t mind—

“I guess I should go to bed.” Y/N then said, “I’ll see you later.”

Somehow, Eren’s door finally unlocked at the sound of Y/N rejecting Bertholdt. He smiled to himself as he pushed open the door. Suddenly looking forward to a night of peaceful sleep.

Y/N said her final goodbyes to Bertholdt. All too aware that Eren was listening the whole time.

~~~

A/N: Sorry, this chapter is kind of a short one 🥴🥴 which is why I thought maybe it’s okay to post a bit early! shoutout to @emepe​ since the background story of Armin and his girlfriend is Strings (which you should read if you know what’s good for you;)), which also means the beginning of me and emepe’s cinematic universe lmao ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! pls feel free to message me and ilysm!!

Taglist:  @didiyogo @the-princess-button @coyloves @prblmtic @httpjaeg @tenaciouswritersheep @erentoes @mariaerdgzn @jaegersdiary @mvtcha-latte @s8m-atemynoodles @artsyblkkid @sashatanaka @pina-chan​

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[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jisung another late birthday au for the february neos ;__; find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei | doyoung | jaehyun | jungwoo | ten

a sour taste makes its way down jisung's throat

he pulls the candy out of his mouth and scrunches his face up

"did this shit expire?"

renjun's lips thin, "since when have you started cursing?"

chenle harks on the grass beside the other two

"ever since he got dumped."

jisung doesn't disagree.

out of everyone to pick up on his change of habits, it'd be his best friend.

he doesn't like to admit it, but the breakup that launched the beginning of his summer has made him feel different

bitter, angry, empty

he's sure if he told someone older like his parents or a professor they'd explain that it's normal.

it's part of growing up to have to process these horrible emotions and learn to feel them less extremely.

that somehow doesn't comfort jisung at all, why is it his fault that being young makes everything feel more vivid? the shatter of the heart in his chest and all the little pieces wedged up in his veins hurt so bad.

"jisung, you'll find someone better."

renjun ties his shoelaces and gets up, he's still chewing on the taffy they brought from the corner store.

jisung follows and he's never been so awkward about his budding height more than he is now

"i doubt that, i don't think i could find anyone better than my first love."

chenle gives a depressed sounding laugh and renjun starts a spiel about how he's being dramatic and silly

the sounds gloss over in jisung's ears, he tosses the candy he'd spit out and the wrapper over his shoulder

"you shouldn't litter."

three sets of eyes turn to the voice, you stand there with your gym bag over your shoulder on a path a little way down from the grassy hill the boys are on

you look at jisung with an unwavering gaze that drops to where he assumes the candy wrapper landed

you bend down and pick it up, shake your head and walk away

jisung follows your figure through the park as renjun and chenle mutter about how you're kind of right but kind of rude

"do you know them?"

jisung asks and renjun taps the bottom of his chin

"i think ive seen them at the tennis courts."

jisung doesn't know what it is about you.

he mistakenly thinks it is dislike that breeds curiosity when he shows up at the public tennis court the next day

you're out on the court with a group of middle schoolers, showing them the right way to swing a racket

jisung leans against the shade of a tree as you go through each step slowly and then have the kids copy you one by one

when you make a sudden movement to turn in the direction he's standing, he slinks behind the trunk

this is so fucking weird, im being a creep

he doesn't have anything to do for the rest of the day, or the rest of the summer, but still he cringes at himself

i should find something better than staring at a goddamn stranger. chenle was right, im cursing way too much.

so he leaves and he doesn't come back

but he visits the park for the next week with the slight hope that your path will cross with him on accident

not that he entertains that as actual hope - just that curiosity that nips at his heel like a cat asking to be feed

on day seven it happens

jisung is staring up at the expanse of the warm blue sky and you're walking from the direction of the tennis courts, you pause to check your phone and jisung springs to his feet

he's in front of you before he really knows what to even say

you don't look as freaked out as he was scared you might, you actually just blink and then point your finger at him

looks like they've got bad habits just like me

"you're the boy who litters!"

"i don't usually litter, i was just in a bad mood that day."

"doesn't excuse throwing your garbage around."

"is that why you remembered me?"

you slip your phone into the pocket of your duffel bag and shake your head

"no, there's another reason."

jisung itches to ask why but he realizes now that this conversation is going exponentially better than it could have

you could have said something like get the hell away from me....or who are you?

"do you want to walk with me for a little bit?"

fuck, i should have just asked why - asking them to walk is weirder

"why not."

you and jisung do loops around the park - it's pretty big so by the time you're on the third loop the night lamps are coming on and the sun is slowly disappearing

you two have talked about everything and nothing at the same time

jisung asks you if you're going to be at the park tomorrow

"i teach a summer tennis course for the park three times a week, but tomorrow is my off day."

"have any plans?"

he puts his hands in his pockets because they're sweating - i should have asked if they wanted me to carry their bag while we were walking. god did getting broken up with make me so stupid too?

"are you asking me out?"

jisungs palms stick to the fabric of his pants

"i got broken up with before summer started."

he blurts out before he can take it back, you poke your tongue into your cheek

"me too."

the genuine surprise makes jisung look younger than he is and you cross your hands over your chest as if you regret sharing the information

"sorry, i have to go."

you edge around him and jisung has one million thoughts run through his brain, how he should apologize or ask for your number or suggest something that could heal you both in the snap of this one summer minute

but instead he watches you walk ahead for a whole two minutes before you turn on your heel and uncross your arms

"can you meet me here at noon?"

"tomorrow?"

jisung feels the sweat on the nape of his neck now too, matching the moistness on his palms

"no, in twenty years. yes - tomorrow."

he nods and you don't give him anything else to work with as you disappear and jisung catches the last little slither of sunlight wave goodbye with you

"are you rebounding already?"

chenle's voice comes through the headphones as jisung clicks on a zombie with his mouse and shoots it

"it's not a rebound - we both got dumped so i thought we could like...FUCK! i died dude."

chenle groans

"maybe they can help you fix this cursing problem, but uhhh it totally sounds like a rebound to me."

jisung thinks about that as he waits for you at the park

rebounding has actually never even occurred to him as a possibility.

then again falling head over heels and getting tossed aside by the person he thought was his soulmate also never occurred to him as a possibility either - especially not before he's even managed to graduate university

but using someone to feel better about himself - that just isn't him.

"oh you actually came?"

he stops staring at the grass and meets the half smile you're wearing. he matches it with a shy one of his own.

you take jisung's hand easily - as if you weren't strangers a week ago - and tug him toward the park gates

"where-"

you look over your shoulder

"we have to eat ice-cream on a date."

