#anyway the kid and the dog weren’t in the house alone. so that’s good

[fingertipsmp3]

Was straight up Not Doing Well but then I met a cat and now I think I’m okay

[nichuuu]

Dried Things & Humanity

말린 것들과 인류

Word count: 13k+ SMUTLESS FIC

"The world, after all, was still a place of bottomless horror. It was by no means a place of childlike simplicity where everything could be settled by a simple then-and-there decision" ~Osamu Dazai

Dried flowers. 

They sat by your bedside, a constant reminder of how far you would go for love—A love that would never be anything more than a short-lived euphoria. They’d died some time ago, wilting rather quickly under a lack of care, but you kept them. The text that came when spring first rolled around saying hey let’s break up was not expected, neither was the part where she blocked you, nor was the part where you almost jumped off a bridge. Yet it all happened, a confusing, muddled, mish mash of events that went down over the span of a week. If it weren’t for your friends, you would be at the bottom of the river by now, joining your grandfather and maybe your family dog up in the clouds, or wherever it was that spirits wandered to. At the moment, getting out of this life didn’t seem like too bad of an idea.

You stupid child! Your mother had chided when she found out about what you almost did. What do you think you would’ve achieved with that? What good will it do? 

Then she hugged you, held you tight and sobbed as she thanked god for letting you live another day. Frankly, you didn’t know what was the appropriate response for your mother. You opted to hug her back, tearfully whispering your endless apologies to her. Even though you promised to never make another attempt on your life, the fear of losing her only boy still lingered in your mother’s mind. Your mother and father were always in the office. So, in fear that living alone would drive you to the worst possible option, she sent you to live with your uncle who ran a secondhand bookshop in a small town not too far from the city. She filled him in with what happened and pleaded for him to help you “recover”.

“Don’t worry little sis,” he assured your mother. He threw an arm around you, “I’ll take care of him like he’s my own son. We’ll get along, won’t we?”

Park Sang-hoon—the people living in the area called him “the librarian”—was your mother’s older brother. You hadn’t seen him since you graduated from middle school, and he’d certainly aged from the last time you saw him. The hair that was once jet black and slicked back was turning white and receding. The same friendly complexion remained however, the amiable smile that you remembered greeting you when he opened the door to his house. It was a stone's throw away from the bookstore.

The house and the business had been imparted upon him by your grandparents. It was relatively small, but there was enough room for the two of you to live with your own privacy (though that didn't really matter since he’d just come barging into the room you stayed in anyway.)

The door to your room flung open. “Hey kid! Rise and shine!”

You grumbled something incoherent and pulled the blanket over your head. 

“Up! Up! It’s time to get up!” your uncle bellowed in a sing-song tone, “there are so many things to see and do! Get up you lazy child!”

Your blanket was yanked off your entire body.

“Is this really necessary?” you snapped. Your uncle grinned.

“No. But it’s fun,” he beamed. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your left side, you back facing him, 

“Leave me alone…” you muttered, “let me sleep…”

“I’ve been letting you do that for the past week,” your uncle huffed, “now your mother is calling me, demanding to know if you’d even emerged from this room. She said some mean things to me, you know?”

You sighed and turned onto your back. “I’ll go out tomorrow…”

Your uncle sighed. “Let me tell you something…”

Let me tell you something was the signal for you to tune out. “Let me tell you something”, “Let me tell you this”—your uncle always said these before he launched into a long rambling story that really added no value to what he was trying to say. It was either that or he’d leave you with a cryptic message to decipher yourself. You never understood why he did that, it was probably just an old people thing.

By the time he was done with his little storytime, you were still in bed. With another heavy sigh, your uncle said, “fine… If you’re not gonna go anywhere today, at least come and help me with the store.”

Your mind told you to stay in bed, but your body told you that you needed to get outside. You decided to listen to the latter party for once. 

The bookshop was old, one of those shophouses down a stretch of road that townsfolk usually walked past on the daily. Needless to say, the store wasn’t the most appealing from the outside. The inside however—That was something else.

You remembered visiting the bookstore with your mother once or twice. A stack of books nearly fell on you that time, and your uncle was berated rather viciously. He’d definitely made some improvements in the time you were away. The store was warm, cosy and relatively organised. The shelves were evidently a little worn from the years, but they still looked and felt sturdy to the touch.  It was a welcoming environment, the interior bearing a striking resemblance to a bookstore of the early 90s.

“I’ve kept up with the times!” your uncle boasted proudly, “nowadays everyone and their mothers are all into this retro aesthetic, so I made sure to keep as much of the hip and cool retro feel.”

Your uncle definitely did his research. You couldn’t help but look upon the shelves filled with books with awe. “This is…”

“Pretty lit, am I right?” your uncle grinned. You cringed.

Your uncle frowned. “What? Did I not use the phrase correctly?”

“N-No it’s just… Ah whatever,” you muttered.

“Damn… I swear I had the meaning for that one down,” your uncle muttered, “the slang of the youth… Such an odd thing.”

After giving you a little more time to admire the place, your uncle tossed you an apron and instructed you to put it on. 

“I’m alright with letting you stay with me for free,” your uncle told you as he helped you tie the strings of the apron behind your back, “but I won’t let you wallow in this post-breakup sadness all day.”

He spun you around, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “You just graduated from highschool, no?”

You nodded. 

“Perfect, you’ll need some job experience then,” he grinned, “from now on. You’ll work for me till your stay here is over!”

And so it began. From that day onwards, you started filling shelves, dusting books, pasting on price tags and flipping through pages of books that had been sold to the store to assess the state of the book. It was far from enjoyable in the beginning. It felt akin to the life of Andy Dufrane in Shawshank redemption, the same old routine repeated day after day in what felt like an endless cycle. You were up early in the morning to open the shop with your uncle, the brown apron on your person by 7am in the morning and the door to the shop open by 9am after you were with the opening up preparations. You had to flip the plastic sign hanging on the door from “open” to “closed” every morning, and from “open” back to “closed” in the late evenings. Lunch was usually around 12pm, where your uncle would go out to one of the nearby restaurants to get lunch for the two of you. You’d sit opposite each other in the small break room that sat behind the counter, munching on whatever he bought. 

Handling customers was also another gruelling task. You admittedly didn’t have a voracious appetite for books, many authors sounding foreign to you. A good majority of the books that the store had on hand were classics from esteemed authors, varying in language, length and appeal. When customers asked you what you’d recommend, you could only shrug, earning yourself a nasty gare before they walked off. When they asked about the disparity between the prices of the same book, you could only stare blankly before calling to your uncle.The store had duplicates of some books, the only thing separating the copies being the cover art or the type of book cover. 

“Let me tell you something,” your uncle had told you one fine day, “hardcover books are much more valuable than the usual soft cover books. You want to know why?”

That last part wasn’t a question, rather more of a filler. Apparently, a hardcover was typically more durable, allowing it to better protect the pages within. This meant that the book would stay in better condition for longer. Ultimately, the process and materials needed for hardcover book printing were more expensive, hence this cost is passed on to readers. 

“Capitalism,” you muttered, placing the hardcover version of Greek Lessons by Han Kang on the shelf. 

As for the cover art—Some covers were objectively more appealing than the other, making the book more valuable. This was the case for Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human. The two covers looked about the same to you. 

 On some days, you wondered how such an old secondhand bookstore could’ve lasted for so long. There were days where you only sold two books for little Won each, and those were typically on weekdays where some of the townsfolk—usually on the more elderly side—would come through the doors and browse through the books. But on the weekends, you were reminded just how hectic this place could get. The youth from the city loved to flood the shop over the weekends, making the commute from the heart of the country to this small shop in a small town to browse through the seemingly endless selection of books.The line to the counter often snaked out the door and onto the street on those days, and your fingers would be aching by the end of the day—A byproduct of gripping those handles of those paper bags while struggling to get them open.

After a week or two, you got used to the whole routine. It didn’t help to remove the monotony of your tasks however, and you often found yourself wondering how your uncle could run this place on his own for so long. With the memories of your ex still tormenting your mind, you found it hard to focus on your tasks at times. Sometimes, you just didn’t want to get up in the mornings. The dried flowers by your bedside were a constant reminder of the pain. You’d bought them for her on the day that text came, now you couldn’t let go of them.

One evening, your uncle decided to close up the shop a little earlier. It’d been a slow Wednesday, so there was no harm in resting up a little earlier than usual. 

“Come with me,” he told you after he’d locked the shutter in place, “I want to take you somewhere.”

You walked up the stretch with him, walking past the rows of shophouses that lined the street. You saw bookstores that looked similar to your uncle’s a couple of times, prompting you to wonder just how many people sold secondhand books on this stretch. 

He took you to a small bridge at the end of the road. It was one of those old, traditional Korean bridges with the stone tiling that arched over the water. He took you up to its apex and made you look out into the water. 

“What do you see?” he asked you.

“Is this one of those stupid lectures again?” you muttered.

“Just answer me.”

You sighed. “I see the water and some trees.”

“Good. What else?” he urged. 

“There’s nothing else,” you told him.

“Wrong. Look again.”

You rolled your eyes and set your sights a little further. “I see Cogongrass.”

“What else?”

You were certain that this was one of his stupid little talks again. “Just tell me what you want to say, uncle!”

“Always so impatient…” he chuckled.

Gently, he grabbed your chin and tipped it up. With his other hand, he pointed out into the distance—Past the trees, water, the cogon grass and the roofs of the shophouses. There, you saw the mountains and the roads that stretched for kilometres, the faint shape of those big blue signs that pointed you in the directions to different places.

“You limit yourself to what you see in this area,” he explained, “but you fail to see past this river and this small town.”

He turned you back to face him. You were a little taller than him, so he had to look up at you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders, holding them firmly. 

“You must learn to set your sights further, dear nephew,” he told you, “learn to see past the trees and the water in your mind. Then and only then, will you be able to live once more.” 

The cryptic message left you admittedly puzzled on the way home. It took you some thinking to read between the lines and understand what your uncle had told you—You had to look past the memories of your ex in order to move on with your life. 

“Excellent,” your uncle had praised when you knocked on his door to ask if your interpretation of his message was correct, “I hope that you can remember this. I hate to see you moping around my store. It scares my customers away too!”

Your first step in looking past the memories was to toss out the dried flowers from your bedside. Even though it was painful, you did it. You knew you needed to.

In its place by your bedside, you bought an alarm clock—one of those old ones that still used the hammers to knock the two small bells—And a framed photograph of the town. You bought both of them from one of the nice old ladies who ran a souvenir shop just down the road. 

It was the start of a new beginning. It felt like you were human once more.

***

Dried Persimmon.

That was what you were munching on when you were handed your first paycheck from your uncle.

“W-Why are you paying me?” you stammered, “I-I thought this was just something to occupy my time!”

“I may be cheap, but I won’t exploit my own nephew!” your uncle laughed, “now quit sneaking snacks on your shift and get back to work!” 

You knew that your uncle was generous, but you never expected him to be this generous. With a smile, you wiped the bits of the dried fruit from the corners of your lips before pocketing the envelope. 

“Thanks,” you beamed. You raised the small jar of dried persimmons and asked, “want one?”

“Tsk. I’m a professional, I don’t eat on my shift,” he sneered. 

“You sure?” you confirmed, “this is a fresh batch from Miss Cho’s…”

“From Miss Cho’s?” he gasped, “gimme some of that!”

You had become well acquainted with the townsfolk, especially with the ones that ran the stores on the same stretch as the bookstore. Sometimes, the sweet old ladies from down the road would come in to deliver some gifts to you and your uncle. Everyone seemed to be friends in this town. Miss Cho was one of the many townsfolk that specialised in dried goods. A sweet lady really, a little older than your mother but not as old as your uncle. Persimmons were seasonal fruits, so they were naturally high in demand in late spring. 

You let your uncle take one piece of the dried fruit before closing the lid and setting it atop the table in the break room. Your uncle stepped aside to let you exit, and you went to continue your shift. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to move on from your ex. Yes, you did share some fond memories with her, but you found these “core memories” made with her easy to forget. She no longer appeared in your dreams, neither did you think about her when you were going about your tasks. She’d become a distant pain, a pain that you never intend to revisit. 

Once, she did happen to come by the bookstore on a weekend. She walked into the crowded store, hand in hand with a brand new boyfriend while you were calculating somebody’s purchase. You caught yourself staring at her as she browsed through the books, her boyfriend lingering close by as he read over her shoulder. It was then that your uncle firmly grabbed you by the shoulder. He’d seen pictures of her. He could recognise her on sight

“Look past the trees and the water,” he reminded you, before going back to checking out books. You tore away your gaze from them and continued with your work.

When she came out to the counter to pay, the look of shock on her face almost made you want to double over in laughter. Swiftly and wordlessly, you took her books and packaged them neatly in a bag. 

“That will be forty-thousand Won ma’am,” you had smiled respectfully. She was still staring at you, her mouth open in the shape of an “o”.  Her boyfriend had to pay and take the goods from you before directing her out of the store. 

When they left, your uncle gave you a gentle pat on your hand. Well done was what he was trying to say. 

True to your uncle’s lesson, once you had gotten over her, you felt like you were alive. You found that you quickly took a liking to this new lifestyle, immersing yourself in the wide array of books that were at your disposal and even taking home a few to read. It felt like a fresh new chapter had begun in your life, and you were more than ready to welcome its start. The monotony was now welcomed in this slower-paced segment of your life.

“By the way,” your uncle called to you as you set down a box of books. He’d just bought them off a guy moving overseas. “I have a feeling that business will start to pick up soon!’

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“You’ll see…” he smiled. He popped another dried persimmon into his mouth. “Damn! This batch is bussin!”

You cringed. You could get used to life in this small town, but you knew that you’d never get used to your uncle throwing out the slang of your generation. You wondered if he had Tik Tok on his phone or if he’d seen one too many Instagram reels.

With your box cutter, you cut open the tape that sealed the cardboard box, the one that housed the goods. You opened the box. 

“The hell…” you muttered as you stared at the books within, “who did you get these off?”

“Some preschool principal. What’s up?” your uncle asked. 

You produced one of the many alarmingly thin books from the box. “Hate to break it to you but… These are all children’s books.”

Your uncle was never one to swear, but he made a rare exception for that moment. 

“Fuck!” he cussed rather loudly, “I should’ve asked what the contents were!”

You chuckled and placed the book back into the cardboard box. “Don’t worry uncle, we can always sell these to the daycare, can’t we?”

“Bourgeoisie scumbag! I paid a lot for that!” your uncle continued to ramble. You decided that it would be best to silently push the box into the storeroom while he let his frustrations out.

***

Dried leaves. 

That's what you were sweeping when a black van rolled into the stretch of street. The front doors opened and a man and a woman stepped out. It was early autumn. The leaves of those trees that grew next to the bookstore—Once beautiful and elegant in nature—became pesky as their leaves had begun to wither and fall. Your uncle saw the mess outside the store and immediately got you to start sweeping it up. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.

You halted your broom as the man and woman approached you. 

“Hello,” the woman greeted you, “is this Park’s second hand books?” 

You nodded and pointed at the sign above you. The woman grinned. She turned and told the man to get the gear out. 

You recognised the city accent in their voices. 

The man wrapped around the vehicle and opened the trunk. You tried to look into the van but found that the tinted windows didn’t let you see anything. The man came back around, a heavy video camera—those ones they used to film movies—on his shoulder. The woman approached the door of the van and pulled it open. 

Five girls got out of the van, selfie sticks with Gopros attached to the end in their hands as they filed out of the vehicle one by one. It took a moment for you to recognize the five of them, and another moment to realise that there were global superstars standing right before you. 

In a wordless panic, you dropped the broom and bolted into the store. Your uncle was behind the counter, counting the bills in the cash register when you called him.

“ITZY is in front of the store!” you exclaimed. Your uncle cocked his head.

“ITZY?” he inquired, “is that a new slang or something?”

“N-No! T-Their idols, uncle! There are idols outside the door!” 

It took a moment for your uncle to process what you’d said. Then, he simply smiled. 

“Right… I forgot to tell you about that,” he said. He placed the bills he had been counting back into the register and walked out from behind the counter. 

“Oooh… These girls are much prettier in person,” your uncle mused as he walked by. He opened the door to the store and stepped outside. You could hear his booming voice through the open door. “HELLO! WELCOME! WELCOME!” 

You could hear them exchanging greetings outside the store. Hurriedly, you scanned around the store, looking for any signs of mess. There were thankfully none.

“Come in! It’s rather cold out,” your uncle said, “it’s much warmer in here!”

You quickly stood up straighter, your hands by your sides as the five ITZY girls walked through the door of the store. 

“Welcome to the store!” your uncle grinned, “that over there is my nephew, he runs the place with me for now.”

The girls turned. The feeling of five pairs of eyes on you was nerve-wracking, and the two cameras that started to flank you on either side weren’t helping to ease your nerves. Where did the second camera come from? You couldn’t help but wonder.

You gulped, a tug of war between waving and bowing to the girls ensuing in your head as you stared blankly. 

“He’s uh… A little shy,” your uncle chuckled. Then he gave you a look, one that said hurry up and say hello you dense child.

There was no victor in the mental tug of war. In the end, you resorted to an awkward half wave, half bow. The girls sniggered at your greeting.

Then and there, you wanted to shrink down and hide in the shelf behind you. 

The woman from earlier started speaking to the girls. “This is the final place. Now, we will draw lots to see who goes where!”

She produced a handful of popsicle sticks. The girls started talking about how nervous they were, giggling amongst themselves as they started to draw the sticks one by one. Your uncle stood by the woman, a small smile on his face as he patiently awaited the result.