jisung and you have the same taste, getting the same flavor of ice cream with a hard no to sprinkles. you tell jisung about this kid you teach privately for tennis and how he's a little rich brat but his parents always tip you nicely. jisung tells you that his best friend is chenle and they met when he nearly broke an elbow on the first day of middle school.

jisung pays for your bus ticket into the busier part of the city, you beat him at a couple of arcade games, and then he absolutely crushes you at mini-basketball. you pile all your tickets together and jisung tells you to pick the prize you want.

he watches you as you scan the cheap toys and then turn to your left where a younger girl is trying to see if she has enough for a sad looking stuffed panda

you dump the tickets into her hand and grin when her whole face lights up, jisung walks out behind you and goes

"you're actually nice aren't you?"

"oh - you didn't think i was nice when we first met?"

"i-"

jisung stutters when you look directly at him

"i just mean you- it was nice what you did in the arcade."

"why did your ex break up with you?"

jisung's world sort of stops for a moment. you still haven't looked away and he gets lightheaded by the sudden question.

"i don't know."

you nod, as if the answer is what you expected, and you take his hand again and make way toward the bus

he curls his larger fingers around yours and is silently thankful you don't ask for any more details

actually you both don't say anything the ride back, even though you rest your head on his shoulder the entire time

your hands are still clasped together and jisung finds himself not wanting to let go even when you stop in front of the park again

"thanks for the date."

you unwind your fingers first and jisung swallows

"do you want to go on another one?"

you shake your head

"sorry, i don't think i can do this more than once."

genuine shock sets in on jisung's face

"w-what do you mean?"

"i know being heartbroken makes you lonely, it makes me lonely too, but i can't just be someone's summer fling and get abandoned again. plus jisung -"

you tilt your head with a small laugh

"i think you're really cute and if we do this again i will start liking you seriously."

what the fuck do i say?

jisung thinks the summer heat in the air constricts around him - especially when he can't open his mouth to answer and you give a solemn wave as you turn and start to disappear down the sidewalk

fuck fuck fuck fuck

the curses start to hurt his brain and jisung breaks into a sprint to catch you before you make it to the end of the block

slipping his hand back into yours and spinning you to face him

"im not going to abandon you. and i - i already like you so please let me take you on another date."

the words fall out like letters into alphabet soup and you stare wide-eyed at him for about a second before you lean in and kiss him

and jisung forgets the entire language he's spoken since he was a child, curses and vulgarity gone with it

the second date comes and goes, then the third, and then the fourth, fifth, and sixth.

jisung watches you give tennis lessons and you even tug him onto the court one day to help with picking up the scattered balls off the court

the younger kids you teach really adore him, tall and smiley, they cling to him more than they do to you

and there really isn't any way you can stop them because soon enough you feel that urgency to be near him always too

it might be because jisung is so different from your ex, and you are so different from his

the reality is that when you finally tell each other what happened before your respective summers started

it turns out - it's almost exactly the same

jisung looks up at you as you lay across him in the tall grass of an empty corner of the parks sprawling fields, your tennis equipment abandoned and his shoes sitting beside yours in a lazy heap

"they just told me one day i wasn't enough."

you bury your face in his chest and sigh

"maybe im not, maybe something about me is still missing."

the tenor of his voice is sad and you put both hands on the grass to lift yourself up above him, you stare down into the prettiest eyes you've ever seen on a boy in your life

"shuttup park jisung. nothing is missing from you. you're enough."

he gives you a goofy smile and you want so badly to smile back and kiss him but you take the moment seriously and add

"remember when you asked me if i only remembered you because i caught you littering like weeks ago?"

the furrow of his eyebrow is enough of an answer

"i said there was another reason."

he sits up and you fall gently back against his knees and lap, jisung opens his mouth as if to ask what it was but you put your hands on both his cheeks before he can

"that reason was because i could see all of you - people tend to be shrouded in something, but it was all on your face the moment you made eye contact with me. jisung - you're the farthest person i know from being incomplete. you're you and no one else."

the weight of your words comes crashing down on you a second later and you get up off of jisung in a fit of embarrassment

even though you meant what you said it felt like something of a wedding vow than something you say someone you've been dating for only a month

but jisung just breaks into a bigger smile - he pulls you back down into a hug that gets you both covered in grass stains

"im so happy"

you smell the fabric softener on his t-shirt and suddenly wish you could slip it off of him and put it on yourself

his hands tighten around you

"i always thought the other reason was because i was ugly or something."

you scrunch up your nose and tell him to be quiet, but jisung just laughs and buries his nose in your hair

the rest of the summer is smooth and the happiest one you've had so far - and jisung, who had thought it would be hell, agrees

renjun points out that he hasn't heard jisung even utter the word 'damn' since he started dating you

and chenle cuts in that it's true - now whenever they game jisung just groans into the mic (or abandoned the game completely to fool around you with - as it is in chenle's imagination)

you notice it too, and you notice how everyday jisung grows further from the heartbreak that he had festered on for so long

and just becomes more open with you

on your last day at your summer job and what feels like the last day of summer in general, jisung picks you up with balloons

you both hand them out to the kids you worked with and keep one shaped like a big red heart tied around your wrist as you two walk through the dimming evening of the park

fall is coming, your shoulders shake and jisung pulls you closer into him, and when he stops suddenly

you see that you're in the place where you first met - when jisung had let that candy wrapper tumble down a grassy hill and you had picked it up with disdain

"is untying the balloon and letting it float off considered littering?"

he asks and you think for a second

"probably, it'll get stuck in a tree somewhere and we don't want that."

he looks down and leans in to kiss you gently, letting your lower lip sit between his teeth for a moment before he pulls away

"can we do it anyway to make the moment special?"

you look at him, eyes clear as day, and answer

"every moment is special with you."

jisung manages to get ten of those red balloons through the door of your shared apartment on your tenth anniversary

you fret about how balloons are bad for the environment, but still launch yourself at him in a big hug when he gets them all settled into your living room

he catches you, laughing as you both muse that you can't believe it has been ten years since you met

"and i haven't cursed once since then - can you believe it?"

you roll your eyes and say yeah sure, like he didn't curse when he stubbed his toe on your bed this morning

he pouts his lip and asks, "play along ok - just say i haven't cursed once."

"you haven't cursed once in the ten years we have been dating."

something twinkles in jisung's eye and you bite back your lip

"exactly - so is it ok if i curse this one time and say-"

he fishes something out of his pocket that looks like a small box, you think your breath catches in your throat

"i fuc-freaking love you - will you marry me?"

[vidalinav]

Stu(died)-Chapter 3

Summary: Cassian takes care of a sick Nesta

Nessian Modern AU-university setting. 

Masterlist, Stu(died) Chapter List 

(Rolls eyes hardcore) I am continuing this fic for literally five people. Smh. 