“Oh. Looks like I’ll be working here!” Shin Yuna smiled as she looked at her stick. You weren’t sure if it was excitement or disappointment that you heard in her voice. 

“Excellent!” your uncle beamed. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen going twenty, sir!” Yuna answered bubbly. 

“Ah! Looks like my nephew will have a friend of his age then!” your uncle laughed. 

“E-Eh?” you blurted, “w-what’s happening?”

Your uncle walked up next to you. He put an arm around your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

Yuna giggled and cleared the hair from her face. You made eye contact with her. 

She grinned. 

You felt a burning sensation on your face. 

***

Dried Pollack soup.

That was what you ate with your uncle as people came in to set up cameras around the store. Every corner, every angle, every millimetre was covered by at least one Gopro.

“They said in the email that it was for their Youtube,” your uncle told you, “they're gonna live in this town for a bit, work at some of the stores… Taking a break from their idol activities apparently.”

“B-But why the bookstore?” you inquired. Your uncle shrugged.

“I don’t know. They sent me a 30 page proposal that I didn’t bother to read. I figured that having idols in our store would help boost our business. Get people from other parts to come here—You know what I’m saying?” 

You did not know what he was saying. The whole situation was so overwhelming. An idol working at the bookstore? For how long? What did you need to do?

A knock came on the break room door. You turned and saw a man standing there, Gopro in hand.

“Sorry to disturb you, but can I put a camera in here?” he asked politely. 

Your uncle gave him a look and asked, “is that completely necessary?”

“I-I mean… If you guys are okay with it,” you replied. Your uncle sighed.

“Take the soup out,” he instructed you, “give them space to set up…”

***

A very, very dry mouth. 

That's what you had when Yuna walked into the store for her first day of work. 

She was tailed by one cameraman and another woman, both of them wearing the same shirt that read “JYP CREW”. You could feel the cold sweat on your palms as you handed her the apron that already had her name tag on it. With a rather apparent stutter, you welcomed her to her new job. She smiled, that radiant smile that you’d only seen on your phone screen now right before you. It sent a warm fuzz down your spine. 

Your uncle showed her around, breaking down the various jobs to her as you opened up a box of books—they weren’t children’s books this time—and got to filling the shelves. You could hear every word that came out from your uncle's mouth as you explained the tasks that the idol was to undertake, as well as the opening and closing timings of the store. He finished his run down just as you finished placing the last book from the box on the shelf.

“What should I do now?” you heard her ask. 

“Go help my nephew. I think he could use a hand,” your uncle replied.

“Right! On it!” came her bubbly reply. 

You could feel your heart beating faster as you felt her get closer and closer. 

A tap on your shoulder.

“Hello!’ she greeted you, “let’s work well together!”

You managed to sputter out something. She asked for instructions on what she should do. You blanked out for a second. Then tremulously, you reached into your apron and pulled out the second box cutter. 

“U-Um,” you began. “T-There’s a box of… B-Books in the store… Just… Just uh…”

Her gaze felt piercing even though it was gentle. It’d been awhile since you’d stood before a girl this gorgeous. Your nineteen-year-old hormones were getting to you, sweat beading your forehead as you struggled to give the idol instructions. 

Then suddenly, you ran away. You didn’t know why you ran, but you just ran out of the store and down the street. Getting away from the store was your main task, and you ran quite a good distance in the chilly autumn air before you finally ran out of breath. Clammy, tense and exhausted, you rested outside one of the shophouses along the stretch. 

“Fuck… What’s wrong with me?” you questioned yourself. It was like you’d never talked to a girl in your life. 

It only took a second or two for the adrenaline to fade. In its place came embarrassment as you buried your face in your hands. What are you doing you stupid idiot! Why did you run? You chided yourself, beating your cheek with your own palm. 

You heard someone call your name. You raised your head.

“Why are you slapping yourself in front of my store?” Miss Cho inquired. She was pushing a cart full of pears. They were probably freshly harvested. 

“Oh… Hey Miss Cho,” you greeted her, “I was just… I-I don’t know…”

You ended up pushing Miss Cho’s cart back up the street. 

“She’s a what now?” Miss Cho pressed.

“An idol Miss Cho,” you explained. You eventually got around to telling her the reason as to why you were beating yourself in front of her shop. The concept of someone singing and dancing for a living sounded completely foreign to Miss Cho—Someone who spent most of her life drying fruits and making snacks—So you had to explain it to her. 

“Ah… I remember my daughter saying something about it,” Miss Cho mused, “so… Why did you run away from her?”

“I… Don’t know,” you told her truthfully, “I guess I just freaked out.”

“Because she’s famous?” she pressed. You thought about it for a moment, then you nodded.

Miss Cho stopped addressing you for a moment to greet Mrs Han, the lady that ran one of the restaurants on the stretch with her husband. Miss Cho gave the restaurant owner a whole carton worth of pears, telling Mrs Han to make something tasty out of them before the two of you continued moving along.

“Why are you scared of an Idol?” she continued to question.

“I-I don’t know… I-I guess it’s because she’s popular and all, so I’m scared that I’ll make a fool of myself in front of her,” you reasoned. 

Miss Cho hummed and nodded. “I see…” 

She stopped once more, this time in front of the sweets store. You helped her pull out a crate of apples from the bottom of the stacks of pears and handed it to the store owner. Miss Cho requested for a batch of the sweets when they were ready before the two of you got to moving again. 

“So… Why does this girl being this idol make her any less normal than you?” she asked. 

“P-Pardon?” you stuttered, “I-I never… I never said that…”

Miss Cho chuckled, one of those nice Ahjumma laughs that could warm one’s heart. “You did not, but the way you spoke of her implied it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. Now that you thought of it, you’d made Yuna sound like some high and mighty god that could smite you with a snap of her fingers.

“Just because someone has millions of fans doesn't mean that they’re any less of a human than you and I,” Miss Cho told you, “just because someone is adored doesn't make them more superior. If that was the case, I’d be a warlord by now!”

The dried fruits specialist cackled at her own joke. She always had a tendency to do that.

“You see… The problem with fame is that everyone places you on a pedestal,” she continued, “a mistake could cost your whole reputation. A good choice could gain you more popularity. It’s a never ending game, dehumanising in the sense that these famous people can’t afford to live normal lives. Why? Because they’re not considered normal! That’s not right if you ask me…”

You were wondering where this knowledge was coming from. You made it a mental note to talk to Miss Cho a little more. Was it normal for all the old people in this town to be so wise?

The two of you finally stopped in front of the bookshop. Miss Cho instructed you to take in a crate of pears, assuring you that she could make the rest of the journey down the street herself. You waved goodbye to her and prepared to enter once more.

“Remember,” she called to you. You were just about to open the door. “That girl is human. Treat her the way you’d treat any other human.”

She left you with that nugget of wisdom before she bade you farewell and continued with her journey up the street. You sat on her words for a moment before you entered the bookstore once more. 

Yuna’s head snapped towards the door when she heard the chime of the door. You made eye contact with her. 

Human. 

With a smile, you carried the crate into the store and asked, “pears anyone?”

***

A dry wipe. 

That’s what you gave Yuna to clean the dust off the shelves. Two weeks had elapsed since she’d started working with you and your uncle. You never got used to the fact that there were always cameras around you, nor did you ever get used to the fact that the woman and the cameraman would pull you aside and ask for your opinions on Yuna as an employee every now and then. You would always try to be as honest as possible, excluding any embarrassing slip ups she made in an effort to not badmouth the girl.

Within her first week here, she’d already clocked in late once. She apologised furiously that day, working twice as hard to compensate for her mistake. Standing tall, she could reach for the things that customers couldn’t, making her a great help to the regulars. She learnt quickly, finding the most optimal way to replenish the shelves by her fourth day and figured out the best way to assess the state of the book on her fifth.

Weekends had become more packed because of her, the word that Shin Yuna from ITZY was working at the store getting out rather quickly within the first Saturday she worked here. The next day, you had a flock of Midzy’s in front of the store 3 hours before opening. You had to guide Yuna in through the back entrance to prevent her from being swarmed. While Yuna greeted her fans that came to see her in the store with a big smile, you couldn’t help but notice the hint of tiredness behind her eyes. It was like she didn’t really want to be there, but she had no other choice

Now, she was doing an excellent job getting the dust off the top shelves. 

“I think that’s good enough Yuna,” you told her. She turned to look at you.

“You sure? I think it still needs one more round,” she told you.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you told her, handing her another sheet of dry wipes while you took the blackened one from her hands.

“This is great,” she told you, beginning her final round of cleaning, “it makes me feel like I’m at home again. I feel like I’m a kid.”

Here’s the thing about Yuna—Her joy was contagious. When you saw that smile on her face, you couldn’t help but smile along with her. The silliest things could make her grin, and you’d end up grinning with her even though you didn’t find it amusing. You were convinced that it was a special skill of the sort. 

Yuna wiped up whatever dust she could find, leaving no stone unturned as she completed her task. It was almost closing time, a relatively slow day for the bookstore as usual. Yuna had been completing her shifts diligently, only ever disappearing for lunch and toilet breaks. 

Hell… If she wasn’t some bigshot idol, I’d have her employed full-time in a heartbeat! your uncle had told you over lunch one day. You couldn’t help but agree with him. 

“There! All clean!” Yuna exclaimed. 

“Could you show us the cloth, Yuna?” the lady producer asked her. 

For a moment, you saw a hint of annoyance behind her eyes. Then the usual, childlike wonder took its place and Yuna presented the cloth to the camera.

“Ta-da! All clean!” she beamed proudly. You politely clapped your hands in the background. The female producer gave Yuna a thumbs up before tapping the cameraman’s shoulder. “I think we can wrap up for the day.”

The two turned and walked out of the store. Yuna waited till both of them had exited before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Break from idol activities? Yea right…” she muttered, stepping off the step ladder. You stretched out your hand to take the dry wipe from Yuna. She suddenly seemed to remember that you were there, and that bright smile returned to her face. She handed you the dry wipe, all bubbly and smiley.

“I’m going to wash my hands in the bathroom, boss!” she told you. You nodded and let her go. She skipped off towards the back entrance. Your uncle walked out of the storeroom. He was drenched in sweat, his green shirt turning dark under the moisture.

“Hand me a towel would you?” he requested. You quickly walked behind the counter and tossed him his slightly moist towel. He caught it, smiled, then wiped his sweaty face.

“Who knew organising could take so much out of me?” he chuckled. He looked around. “Where’s Yuna?”

“Bathroom,” you explained. Your uncle gave you his Ah I see expression. Then he took a look at his watch. “Let’s get ready to close up shop.”

You nodded and walked over to the door. As you were about to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”, you saw Yuna walking back towards the shop. You raised an eyebrow.

Coming in from the back would’ve been much quicker…

As she got closer, you could make out the tired look on her face. Then you realised that the cameraman and the female producer were following her once more. So much for wrapping up you thought to yourself as you pushed the door open.

“Yuna!” you called to her, “come in! We’re gonna start closing up!”

The weary look disappeared in a flash. Yuna smiled from ear to ear and began jogging towards the store. You found that the cameraman and producer were far from wrapping up, following the idol back into the bookshop like chicks tailing their mother. 

“H-Hey um… Didn’t you guys say you were wrapping up?” you asked the producer. She turned and looked at you.

“We need as much content as we can get. Gotta keep going,” she told you. Then she left to catch up with the camera man. You were suddenly ill at ease. 

They continued to follow Yuna as she assisted you and your uncle in closing up the shop. They were like shadows, tailing the idol with every move she made. There was an unmistakable look of irritance on Yuna's face, but she only let it out when her back was turned to the camera. At the end of it all, the female producer made the idol shoot a thumbs up to the camera and exclaim, “Another job well done today!”. Only when they had gotten a perfect take of that did they truly cut the camera and start packing up for the day. 

“Try to be a little more energetic tomorrow,” the producer told Yuna. You were all outside the store by then. The shutter was closed and locked. The final piece of equipment had been loaded into their van.

“Got it!” Yuna beamed. The producer nodded and wordlessly got into the van with the camera man. The van pulled away, leaving the three of you to breathe in its exhaust as it became smaller and smaller.

“This street was never built for cars…” your uncle grumbled. Then he turned to Yuna and told her, “good job today. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

Yuna smiled—this time a little less bright and more weary—and bowed. “Thank you for today! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The idol turned on her heel and walked off towards the small house that she and her members stayed in for the time being. You couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders seemed to slump. 

“Are we overworking her?” your uncle asked. He must’ve noticed too.

“I’m not sure,” you answered, “I feel like it’s not the work…”

Your uncle raised an eyebrow. “What else could wear her out today? She’s been cleaning and stacking all day!”

You pursed your lips. Then, you turned to your uncle and said, “go home without me. I need to do something.”

You set off after the idol. She hadn’t walked too far over the course of your conversation with your uncle. You caught up to her in a matter of seconds.

“Yuna!” you called her. She turned.

“Hm?” she hummed. 

You stopped before her. “Could I… Take you somewhere?”

You only realised how weird that sounded after the last syllable left your mouth. Inwardly, you cringed and hoped to god that she didn’t find that creepy. Thankfully, she gave you a smile and said, “sure!”

You took her to the bridge where your uncle had imparted his wisdom upon you. The walk there was filled with awkward silence, only broken erratically by your comments on the different shops. In the chilly Autumn air, you walked side by side with Yuna till you reached your destination.

“Wow…” Yuna muttered as you stopped at the apex of the bridge, “this is…”

“It’s prettier in Spring,” you told her.

“I can imagine that,” she whispered. 

She placed her hands on the railings and leaned her body weight against it. You silently stood next to her, letting her take in the breathtaking scenery without disturbance. You had a hunch—The fact that cameras were always on her had been taking a toll on the idol. You figured she needed some time away from the cameras, a moment where she didn’t have to live with the fact that she was perpetually in the frame of a lens that was recording her every move. 

You didn’t know what to do when the first teardrop came rolling down her face. When her body started to shake, you started to panic internally. That wasn’t part of the agenda. You awkwardly fumbled around, patting your pockets to see if you had any tissue to give her. By the time you had pulled out the small tissue packet from your pocket, the girl was already seated on the bridge, knees tucked in and arms locked around her legs as she bawled and bawled. Awkwardly, you sat down next to her. You maintained a distance from Yuna and silently slid your tissue over to her. The last thing you wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable in her moment of vulnerability. 

You gave her time. Breakdowns like hers would never be finished in a matter of minutes, you knew from experience. The sheer internal bedlam a human could experience under certain circumstances was no joke.

It took some time, but her shoulders eventually stopped heaving so violently, her breaths becoming more uniformed in nature. 

“I-I’m sorry… I-I just…” she started to apologise. 

“It’s… It’s alright,” you assured her, “it… It must be tough for you.”

You gestured to the packet of tissue next to her. She gratefully accepted it, pulling out a couple of pieces to dry her eyes. There were no more words spoken between the two of you, only an odd, comfortably awkward silence in the air as you both sat with your backs to the railing. Yuna sniffled intermittently, and you could hear her drawing tissues to blow her nose. 

You didn’t say anything to comfort her. But that day, you unwittingly made her start trusting you.

***

Dried apple slices. 

That’s what Yuna had bought to share with you. She’d gotten them from Miss Cho’s, and had asked to eat them with you on the bridge after your shifts had ended.

“These are so good!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Cho’s family spent lifetimes perfecting their formula. It’s gotta be good,” you told her.

Yuna squealed happily as she dug her hand into the container and pulled out yet another slice. You could pinpoint the exact moment where the flavour of Miss Cho’s apple slices burst forth in her mouth. Her wide-eyed silent glee was your indication. On the railing of the bridge you sat, side by side with the idol. There was an unexplained affinity between you two since that day she cried next to you. Your interactions in the bookstore had increased, becoming friendlier in nature. It was like something suddenly clicked between the two of you.

“Man… These things make me want to live here forever!” Yuna laughed, kicking her legs like a child as she dug her hand into the container for yet another slice. You smiled as you watched her. She seemed more carefree that day.

“You’re from the city, right?” she asked you, popping another slice into her mouth.

“Yep… I’m just staying here for a while,” you explained to her. 

“Don’t you have to search for a university?” 

You kicked your legs and sighed. “I do… But that can always wait.”

Your truth—You didn’t want to leave this town. Life was much simpler, slower. You’d originally come here to recover, hatred and bitterness brimming in your heart. Now that it had been purged from your being, you found a connection with this humble, small town. You knew that you’d eventually have to leave, go back into the hustle and bustle of the city when you got back to your life as a city boy. You dreaded the arrival of that day. 

You told this to her. A look of understanding crossed her face.

“How long have you been here?” she asked. 

“Since early Spring so… About a month now?” you replied. 

“Ah… And what’s this bitterness that you had?” she pressed. 

You took a dried apple slice and popped it into your mouth. You munched on it a little before replying, “I had to recover from a breakup.”

Yuna chuckled. “Ah… I suppose this place seems like a nice town to get back on your feet.”

You were glad she understood you. 

“You know… This spot is really something,” she told you, “it’s so beautiful and calming… I really gotta thank you for showing it to me.”

You waved it off. “No problem.”

Yuna folded one leg up. “I came here with the girls once after that evening. It was a good break.”

She sighed heavily. You wiped your hand on your jeans.

“It must be tiring,” you said.

“Hm?”

She turned to look at you intently. You stared at your sneakers. The once snow white shoes had been dirtied by gravel and all sorts of elements, but you didn’t really mind. 

“It must be tough living with no breaks… I imagine it can get pretty overwhelming,” you told her. Yuna stared off into the distance for a moment.

“When they told us that we would be coming here to take a break from our idol activities, I thought that we’d actually be able to rest…” she muttered, “then we saw the cameras and got handed those damn selfie sticks… That’s when I knew that we were just making more content while we’re supposedly ‘resting’.”

You could hear the spite in her voice. Your heart went out to her. 

“I hate this,” she continued, “I just want to have a moment where I’m not dancing, where I’m not singing, where I’m not being recorded by some stupid fucking camera while I keep some pretty smile on my face.”

Her truth—There were times where she wondered whether the idol life was meant for her. While they existed, she couldn’t recall the last moment where she was just Shin Yuna, a regular nineteen year old girl finding her way in life. She liked the bookstore, it made her feel human. While she was going about her tasks, the sheer monotony of it all brought some semblance of regularity into her life. For a rare moment, she wasn’t just some money making machine for a company, she was just a regular human, like you. It gave her an unexplainable joy, a joy that was quickly stripped away when she turned and saw a camera being pointed right at her.

She told you this in hew own words. You bit your bottom lip.

“But of course, I can’t let that show, can I?” she laughed bitterly, “gotta be pretty preppy princess Yuna. Can’t be angry, can’t be annoyed, allowed to cry only in concerts or in interviews… Fuck all this idol shit.”

Her life didn’t sound as great as you’d imagined. You admittedly thought that many idols lived in luxury, showered with love and attention from fans worldwide while earning big bucks doing what they always aspired to. In reality, their lives were the most cruel and unforgiving, an endless cycle of practice, classes and content. They were always being watched and monitored. They maintained a happy, cheerful image for their fans, but deep down they just want to take a break for some time before coming back to this life of theirs. It sucked. It sucked big time, but they all lived with it.

The harm that humans could bring upon each other was frightening, yet the world was as such. 

“I think you’re incredibly strong Yuna,” you voiced your sincere thoughts, “it takes a lot to be you. I don’t think many people can confidently look me in the eye and tell me that they’re fine with being watched twenty-four-seven, let alone pretend like everything is great with their life when it really isn’t.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, “I… I think I really needed to hear that. You summed it up really well.”

She shot you a sincere smile. You chuckled softly and scratched the nape of your neck. There was a warm sensation on your face. 

“You’re… Welcome I guess?” you told her. She laughed at that.

“You’re funny,” she remarked, “I like your company.”

The warmth on your face was now more of a burning sensation. You looked down at your sneakers, feeling a grin plastered on your lips. Her smile was as contagious as her joy. 

“How… How long are you guys gonna be here for?” you asked her.

“I forgot... I only know that we’ll go back for Chuseok, then come back here for a few more weeks. We’ll be out of here by the middle of November if I recall correctly, then back to comeback preparation in early Winter,” she replied.

Time was a funny thing. It could go by so fast when you wanted it to be slow, but it could also drag on like a snail when you wanted it to be a rabbit. Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

In your heart, you prayed that Yuna’s time in this town wouldn’t be fleeting. In your heart, you prayed that time could show mercy on this girl.

***

Dried anchovies. 

That’s what your uncle needed from Miss Lee, the general store owner, to cook the stew for that night's dinner.  You shrugged on your jacket that evening and headed down to go buy what was needed. Mrs Lee greeted you with the usual warm smile, though you could tell that the Gopro on the counter was making her ill at ease. 

The ITZY girls were there, talking amongst themselves as a camera man and a different lady producer stood behind them. You did your best to slip by undetected, snagging the bag of dried anchovies and a bottle of water without being spotted. You didn’t know that they’d follow them till this late. 

You paid for the good and exited quietly. On the way back, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You spun around to come face to face with Yuna. 

“Hey,” she beamed. She must’ve seen you. How did she get out?

“Oh. Hey,” you smiled back. 

“Can we meet at the bridge later? I’d like to get some fresh air after my dinner,” she requested.

You smiled and agreed. You set a time, then split off in your own separate ways to go about your evenings. You couldn’t really focus on your uncle’s rambling that night, you mind drifting to Yuna’s smile while your uncle said something about the stock market. 

9pm. That was the time you’d arranged to see her. On the pretext of taking a walk, you slipped out of your uncle's house and journeyed down the street towards the bridge. She was there by the time you’d gotten there, a bright smile that could light up the darkness gracing her features when she caught sight of you. She let you walk over to her before handing you something. It felt like a stick.

“What are these?” you asked. 

“Lanterns,” she answered, turning hers on, “Chuseok is coming up. The Chinese like to carry lanterns and take walks on that day. I thought we should do something while I’m still in this town, make some memories, you know?”

The lanterns she had purchased were from Mrs Lee’s general store. Mrs Lee had always been obsessed with Chinese culture, particularly in terms of decorations and practices. She sold those lanterns all year round, even though no one really bothered to buy them.

You and Yuna walked around the town with your lanterns, talking and laughing, laughing and talking… It was a night to be alive. It was nice to see Yuna in this light. You’d grown out of your 2 dimensional perception of her, discovering the multitudes she possessed. On the surface, she was simply Shin Yuna, ITZY’s maknae and visual. Beneath that, there was Shin Yuna, the nineteen year old girl who could easily make someone smile and blush. Then beneath that was Shin Yuna, a nineteen year old girl who craved regularity, a nineteen year old girl who wanted to be momentarily freed from the glitz and glam. You were happy that she trusted you enough to be comfortable around you, and you were more than happy to have that gut feeling that she was truly being herself with you. 

“This town is amazing…” she remarked as you found yourselves before the bridge once more. You’d walked a full round around the town by then, lost in conversation as you took turns down the roads on a whim. 

“Maybe you should just move here,” you joked. 

“Oh how I wish I could!” she sighed, “everything’s so nice here… I wish I could just stay here forever…”

I wish I could stay here forever. She always had a tendency to say that. While working in the bookstore, she’d let it slip. When you were talking with her on the bridge, she’d say it at least once. She struck you as someone who was vocal with their opinions, someone who would freely speak her mind if she could. You enjoyed listening to her long, rambling talks about her various life stories. Though you could never bear to listen to such rants from your uncle, you found hers enjoyable to listen to. There was a certain way she drew you in with her voice, your attention becoming captive to her tone and intonation while she went on and on… 

When you parted ways with her that night, you found that you wanted her to stay and talk with you a little longer. Of course, you never vocalised this desire. She’d already broken rules to come out and see you that night, the last thing you wanted was to get her in trouble. 

As you walked home with your lantern that night, you wondered what it would be like to date a girl like Yuna.

***

Drier air.

That’s what you felt had changed that late October morning when you stepped out of your uncle’s house. 

“Aish… Winter is coming already,” your uncle grumbled, “time passes so fast these days… I ought to keep a better track of it.”

It was Yuna’s final weekend in the town. She was due to leave by Tuesday next week. As expected, Midzys showed up in front of the door, prompting your uncle and you to wrap around to the back entrance, where Yuna was waiting. The female producer and the cameraman were right there with her, asking the idol some questions in front of the backdoor as you and your uncle approached. Her eyes seemed to light up upon the sight of you, the smile on her face growing wider as she waved to you. 

“Yuna, focus on the interview,” the producer reminded her sternly. She quickly set her gaze back on the camera. Your uncle waited patiently for them to wrap up with their questions before opening the backdoor to the bookshop. As you walked in, Yuna walked up to your right and whispered right into your ear.  “10pm. Bridge. Don’t be late.”

You’d never wanted a shift to end so badly.

That night, you met her at your usual haunt. Her smile—Usually brimming with joy—was noticeably sadder, dimmer under the moon’s beam. It felt hard to accept that her time in this town was running thin. You wished that there was a way to extend your fleeting time with this woman, find a way to make some more memories with her. Alas, time could only move forward at a rate unknown to you. Autumn was slowly becoming Winter, and Yuna would soon be gone from this town. Every moment was now more precious than ever.

The truth you kept to yourself—Though your heart fluttered around her, you knew that you and her could only remain in this stage of friendship. Progressing forward to a new stage of a relationship would be hard. You could only hold on to her as a friend, hoping that she wouldn’t forget you when she returned back to the big city. 

The two of you stayed out late that night, eating dried fruits from Miss Cho’s and drinking some Makgeolli that Yuna had bought and snuck out. 

“My last day as a human,” she told you that night while cracking open the bottle, “then it’s back to being a doll…”

Human… Why could she never seem to prove to everyone else that she was human as well? The fame, the shining lights, the pedestal that she’d been placed on… They all created a false image for her. It brought forth a notion—She was privileged, someone who could receive the attention of fans and brands alike. There was no room for blemishes, her body “perfect” and her personality flawless. She had to accept all that, live with it without a fuss or hassle. 

When she rambled about this, tears flowed freely from her eyes—Years of pent up anger, sentiments of unfairness and many other emotions coming forth in moonlit steaks that ran down her face. You poured her another glass of Makgeolli. She tossed it back to soothe the pain.

“You know… I always feel so comfortable with you,” she whispered, “it’s like I’m talking to an old friend… Someone who actually understands me.”

Under the stars that night, the two of you admittedly got a little tipsy on the bridge. Under the stars that night, Yuna had let slip her true feelings towards you. Under the stars that night, you two shared a kiss, one that would change the complexity of your relationship, spurred by the raw emotions of the night that had manifested through the catalyst that was alcohol. 

As your fingers ran through her hair and her hands held on to your waist, she leaned on your shoulder and whispered some words into your ear. They weren’t words that you wanted to hear, but you knew that you’d just have to accept them.

It pained the both of you to know that you could never truly love each other the way you wanted to. The expectations of her company and of society set a boundary, one that kept you two so far yet so close. While you saw her as a regular human, she still had to abide by the rules and regulations of the company that controlled her. Those rules defined her, the regulations moulding her into something no longer human. It made her life strict and unforgiving. 

She was like an unwilling puppet, trying in vain to resist the commands of those who had power over her. A sisyphean task it proved to be. 

To them, she was an idol. And according to them—Idols and humans were not to love each other.

***

Dried flowers

That was what you held behind your back that morning where you saw the ITZY girls off. You and your uncle waited outside the house they stayed in, dried flowers tucked away behind you. Then they came out. The five of them, rolling out their luggages, dressed warmly to combat the rapidly dropping temperature. She caught sight of you. A sad, warm, gentle smile crossed her face. The bosses of the shops that the girls had worked for respectively had all come to bid farewell to them, giving you some time to talk to her one last time. The goodbyes were tearful, full of hugs and “I’ll miss you”s. Yuna gave your uncle a hug, then she turned to you. Surprisingly, neither of you shed a tear as you stared at each other. 

You produced the dried flowers that you’d gotten from the florist and presented them to her. 

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered as she accepted them. 

“Glad you like them,” you replied, “try and keep them alive okay?”

She stared up at you for a moment. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her face, you didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug. She cried into your chest, a million and one apologies bursting forth as she held you tight. It was as if it was her fault that the two of you could not start a proper relationship. It was as if you’d disappear if she didn’t hold you as tight as she could. 

When it was time to go, you dried her eyes to the best of your ability. She gripped the dried flowers tight, a grim look on her face as she said, “I’ll take some time to think about us… When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there.”

You smiled. “Alright then, I’ll wait.”

She fiddled with the wrapping of the dried flowers.

“Till then,” Yuna requested, “could I be selfish and ask you to hold on to these feelings?”

You smiled and assured her that you’d try to. When we meet again, I’ll let you decide if we should kiss or not, she told you. 

In the cold morning air, you made a then-and-there decision to share one last kiss with her, not caring about the fact that staff and her other members were present at the scene. As the van took her away from the town, your uncle placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked you. 

You wiped a tear from your eye and whispered, “I hope those dried flowers won’t die as quickly as they did last time.”

***

The cold snap hit when you came back to the town. A fresh, fluffy and thick sheet of snow covered the streets. Your boots made a satisfying crunch with each step you took, the frigid winter air biting your face as you hurried towards the bookstore. All around you, people walked up and down the street. City people—you recognised their accents. 

You found it hard to adjust back to life in the city. The roar of the traffic was jarring, making you yearn for the quiet of the town streets. The pavements were jam packed with people, making you long to return to the empty streets of your uncle's humble town. The subway was packed like sardines, making you think about the times where you could get to wherever you wanted on foot. It was safe to say that you had some forms of withdrawal symptoms, but you eventually got over it. Then university came. The workload was immense, the readings mountainous. It took you some time to figure out a way to efficiently cover all the content you needed to, but you eventually found your footing. You were in your last year now. Time was truly so fleeting, a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

Now that you were back in this familiar place, a sense of comfort filled your being. Not much had changed over the course of your four year absence. Aside from the fresh coats of paint and increase in tourists, everything was just as they were when you left. 

The bookshop was teeming with life when you entered. You were pleasantly surprised. You remembered your uncle telling you about how good the winter crowds were, but you ever imagined it to be this good. You hurriedly removed your scarf and coat before approaching the counter. There, your uncle was busy packing book after book into paper bags. You hung your coat on the coat rack and grabbed an apron. 

“I’m back,” you said, taking your place next to your relative. Your uncle cast a glance towards you. 

“I’ll greet you later. Busy now,” he mumbled. You chuckled and tied the strings of your apron behind your back. 

It didn’t take long before you settled back into that old rhythm—Open, pack, take the bills. Open, pack, take the bills. It brought an odd sense of joy into your heart. You’d missed the monotony of this life. 

The bookstore closed a little later that day. You waited till the last customer had slipped out into the cold evening air to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”. Then you shut the door behind you.

“I should really employ a part timer,” your uncle mused. He beat his lower back with a clenched fist. “The crowds are only growing these days… I’ll need some help.”

Then he waddled over you. With a warm smile, your uncle pulled you into a warm embrace. 

“Welcome back, nephew. It’s good to see you again.”

You hugged him back. The usual old people's statements ensued—How have you been? You’ve grown taller! Jeez… You’ve gotten a little more plump! Have you been eating well? The same old questions were hurled at you. You were happy to answer them all. 

You helped your uncle close up shop for the day. To celebrate your return, he took you down to Mrs Han’s to have a barbeque. The restaurant owner greeted you with her wrinkly, warm smile and welcomed you back to town. The meat was fresh, well marbled and tender. Freshly imported Mrs Han had told you, they just came in today! You came back at the right time!

It was safe to say that your belly was filled that night. Mrs Han had kindly put the cost of the meal on the house, and your uncle hurried you out of the restaurant when you insisted on paying. 

“It’s rare for her to be this generous. Accept it while you can,” he told you. You rolled your eyes. He was as thrifty as always. 

Your uncle took you to the bridge that night. Proper lighting had been installed on it, small yet powerful lamps illuminating the path as you and your uncle stood side by side on the apex of the bridge. The river was frozen over, the trees around it bald and bare. 

“You should’ve came back in the spring,” he remarked, “there were more flowers this time. It was beautiful.”

“I can imagine that,” you replied. 

Your uncle sighed heavily, a sizable cloud forming before his face. “You know… She came back this spring.”

“Is that so?” you replied alarmingly calmly. Your voice betrayed your emotions. It felt like a small ball was caught in your throat. “How is she?”

“She seems alright, definitely grew a few centimetres,” he told you. 

“Is she healthy?” you pressed. 

“She definitely looked a little more plump in the face. She’s seemed a lot stronger,” your uncle replied.

Silence hung between the two of you. Then your uncle inquired, “You never managed to see her in the city, did you?”

You lowered your gaze to the frozen water. 

“No…” you grimaced, “I… I could never find a way to see her.”

The truth—It felt like fate was against you. You could never secure a ticket to any of her performances, nor could you ever get into any of her fanmeets—Online and physical. You never expected that you’d face such difficulty in trying to see Yuna, but you persevered nonetheless. When the university workload came in however, you found your free time had been stripped from you, tossed out to the wind as assignment after assignment plagued your days. Yuna couldn’t be your top priority no matter how much you wanted her to be. You didn’t know why the idea of getting her phone number never crossed your mind while she was with you. Then again, exchanging phone numbers could have landed her in trouble…

You told this to your uncle. He nodded silently.

“I guess we were never meant to be a thing,” you whispered dejectedly, “I was a fool to hold on to those memories”

Your uncle sighed and patted your shoulder. “Some memories never heal. Rather than fading with the passage of time, those memories become the only things that are left behind when all else is abraded…”

“Han Kang,” you muttered. It was one of the quotes from her book Human Acts. You had a paper on that book coming next term. Your time at the bookstore made you discover your love for books, hence you pursued a degree in Literature in university. 

“You remember,” your uncle chuckled. It was one of the first books that he’d made you read. “Your memory serves you well, nephew.”

The quote he’d recited could be interpreted in many ways. In the context of the book, the protagonist spoke of their memories in the bloody Gwangju massacre in 1981. The sights, sounds and horrors left them scarred for life, so scarred that they’d take them to the grave—hence the usage of heal in memories never heal. Healing meant forgetting.

For you, healing meant forgetting too. The only difference—You didn’t want to heal. You wanted to keep those memories carved into your brain, make them a permanent part of your being. You wanted to ingrain that smile in your vision, keep that voice playing on loop in your ears. You were more than willing to take those memories to your grave. 

“First a breakup, now this,” you muttered, “am I not built for love, uncle?”

“Everyone is built for love,” came his instant reply, “it’s just a matter of finding the right person to receive love from.”

The right person… 

Your parents were meant to follow you on this visit back to the town, but last minute work held them up in the city. They’d found an Airbnb house in the town for the three of you, but now you had it to yourself. As you laid down on the bed, you found that the silence was deafening.

Silently, you wondered what’d be like to date a girl like Yuna. She felt like the right person.

Maybe all of those emotions were just teen hormones. Maybe the feelings were just bright out in the heat of the moment. Maybe you didn’t actually love her, maybe it was more of an infatuation. It all sounded logical and reasonable to you. 

Yet when you saw her again, all of that no longer seemed to make sense. 