~

Nesta comes to their tutoring session late and that’s the first thing that tips him off. Already his phone is in his hand ready to call 911. He has Nesta’s number in his phone saved. The first person listed in his text log under Nerd. He can always text or call her. He belongs to The Rat Pack in Nesta’s Snap Chat group, and he knows he can always contact Emerie or Gwyn if something is truly wrong. Yet he dials in 911 and his thumb hovers over the call button.   

If she doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes, Cassian swears he’ll call.  

Nesta’s never late. In fact, she’s annoyingly early. She practically has a stop watch in her hand at all times, counting every minute she waits. When Cassian comes running in five minutes later, as he so often does, panting with some excuse, Nesta doesn’t even bother looking up from her textbook. She merely gestures to the seat, a heavy sigh on her lips, like she’s running out of time to bore him death even as she fascinates him to pieces. 

Her books should already be splayed onto the table, her pencils straight and neatly lined up. Today, the table is empty. 

He’ll give it fifteen minutes and then he’s calling.  

But Nesta shows up before another minute ticks by. She steps out of the elevator wearing that grey polo he’s seen on her a million times. She lugs her way to him, dragging her feet with the weight of those textbooks he’s sure are in her bag. 

She’s wearing a mask, today, and that’s another thing that sends his brain screeching somethings not right here! It covers half of her face, and her eyes look tired from where they peak above the fabric. Cassian doesn’t even bother waiting for her to settle. Already he’s crossing his arms, his brows crinkling with concern and something like irritation. 

How dare she think studying is more important than her health.  

“Go home,” he says as she nears. Nesta only blinks as if as not understanding his words. The fact that she doesn’t immediately argue is enough for him to start gathering his things.  

“What are you doing?” She says as he stuffs his notebook in his bag, “You have an exam in two weeks.” Nesta sets down her own, it slaps at the table with a heavy thump. Cassian can hear the zipper unzipping but not as well as the cough that roars out of her mouth.  

It’s loud and wet, and Nesta pauses as if to get her bearings, covering her mouth with her arm. She coughs and coughs and Cassian lays a hand to his own chest. He can almost feel how much it hurts, how she gasps. 

Cassian shakes his head, “No, I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta’s brows furrow and she gets that look in her eyes. He just knows she’s going to fight him on this. “I--”  

Cassian cuts her off, “please, save your breath. You’re going to make everyone sick.”  

“I’m wearing a mask!” Nesta argues.  

“It’s almost midterms.” Cassian gestures to the other occupants in the library. He sees one person with their hoodie pulled up over their head, clearly sleeping... and moves on to someone else. A group in the corner who’s standing by a whiteboard. “You want to take your chances with sleep deprived students?” 

Nesta seems to think about that. While she does, Cassian zips up her bag and throws it over his shoulder. It’s as heavy as he thought it might be. Briefly, he thinks of making a joke about how she must have stuffed a body in here, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it, given how quiet she is.   

Mentally, he starts making a list of everything she needs. Medicine? He’ll get the pills and the syrup, never mind if she scrunches her nose at the taste. He’ll get her soup. Not the canned. Cassian will buy the ingredients. He’s sure he can make something appeasing. Vaguely, he can remember his mom’s recipe. Beef broth and cabbage and squash. Hopefully she can stomach it. Never mind, the salt will be good for her.  

“Hey,” she whines, blinking up at him slowly, “give me my bag.”  

“Have you not heard me? You need to be home lying down. Not here, helping me study. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta crosses her arms and the intimidation tactic seems ridiculous with her face half covered and her endless sniffling. “You can try, but I’ll just refuse to tell you my apartment number.”  

Cassian scoffs, “I know where you live. I can see your room from the house when you study at night.”   

“Who says that out loud?” Nesta shouts. 

She must be terribly ill if she’s yelling in a library. That’s all he can think as he gestures to the elevator, bags in hand. 

“Never mind that. Let’s go,” Cassian says, walking ahead without her. 

He can’t hear her shuffling though, so he turns back to find Nesta leaning on a chair, holding her stomach. He can already feel himself sighing.   

Cassian rushes back just in time for Nesta to rip off her mask, and move to the closest trashcan. It’s situated under one of the bulletin boards and as Cassian sidles up to her, rubbing at her back and pulling her hair away, he looks to the papers tacked to the board.  

Join the rowing team. Looking for tutors. Research participants wanted.  

He can hear the retching and Cassian reads on. 

Babysitter wanted for professor, transportation needed.

“I haven’t thrown up since middle school,” Nesta says pathetically. She frowns as he hands her his bottle of water. Her nose and cheeks are red and for some reason he thinks of Rudolph, lighting the way for Santa through the storm. 

He feels bad for little Rudolph...

“Now will you let me take you home,” Cassian sighs. He hopes it doesn’t sound like an ‘I told you so’ but she should really be lying down. He lays a hand to her forehead, but she brushes him off, moving towards the bathrooms.  

“I’ll wait right here,” he says, but Nesta moves ahead as if she doesn’t hear him at all. Cassian can’t find it in himself to mind. A sick Nesta is guaranteed to be a stubborn Nesta, he just knows.  

When she gets out, she looks surprised to see him and that’s another look that just proves how sick she must be. It’s a fairly obvious prediction that he’s going to wait next to the girl's bathroom, counting ceiling tiles. It’s a perfectly ‘Cassian with Nesta’ thing to do.  

“You’re skipping class?”   

Nesta coughs again, and she looks perfectly pitiful as she blinks her tired eyes. Cassian can feel his lips frown, and he shifts her bag more securely on his shoulder if only to keep himself from reaching out for her. Already he can feel his hands bunch into fists because he wants to grab her own and squeeze it until she's reassured. He wants to hug her until she feels better.  

But he can’t.  

Cassian lists every action he wants to do. Kiss her forehead where Nesta rubs her hand, because she must have a headache from how sick she is. Put on her favorite movie, so she can fall asleep to its sound. Run to every store, raiding every Walgreens and CVS until he comes back with a pharmacy.  

What might she allow now that she’s sick? Will she let him fuss like he wants to?  

But Nesta rolls her eyes in that haughty way of hers. “You can’t do that.”   

“I can’t do what?” Cassian asks and he wonders if she can read his thoughts. If she studies him so well, reads him like one of her textbooks, memorizing facts and facial features.  

“You can’t skip class,” she argues. “Why am I tutoring you if you’re going to skip class?”  

At the words, all Cassian wants to do is sigh. She’s thinking about attendance at a time like this...   

“Nesta, there is no class more important than you.” 

Her brows crinkle at the center like she’s going to start arguing, but Cassian allows himself one touch. He places his thumb there, between her brows, smoothing out the lines. Nesta rips away, blinking up dazed and all too confused. Cassian would laugh at the look, if he didn’t need the distraction.   

He juts his head to the elevator quickly. “Let’s go. We can walk slow, so don’t overexert yourself.”   

Nesta scrunches up her nose, so cute and red, but she follows him anyway albeit a little petulantly. She holds her hand out for her bag, but Cassian turns toward the doors, pretending not to see.   

“How does me being sick make you bossy?”   

Cassian doesn’t dare to respond. He doesn’t know whether he’ll admit that he wants to take care of her, that’s he’s so worried a knot twists in his stomach, or if he’ll make some joke, he knows will make her mad. Maybe that’s the better option, he thinks. He can handle a mad Nesta. He likes a mad Nesta, but a Nesta who so easily rejects him?   

Cassian doesn’t know about that.   

“You don’t have any classes left this week, right?”   

Nesta coughs into her sleeve before answering. Though she means to sound queenly, she only sounds sick, “you know where I live, and you also know my class schedule... seems suspicious if you ask me.”   

“I’ve known you for two years.” 

“And murder victims are three times more likely to be killed by someone they know." 

Cassian huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “Do you still go to sleep watching SVU? Or have you switched to Lifetime movies where the babysitters always try to kill the wife?”   

“People should be wary about the people they know,” Nesta shrugs as if that’s answer enough.   

Cassian snorts, “well you don’t have to be wary of me.”   

As the elevator doors open, Cassian gestures for her to go first and Nesta does, but not before crossing her arms.   

“That’s just what a murderer would want me to think.” She squints as if dissecting him, limb by limb. “You kill me, and I’ll haunt you. You won’t be able to sleep at night without thinking of me.” 

Too late, Cassian thinks.  

It’s much too late for that.  

~

Rudolph has the patience of a five-year-old when she’s sick. Cassian learns this fairly quickly when he runs inside a Walgreens on their way to Nesta’s apartment.  

There’s a bench that she can sit on, where she can wait if she feels tired, but no. Nesta decides she needs to run errands. She has an entire basket filled by the time he finds her again. She’s by the greeting cards, holding three open at a time. Cassian huffs with a receipt and medicine in hand.  

“Here,” he says, giving her the cough medicine. “Take some of this.”  

Nesta doesn’t even bother with pouring. He watches as she rips the cap away, taking a swig right out of the bottle, gulping it down.  

“That’s way more than the suggested amount,” he cries, “you can get drunk on this stuff!”  

“Good, maybe I’ll forget this day ever happened.”

Cassian sighs... it seems all he does is sigh when she’s like this. A sick Nesta is a petulant, irritated Nesta with a permanent furrow between her brows. 

“I know you feel sick,” he tries to placate, “but I bet you’d feel a whole lot better if we get you home as soon as we can... so you can lie down and sleep.”  

Nesta only picks up another Halloween card. She ignores his suggestion, laughing under her breath as she reads whatever inane joke is written there. Soon, she’s coughing though, and Cassian reaches for the basket just to stop himself from rubbing a hand down her back, combing his fingers through her hair.  

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, his thoughts scream.  

Cassian looks to the contents to distract himself from her watery eyes, and that’s when he notices what she’s grabbed. It seems that while he was in the cold and flu aisle, Nesta was raiding the snacks. 

“What is this?” He gestures to the basket. Two boxes of cereal. Caramel corn. Baked Lay’s and cans of Arizona tea. Cassian takes one and holds it up. “Really Nesta?”  

“What it’s green tea!” she argues, shoving another card back in its slot.   

“This is all... junk,” he tries to explain, but Nesta’s already glowering. 

“Look I don’t question your decisions. You don’t question mine.”  

Cassian gives her a bland look. “You question my decisions all the time. Before we came in here, you literally said ‘why are we going in here, Cassian? Weren’t you supposed to take me home.’ You said that.”

Nesta simply raises her chin, pulling out another card. “I recall no such thing.” 

“Fine,” Cassian grumbles, “if you want to eat yourself to an early grave and ignore everything that could potentially make you feel better than that’s just fine with me.”  

“Good,” she says, putting back the other cards. Nesta settles for a pop-up that sings Monster Mash when she opens it. She sets it in the basket he holds, walking ahead without even looking back. “I’m ready to check out.”  

“Really?” Cassian jokes, mockingly. “Are you sure you raided the candy aisle?” 

Nesta stops in her tracks, peering through the section with printer ink and paper as if she can see the other side. He swears he’d facepalm if he wasn’t carrying all this stuff. 

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. 

“Wait!” Cassian calls. “Where are you going? Nesta!”  

Too late. He can already hear crunching bags. 

The variety packs.  

Cassian sighs, lugging their things to the aisle next door. 

~

“Can I use these vegetables?” Cassian asks, as Nesta shoves open the door to her room. He’s surprised she’s not still by the freezer. When they first get back to her place, she sticks her head in there and he wonders if he should suggest taking her temperature, or if she’s doing it just to show him she’s annoyed.  

Perhaps her ears bleed from the sound of his voice.  

That seems like something Nesta would say.  

“They’re Emerie’s. Why?”

“To make soup,” Cassian explains, rifling through the contents. There’s zucchini and summer squash. Onion, fresh parsley and carrots. Cabbage and lettuce. Fresh fruit. He can make a nice stew out of this.  

Nesta scoffs, “I don’t need soup.”  

She enters her room, shoving the door back behind her until it leaves only a crack.  

“You can leave now,” she yells. “I’m home like you wanted.”  

“Are you lying down?” He asks, crossing his arms sternly though she can’t see him.  

Nesta sighs loudly, “you’re annoying!”  

“Maybe if you got some rest, I’d be less annoying,” Cassian sings brightly.  

He can hear the soft sound of her voice. “Doubt.”  

Cassian shakes his head with a smirk. He opens his snapchat where The Rat Pack is the first on the list, but the group name has changed... to People I Tolerate.

That’s got to be Nesta.  

Cassian laughs under his breath and types. Can I use your vegetables? Making Nesta soup.

Emerie’s bitmoji pops up at the bottom, but the person who texts back first is not Emerie, but Gwyn.  

You’re at our house?

Cassian can almost hear her voice. Stern and cautious. He’s almost certain she doesn’t like him. Gwyn looks at him with even more disdain than Nesta when he's around. That stay away from my friend look.  

He sighs. Yes, Nesta’s sick.  

Gwyn’s quick to respond. I can come home early. I need to drop off a paper, but I can be there in 30.  

Cassian rolls his eyes and types, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.  

Nesta’s face pops up. I can take care of myself.  

“No, you can’t!” Cassian yells.  

“Yes, I can!” Nesta yells back, but then she starts coughing again and he can hear her groan in the other room. Cassian raises a brow at her door.  

I’m going to make soup. I’ll make enough for all of you, but can I use stuff from the fridge? I’ll replace it all.  

Emerie’s face pops up and then disappears quickly. He’s about ready to go to the store himself or at least next door to the House, but Emerie’s text appears.  