There she stood in the cold winter morning, scarf around her neck and a pair of earmuffs atop her head. In her gloved hands, a bright pink tote bag, a bouquet of flowers sticking out from the opening. She stood before the store, staring at the closed shutter, mouth parted ever so slightly. Her hair—Red when you first saw her—Had been returned to its natural colour. She was as beautiful as the day you said goodbye to her. 

You swore that your eyes were deceiving you. When she turned her head, you were convinced that her jaw dropped open as wide as yours when the two of you locked eyes.

Then in the next moment, she was in your arms. She had her ear pressed to the left side of your chest, as if she needed to hear your heartbeat to verify that you were truly there.

“Hey,” was all you could manage.

“Hi,” she whispered back, “it’s been awhile.”

Her eyes gleamed with the same childlike wonder. Her smile was as genuine as you’d remembered. You wanted to kiss her to see if her lips would feel the same, but…

When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there…

She did give you the freedom of choice to kiss her when you reunited, but you decided against it.

Catchup was done in the warm respite of the bookstore. With aprons adorning your bodies, you filled each other in on what you’d missed in each other's lives. This was all done to the backdrop of filling in shelves and rearranging stacks of books. Lunch came and your uncle left the two of you on your own. You got some tteokbokki with her from Mrs Han’s—to go of course—and hit your old spot. 

“Even without the leaves, this place is still so stunning,” she mused, staring out at the frozen water.

“I still prefer it in Spring,” you told her, “I like it better when the trees are less… Bald.”

She laughed at that. 

When the sun started to set on the small town, your uncle made the executive decision to close up early. The sun may be gone, but the night is young he told you with a wink. You gave him a grateful smile and took off your apron. He let the two of you go off early that day.

Dinner that night was once again at Mrs Han’s, and she wasn’t so generous that night.  A walk around town was what she asked for afterwards, both of your footsteps seemingly synchronised to produce rhythmic crunches in the snow. At one point, she’d stopped walking to gather up a handful of snow, forming a hefty snowball to chuck at you. You didn’t hesitate to fight back. 

“University sounds tough,” she mused, munching on some grapes from Miss Cho’s.

“I think it’s just my course,” you remarked, “the rest of my batchmates seem to be having a relatively good time.”

“Literature is demanding,” she agreed, “but what do you wanna do with it in the future?”

You sighed and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, “I’m still figuring that out…”

“Maybe you can become a writer,” she suggested, “write some screenplay… Make it different from the usual stuff.”

“I’d probably need to save up some money before I do that,” you chuckled, “I have a degree that guarantees a higher chance of living on the streets than living on someone’s couch.”

She laughed at that too. Then she said, “hey, maybe you should come work for my company when you’re done with university. That way, we can see each other more often too.”

You chuckled. “That’s a possibility… I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

“I’ll make sure to vouch for you,” she declared, “the big boss likes me enough to listen to me…”

You laughed and nodded. Silence hung between you two. 

Then it was time for the hard question. 

“So are you seeing anyone?” you asked her. Yuna licked a grape seed off her lips before answering.

“I’d like to think so…”

Your heart sank, but you still cocked your head in feigned curiosity, “oh? What do you mean?”

Yuna bit down on her lip. “I mean… I like him, but I’m not sure if he still likes me.”

“Ah,” you mused.

“Yea…” Yuna sighed. She looked up at you and asked, “what about you?”

You took a moment to formulate an answer. “I think… I’m just waiting for love as of now.”

“Ah,” Yuna parroted, “well… I wish you the best in that then.”

There was a sudden tension in the air. It was like your respective cryptic messages had conjured a rubber band of the mind, pulling it out to its maximum length as you continued your silent journey down the street.  Perhaps your hopes were set a little too high—You’d expected her to remember the love that existed four years ago, run back into your open arms so that you could shower her with kisses. But you’d forgotten—No… Chose to forget what she’d told you on the bridge that night. 

I love you. I know that it’s too late for this, but I love you. I’m sorry we can’t love in the same way others do, but do know that deep down, I wish to love you in the same manner that you love me. It’s confusing, I know… But my life doesn’t allow us to share the life we want to. I’m sorry.

It was a painful thing to hear, but you still kissed her right afterwards, and you still kissed her the morning after. You now realised that perchance, you’d gambled a little too much, gone all in with the chips of your heart only to lose. You didn’t understand why she couldn’t date freely, be with someone that truly made her happy. She was a human, a human deserved to give love and be loved.

She got a call a few minutes later. It’s my manager. I gotta go now. 

She gave you a small wave, handed you the last few grapes from the container. Then, with a it was nice seeing you again, Yuna turned on her heel and walked off. The grapes felt oddly heavy in your hands. Again, she was to disappear from your life. Like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy, she spilled through the gaps between your fingers once more. This felt like a scenario you’d read in books a thousand times over, and frankly, it sucked.

But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly, for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today. 

Osamu Dazai had said that. You weren’t sure why you thought of it as you watched her back get smaller and smaller by the second. 

Hoping faintly for happiness? Is that what I’m meant to do? You asked yourself. She was getting further by the second. Hoping faintly for a chance that she’d turn back, you stood there. She never did.

Hoping faintly…

No. You wouldn’t settle for that. 

The grapes fell from your hands as you ran towards the girl that you’d so hoped to see again. Four long years you’d tried and failed. Now, with the opportunity right in your grasp, you were certain that you had to make something out of it. 

In three more bounds, you were right behind her. Yuna you called, grabbing her by the shoulder. You didn’t give her time to say anything before you turned her around and planted your lips on hers. She yelped, her body tensing as you held her cheeks in the cradle of your palms. 

A quiet smack resonated when your lips parted. Yuna trembled in your grasp, teary eyes gazing into yours. 

“I’ve been waiting for your love Yuna,” you admitted to her, “for four years, I tried to see you again but I just never could. We said that we wanted to sort out what we meant to each other when we met again, but we failed to do that today. Tell me Yuna—What am I to you?”

She let out a shuddery breath, the smell of grapes saturating the air. 

“I-I have to go,” she muttered.

You were tired of waiting.

“Yuna please,” you begged.

She looked away, as if contemplating if she should give you her answer.

“You… You are who I want to love,” she whispered, “I-I thought that… Maybe I was too selfish to ask you to keep loving me for all these years. I-I guess I didn’t expect this selfishness to be rewarded.”

“It isn’t selfish,” you corrected her, “it’s… It’s human Yuna. The desire to want someone to keep loving you, that’s human.”

Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “Right… I can only feel like a human when I’m with you.”

Suddenly, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. You pulled her in once more, holding her as tight as she did on the day she left your life. You kissed her, tender and passionate as she gripped the fabric of your jacket. Her perfume was sickly sweet, intoxicating and lulling you deeper into her body as she reciprocated the kiss. Her hair, cold and slightly damp from the snowball you threw at her, was silky, smooth to run your fingers through. The repeated dying of it had definitely affected its quality, but only in the slightest.

Her voice was strained when your lips parted, but you could clearly make out what she’d said. 

I don’t want to go back tonight. I want to be here with you. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her cheek, you didn’t hesitate to wipe it away. 

“You’d be breaking some rules won’t you?” you questioned.

“I’ve broken them before. I can always break them again,” she replied, “humans were made to break some rules after all…”

With a smile, you let your hand slip into hers. It was warm, just like any other human. In her eyes, there was a gleam that every other human could possess. In her smile, there was a sincerity and joy that any other human could show. Sure, the Dispatch article that posted the photo of you kissing Yuna did call it the unexpected relationship between a top idol and a civilian. 

But in your eyes, Yuna was as human as anyone could ever be.

Dried things and humanity—An unlikely combination for a love story, but it was certainly fit to start the first chapter of your story with Yuna.

_______________________

Hello! A rare, smutless Yuna fic has mad its way onto my blog. I know it'll disappoint a lot of you guys, but this is what I wanted to write, so here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this one. Take a break from the horny and have some simple love <;3.

~Lots of love, Nichuuu

[weirdlypersonalrpmemes]

»        as dusk falls sentence starters           tw: alcohol, mental health.             feel free to change pronouns and/or phrasing to suit your muse!

❝ not so long ago, i wanted to be a journalist. ❞

❝ i tell ya, the only thing worse than feeding a dog fast food is smelling it again on the way out. ❞

❝ that’s a lot of stuff for just two men. ❞

❝ what do bank robbers eat for dessert? heist cream. you get it? ❞

❝ you lost the — no you didn't. ❞

❝ take a minute. get your shit together. ❞

❝ country kids. or the desert version. lucky we’re still in one piece. ❞

❝ this your work? you've done a good job fuckin' it up i see. ❞

❝ why weren't you keepin' an eye out, huh? ❞

❝ all right, big-man, you've got until seven to get this apartment ship-shape and ready to go. ❞

❝ learn how to drive, asshole! ❞

❝ don’t talk about him. this is all his dumb fault anyway. ❞

❝ jesus christ. i swear i never come so close to shittin' myself. ❞

❝ [NAME], no. we can't go from strangers to roommates. ❞

❝ you're trying to kidnap my WIFE, man. you think i'm gonna stand here and let that happen?. ❞

❝ so what’s next? license plate game? another round of row-row-row your boat? ❞

❝ i hope he didn’t see our license plate. ❞

❝ relax! it ain’t personal. ❞

❝ family? we’re just your fucking babysitters. ❞

❝ police, open up! ❞

❝ police, open up! or maybe... it's the big bad wolf. ❞

❝ jesus, [NAME], this isn't die hard. ❞

❝ you think you're bruce willis, huh? undercover, fighting off bad guys? ❞

❝ maybe you need a cold shower. ❞

❝ eyyy, let’s party. ❞

❝ shut the fuck up. ❞

❝ girls, booze, that fancy purple car of yours... i don't know, it doesn't sound like the worst. ❞

❝ gonna miss your sweet little smile, cupcake. one last drink? ❞

❝ you wanna hear my pitch? i say we rob the bank. ❞

❝ no offense... but i think you're just hot wind. ❞

❝ well you got a better plan? cause i don't. ❞

❝ these houses all look the same to me. ❞

❝ you're always out skulkin' in the woods, climbin' trees and all that. we all know you're good at it. ❞

❝ don't screw this up, kid. ❞

❝ i need you focused, or none of us are getting out of here. ❞

❝ no — no — STOP. YOU listen to ME. ❞

❝ you and i are goin' for a stroll. ❞

❝ she's tough. she'll make it. ❞

❝ it's not the walls. it's what happened within them. ❞

❝ you touch my things again, you won’t be happy. ❞

❝ he came back early, i don’t know what happened! ❞

❝ s'alright. i put my big boy pants on today. ❞

❝ get rid of the cop. you hear me? ❞

❝ you know what this means? shooting a hostage? ❞

❝ all i asked, was that you not do anything stupid. but stupid is all you do, isn’t it? ❞

❝ are you about to give me marriage advice? because if i recall, you walked out on yours. ❞

❝ take that stupid smirk off your face. you look like a fuckin' halfwit. ❞

❝ look, you got away. can you let me go now? ❞

❝ you’re coming with me. ❞

❝ you know you're going to jail after this, and when you finally die there, you're going straight to fuckin' hell. ❞

❝ newsflash — THIS is hell. and we've been here a lot longer than you have. ❞

❝ this is a toughie... ❞

❝ you know something? i don’t like you. ❞

❝ knew we shouldn’t have brung him. ❞

❝ you do that, i promise you’ll regret it. ❞

❝ wanna get high? ❞

❝ i'm scared, [NAME]. i don't want to be alone. ❞

❝ hey, my heart's practically thumping out of my chest. but at least it's still 

beating, right? ❞

❝ i'm sorry about what i did. i was selfish, and i hurt you... ❞

❝ easy now, let’s just — ❞

❝ wait. you need a hostage? take me. ❞

❝ sorry to lock you up like this. ❞

❝ ON THE GROUND! NOW! ❞

❝ i think it’s time to put this whole thing behind us. ❞

❝ you joke when you're hurt, you always have. but i can see through it. ❞

❝ don't speak. don't make a sound. ❞

❝ it'll be over when we win. ❞

❝ i shot him! we gotta run! ❞

❝ now, i can help ya, but you gotta relax those nerves first, all right? ❞

❝ we all have things that scare us — like the dark, and that's okay. i guess we just learn to live with it until maybe one day we won't be afraid anymore. ❞

❝ it was a mistake. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. ❞

❝ oh god, i was right? ❞

❝ was he good in bed? was it worth it? ❞

❝ i'll always be here for you. that won't change. ❞

❝ come on, man. just share the food. ❞

❝ you are testing my patience here, man. ❞

❝ how the hell do you climb so fast? ❞

❝ please write back, [NAME]. i need to hear from you. ❞

❝ do you think i'm bad? am i... am i broken? ❞

❝ you know the world thought you were dead. after you jumped off that cliff. ❞

❝ you'll be fine. you have my word. ❞

❝ aw, fuck! ❞

❝ spare me the lecture. can you do it? ❞

❝ i think the only real job i ever had was convincing people i was someone else. ❞

❝ wasn’t taking the scenic route your idea? i wanted to do this trip at 30,000 feet. ❞

❝ look, this is our only chance. we have a kid in the back of the car, ain’t no way the cops’ll shoot. ❞

❝ i got your back, you know that, right? ❞

❝ i'll always look out for this family. no matter what. ❞

❝ come on now. you're just being dramatic. ❞

❝ look, forget what i said, okay? of course i'm your brother. ❞

❝ it isn't working. it never does. ❞

❝ i don't remember you having a scar before. ❞

❝ family means sacrifice. ❞

❝ we don’t know that for sure. it’s a huge risk. ❞

❝ hop that fence and find a way in. ❞

❝ be there tomorrow. please. let me die looking at someone who knows me. ❞

❝ look, you said you see my face in your dreams? well, i see your face too. i can't explain why. ❞

❝ you deserve a friend, you really do. it just isn't me. ❞

❝ i hope you’re happy. ❞

❝ let me just have one last look around. ❞

[i-didnt-do-1t]

(Part 3) ‘Walk you home’

Little change of pace

——

The next day, early afternoon, Katherine arrived at the lodging house. It was late enough in the day that a few of the boys had sold out their papers but early enough that they weren’t out hawking the evening edition yet.

Kloppman was kind enough to let her up with a wave of his hand and no further questions and she grinned at him in response. It wasn’t unusual to see her around the lodging house. She tried to make an appearance once or twice a week- as nice as it was to meet with the boys at Jacobi’s, even after the strike not all of them had enough money to head there multiple times a week, even for a hot dog and a water, if they wanted to pay for lodging for the night.

It was Race who noticed her first, sitting opposite the door in a circle of boys surrounding a small stool in the middle of them that had a collection of cards haphazardly piled on top.

“Hiya Kath, you want in?”

At that the whole grip swivelled to greet her, half of them, Skittery and Mush and a couple of others taking their hats off as they said hello. She told them before it wasn’t necessary, but they did it anyway. And it was sweet.

“Not today unfortunately.” She sat on the corner of a bunk, next to Finch. “Whose winning.”

“Not Race.”

Skittery was shut up with a hat to the face.

“Jack’ll be back soon.” Race said before she could even ask as he shuffled out a few more cards. “Him and Dave wanted to go find Les real quick. Think he ran off somewhere with Tumbler.”

“Between them I can’t tell who’s more trouble.”

“Jack and davey?” Mush asked, not looking looking up from the spread of cards he held.

Skittery laughed, a quiet low sound, he lay down a card that caused three of the others to groan. “Nah. Les and Tumbler.”

Almost as if summonsed by the sound of their names Les and Tumbler appeared in the doorway covered in suspicious amount of dust and dirt.

She watched Skittery as he gave Tumbler a once over and then sighed deeply slumping back in his seat.

“He can sleep on the end of someone else bed tonight. I ain’t getting my sheets covered in dirt, I only rinsed em’ last week.”

Finch slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Have fun telling him that.”

The look Skittery shot him was long suffering.

The kids were quickly followed by Jack and David, both seemingly deep in the type of discussion that had David speaking with his hands and Jack nodding at every second sentence. They barely seemed to notice there were other people in the room. Katherine couldn’t help but smile when she saw them like this, Jack who was so rare to relax aside from when they were alone, wearing the expression was when he was with Davey.

“Oi Loverboy, your girl’s here,” Jack’s gaze jumped to Race and then her, and his face fell into an easy grin. “Or are you gonna keep listening to Dave talk about Labour Unions.”

Dave knocked Race with his hat as he peered over his shoulder at his cards.

“You’re part of a labour union Racer.” He frowned. “Also that’s not what I was talking about.”

“Sorry, forgot that books are more boring.”

All he got in response was an eye roll, and then Jacks arm was wrapped around her shoulder and a kiss landed on her cheek.

“How was the office last night.” He said as the pulled back. “You usually hate it.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Usually. It was fine, most of the the others weren’t there so I didn’t have to put up their their comments.”

“I’m sure Spot’d be up for havin’ a couple of her girls to talk to them if you want.”

“No. No. Nothing like that- well. They’re mostly still in shock that there can be a girl reporter? and that she can write good articles.” She leant back into him as he settled behind her, gaze scouring the progressing card game. At the back of the room, Les and Tumbler were fight with wooden swords.

“I ended up staying late last night to finish some things up.”

She could feel rather than see Jack’s frown at that.

“You should said you was gonna stay late. I woulda walked you home.”

“Oh it’s fine.” She hesitated. “Morris walked me home actually.”

It was a rare thing for the lodging house to be dead silent, but apparently that confession managed to achieve it, aside from the continued battering of wooden swords, the younger kids none the wiser.

“Delancey?” Race said, cigar hanging out of his mouth.