I have no objections to this.

Cassian smiles in relief, and he’s about to set down his phone when another notification appears. It’s Emerie again.  

And if you make good soup, you can stay indefinitely.  

Cassian sends a winking emoji. Nesta sends back the emoji with the straight mouth and eyes. Before he can frown at what that means, Cassian sees that the group name has changed... to Three’s Company.  

That’s got to be Gwyn.  

Stone cold, Emerie texts back.  

Cassian decides he’s going to ignore that for the moment and focus on the objective at hand.  

Soup.  

Cassian pulls out the vegetables and looks through the cupboards. Emerie, it seems, has all the good spices. He finds the broth packets stored in the back, and he pulls out some beef from the freezer. It’ll need to defrost but he can start the broth now, get the vegetables soft, and brown the beef later. It’ll take a couple of hours anyway.  

Occasionally, he hears a cough as he works. Then a sweet laugh... followed by a cough and a groan. Cassian feels bad for her he does, but he can’t help but find the whole situation amusing. She should be resting and yet she seems to be wide awake.  

Nesta doesn’t come out of her room though. It’s as if he’s not even there, and he takes that time to look over her shared apartment. There are three doors, each with a letter at the front. The N is blue, the E, green, and the G, pink. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to have a living room that looks like all three, but somehow it works. It’s studious and bright. Colorful, but subdued. There are way too many throw pillows and books scattered everywhere, but there’s also a TV with a fireplace under it. He can just imagine Nesta laughing at scary movies. Some slasher fic she’ll watch like she’s taking notes.  

He can imagine Nesta everywhere, in fact.  

This is where she eats. Where she sits. Where she studies. This is where she trips over shoes if they’re not neatly lined up and where she complains about dirty dishes. This is where she cooks... if she does cook. Cassian doesn’t know.  

Maybe he’ll get to find out one day.  

Once the water starts boiling and the meat is in the microwave to defrost, Cassian goes to check how Rudolph is doing.  

He knocks on her door lightly, pushing it open. “Nesta?”  

Cassian’s never seen her room before, say for when she sits by the window with her curtains wide open, and just like then, it seems like an invasion of privacy to do so now. But Nesta’s plopped on top of her bed, tucked beneath her blue comforter, and she sets down her phone when he appears at the door.  

Her whole room is filled with blues and creams, and it looks exactly what he imagines Nesta’s room to look like. The large calendar, an agenda on the desk, bookshelf after bookshelf lining her walls. There are also things he doesn’t know of her yet. Pictures and posters and a.... stuffed lobster? Cassian holds it up.

“Would you stop looking around?” Nesta groans. She has her arm resting over her eyes, and he wonders if it’s because she doesn’t want to see him looking or if she feels that bad that the light is bothering her.

She should be getting some rest, he thinks.  

“Where did you get a stuffed lobster?”

Nesta coughs out her response.

The sound makes Cassian grimace, his chest ache with need, but he doesn’t rush over like he wants to. This is her house, her room... and this is Nesta who doesn’t like to be coddled by anyone.

“It’s a heat pack,” she says at last, after she catches her breath.

“A heat pack?” Cassian looks to the soft red claws that dangle. He’s never seen anything so soft be a heat pack.

“For cramps,” she says as if it’s obvious. Nesta must take his silence to mean ignorance for she lifts onto her elbows, raising a judgmental brow. “Please tell me you know what periods are or am I am going to have to go back to teaching you biology?”

“No,” Cassian draws out, “I know what periods are.”

Nesta mumbles a thank god and Cassian watches as she shifts under the covers, pulling them up until they hover just beneath her mouth.

“Are you cold?” Cassian asks, looking around her room. He spots his burgundy hoodie neatly folded and nearly yanks it from her desk. “Here. Wear my sweatshirt.”

“I just washed it,” Nesta whines, “I was going to give it back to you.”  

Cassian’s confused by the words, but he merely gestures for her to budge up. He’s thankful when she doesn’t argue. He rolls the sweatshirt over her head and Nesta fits her arms through the sleeves.  

“You didn’t have to wash it,” he says, watching as she pats down her hair. If only he could pull it up for her, comb his fingers through it. She could use his scrunchie too, if she wanted.

Nesta rolls her eyes, and he can only imagine what she thinks. He can practically hear the words. Of course, you wouldn’t care about clean clothes.

Her expressions practically give her away--everything she feels and thinks. Cassian wonders if he knows how open she is to the rest of the world. He wonders if she’d hate him if he told her this.

“It was going to smell like me,” she frowns.

Cassian wants to huff out a laugh. That is perfectly fine by him.  

“Stop laughing,” she whines, “I’m being serious.”  

“Yes, you’re being very serious.” He can’t help his smirk as he gazes up at her. He doesn’t even realize he’s on her bed, sitting to the side of her all bunched up in red. Her nose to the fabric. He almost wants to say she looks cute in his hoodie, all sick like that, but he knows she’ll only bite at him, remarking about how he has some weird fetish for sick girls. 

Cassian holds back a laugh as he hears the microwave ding. He needs to turn the meat around, so it doesn’t cook through, but Nesta grips his arm. His head whips towards her and... Nesta’s gazing up at him. Her eyes are a soft blue. Just like her room.  

“You’re warm,” she says. To explain herself, he thinks, and why she holds him as if she doesn't want him to move.   

Cassian’s lips raise lightly, and he places the back of his hand on her forehead. “You must be worse than you’re letting on if you're okay with me being in your bed.”  

Nesta scoffs, “you’re on it. Not in it. I’ll make that distinction very clear.”  

“You can’t be that sick then,” Cassian shrugs, smiling. “If you’re making everything sound like a tutoring session.”  

Her cheeks flush a bright pink and Cassian thinks she must have a fever. He wonders if he should search for an ice pack or make one, so she doesn’t get too hot.  

“Are you tired?” He asks, noting how slowly she blinks. “You did drink a lot of cough syrup.”

“I also took a NyQuil,” she says, closing her eyes.  

Cassian huffs, “remind me to teach you how read warning labels when your fully coherent.”  

He can hear the microwave ding again, and it reminds him of an alarm. Wake up! It seems to say. Being in Nesta’s room does feels like falling asleep. Rather dream-like and hazy. The microwave dings incessantly, but Cassian doesn’t want to wake up just yet. 

Her hand is still on his arm. It’s so much smaller than his and he wants to trace the skin there and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Cassian doesn’t dare look at her, in case she doesn’t just bang together two loud cymbals and tell him to get up and out and away. 

Cassian looks ahead instead, fixing his gaze on the stuffed lobster on her desk.  

“Nesta,” he starts and then swallows. He feels nervous, his hands clammy. “Nesta, I really think you and I... we’d be good together.”  

Cassian takes a breath, and he stares at the lobster as if it’s her face. “We’ve known each other for a long time now and I... I haven’t hid how I feel about you.” His heart is beating way too fast, and he doesn’t feel any freer from speaking the words, but Cassian decides it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. “I thought maybe... we could try it out. See if you might be comfortable with it. If you might like me... too?”  

He doesn’t know why he words that like a question, but Nesta doesn’t say a word. Cassian looks back, hoping there’s no disgust in baby blue. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she just outright says he’s trash and she’ll never like him. 

But Nesta’s fast asleep.  

Cassian doesn’t bother sighing as he grips her limp hand, setting it on the blanket. He doesn’t bother being disappointed when he tucks the comforter around her. Her cheeks are a lobster-red and he rubs a thumb lightly there, wondering what it would be like to hold her face in his palm and kiss at her nose. Would she complain as he pecked her lips? You’ll get sick Cassian.  

Then we can stay in bed together, Nesta.  

No. Cassian’s not disappointed at all. 

He’ll tuck away his dreams where tomorrow lives. 

Today, he’ll stick to what he’s good at, so Cassian heads to the kitchen to make soup.

~

~ ~

~

~

Mwahahahaahah

~

In case you missed, here’s the stuffed lobster in the flesh.

~

Tagged: 

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430​

~

"Why am I still writing this fic?" I say angrily, as I angrily type it in my angry word document.

[nctsworld]

fire alarm

✩ mark x reader | college au | fluff | 1.7k 

SUMMARY ⇾ when your dorm building’s fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night and everyone’s outside, you offer to share your blanket with your shivering, cute neighbour. WARNINGS ⇾ fluff, couple of swear words RATING ⇾ teen+ 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

You started to drift into deep sleep when the sudden blares of the dorm’s fire alarm stirs you awake. 

Your groans are muffled in your pillow, frustrated that this is probably another false alarm like usual. With heavy eyes, you rush to grab your phone and keys, stuff your feet into your shoes, and waddle among the crowd of students, departing the building with your blanket over your shoulders as a make-shift jacket.   

The moment you reach the front of the building where everyone safely coalesces, you glance at your phone as you tug at the ends of your blanket around your chest. 3:08am glows back at you, along with a couple other notifications. You barely get the chance to check them since the blatant chattering of teeth nearby catches your attention instead. 

Your gaze rests on the familiar figure a few steps beside you, rubbing his arms up and down while his legs tremble. Peering around, you realize you’re one of the few who brought more than a jacket for extra warmth during this chill, autumn night. On the other hand, he’s one of the few who hardly had any layers, solely wearing a baggy red t-shirt and a pair of boxers. 

His face swivels side to side, searching the crowd, and it dawns on you that it’s none other than your next door neighbour, Mark. 

His dorm room was to the left of yours. You’ve only interacted with him in passing, regularly acknowledging each other with casual nods and smiles. His sweet smile never failed to make your heart race and to make the corners of your mouth widen further. You didn’t know much about him, except for the fact he played guitar since you occasionally heard him play late at night. 

You always wanted to get to know him, but neither of you shared the same classes nor were you in the same clubs. To make matters worse, the only time you saw one another was when either of you were coming or going.

Perhaps now was the time to finally make a move. 

Lifting your blanket off the pavement, you shuffle your way towards him. As you near him, it clicks in your head that you didn’t initially recognize him because, besides the lack of clothes and the slightly messy hair, he’s wearing glasses to boot. 

“Hey, neighbour.”  

Mark stops his searching and his focus lands on you. The handsome individual steps closer to shorten the space between you, displaying his signature smile. You grip onto your blanket tighter and the weight of your shoulders droop, allowing your face to shyly sink into the sea of fabric covering you. 

The shivering man says your name and replies with a cool, “Hey.” 

“Do you want to share the blanket with me?” 

“Oh, no. It’s okay, I’m all right,” he stammers with a shake of his head, continuing to rub his arms.  

You perk an eyebrow and open one of your arms out, offering him the promise of warmth. 

Beaming, you say, “There’s enough room for another.”

His mouth twists to one side of his face, the gears in his head obviously turning. 

“Are you sure?”       

A hum, nod, and a grin answer his uncertainty. Mark swiftly grasps onto the end of the blanket and wraps himself over his shoulder. Although the heat from the front of your body flees due to the partial sacrifice of your cover, you’re now having an extra source of heat from being right next to Mark, touching shoulder to shoulder. 

“Thanks,” he bobs his head. “I appreciate it. I just bolted out of bed and didn’t think of even bringing a jacket.” 

“That’s okay, that’s why you have me,” you joke, swaying and pressing your shoulder lightly against his. 

Both of you chuckle softly. There’s something else to add to the list of things that are keeping you warm—the prickling rising from your chest to your cheeks. 

You then comment, “I’ve never seen you with glasses before. I almost didn’t recognize you.” 

“Ah, yeah, I wear contacts during the day. Depending on stuff, I sometimes wear my glasses, but not as often.” 

“Well, I think you look good either way.” 

Your eyes practically fall and roll away from your head, cognizant of the words that just escaped your mouth. 

“I mean—” You snap your eyes shut for an extended beat, not wanting to see the look on your next door crush’s face. “You know what, let’s just pretend I didn’t say that out loud.” 

Exhaling a lengthy sigh, you turn to face the opposite direction, now regretting your offer to share your blanket with him. 

Your regret leads you to miss the way his face lights up. 

“Hey, no, thanks for the compliment.” 

Under the blanket, his fingers gingerly graze over yours for a fleeting moment, which causes you to shift your head towards him again. The tips of your noses are almost touching. His twinkling eyes are locked on you, but yours are veering everywhere else except on him. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you look good too.” 

With that, your gaze finally lands on Mark.  

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You want to continue the conversation, you really do, but you’re at a loss of words and are too busy getting lost in the galaxy of his eyes from up-close. From the way he’s not tearing his eyes away either, a little part of you wonders if he harbours an infatuation with you as well. He couldn’t possibly, right? 

Despite being practically strangers, the silent, intense aura blooms as time passes. Your respective breaths brush against each other’s lips and it’d be so easy to just lean in to meet the other’s—

Suddenly, the tension is cut short as everyone begins to sluggishly amble their way back into the building. 

Although nothing really transpired, you break apart simultaneously like someone caught you two doing something you shouldn’t. Mark lets you have your blanket all to yourself once more and both of you head back side by side in comfortable silence.  

After walking up the flight of stairs, trailing behind all the other residents of the building, you finally reach your respective doors. 

“It was nice to see you,” you say, pulling your keys out and inserting the fitting one into your lock. 

“Yeah, thanks for sharing your blanket with me. I really appreciate it.” 

“Anytime, neighbour,” you glance up at him from your hand. His whole body faces you and his mouth is agape like he’s itching to say something. On second thought, he presses his lips together and feels around his body for his keys. Realization hits him in the face. 