She looked at their faces one by one and they all seemed to be wearing the same expression.

She sat up a little straighter. “That’s the one.”

Skittery let out a low whistle and looked back down at his cards.

“Katherine-“ Davey started but didn’t get anywhere before Jack interrupted.

“He didn’t try anything did he?”

“No. No it was fine. Well, he was rude, but I expected that.”

“Kath have you every met my sister?”

David’s tone was odd. Katherine had heard vague mention of the elusive Sarah who worked in sewing and repair and was David’s older sister by a year but she had never met the girl in person, not for lack of trying but timing had never seemed to work out.

“I haven’t.”

Jack and David shared a look, one she couldn’t decipher.

“She had a run in with the Delancey’s during the strike-“

“The Delancey’s went after her during the strike.” David cut in, a sharp look shot Jack’s direction. “She was delivering some fabric and they grabbed her and cornered her in a alleyway.” David’s jaw was set, and his voice firm.

Angry. Sure, he could get irritated, frustration was a familiar look on him, but angry was rare. “They aren’t safe to be around.”

“Davey-“

“What? They hurt Sarah and now they’re messing with Kath aswell?”

“They haven’t done anything to me.” She paused. “I didn’t know. About what happened with her.”

Jacks hand found her waist. “We know Ace.”

“I mean it were a one time thing right?” Race said

“Obviously.”

“Then there ain’t no issue. And if he bothers you again you let us know and we’ll sort ‘im out.”

Race and the rest of the boys seemed to come to a general conscious.

“A’right boys, sounds good.”

Katherine frowned, Jack’s hand squeezed her waist. “I appreciate it. But I don’t need your protection.”

“It’s ain’t protection- if the Delancey’s were bothering any of the boys we’d keep an eye out.” He paused. “You think they woulda even stopped to think if they ran into Davey? I love ya pal, but you woulda got the shit kicked outta you.”

“Oh no you’re right. I would’ve. I have.”

Jack’s grin felt out of place considering the conversation but it looked easy on his face anyway, “Lucky you had that cowboy to step in huh?”

Davey gave him a blank stare that almost rivalled Skittery’s before relenting with one of his famous eye rolls used so often that he argued it would actually be beneficial for them to get stuck like that when Jack suggested it could happen with the change of the wind. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Jack.”

Jack snorted, his hand squeezing around her waist as he grinned at Davey, aiming a low level punch at his chest. “Have a least a couple broke ribs that’s for sure.”

It was Skittery who spoke next, voice rich with self satisfaction as he laid a final card on the stood. “Alright fellas. Pay up. I win.”

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER THREE

The sheet draping Toby’s corpse is the only barrier preventing a total meltdown in front of my friends. Ever since I first saw him in that cardboard box I haven’t had it in me to look at him, despite how much I’d give to see his face one last time.  

Playing on the floor when I was just eleven years old, running through the streets at night, play-fighting in the park, and the very first day we got him as just a puppy. Of all the half-forgotten memories from my youth, that one has always remained crystal clear. He was sitting in my lap sleeping on the drive home, and I thought that a more perfect creature couldn’t exist. He was so tiny but had all the fight in the world in him. He was my only friend and partner in crime for years, he brought me comfort every lonely day and night, and now he’s just a corpse in a hole. I placed him down gently after Annie was finished digging, and even now, putting the dirt on him doesn’t feel right. He’s gone, yet burying him feels like I’m hurting him, like he’s just going to wake up with a mouthful of earth and worms. 

I pat the earth on his final resting place and Ruby puts an arm on my shoulder. Though she was never as close to our dog as I was, I can still feel the sadness in her touch. When I look back to see the friends who showed in my time of need, I’m reminded of the real issues here. Miles was supposed to be here, right now he’s off alone and we’re all here worrying about a dog. The thought of forgetting Toby hurts so bad, but he’s gone, and Miles needs me. What’s dead is dead and should stay that way, even when it hurts like hell. 

I walk away from the grave and sit in the lawn chair next to my campfire.

“Are you positive a human did it? Animal attacks in this area have gone up significantly recently.” Otto calmly chimes in.

“Only if a coyote can wield a knife,” I respond. Ruby sits next to me as I poke the fire. Our yard is a wreck, littered with remnants of a forgotten past. The fire pit is a ring of rocks inside the sand pit Ruby and I played in as kids, while old toys lay wethered and grey by years of rain and snow.

“I still think you should call the police,” Ruby says.

Annie scoffs, “Yeah, like that’ll help.”

“I don’t need the police,” I reply. “I’m gonna take care of it.”

“But that’s so stupid,” Ruby responds.

“What good would they do me anyway? Smalltown cops aren’t goddamn detectives Rube. They’ve probably got their hands full shootin’ innocent people.”

Annie cackles and raises a beer.

Ruby continues, “I know you got a criminal record, but you still need help.”

“Aren’t you behind on a hundred commissions? Mind your business.”

Ruby stands, “You better not do anything stupid, I won’t be the only surviving twin.”

“You know me. Mentally sound decisions only.”

“Strict rules in the Hawkins household,” Annie adds. “See ya later Ruby! And don’t worry, I’ll babysit your brother.” Ruby stands to leave, while Annie waves goodbye until she’s out of sight. The door shuts, and Annie leans over in her lawn chair. “Okay, down to business. Did you come up with any other leads?”

“Only Wendy, she’s the one who’d want my head the most.”

Before Otto can question the topic at hand, Miles enters the yard with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interruptin’. Sit yourself down,” I reply.

“Sorry I’m late. Could barely convince Dad to let me leave.” Miles sits in the lawn chair next to my own. He moves close enough for our legs to touch slightly, sending a swarm of butterflies into my gut. “I thought he spent so long trying to get you out of the house,” I reply.

Annie lights a smoke and flicks one toward Miles. “You missed the depressing shit anyways.” Otto eyes the cigarette between Annie’s fingers, then Miles. “Are you doing okay?” Otto asks.

“Not really. I’d rather not talk about it, honestly. What were you saying about leads?”

“Right,” I eager to change the subject. “Wendy Anson. There’s a zealot or two in this town who’d wanna mess with me, but Wendy is the only one who’d go that far.

Miles shifts closer to me, and a smile tugs my lips. “You said you got her arrested, what happened?”

“Funny story actually,” I laugh nervously, patting the back of my head. “She used to sell me drugs, but I found out she was lacing her product for new customers.”

“Lacing?”

“Ya know, crack or whatever. It ain’t uncommon for dealers to try and get kids hooked on more expensive shit. She got a couple ninth graders hooked, one kid ODed an’ wound up in the hospital.”

“I remember that, the school held an assembly regarding drug use the next day,” Otto adds. Sometimes I forget just how little he really knows about his only two friends.

Pulling on the collar of my shirt I finish, “...so Annie an’ I busted into her house, stole her good supply, then ratted her out to the cops.”

Annie can barely contain the bellowing laughter. “Bitch got what was coming to her.” She crumples a can and cracks open another.

“Yeah, well, she got out of juvie a few months ago. If she figured out I was the one who snitched, I can see why she’d wanna fuck shit up for me. That’s not even mentioning that Aaron’s pickup spot was right next to the diner she works at.”

“Tha’s the only thing though. It seems like a really stupid obvious spot,” Annie says.

“What if she’s baiting you?” Miles adds.

“She could be, but the footage is our only lead, we need to go for it ASAP. If there’s even a chance I can find Toby’s killer I’m goin’ for it.”

“Footage?” Otto suddenly asks. Annie shoots me a wide eyed, ‘get me out of this’ look. But there’s no way I can explain last night without mentioning we kidnapped and tortured his brother.

“So uh, did you start studying for our history exam?” She laughs, switching the subject smooth as broken glass. Otto raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “We’ll go over the flipbook tonight.”

“That’s why you’re the best,” Annie nudges him in the shoulder.

Miles stares into his phone, face scrunched into a frown. From the way he constantly wraps strands of grass through his fingers, to the melodic tap of his foot, Miles’s stress is worse than I’ve seen. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but now I feel so useless. “Looks like I should be going,” he mumbles.

“Already?” Annie asks.

“Dad says the police came back, they want to ask me more questions.”

As if things had to get worse. “Here, I’ll walk you home,” I stand.

“Dad’s already here. Guess I’ll see you later.” Miles slowly walks to the front of the house, lingering at the gate.

“I hope Miles is okay,” Otto states. A car door opens, then closes, and he’s gone.

Annie cracks open another drink, “Well if I were him I’d be freaking the hell out. Did you guys hear all that crap around school today? People think he killed his own brother.”

“There isn’t enough evidence to be certain one way or another,” Otto adds.

“It’s horseshit,” I burst. “Mobbing idiots. Acting like they know everything about someone they've never met.” 

Annie and Otto look at me wide-eyed, Annie’s eyebrow more knowing than I like.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Otto asks suddenly.

“You’ve been coming here for two years now.”

Otto squeezes Annie’d hand before inside my house. I know my outbursts make him uncomfortable, but this time I don’t care. I can’t stand mob mentality, I can’t stand people hurting someone who’s world is crashing left and right as we speak. I’m loudly tapping my foot on the rocks while Annie lights another cigarette with a huge grin on her face.

“What?” I ask more defensively than I mean to.

“Nothing,” she smiles.

“I’m worried about Miles 'cause he’s my friend.”

“Right, and like a mentally sound person, you responded accordingly.”

“God, shut up. Stop assuming I want every guy I meet now.”

“I’m just saying. You’re pretty quick to jump to the defense of someone you’ve barely known a year. What if he did kill Mateo? What if Miles is torturing him in his basement as we speak?”

“Just stop, okay? He’s not even…” I stop myself, struggling to force the word out of my mouth.

“You can say the G word. I know a lot of people in this town will wanna crucify you for it but it’s just us.”

“I’m just worried.”

[wri0thesley]

i know we all love toji being nasty, but i'd love to see a (slightly) sweeter side of him and the reader as mamaguro, if possible?? maybe featuring the reader in his lap, the first time toji's ever really wanted to really do right by his partner... the ability of a man like him to have a softer side has plagued me ever since akutami said he mellowed out with his wife 😭

saying the important things - toji x fem!reader (2.1k)

toji’s not the kind of man who wears his heart on his sleeve. but he’ll try, for you. 

warnings: none! reader is mamaguro and uses fem pronouns, pregnancy is briefly talked about. this is just soft honestly

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Megumi is sleeping.

He lays in his crib, his chubby cheeks squished against the soft mattress, his hair dark and messy. At times like this, you can see so much of Toji in him, and it makes your heart ache. You can’t believe that you helped create something so perfect – from his tiny face, the tilt of his nose, the perfectly formed fingers and toes . . . You find it hard to believe that Megumi could really be yours.

“You’re starin’ at the kid again.”

Toji’s voice comes from behind you and startles you – you jump, guiltily turning to see your husband. His voice is dark and rough, but as you see him you realise that his face is anything but. Oh, sure – he has a scar bisecting the corner of his lip, muscles rippling out of a tight black shirt. But the look on his face is peaceful, and as he meets your eyes it just seems to fade into something even more so.

“You come stare at him,” you say, “you’ll understand why.”

He makes a little huff of amusement – but Toji Fushiguro is under your thumb, so he humours you by moving forward. Big arms wrap around your waist, making you feel safe and held in his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder, sharp green eyes on the messy-haired bundle of wonder sleeping in the crib that you’d watched Toji build with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth.

(“How hard can it be?” He’d asked you. “S’flat pack, right? Guys who aren’t half as smart as me do it--”. In the end, it had taken six and a half hours and Toji had had to physically pick you up and sit you down on a chair because you couldn’t stop bending down to help. He’d placed his hands on his hips and pointed an accusing finger at you. “You’re gonna get yourself stressed, sweetheart, and it isn’t gonna do any good for the kid.” You hadn’t expected Toji Fushiguro to be the over-protective kind . . . but you’d be lying if you said that his pout and furrowed eyebrows weren’t adorable).

Megumi’s eyes had turned the same shade of green as Toji’s around the five month mark, for the record.

“We did a good job, huh?” There’s a hint of pride in Toji’s voice that he does his best to dampen down – he’s trying to be cool, even now. Your hands come to rest over his own, where they’re clasped onto your hips.

“I think we did a great job,” you tell him, and snorts out a little laugh against your neck that tickles, making you bend back into sub-consciously. “No, really. I think he’ll fetch a high price on the black market. Look at all of that hair.”

“Takes after me,” Toji tells you. “I think I’d fetch a high price too.”

“You know you’d fetch a high price,” you say, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck. You find yourself on your tip-toes just so you can feel a little closer to equal to him. “You’re a wanted man, Mr Fushiguro--”

“You’re a wanted woman, Mrs Fushiguro,” He says, bending his head – and his lips brush across yours, and you feel your entire body fill with the heady knowledge that he wants you. You know it – he makes it clear in the gentler way he holds you against him, his attempts to do chores around the house, the way his fingers entangle with yours when you’re out doing grocery shopping as a little family. But there’s something that you can’t quite express that feels all the more special about the embrace and the words when you two are on your own.

It hadn’t always been like this.

When you’d first met Toji, he’d been all dark flashing eyes and dangerous smile and tugging hands, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flirted and charmed his way into your life. His voice had been dark and deep, he’d winked at you and made insinuations and insisted, occasionally, that this wasn’t a relationship so much as a mutually beneficial arrangement--

Until someone else had flirted with you in a club and Toji had grabbed your hand and pulled you into him, arm wrapping around your waist. Perhaps you’d been trying to make him jealous – you’d long ago accepted that your crush on Toji and desire to make him yours officially were going to come to a sticky end, seeing as he seemed to value his freedom so highly – but you hadn’t expected it to work.

He’d murmured into your neck that night that you were his, forever, and he never wanted to see someone else’s hands on you again--

“Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend, finally, then?” You’d asked, a hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the scar on his lip. Toji had grinned at you, dark and deep and dangerous but warmer than you’d ever seen it. He’d held you that night like he’d just realised how precious you were.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said to you in response. “Hell. Y’can call me your husband if you want.”

You had laughed and thought he was joking.

“Maybe I’ll try that after a proper proposal,” you’d said, tapping his nose. You’d expected him to grab your hand before you could make contact and pin you underneath him, tell you off for being so cheeky – but instead, the pad of your finger had made contact with it and you swore you’d seen a dark flush dust his high cheekbones.

You’d figured that was the end of it, until two weeks later he’d pulled out an expensive-looking ring whilst the two of you watched a movie.

“Well?” He’d asked you, looking almost uncomfortable – almost afraid that you might say ‘no’. “Whaddya say, angel? Gonna try callin’ me husband now?”

And you had.

He’d confessed everything to you before he’d asked about taking your name. His exact line of work, why he wanted to leave his old surname behind – and though you know you shouldn’t have, you’d simply taken it in stride. If this was what it took to have him, you would accept it; it had been too long, and you loved him too much, to simply walk away. You’d found out you were expecting Megumi six weeks before the small wedding and had told Toji immediately.

He’d seemed scared, but he’d seemed excited to – whirling you around like you weighed nothing before he anxiously put you back down and stepped back.

“That’s fine, right?” He’d asked. “I dunno much about kids. I haven’t hurt ‘em or anything, have I?”

He’d made a real effort around the house whilst you were incapacitated by your pregnancy, too – sometimes too much of one, as he batted away your attempts at cooking or cleaning with an insistent ‘I can do it, sweetheart!”. You’d let him make mistakes – honestly, a couple of disasters notwithstanding he’d made a decent effort.

You’re not afraid to leave Megumi alone with him, though Toji still hasn’t quite mastered the life skill of ‘talking to my baby as if he is my child and not simply a friend who I want to slightly intimidate’.

Sometimes you see Toji sat in an armchair with Megumi in his arms, a tiny hand wrapped around Toji’s massive thumb, and you think you could die from how much you love them both.

“C’mon,” Toji murmurs, breaking the kiss. “He’s fast asleep.”

You let yourself be dragged over to said armchair in the corner of the room, next to the little case of children’s books you and Toji had chosen for him

Megumi likes dogs; he claps his pudgy little hands together whenever one is introduced in the bright colours and flat pages. At nine and a half months, he had furrowed his little face and pronounced; “Gog. Goggy.”. Toji had grabbed the cheap camcorder that he’d been recording as many milestones as possible on and tried to bully Megumi into saying it again, but all of the footage he’d actually gotten was you laughing in the background as Megumi attempted to cross his chubby little arms and look at his father in disapproval. He had not said ‘goggy’ again until you had thoughtlessly picked up a little pair of black and white stuffed dogs whilst in a toy-shop with him to show him. Toji had had to go back to the shop ten minutes before closing to purchase them, and even now Megumi tucks them under his arms when you take him out in his pushchair.

You let yourself, too, be pulled into Toji’s lap as your husband gets comfortable, readjusting your body so he can wrap his arms around you and you can bury your face into his neck.

He smells like cigarettes and your laundry powder, familiar and comforting.

He takes a deep, pleased breath that makes the muscles in his throat ripple – you bring up a hand and trace them, fingertip lodging in the hollow of his throat for a moment before your hand moves down to rest over his clavicle, and then where his heart is beating steadily under his clothes and skin.

“You feelin’ me up, baby?” He asks with a smirk. “Y’can just ask, you know--”

“I’m feeling your heartbeat,” you say to him, listening to his pulse in his neck. “I think it might have stopped. We should look into it.” “Is this because I made that joke about the black market? Babe, you’d never let me fuckin’ sell our kid--” “Don’t swear around Megumi,” you say, automatically, your eyes swivelling to Megumi’s crib without moving your head from its comfortable position. “You’ll give him a dirty mouth.”