“Shit,” he bangs his forehead against the door, deterring you from entering your home abode. “I forgot my keys inside.” 

Mark turns to you with a scrunched face. Even in a state of frustration, how could someone be so cute? “Sorry to ask, but can I borrow your phone?” 

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” You don’t hesitate to scramble and hand it over to him. 

He mumbles a quick thanks, rubbing the back of his head. When he finishes entering a number to dial-in, he holds the phone against his ear and leans the side of head against his door, still facing you. You stand there awkwardly, eyes wavering between the adorable phone borrower and the handful of people in the hallway trickling back into their dorms. 

After the third unanswered ring, a bold offer impulsively escapes your lips.  

“You know, you can stay at my place overnight if you need to.” 

Oh, no. Shit. Why brain, why?

You don’t register your brazenness until the fifth ring, when Mark’s jaw is hanging and his eyebrows are glued to the ceiling. Okay, maybe you can save the moment by saying it was a joke or—

“Hello?” you overhear a muffled grumble on the other end. 

The shock dissolves away from his face. “Oh, hey. Sorry to wake you, Johnny. It’s Mark…” 

Utter embarrassment. This time, you can’t save yourself from your impetuous words. Millions of possibilities run through your mind, including abandoning your phone for him to keep and then moving to another building. No, moving to another college. Actually, Mars sounds like an even better idea. 

You’re so deep in your overdramatic thoughts, your face in a pinch behind your blanket, that you don’t even realize Mark’s already done with his call. 

“Thanks.” His voice breaks you away from your thoughts, eyelids shooting open. He must’ve stepped closer while you weren’t looking because he’s now in front of you, dangling your device from his fingertips. You gently grasp the phone, jointly holding it with him. 

“And about your offer…” You cringe, ready for him to ignore your existence until the end of time. You officially ruined everything, and nothing has even happened yet. 

“How about we go on a date first?” 

Your head shoots up at his proposition. Did you hear that right? 

“Then, maybe when the fire alarm goes off again next time and I forget my keys, I’ll take you up on it.”

It could be because it’s almost 4am and you’re teetering on sleep, or you’re purely stricken, but all you could do is nod mindlessly and squeak, “Sure.”    

A heartstopping smile rolls over his face. “I was hoping you’d say that. I took the liberty of adding myself to your contacts and sent a text to my phone.” 

Mark releases your phone from his grip and begins to walk backwards towards the stairs, suppressing his desire to stay with you for a little while more. But, it’s late and it’s not like this was the last time he’d see you. You are neighbours after all. 

Waving, he whisper-shouts in the hallway, “I’ll text you back first thing when I can. Have a good night!” 

You subtly wave back, still huddling your blanket over your shoulders. When he disappears from your line of sight, you enter your room and flop onto your bed with a jubilant sigh. 

Following knocks at his door, a slit-eyed Johnny is welcomed by a vivacious friend. Too vivacious for 4am. 

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. Remember that cute neighbour I’ve been telling you about?...” 

Maybe (and thankfully) there wasn’t an actual fire, but another one was certainly beginning to kindle. 

And neither of you had the intention of extinguishing it any time soon. 

[pars-ley]

The couples package

Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Asking one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend on an all expenses paid work trip seems like a great idea...until you discover couples therapy is also part of the package.

Genre: Fake dating au / friends to lovers / angst / fluff 

Rating: 15 + (SFW)

Warnings: Explicit language / Therapy session / Making out

Word count: 2K

Notes: This is a request from my milestone drabble game (all my requests for it have been in the works for a million years, sorry it’s taken me so long!) for @unoriginal-username15432 I hope you enjoy this!

Beta Reader: @bluewhale52 thank you so much for your helpful suggestions.

"A free holiday?" Yoongi asks you, turning his head and raising a suspicious eyebrow. "What's the catch?"

You wince, hoping he'd just accept without question...you should have known better.

"Well, maybe it requires you to be my... partner."

"Huh? Your partner in what?"

You roll your eyes. "Life partner, Yoongi. My boyfriend, my other half, the love of my life you know."

His shoulders visibly tense. "I...I think that's weird, don't you?"

You pinch your nose, trying to ease the tension. "A little I guess, but Yoongi, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. The role that opens up for promotion is only ever filled by someone who's gone on this couple's retreat."

He turns to you, leaning back against his kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you telling me, you can only go to this resort if you're in a relationship?"

"Yes." 

"That seems really-"

"I know, its stupid, unfair, should be illegal, but that's how it works and I really, really, really need this promotion Yoongi, so please…" you clasp your hands together in front of you, begging. "I'll get on my knees if you want." you can't help the suggestive tone in your voice knowing it will make him blush. And there's nothing you love more than seeing him flustered.

"Fine. I'll come." he avoids your eyes as the crimson hue spreads across his cheeks.

"Thank you!" you throw your arms around his neck and lock him in an embrace. "You'll enjoy it, I promise and I'll make it up to you big time."

"Yea, yea." he says, arms winding loosely around your waist.

You savour the moment. It's not very often he's physically affectionate with you, much to your dismay.

"Ok, start packing. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning sharp." you order, "You're my bestest, best friend ever!" you call out the door. Once you’re outside, you can't help the excited flip your stomach does. Not just at the prospect of being in line for this promotion but also the idea of playing house with Yoongi, of pretending to be everything you actually want, of an intimate glimpse at a life with him at your side. That's better than nothing.

As you step off the boat and onto the pale sand of the island, you bask in the warmth of the air, taking a deep breath and holding your face up to the sun.

A nudge in your back snaps you out of it. "You coming?" Yoongi’s voice by your ear sends a shiver down your spine.

You wind your arm through his, receiving an awkward sideways glance in response but you choose to ignore it.

Trudging through the sand, a guide leads you to the entrance of the resort. At the reception desk, a bell boy takes your bags and leads you up to your room.

Yoongi's jaw drops as you both walk in - a huge queen size bed, covered in delicate, red rose petals, is next to double doors that open up to the balcony, framed by thin, scarlet veil curtains billowing softly into the room. You tip the bellboy and he leaves with a smile.

"Wow, look at the size of this shower." Yoongi calls out to you. 

Turning; you see a large bathroom with a roll top bath and a shower big enough to hold a conference in.

"I think it's designed that way for more than one person at a time." you fight the giggle, picturing the shocked look on his face as you start to unpack your suitcase.

Clearing his throat behind you, he says, "We have a problem."

"What's that?" you ask, shoving your underwear roughly in a drawer.

"There's only one bed." 

"Oh no, disaster!" you mock him and laugh. "So what, are you telling me you can't share a huge bed like this with me for four days? There would be almost a whole continent between us in there."

He scrubs the back of his neck. "I guess so."

You had to admit, the idea of sharing a bed with him had excitement blooming heavily in your heart...among other places.

Yoongi heads outside to take a look at the view from the balcony, but a knock on the door distracts you from following.

Opening it, you see your boss' smiling face staring back at you. "Ah welcome, welcome!" she says pulling you in for a rapid, impersonal hug. "I'm so glad you're here. Listen, first thing on the agenda is couples counselling, so settle in briefly and meet us in conference room number 4, ok?"

She starts to head off but you pull her back by the arm. "Er, I'm sorry, couples counselling? No one mentioned this."

She gives you a sympathetic smile. "That's right, I forgot, it's your first time here! I'm so sorry. It's just part of the package here, you have a session once everyday."

You blink at her, picturing Yoongi's reaction to this added piece of news.

"Ok? I'll see you down there. Can't wait to meet him by the way." she grins, her eyes searching the room behind you before she heads off and leaves you staring at an empty corridor.

You swallow down your fear and close the door behind you, knowing this will be the first argument you have here but certainly not the last.

"Oh, Yoongi my dearest…"

You prop your head up on your hand trying to look interested as you sit in the room full of strangers, listening to their mundane grievances with their partners. The chairs are all set out in a circle so wherever you look, you meet eyes with someone.

You glance over at Yoongi, who is slouching in his chair with arms folded and tension rolling off him in waves. You are  dreading your turn. He is definitely not an actor, he gets flushed when he's lying and he stutters. How on earth will this ever be convincing?

"Y/n, Yoongi, I'm sensing some friction between the two of you. Anything you want to discuss?"

You freeze, suddenly rigid in your chair as the counsellor directs his attention to you. 

"No." Yoongi's deep voice sounds beside you, low and unamused.

"I'm sensing some hostility about being here? Therapy can help the two of you bond and become closer." he clasps his hands together in dramatic fashion, making you inwardly roll your eyes.

"We're fine. Bonded and close as we can be." he mumbles.

"Y/n, do you agree with that?" The therapist turns to you, all eyes now on your face.

"We are very close, yes." you swallow, feeling like you're under interrogation.

"And are you happy with your relationship the way it is?"

No. The room feels hot, too hot, as you're aware it's not lying that's bothering you;  it's revealing the truth that's making your gut clench. You see Yoongi look your way from the corner of your eye, your silence must be confusing him.

"Y/n? You're in a safe place, you can speak openly here." 

You barely hear the counsellor’s words over the wild thrum of your heart, and suddenly a word leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

"No."

The counsellor leaps forward, on the edge of his chair, practically hovering in mid air, eager to get more from you.

"Honesty is the path to mindfulness." he says. "What are you not happy about, y/n?" 

"I want us to be closer." you say quietly. "I feel like he holds himself back from me."

The counsellor nods dramatically and looks straight at Yoongi for a response.

"How? I'm here with you aren't I, even though I didn't want to come."

Yoongi scoffs, turning in his seat to give you his undivided attention.

"What I'm hearing, Yoongi, is that maybe what you're offering isn't enough for y/n?" the counsellor says, leaning forward and  giving him a pitying look.

You see Yoongi's neck flush, knowing he's about to lose it as the vein bulges prominently in his neck.

"And what I'm saying, counsellor, is that I don't see how it's any of your business what I offer her." He says with gritted teeth, his low growl holds a powerful bite in his words.

The therapist holds his hands up in surrender. "You're right, it's not, but you're here in my session and it seems like it's y/n who really wants to know. And it's definitely her business." He leans forward in his chair. "So tell her, what it is you're offering her." 

"I'd offer her everything, anything I could. If she pulled her head out of her arse long enough she might realize that."

Your head snaps over to him, wondering if his acting skills have drastically improved or if…no, he must be acting.

"Have you told her this Yoongi, have you bared your soul for her?"

He scoffs again. "What difference would that make? She should know how I feel if she knows me that well."

You grind your teeth, annoyance running rampant through you. "I'm not a fucking mind reader, Yoongi. Am I supposed to guess what's going on in that big, dumb brain of yours?"

"For goodness sake, I want you to be my wife and have my kids one day! There. Are you happy? Clear enough for you?"

He slumps back aggressively in his chair, arms folded, face emblazoned with rage and embarrassment. All you can do is stare at him. You have no words to say as you're not entirely sure what to make of this heated exchange.

"Perfect. Guys, you've done really well this session. Unfortunately, time is up, but I'm going to enjoy working with you two. We've got lots to uncover, I can sense it." The man is almost vibrating with excitement and it unnerves you. 

Yoongi leaves first, making a swift exit with you hot on his tail, not wanting to be confronted by anyone.

As soon as the door to your room closes,  you find your voice again. "What the fuck was that?" 

There is no response as he drags his suitcase from under the bed and starts wildly shoving clothes into it.

"Yoongi, what are you doing?" 

"What does it look like? I'm leaving." He mumbles, eyes down and focused, body turned away from you.

"You can't leave after that!" You close some distance between you, fury boiling inside and bubbling over into the words spilling from your lips. "What about us!?"

He laughs a sad, exasperated laugh. "What about us? 'Us' will never be the same. I can't stick around to be pitied and pushed aside. I can't have you around me all the damn time not be able to hold you, I can't do it anymore, y/n. So please, don't ask me to." 

You see his cheeks turn a bright shade of fuchsia, his hands clasp his clothing so hard his knuckles go white as he still refuses to look your way. 

Your feet feel like they're rooted to the spot for a moment before you feel the ground come out from under you. A cloud captures you and floats you around the room, light and carefree. The words you think you'd never hear have finally been said and you cannot describe the pure elation and euphoria you feel.

You reach out to his shoulder, hoping to ground yourself as well as to offer comfort.

He sighs under your touch. "Please, don't."

His hands still and his shoulders slump. You grab him and turn him to you, lifting his chin till his gaze begrudgingly falls on you. Your heart is pounding hard in your chest from the promise in his words but also from the fear of being mistaken and rejected.

"I can't take it anymore, I need you. Right here. Right now." you whisper, voice husky and thick of want.

His eyes widen as he curiously examines your face.

"Please, Yoongi." you plead, hand drifting down to his, your fingers hesitantly entwining together with his. "I've waited so long for you."

His mouth crashes against yours in an instant and it takes your breath away. His sweet lips moving rapidly with yours, the taste of him enough to have your entire body throbbing violently with need. 

His hands find you and pull you closer, your body now pressed tightly against him. The heat rising from him drives you crazy and as his scent swirls your senses, it makes it impossible to think of anything but him.

"God, you make me crazy, woman." He whispers against your mouth.

You can't help but smile as your hands find anchor in his hair. "Yea, but you love me for it."

He kisses you deep, softly massaging his lips against yours, caressing them in the most gentle way. You feel like your worries and problems have dissipated, leaving you light and full of adoration.

"No arguments there." He replies.