“You love my dirty mouth,” Toji purrs, the arm around your waist pulling you in tighter and closer. Heat rushes to your face and you give him a headbutt in the neck that’s half affectionate and half warning.

“Not now,” you say, sighing comfortably. Toji is warm and solid and always there for you. “I’m too comfy.”

“Ah, far be it for me to interrupt your nap-time,” he teases, but he pushes a kiss onto your forehead anyway. “Hell, I could go to sleep here myself. Nobody said havin’ a kid would be this much effort.”

“Everyone said it,” you say, stifling a yawn. “You just didn’t believe them.”

He snorts again.

“Y’got me there,” he says. “Wouldn’t change him for the world, though.”

“You’re just saying that because he takes after you,” you smile against his skin. “If he looked like me and acted like me, if he was sweet and demure--”

This gets another laugh from Toji, who knows exactly just how not sweet and not demure you can be.

“I’d love him even more, probably,” he says. “We’re gonna have some fuckin’ blow-ups in the future, sweetheart. Good job you’ll be around to sort out your men, right?”

The arm not about your waist moves so he can cup your face now, tip your chin up towards him. His eyes are still very sharp, but they’re softened with love as he looks down at you. Toji gives you these moments in the quiet of night – when he’s not formerly-of-the-Zenin-family, when he’s not the ‘Sorcerer Killer’, when he’s not an assassin-for-hire – when he’s just Toji Fushiguro, your husband and father of your child. You treasure every single one of them and hold them close to you like a precious pearl, stringing them onto a necklace of memories you’ll cling to forever.

“I’ll be around forever,” you tell him. “If I die, I’ll come back to haunt you and tell you what a shitty job you’re doing on the PTA.”

He snorts.

“Don’t even joke,” he tells you with a flickering smirk – but that smirk quickly drops away to be replaced with a look of intense solemnity. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Are you getting soft on me?” You ask, but the hand tipping your chin up does a little jerk.

“Please,” Toji says, a little softer now. “Let me tell you I love you and mean it.”

Sparks fly all through your stomach, your heart twisting in your ribcage. You rarely see this kind of gravitas on his face – he rarely takes this tone, almost needy as he implores you to listen.

“I love you too,” you breathe. “You know that.”

He pulls you into a kiss that knocks the breath out of you, that makes you feel like you and Toji and Megumi are the only real people on Earth and everyone else is an imitation.

“Yeah,” he says, gruff. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearin’ you say it, though.”

[griffintail]

Hi I notice your requests are open! If you want to do for the lost ones that dad!techno x child!reader where they get into a little argument about something and the reader runs away for a bit but techno try’s to find them? Anyway have a good day!!

Guess who has a computer! Congrats! You're the first request for my return! Hope you enjoy!

The Clubhouse

Pairings: Parental! Technoblade x Teen! Reader

Warnings: Running away, Arguing

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

         It had started simple, the argument, just the teen stating her opinion on the matter.

         Uncle Tommy had been living with them for so long and he had never wanted anything to happen to that country, even if the said place had betrayed and hurt the pair of them. Techno would hear anything of it though. L’Manberg would go, he would make it go, and that was the simple and short of it. When the teen tried to give points for their opinion, that’s when the argument truly started, and everything went downhill from there.

         The yelling started as they argued about the future of what was to happen. It was not a pretty scene.

         Then before Technoblade knew what was happening, (Y/N) was out the door. He huffed but turned to continue getting his supplies ready. It was probably best. They just didn’t understand, and he hadn’t told them the full story anyway. They didn’t need to know.

         He spent some hours getting the rest of his supplies ready for the final doomsday. The house was quiet other than the light dripping from the brewing stands and his crafting of better weapons. When he looked out, the sun was starting to set, and he looked up the ladder. He was sure he didn’t hear the door open, but he’d taught his kid well.

         Going up the ladder, he saw the door slightly ajar like it was this morning, and opening the door the rest of the way, he saw the clean room with no one inside. They weren’t home yet…

         He gripped the doorknob before turning back for the ladder. Quickly, he put on his cape and grabbed his sword before going out the door.

         “(Y/N)!” He called as he stepped into the snow. “Kid! It’s time to come inside!”

         When there was no response, he gripped his sword handle before going to the doghouse. With a whistle, one dog rushed forward, and he was on the hunt to find his child. The dog started to sniff before running off into the woods. Techno glanced at the sun before following. They’d find them.

         But the journey out was longer than Techno wanted. He’d call out their name occasionally, hoping to get a response from the teen, but there was none, and the dog kept following the scent they had. The walk continued far longer than he wanted as the sun was gone and the night was upon them.

         As he started to hear zombie groans and skeletons rattle, the dog sprinted forward barking before sitting in front of…

         “A house?” Techno frowned.

         Who the hell was living out here? If someone kidnapped his child, they clearly had a death wish.

         Though as he got closer, calling it a house generous. It was a small building, more of a shed really. There was a chimney built in though producing smoke out of it. He came to the door, the dog sitting next to it, before quickly opening it with a hand on his sword. He relaxed though as the teen jumped from the floor by the fire, all alone in the decorated room.

         In the shed, there was a table and two chairs. Close to the fireplace, there was a bookshelf set up against the wall. There were a few chests inside as well and the last thing he saw was a jukebox sitting in the corner close to the door, with a few discs sitting on top of it.

         “How’d-?” (Y/N) started but the dog came in and they sighed. “Right…”

         “What is this?” Techno asked closing the door.

         (Y/N) huffed quietly as they went back to the position they were before; knees pulled up, arms wrapped around, and their head resting on top of them as they stared at the fire.

         “Never seen a clubhouse?” They muttered.

         “A clubhouse?” Techno raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the second chair rather than there being one. “Who else comes here?”

         “…Uncle Tommy doesn’t come over anymore. He’s too scared of you.” (Y/N) looked at him. “We built it together.”

         “Tommy wasn’t supposed to leave the house.”

         “That’s why it was a secret.” (Y/N) laughed quietly as they looked back at the fire.

         Techno crossed his arms as he was quiet for a while.

         “How often did you two come out here?” Techno questioned.

         “Only when you went out for a few days to trade or maybe to go to the Nether. Uncle Tommy liked going somewhere that wasn’t the basement and it felt nice to have a little spot to hang out with him.”

         “…And that’s why you’re adamant about not destroying L’Manberg for Tommy.”

         They were quiet. “He was my friend dad…”

         Techno stood there before sighing as he came over and sat next to them.

         “I need to tell you a story. And you can make your decision after that. No arguments.” Techno told them.

         It was fair now that they knew everything and he’d let them decide what was best for themselves…

[leossmoonn]

Second Chance

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x fem!reader

type - fluff, lil angst

note / request - “hi! can we get a carl x reader during like season 10. they were together in the past and they broke up, but hang out everyday. but carl still likes her so he tries getting her back.” this is so trash lmao, but enjoy!

summary - you and carl dated a while back, but now are just friends. he spends the day with you, hoping to win you back

warnings - language, underage drinking, suggestive content but no real smut

————

*gif isnt mine* 

“Hey, C-Bear!” You called out.

“‘Sup, Y/n/n!” Carl smiled at you. You ran up the stairs of his porch and gave him a tight hug.

“How was Florida?” Carl asked once you pulled back.

“Hot as shit, but fun. How was Chicago?” You asked a giggle.

“Same old,” he shrugged.

You looked at your best friend and smiled. “So, what’re we gonna do today? It is the last day of summer.”

“I was thinking of just hanging out here. It’s too hot to do anything,” Carl shrugged.

You nodded, “Sounds good.”

You two walked into Carl’s house. You saw Franny on the couch with Debbie.

“Hey, Debs. Hi, Fran-Fran!” You squealed and went over to Franny.

“Y/n!” Franny exclaimed.

“How have you been, squirt?” You asked the little girl, picking her up in your arms.

“Good,” she smiled widely. “Good,” you smiled.

Carl looked at you while talking to Franny, absolutely mesmerized.

You and Carl had dated the previous summer. You two had a good run. You lasted for 6 months before Carl had met a girl named Anne at his job. You noticed him slipping away slowly everyday. It broke your heart and you knew that you had to end it. Carl obviously didn’t realize he was falling in love with someone else, so you sat him down and told him you were breaking up with him. It hurt like a bitch for you, but you knew it was for the best so you wouldn’t end up getting more hurt in the end. You handled it maturely, telling him that you two could still be friends no matter what. You two were friends way before you dated, anyways. 

Carl handled it differently, though. He was angry at you for accusing him for falling in love with another girl. He cursed at you, stormed out of your car, and didn’t talk to you for 2 weeks. You missed him, but you were kind of thankful he left you alone. 

In those 2 weeks, you were able to rediscover your self worth. You managed to convince yourself that Carl was just like every other guy at your age; stupid. You knew you were hot shit and if he didn’t want you, then that was his loss. 

Even though you said this to yourself everyday, the hurt feelings didn’t stop. It took you a good 2 months to stop thinking about Carl and Anne together, him possibly cheating on you while he was on the job. You finally got over all the anxious thoughts and were happier now. You’d never admit it, but you were still in love with Carl, and you knew that he was the one, but the one that got away. 

Those 2 weeks for Carl were absolute hell. He missed you so much and started to pull away from Anne. Pulling away from Anne made him realize that you were right. That he was slowly falling in love with another woman, but he also realized that he loved you more. He took those 2 weeks to straighten himself up. He did pep-talks with himself, had his brothers help him out in what to do. They gave him hell for letting you go. Even they knew you were the one for him and reminded him of it everyday.  

Carl called you up after those two weeks and you agreed to try and be friends. It was hard for the first month, for both of you. You two were quiet and awkward when you hung out. You wouldn’t even hug him goodbye when you left his house, much less a high-five. But, it gradually got easier. You two saw each other more and fell into a comfortable rhythm, which consisted of you ignoring your feelings of love for him, and Carl acknowledging his feelings for you, always thinking of ways to get you back, but none of them working out. 

Now it was a year later and you two were back to being best friends like you were before you started dating. You had pushed the feelings you had for Carl away so much, it was barely there anymore. It was the opposite for Carl, he was still so deeply in love with you. So now that it was the last day of summer, he had planned to spend the whole day with you, try and woo you and get you back. 

“Are you hungry?” Carl asked, grabbing back your attention. 

You nodded. “Starving.”

“I think we have some cookies we can bake, right Debs?” Carl asked his sister. 

“I think so. We also have decorating icing, too,” Debbie said. 

“Great! What kind of cookies do you guys have?” You asked, going over to the kitchen.  “Just chocolate chip, I think. Maybe sugar cookies?” Debbie said. 

You hummed and looked in their fridge and found two rolls of chocolate chip and sugar cookies. 

“Found ‘em!” You exclaimed excitedly. 

Carl went into the kitchen with you, smiling at the happy expression you had on your face.

“Help me put them on a tray?” You asked. 

Carl nodded and went next to you. He took the sugar cookie roll and broke it into pieces. Debbie walked over to the kitchen, taking a seat, wanting to catch up with you.

“So, why did you guys do in Florida?” Debbie asked. 

“Went swimming, went to Universal Studios. We went to a lot of nice restaurants. I met a few cute guys there, too,” you smiled. 

“Ooh, really?” Debbie smirked. “Any that stuck?”

“This one kid named Josh. We played volleyball on the beach for a while. He told me he liked my swim suit,” you smirked. 

“Did you two hook up,” Debbie asked.  

Carl tensed at her words. He hoped you would say no. You weren’t like someone to jump into things like that so fast. Sure, you had a few boyfriends before Carl, but he knew that you took time in getting to know him. Plus, your first time was with him. 

“Nah. I’m pretty sure he had a girlfriend. There was a girl on the beach that kept glaring at me and hanging onto his arm. I even saw them kiss a few times,” you snorted. 

“Wow, he sounds like an ass,” Debbie said. 

“Yep. That’s why I rejected his kind offer to fuck,” you laughed.

“Atta girl,” Debbie gave you a high-five. 

“Yeah, I didn’t really feel like becoming the talk of the town or whoever those people lived,” you chuckled. 

"It’s good you said no,” Carl chimed in. 

“Oh, yeah, why? Besides the obvious,” you raised a brow. 

“Because it’s not you to hook up randomly,” Carl said. 

“Are you implying I’m a prude,” you chuckled. 

“No, no. I just... you waited until we dated to fuck, I-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you cut Carl off. You moved to put the cookies in the oven. Carl couldn't see it, but you were very flustered.

Him mentioning your romantic past brought up memories. These memories were the ones you didn’t mind remembering. They just made your legs weak heart swell. 

Carl was right, you did wait until you two were dating to have sex. You wanted it to be special and even though you two were just friends at the time, before you two were dating, you knew that sex with him would be special. And to your delight, it was. He was gentle, sweet, loving. He payed attention to you the whole time. It was one of the things you knew would live in your memory forever. 

“You waited?” Debbie asked. “Yeah,” you stood back up and shrugged. 

“Wow, I wish I had your self control,” Debbie snorted.

“It wasn't about self control. It was just knowing who was right for me,” you said. Your gaze fell on Carl as you said those words. 

He had a small on his face, to which you returned. Your heart fluttered at the sight, which made you avert your gaze immediately. Even though you didn’t mind the memories, you did mind the feelings they and him brought. As much as you hated to admit it, a part of you was still attracted to him. 

That part of you was the one you constantly had to push away. You had to remind yourself what he did. How he fell in love with another girl. How he let go someone good, kind, so loving and supportive. You knew if you let that other part of you invade your mind and feelings, you would be in his bed making out with him and possibly getting hurt, which was something you didn’t want. 

“How long do these have to bake?” Carl asked. 

“Like 15-20 minutes,” you said. He nodded and put his tray in the oven. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Carl asked. 

“Sure,” you nodded. 

“I’m gonna go and meet Claudia. Watch Franny for me?” Debbie asked. 

“I’d love to!” You smiled. You loved Franny. She was such an easy and good kid to watch. She took care of herself, too, so all you had to do was make her food whenever she was hungry.

“Great, thank you. I’ll see you guys later!” Debbie smiled and left the house. 

“Franny, do you wanna watch a movie with us?” You asked the little girl. 

“Yeah!” She smiled. 

“Great! What movie do you want to watch?” You asked. 

Carl smiled at you as you talked to Franny. Seeing you play with Franny was one of the things that made him fall in love with you. Seeing a girl good with kids was attractive as hell. 

“She wants to watch Sleeping Beauty,” you said and walked over with Franny to the couch. 

“Alright. I’ll put in the DVD,” Carl said. 

“Thanks,” you smiled.

He smiled back at you and nodded. You sat on the couch, Franny sitting next to you. Carl walked back to the couch and groaned internally. He was planning on sitting next to you so you could lay your head on his shoulders whenever you go tired, which was something you did during every movie you two watched together. But now you couldn’t do that because Franny was sitting in the middle. 

“What’s wrong, C-Dog?” You noticed his annoyance. 

“Nothing. I’ve just watched this movie a billion times,” he sighed. 

“That's what you get for having a little child in the house,” you chuckled and turned your attention over to the movie. 

About 20 minutes in the movie, the oven beeped, singling that the cookies were done. 

“Franny, do you want to decorate cookies or watch the movie?” You asked while getting up. 

“I wanna watch the movie,” she said. 

“Alright, kid. Don’t cause any trouble in here. Aunt Y/n and Uncle Carl will be in the kitchen,” you said and patted her head. 

She giggled and you left to go to the kitchen with Carl. 

“You’re really good with her,” Carl complimented you. 

“Thank you. I have two little brothers, so I’ve learned a thing or two about kids. You just gotta treat them like adults, but also make sure they know they’re boundaries. Franny is such a good kid, though, she doesn’t need a lot of boundaries or rules,” you explained. 

Carl nodded. “Oh, yeah. How are Lucas and Lyle?”

“Trouble,” you chuckled. Carl laughed with you. “I bet not as much trouble as I was when I was little.”

“Hm, true,” you giggled, recalling memories of when you two were in elementary school. 

“You’ve shaped up good, though. Military school helped with that,” you complimented. 

“Thank you. You’ve always been good. Even when we broke up,” Carl remarked. 

You met his eyes. A frown was plastered on your lips. “Thank you. I try not to be sour and shit. I know it gets me nowhere.”

“Yeah, I learned that the hard way,” Carl sighed, referring two his 2-week temper tantrum. 

You gave him a kind smile. “It’s alright. I’m glad we stayed friends, though.”

Yeah, friends, Carl thought in dismay.

He put on a fake smile though. “Me, too.”

You went over to the cupboard and got out some decorative icing that you found. You put them on the kitchen counter and picked up a sugar cookie. 

“What’re you gonna put on yours?” You asked. 

“A penis,” Carl said. 

You rolled your eyes, but laughed. “I take back what I said about you shaping up.”

Carl laughed with you,  “Hey! Not fair. You asked me and I responded honestly.”

“True,” you giggled. You squirted some icing on Carl’s face, irrupting into a fit of laughter when it got all over the left side of his face. 

“And I take back what I said about you always being mature!” Carl exclaimed, squirting some icing on you. It landed on your collar bone. Carl eyed the bare skin, licking his lips, wishing he could lick it up. 

You noticed his stare. Your heart couldn’t help but race. You felt yourself start to get sweaty under your armpits. You averted your gaze and got a towel to wipe the icing off. Carl grabbed the towel out of your hands. 

“Here, let me,” Carl offered. “I was the one to make the mess.” You rolled his eyes. You knew this was one of his ways of trying to flatter you and kiss you. You let him, though. You would never admit it to anyone, but you liked when he did these things. Not so much because he was still pining over you, but it reminded you of how much of a caring boyfriend he was. 

You leaned against the counter while Carl wetted the towel. He gently wiped the icing of your collar bone. Your heart skipped a beat as his fingertips brushed lightly over your skin. His face was abnormally close to yours, too. He was crouched down and looked up to you every so often. It made your stomach flip. It reminded you of when he ate you out, looking up at you with his lips glistening. You averted your gaze, feeling warmth spread between your legs. 

Carl was taking an annoyingly long time. You sighed heavy, hoping he would be done soon because if not, you would just end up kissing him. To your releif, he backed away from you, throwing the towel in the sink. He got another towel to wipe his face off.  

Even though you looked relieved on the outside, your heart was begging for him to comeback and be close to again, to tease you. 

“Did you like that?” Carl asked, smirking at you. 

“No, you were very slow,” you lied. Carl frowned at you and looked away. You felt bad, but you didn’t say anything.

“Let’s finish the cookies so Franny can eat some,” you said. 

Carl nodded. You two decorate the cookies in silence. You put them on plates, bringing them into the living room. 

“Here, Franny,” you said and put one of the plates on the table. You sat back down, Carl following slowly after you. 

You took a few cookies, giving Franny two and keeping two for yourself. 

“Thank you,” Franny said. 

You gave her a sweet smile. “You are very welcome.”

Carl took a couple cookies and slumped back on the couch. The tension between you two was thick. It hadn't been like this for a while, but you knew to just let it subside until you felt ready to talk again. Luckily, the movie was still going, so you had an excuse to not converse. By the end of the movie, Franny had fallen asleep. Her head was on your lap and the rest of her body was on Carl’s. When the movie was done, Carl helped you carry Franny back up to Debbie’s room. You two tucked her in and went back downstairs. 

You went back into the kitchen, grabbing two beer bottles for Carl and you. 

“Thanks,” Carl said when you handed him a bottle. 

You hummed in reply and sat back down on the couch. You turned on the TV, switching to re-runs. Carl sat next to you, leaving lots of space in-between you two.  

“How is everyone else doing?” You asked. 

“Good. Lip and Tami have Freddy and Ian has Mickey,” Carl said. 

“Wow, everyone is shacked up, huh?” You asked. 

“Yeah, even Debbie. She gets mad money, too,” Carl chuckled. 

“It’s weird the way the world works,” you remarked, half paying attention to Golden Girls. “Have you met any girls this summer?” You asked, your stomach flipping thinking about his answer.

“A few, but I’m not really interesting in dating,” Carl shrugged. 

You turned to him, fully surprised. “Carl Gallagher, not interested in dating? I think the world is ending.”

Carl chuckled, “I’m just not interesting in dating the girls I met.” Carl scooted closer to you while saying those words, putting a hand on your thigh. 

Your heart pounded against your ribcage. Carl was getting closer and closer to you. You didn’t move, though. You liked his touch and being in his vicinity. 

“Who are you interested in dating?” You whispered. 

Carl’s eyes burned into yours. They drifted down to your lips and back up to your eyes. Your body shivered and butterflies shot down your whole body. You found yourself moving closer to him, putting your hand over his. 

“You,” Carl spoke. 

You looked into his eyes deeply. You could tell he meant what he said. The look on his face was almost enough for you to kiss him, but you pulled away. His hand slipped off your thigh. You stood up off the couch, putting on your shoes. 

“I should go. It’s late and my parents are probably wondering where I am,” you said, avoiding eye contact. 

“No, stay. Your parents know where you are and probably aren’t worried. You always stay over,” Carl protested. 

“I’m tired, anyways. Plus, Lucas and Lyle probably miss me,” you made up more excuses and went  to the front door. 

Carl ran to you and put his hand on your arm. 

“Stay, Y/n. I’m not letting you go this time,” Carl said. 

You turned to him, tears in your eyes. “I don’t love you anymore, Carl, not like that.”

“I know you’re lying. I’m not as dumb as people think, okay? I see it in your eyes. I notice you breathing heavily when I come close to you. I know you still love me. I still love you. I’m still in love with you,” he confessed. 

“Listen, Carl,” you sighed. “I know you want to make it up to me, I appreciate it, but I’m not letting myself get hurt again.”

“I know I hurt you, Y/n. I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m stupid as shit. It hurts me every fucking time I see you. It hurt me so much to see you cry because of me. I do want to make it up to you, but I also want you back. I need you, Y/n. Please, give me a chance. I need you so fucking bad,” Carl pleaded. His voice broke and tears shined in his eyes. 

You shook your head. “I said I don’t love you anymore! Let me go!” You shouted. You wanted so desperately to get out of the house because you knew if you stayed, you would end up kissing him. 

“No,” Carl said. With that, he pulled you into his arms and crashed his lips on yours. 

With Carl’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, and his soft lips on yours, you could’t help but finally give in. You melted into the kiss, putting your hands on the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. Carl slammed you against the wall, his fingertips digging into your sides. The kiss was fast, rough, passionate. 

You were so glad that you gave in. You missed this feeling more than you would ever admit.

Carl pulled away, putting his hand on your cheek. His thumb ran across your bottom lip. His eyes stared into yours. 

“Give me another chance. I promise I won’t hurt you again,” Carl promised. 

You sighed and nodded. You knew he had good intentions, and that he was the one for you. “You better not. Or I will beat you up.”

Carl smiled, pulling you into another deep kiss. 

————

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[maemelany]

Fixing the Broken (Part 1)

Part 1 

Summary:

People say that time heals all wounds. In your case, time made it worst.

You’ve been married to Chris for five years, but his absence spoke louder than his words. After 5 years of trying, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, and you left him. But Chris doesn’t want to let you go; he doesn’t want to give up on your marriage.

Would he be able to fix what you consider irretrievably broken?

Warning : None

Word count: 1.2k +

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Author’s note: Here’s the first part! I needed to set the scene, but I promise you a lot of angst in the next chapter!

Prologue, Part 2 

Masterlist  

Denial is the worst kind of lie... because it is the lie you tell yourself.

- Michelle A. Homme

Usually, the first thing Chris does when he comes home is searching for you. Since you work from home, he usually finds you in the study. But tonight, Chris was so tired that he didn’t even notice the house’s deafening silence. He didn’t notice that your room is in perfect order, which was never the case. He didn’t see your many skincare products are missing from your bathroom when he goes to wash his face.

After two extreme months filming his new movie, Chris only wants one thing, sleeping in his own bed.

It’s the sun that waked him up the following day. That’s the first thing that confuses him. You hate sleeping with the curtains opened. Chris even remembers a night you spent together in Paris. He rented a hotel room with a view of the Eifel Tower, but you closed the curtains as soon as you were ready to go to bed. He explained that it would be amazing to see the Eifel Tower with the sun rising, but you didn’t care. It was unthinkable for you to sleep with opened curtains; you felt too exposed.

Chris smiled at that thought. He reached out to your side of the bed, but it’s empty. The clock on his side of the bed signals 9 AM. That was the second sign that something odd was happening. You were not a morning person. Chris always teased you about that. If it was up to you, you would stay in bed until noon. You were most productive after 8PM. That’s why he didn’t overthink it when everything was dark yesterday. He knew you and how focused you tend to be when you were closed to a deadline.

The last thing that made me tick was the fact that Dodger was nowhere to be found. Usually, he would be staring at him, waiting patiently for Chris to wake up. It wasn’t the case today. Chris was alone in the big bed, without his wife and his dog.

Then he remembered you texting him that Dodger would be staying with his sister and the kids. It made sense. When you were under stress, you always feared that Dodger would feel alone or that you would not be attentive enough to his needs. Deep down, he knew you were overthinking it. You loved Dodger, maybe even more than he did, but he understood your need to be safe. That was one of the first things that attracted him to you. You felt safe; you felt like home.

He took a quick shower, deciding that it was time for Dodger to come home. When he went downstairs after his shower, the house was still lifeless.

“Y/N ?” Chris shouted, trying to find you

You weren’t in your study, which again made him raise an eyebrow because of how organized the place was. Chris loved you more than anything, and you had a lot of qualities, maybe too many for your own good, but organized was not one of them. You always described your office as an organized mess necessary for your imagination.

Today the study was pristine. The brown oak desk was spotless, with not even one paper out of place.

Chris was now beyond confused. Something was wrong. Maybe you had writer’s block. It had to be it. He didn’t have time to think too much about it because his sister texted him that he could come and get Dodger now.

He would ask you the questions later. He was even sure that seeing Dodger would cheer you up.

“Uncle Chris!” Stella screamed as soon as she saw Chris

“Are you Stella?” Chris Jokes before lifting you up. “Who is this grownup, and what have you down with my tiny niece Stella?”

Stella laughed. “It’s me, Uncle Chris!”

Chris lifted her down and greeted his nephews. Dodger began to bark as soon as he saw Chris entering the room. He was frenetic, making sounds that made the whole family laugh.

“I know Dodge’, I know,” Chris said, accepting the leaking and the barking.

“How are you?” Carly asked him when the euphory had passed, and everybody had a chance to greet Chris.

Chris knew his sister, and the expression on her face meant something was wrong.

“I’m good. Tired, but I’m okay,” Chris answered.

“Do you…” Started but got interrupted by Scott

“Look who we have here, a ghost from Hollywood!” Scott said before hugging his brother

“You’re not funny Scott, you should really stop trying” Chris joked.

After the children came and ask Scott to help them do something only Scott would accept to do, Chris turned back to his sister.

“You were about to say something”

Carly smiled. A smile that looked somehow sad. “We can talk about it later, or whenever you’re ready”

Chris frowned, confused. He didn’t know what his sister was talking about. He was too happy to be with his niece and nephews to think too much about it.

It was later that day, when they were ready to eat, that everything started to unravel.

“I made your favorite,” Carly said, referring to the dish in her hand.

Chris smiled. “As tempting as it is, I have to decline. Y/N is surely waiting for me to eat too”

Now that he was thinking about it, he surprised him that you hadn’t been calling. He’d been at Carly’s for hours now. He confirmed what he was thinking, you had to be focused on your work, so much that you weren’t even thinking about eating.

“Maybe I should bring some home. Knowing Y/N, she’s still working” Chris added.

Carly looked at Scott with the same worried look she had the whole day.

“What? What’s going on, Carly?” Chris asked

For some reason, his heart started to beat quicker. It was as if he knew something was wrong from the beginning but refused to admit it to himself.

“Carly, tell me what’s wrong”

“Chris… when was the last time you talked to Y/N?” Scott finally said

Chris frowned. “Hmm, a few days ago… I mean… the last week of filming was crazy, but I texted her… I …”

Chris stopped when he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had his wife on the phone.

“She texted me… she told me Dodger was with you”

“Chris… Dodger has been here for two weeks now” Carly whispered.

Chris didn’t know what to say. He needed to sit down. Chris didn’t understand what Carly and Scott were trying to tell him. He didn’t want to understand.

“I need to go home. Y/N, I haven’t seen her since…”

And then it hit him. He hadn’t seen you; he hadn’t seen you at all since he came home. He didn’t see you yesterday, and he didn’t see you this morning.

It hit him. It wasn’t that he didn’t see you; you weren’t there at all. You weren’t too busy yesterday when he came back, you didn’t suddenly become a morning person, you weren’t in another room when your office was empty. You simply weren’t there.

Chris fell down, the gravity of the situation punching him in the stomach. “Oh my God,” he murmured.

Carly sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Chris… she left”

Chris closed his eyes, the word echoing in his head again and again. Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but hearing it, it hit different.

He sat there in silence with his sister and brother by his side, not saying a word. There weren’t words to be said anyway.

His wife, his love, Y/N, she left him.

[cooliogirl101]

From a very young age, Obito's grandmother had cautioned him to guard his heart.

"There is nothing more dangerous than an Uchiha in love," she warned him. "If you're not careful, caring too deeply will destroy you, drive you to madness."

For a five-year-old Obito, all it took to fall in love were three words, coming from a girl with sparkling brown eyes and the brightest smile he'd ever seen.

"Hey, nice goggles!"

~~

Obito, as a general rule, tried to avoid thinking too much about Hatake Kakashi. As far as he was concerned, stupid Bakashi already had too many people thinking about him. It felt like Obito couldn't go five minutes without hearing the whispers of "prodigy" and "genius" and "future-Hokage" trailing Kakashi everywhere he went (and what really stung was that they probably weren't wrong-- what Obito worked at for hours upon hours to accomplish, Kakashi managed in minutes without breaking a sweat).

Obito thought he'd been doing a pretty good job of ignoring Kakashi all things considered, despite the other boy's annoying attitude and annoying hair and annoying voice and annoying mask and annoying everything. He didn't even care (much) about Kakashi's annoyingly large number of fangirls-- up until he noticed that Rin had also started watching him.

He lasted three days before he confronted her about it.

"Why're you watching Kakashi?" Obito blurted out. He'd considered straight up asking her if she had a crush on him-- like half the girls in their class, he thought bitterly-- but had chickened out at the last moment. He wasn't sure what he'd do if the answer was yes--probably something that would land him in detention again.

"He's walking home alone again," Rin said quietly, gaze still fixated on Kakashi's departing figure. "It's been weeks now."

"So?" Obito asked. "He walks home by himself all the time."

Rin shook her head.

"Only when his father's on a mission. Which he might be, I don't know, but given what happened--" Her voice trailed off. Obito didn't need her to complete the sentence, anyway. Everyone in the village knew what had happened on Hatake Sakumo's disastrous mission.

"We're going to follow him," Rin decided. That got Obito's attention.

"What? Why?" He wasn't whining. He wasn't.

"Because something's not right here. And until we figure out what it is, I'd feel better watching over him to make sure he's safe." She glanced at him and grinned. "Besides, this will allow you to practice your stealth skills. And my Henge skills. Think I can make a convincing bush?"

~~

Through some miracle, because Rin did not make a convincing bush-- bushes didn't move for one thing, nor did they have legs-- they managed to follow Kakashi back to the Hatake Compound undetected. The moment the compound came into sight, Rin jolted, her henge dropping away completely.

"Oh," she whispered, eyes widening. Obito swallowed, feeling rather sick to the stomach himself.

The wall of the compound was completely covered by graffiti. Obito clenched his fists, mouth going dry-- there were words on there that would make Obito's grandmother scrub his mouth with soap if he even thought of saying them but worse than that were the words scattered between the cursing and insults:

Failure

Disgrace

Weak

Monster

Shameful

Your fault

Your fault

Your fault

"Obito." Rin's voice was strangely calm.

"Y-Yeah?" Obito cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from the Hatake Compound. Kakashi didn't deserve that, he found himself thinking. His dad didn't deserve it either. No one deserved that.

Rin glanced at him, eyes hard.

"Do you think your grandmother would be okay with you sleeping over at my house tonight?"

Obito blinked, then slowly began to smile.

"I think I can convince her."

"Great." Rin folded her arms across her chest. "How are your painting skills?"

~~

Of all the things Sakumo expected to find outside his house in the middle of the night, two kids wearing badly-made face masks painting his wall was not one of them.

"What are you guys doing?" Kakashi demanded, looking like he wasn't sure whether to be angry or confused.

"What does it look like we're doing, Bakashi?" The kid in the orange eye-mask retorted. "Everyone calls you a genius, figure it out."

This night was getting weirder and weirder, Sakumo thought bemusedly to himself.

"You're...vandalizing my house. At two in the morning," Kakashi replied. It looked like the confusion was winning out over the anger.

"It's not vandalism if it's done with good intentions," the girl in the purple eye mask said primly. Sakumo resisted the urge to rub at his eyes.

"Friends of yours, Kakashi?" Sakumo asked, and received an immediate flurry of responses.

"No, I hardly even know them, they're just some kids from my class--"

"Friends with Bakashi? No way, I--"

"Not yet at least."

Sakumo let them talk over each other, gaze drifting back over to the half-completed paint job. They'd...done a surprisingly good job, actually. He could barely see the words underneath anymore.

He held up a hand, causing all three kids to go quiet.

"Why?" He asked finally, addressing the two kids who apparently weren't friends with Kakashi and yet had gone to the trouble to do all...this.

"Why not?" the boy said defiantly, jutting his chin up. "We felt like it and your wall is messed up, so we're painting it to look better."

The girl remained silent for a beat longer, before turning to look him in the eye.

"Because you deserve better," she said. Sakumo's mouth twisted.

"I'm not sure I do," he murmured, almost inaudibly. He blinked as the girl suddenly narrowed her eyes, brandishing her paintbrush at him like a kunai.

"Don't say that," she hissed, glaring fiercely at him "Don't you dare say that! The first thing they teach us in the Academy is that your teammates always, always come first. You acted according to that and the fact that people are treating you like a monster for it is wrong."

"It's not that simple--"

"It's not your fault that Konoha is on the brink of war,” she interrupted sharply. "If you didn't trigger it, someone else would have. You don't teach five year olds wartime tactics if you're not expecting...if you're not preparing for a war. People don't want to admit that, so they look for someone to blame-- but that's their problem, not yours."

She turned around, re-coating her brush with paint.

"I can't make you believe me, Hatake-san. But what I can do is cover up this wall of yours. At the very least, Kakashi-kun doesn't deserve to look at this every day."

At that, Kakashi straightened up, scowling at her. If his glare seemed rather halfhearted, no one pointed it out.

"I don't need you to do it, I can do it myself," he grumbled.

"Great," the girl said without missing a beat. "While you're here, you can settle a debate between me and Obito-- hypothetically speaking, would you prefer snakes painted on the wall or dragons?"

"C'mon Rin, dragons are so much cooler, what kind of person would prefer snakes--"

"Obito, neither of us can even draw a dragon and besides, they summon snakes--"

"What? No we don't! We summon dogs!"

"Oh. Really? But your dad is called the White Fang. That wasn't a reference to snake fangs?"

"No!"

"Huh. Who summons snakes then? Someone summons snakes."

"Forget the snakes, is there a dragon contract I can sign?"

"They'd take one look at you and eat you, dead last."

"Shut up, Bakashi!"

Sakumo felt his lips twitch. He turned around to walk back inside, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

And to think, he'd been worried about Kakashi making friends.

[sayahs-corner]

Chapter 13 of Secrets Don't Make Friends is up!

We've got some big reveals in this chapter! Don't miss it!

Chapter 13: I am Ironman

Tony glanced down at his watch, a frown creasing his brow, as he loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. The pack had dispersed, Clint went off to play with his kids - he had promised the little agents a round of super hide and seek, Nat had to go make a phone call to Fury, and Bruce had some research that he had to get back to - which sounded super suspicious and also like a lot of fun. Maybe he could happen to just…swing by Bruce’s place. See what his fellow scientist had cooking in his lab over there. 

He wanted to get out of the house, and soon, because -

“Tony? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Tony froze, turned his head to stare at the rather sheepish looking form of one Bucky Barnes standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Bucky had his head tilted down, his usually piercing eyes hidden beneath the long strands of his lanky brown hair. The super soldier's hands were thrust into the pockets of his black cargo pants, and he looked for all the world as if he were a child about to confess to a terrible crime. 

Tony turned to face him, folding his arms across his chest as he kicked back against the counter with a forced nonchalance he certainly didn’t feel. He knew people were able to sense his emotions more clearly now that he wasn’t on pheromone blockers… but he found himself going through the motions anyway. He had played a part so long… it was hard to just stop pretending.

“I’m all ears.” He tried to sound friendly, but his tone came off as guarded. 

Because he and Bucky? Well, they had some history…and Tony was man enough to admit that he owed the super soldier an apology for the shit he had put him through in high school. It hadn't been just Steve that Tony and his gang of hangers-on had bullied mercilessly. If James Barnes hadn't been so unfailingly loyal to his best friend, Tony would have never bothered with the kid. But he dogged Steve’s heels, many times had stepped in between them. 

On more than one occasion the two of them had traded blows. 

Of course, that was pre-serum. Tony wouldn't be able to win in a fair fight against either of them now. Not that fighting against a genetically engineered super soldier was exactly fair. 

And Tony hadn't been blind to the looks that Barnes had thrown at him when he first got here. That man had sincerely wanted to beat the stuffing out of him and hadn’t bothered to hide it. Over time, those looks had given way to quiet contemplation, the aggression slowly bleeding out of his eyes. 

Now? Most days Barnes wouldn't even look at him, or meet his gaze, and Tony had no idea why. He thought they were good - or as good as two former highschool enemies could be, that is. 

But the way that Barnes was standing in the doorway now, hands fisted and jammed into his pockets, his eyes flickering to look at Tony in a way that made it obvious the alpha wanted anything but to be standing here having this conversation…well, maybe things weren’t as good as Tony had suspected. 

He sighed mentally, reaching a hand up to massage at his temples.

“I just… wanted to apologize. For my behavior. When you first got here.” The words were delivered stilted and quick, as if he were spitting them out of his mouth to get rid of the taste of them.

Tony’s head snapped backward in shock, eyebrow cocked as his lips parted in disbelief.

“Is this a joke? Where’s the hidden camera Barnes?” Tony made a show of checking the room to make sure they were alone. “You have nothing to apologize for, and you know it.”

Barnes blew out a frustrated breath and pulled his hands out of his pockets only to prop them on his hips. 

“I wasn't exactly kind to you Tony,” he turned his head away to gaze out the window. “I purposefully made your time here difficult. At the time…I thought I knew who you were. And I thought you deserved it for all that shit you pulled in high school. I remember thinking that Stevie was taking it too easy on you.” His lips twisted bitterly. “I know now that…that I had no clue about you or what you went through.”

Shock stole the color from Tony’s face, he could feel himself getting tight and cold and small. 

How could he have forgotten that Barnes stayed in this cabin?

That night on the front lawn when he had been screaming at Steve about his shit stain of a father…Bucky must have overheard. 

Tony gritted his teeth as shame returned some color to his cheeks. A tight feeling squeezed his chest.

“I just wanted to say…I shouldn't have done that. I didn't even give you a chance. I’m old enough to know better. I bullied you when you were just trying to keep your head down and make it through a difficult situation.”

Tony scoffed, embarrassment and shame making his voice gruff. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize, Barnes. I wasn't exactly kind to you in high school. I went out of my way to make the two of you suffer. And maybe, now, you know the reason for that. But that doesn't change what I did to you guys every day. Hurt people hurt people and all that jazz,” Tony waved a hand dismissively. “But I still hurt you, and you were entitled to your mistrust. I don’t hold it against you.”

“I just thought… I don’t know. You and Clint made up and I thought maybe I…”

Tony cocked his head to the side, embarrassment making it hard for him to think for a moment. 

Was it possible that Barnes was…jealous that Tony had been pranking Clint mercilessly? The thought made his lips curl in amusement. 

“We’re good, Barnes. Right?” 

Bucky nodded, albeit somewhat stiffly. 

“Well now that we’ve gotten that off our chests,” Tony kicked off of the counter and crossed the kitchen, pausing at the island where today’s mail had been carefully stacked by a suspicious eyed Nat. Tony flipped through the mail, sorting it into various piles. Nat had already grabbed her own mail - Tony had seen the issue of Cosmo she was trying to hide - and not many of the others actually received mail here. But there was still some stuff, mainly junk mail by the looks of it, so he grabbed the stack for Bruce. 

“I’m going to run these up to Brucey-bear. Looks like he forgot his mail this morning. There’s a few things here for you too.” Tony waved the stack of mail, which consisted mainly of paperwork from SHIELD and some bills under some rather unoriginal aliases. John Smith? Please. If you had the chance to make up a name at least make it fun. 

These people lacked creativity.

**Read the rest on Ao3 **

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Writer’s Month 2022 Day 1

word: promise | setting: beach episode

First day of Writer’s Month! A little late, I know, but I had work today. Hope you enjoy the first day’s writing! This is set in @cosmicrealmofkissteria ‘s Model AU, so you can read the story HERE if you want a refresher!

CW: some mention of period-typical homophobia. Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I don’t need the sunscreen!”

“Bruce Howard Kulick, put on the sunscreen or I will pin you to the sand and force it on you.”

Bruce grinned widely. “Sounds hot,”

“Bruce!” And yet Paul still laughed even as he shoved the bottle of sunscreen at Bruce’s chest. “Please???”

Bruce sighed dramatically. “Fiiiine.” He took the bottle and squeezed some into his hand to apply. “I told you, though, I never burn at the beach.”

“Uh huh.” Paul raised his eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “Now you’re gonna get sunburnt, and I’m gonna laugh at you instead of help you.”

His boyfriend gaped at him in mock shock. “You wouldn’t laugh at a man in pain, would you?”

“I would if he said he never burns and then does,”

“You wound me.” Bruce held the bottle to his chest.

Paul laughed and settled back in his chair. “Put on the sunscreen, you dork,”

“Yeah, yeah,”

He definitely had the right idea suggesting an impromptu beach trip; it was a beautiful day out, with a clear sky and even a light breeze. He could get a good tan that he knew would look great in photos. Plus he and Bruce could spend some quality time together. They hadn’t been able to get much alone time lately. Bruce was starting to make a name for himself in photography circles, which meant more jobs, and with Paul doing his own modeling jobs, they weren’t seeing each other as often as they used to.

“Bruce, don’t you dare,” he said aloud as he looked out at the ocean.

Bruce made a disappointed noise and he turned to see him retracting the hand, featuring a finger with a dollop of sunscreen. “How’d you know?”

He smiled impishly at him. “I’m psychic,”

“Whatever. Could you get my back?”

“Sure,”

He definitely took the opportunity to admire Bruce’s back muscles as he rubbed sunscreen over him.

There was another reason he wanted to go to the beach with Bruce. Because Paul wanted to tell him the great news.

“Oh by the way,” he said casually as he worked, “I wanted to tell you something.”

Bruce turned his head. “Yeah?”

Paul could barely contain his excited smile. “You know how I just got paid for the Vogue spread?”

“Yeah. And I still say I don’t need another Dolce and Gabbana suit.”

Paul laughed. “But you look so good in them,”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what about your pay from Vogue?”

“Well… I put some of it into the savings account and I realized…” Now Paul smiled. “We’re at our goal.”

Bruce froze, then turned around to look at him in shock. “We’re at our goal?” he repeated.

“Yeah. We can go house hunting next week.”

Because the savings account had been specifically dedicated towards a down payment for a house. Paul loved his and Bruce’s LA apartment (which essentially had been Paul’s apartment until they decided Bruce should move in with him), and he loved how they had furnished it together. But he wanted something more permanent. He wanted a home with Bruce. Sure, maybe they could never be husbands in that home, but dammit he wanted it anyway. And after talking about it with Bruce, who liked the idea, they set up the savings account.

A smile of joy spread across Bruce’s face. “That’s great!” He hugged Paul tightly. “I can’t believe it.”

Paul felt emotion swelling in his chest. “I can’t, either,”

“We’re gonna have a white picket fence and a dog,”

Paul laughed. “And 2.5 kids,”

“Exactly. It’s gonna be great.”

“As long as it’s with you, it’ll be perfect,”

Bruce kissed him on the cheek. “I love you,”

Paul nuzzled his face. “I love you too.” After a pause, he looked down at Bruce’s back and grinned. “You’re looking a little red, baby.”

“What?” Bruce pulled away and twisted his body around, then gave him a stink eye. “Am not.”

“You will~!” Paul sang as he settled back in his chair.

“Will not~!” Bruce sang back.

“You will be burned red, and thanks to the sunscreen I will have a great tan.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Bruce said as he leaned back in his own chair. “You look hot with a tan.”

“Maybe we can sunbathe in our new backyard,”

Bruce smiled softly. “That sounds perfect,”

Paul mirrored his smile at the idea of having a backyard. Vinnie said he knew a realtor that would give them a good deal without a lot of judgement, and he planned on contacting them when the weekend was over. He wished time would go faster, because now that owning a house was in reach it seemed like agony having to wait another second.

But he could be patient. And for now, he would sit on the beach and enjoy the sun with his boyfriend, and imagine what they would do in their future home.

[fangirlovestuff]

Never Too Late - Chris Evans x reader

a/n- hey lovely people!! i hope you’re all doing well:) i’ve been working on this one for a while, and i’m super excited to finally share it! because it’s Chris’ birthday, i wanted to have some fun with this, so in the story, chris says 3 things that are quotes / paraphrases of some of his characters’ quotes (like 3 things his characters said in movies lol). see if you can find all 3 of them;) enjoy<3

Summary: Romance is an illusion. Unattainable. Absolutely unrealistic. No one can have a fairytale love story. But maybe, you don't need a fairytale. You just need each other. (In which you and Chris have each given up on romance, but then you meet, and… sparks fly.)

Word Count: 9.6k (hello longest oneshot i’ve ever written!!)

Warnings: some curse words, (responsible) alcohol consumption, slight angst?? honestly it’s just obliviousness, slow burn!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This was a waste of time.

I'm sorry, the text read, something came up. Raincheck? ;)

Douche. He was the one that asked if you could do this today instead of tomorrow, so you moved your meeting. But apparently, that didn't matter, since he wasn't planning to show up anyway.

You blocked his number, leaving your place at the bar and heading towards the exit. You were in the middle of typing out a furious message to your friend who set you up on this blind date, when you collided with someone in your path quite harshly. You rubbed your arm where you bumped into the person and gazed upwards to meet his eyes.  

"Sorry," you both said in unison.

The man let out a chuckle. "Sorry," he repeated, his amused eyes gazing into yours.

"No, I'm the one who should apologize," you said, "I wasn't looking where I was going," you lifted up your phone, gesturing to the reason.

"I'm sure it was important," he made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "don't worry about it."

"It really wasn't. Again, sorry," you grimaced.

"It's fine," he reassured you, "I was actually on my way to get another drink so it's not like I spilled anything, no harm done," he smiled.

"Well, I'm really glad. Have a good rest of your night," you smiled back. Thinking that was the end of it, you turned to continue your walk towards the exit, opening your texts to write that message to your friend, but as you were turning around the man reached out and grabbed onto your wrist, not harshly but enough to make you turn around to face him once more.

He immediately let go of your hand, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Sorry, I don't mean to intrude, it's just… you seemed kind of upset when I bumped into you, are you alright?"

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile, "I'm fine," you looked up at him, "just got ditched by this blind date. Guy didn't show, so I was writing a furious message to my friend who set me up," you chuckled, "that's why I wasn't paying attention."

"Sorry," he said with a sympathetic grimace. "So why were you writing to your friend and not to the guy? I mean, he's the one who bailed."

"No offense, but I learned not to expect as much from the male species," you smirked, and he chuckled in return. "Got bailed on one too many times to have high expectations. Honestly, I was only willing to go on this date cause my friend said this was a great guy and, according to her, I was 'on the sure road to becoming a spinster'. So, I appeased her," you shrugged. Your confession left your lips with such ease, you were almost taken aback by how easy it was to talk to this complete stranger this openly. Maybe, it was easier because you were strangers.

"Ah, I know what that's like. I mean, not the spinster part, the part about appeasing your friends," he chuckled. "They're over there," he gestured to a table a little to the back, "to 'cheer me up'. Said I needed to leave my house more. Although I don't know if they're still sober enough to remember that's why they're here," he smiled affectionately as he looked at his table. Sure enough, the guys looked pretty drunk, but the man didn't seem to resent them for it, he was just amused.

"What did you need cheering up for?" you asked once his gaze went back to meet yours.

"Well, I got dumped. We were together for a few years. I even had a ring," he raised his eyebrows, "but she said it wasn't working out anymore. At least she didn't know about the ring yet," he smiled bitterly.

"Small victories," you nodded sympathetically.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "anyway, she just finished taking the last of her stuff from ou- my place. She was really lingering with it, we broke up like a month ago. Didn't have the heart to rush her."

"I'm sorry," you put a comforting hand on his shoulder, albeit a bit awkwardly. He seemed to appreciate it anyway. "Your sob story's way worse than mine," you joked, getting a small huff of laughter out of him.

"I guess," he said. "But that means I get where you're coming from on the whole no dating thing. It just seems pointless," he shrugged.

"I'm sure this is the part where anyone else would've told you that it'll be okay and you'll find 'your person', but since I'm shittier than that I'll be honest – romance is dead and we'll both probably die alone," you said flatly.

Your blunt tone made him smile, which in turn made you smile, and you nodded as your words sank into the silence between you. You started giggling, and soon he followed, and you were both laughing softly for a while.

"I'm sorry," he said, still grinning, "I don't know why I'm laughing. It's sad."

"Very sad," you agreed, a grin on your face as well. "to be fair, spinsterhood doesn't sound that bad. Except for the cats thing. I'll never be a crazy cat lady," you shook your head, "they hate me, every single one. I'd get dogs though," you mused, "have a little army of 'em."

"Sounds fun," he smiled.

"Right?" you smiled back, "I'm telling you, it's not as bad as people make it out to be."

Wrapped up in your conversation, you were both still standing next to the bar, and another man pushed past you to get to the bartender. The bubble around the two of you exploded, and you remembered that you were still in public, at the bar.

"You should go get that drink you were here for," you said, gesturing towards the bar.

"Alright," he chuckled. Just then, the man finished ordering, so he told the bartender what he'd like to have, then turned to you.

"Hey, romance might be dead, but chivalry isn't. Let me buy you a drink," he grinned.

"Be still my beating heart," you feigned emotion, before a smile crept back onto your face. "I'll have whatever you're having," you shrugged, and waited as he told the bartender to bring you two another drink.  

"So, if you're buying me a drink, I feel like it's only fair I should know your name," you smiled.

"That does seem fair," he sent a small smile your way. "I'm Chris," he put out his hand and you shook it, telling him your name in return.

"So, you come here often?" he smirked, prompting the both of you into another fit of laughter.

"For real though," you said once you got your drinks, "I'm really not looking for anything romantic right now. I hope that's okay."

"Of course," he reassured, "I'm not either."

"Okay good cause this is like, really tasty, so I wouldn't mind having a couple more," you held up the drink he got you with a grin, making him laugh.

You did have a couple more, with Chris. You ended up sitting at the bar, his friends not really noticing he was gone, and talking about anything and everything. You were almost reluctant to end the night, but you really should get home, which is what you told Chris before getting up and getting your wallet.

"Hey, no," he said and gestured for you to put it away, "I was serious, I'll pay."

"Really? I mean, this wasn't a date so I just thought-"

He shook his head adamantly and you put your hands up in surrender and smiled. "Okay. Thank you," you told him as you put your wallet away.

"You're very welcome. Although, there is something I still want to ask you. Can I get your number?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could he spoke up again.

"Nothing romantic, I swear," he chuckled, "but it was really fun hanging out tonight. We should do it again. Completely platonically." He smiled sincerely.

You narrowed your eyes in mock suspicion before laughing. "Alright. Sure, you can have my number," you said, and he grinned before giving you his phone. You put in your number and gave it back.

"See you around, Chris," you smiled before leaving the bar, the smile lingering on your face all the way back to your house.

And when your friends asked you how the date was, you told them he bailed and you went home, never mentioning meeting Chris. You knew how they'd see it, and it wasn't like that, so you just… kept it to yourself. For now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

On your way to Chris' house, you picked up the takeout from the place he told you about, before texting him you got it and you were almost there.

It's been a couple of weeks since you met him, and so far he was proving to be a great friend. You texted back and forth most days, but never found the time to meet up again, until today, that is.

You had texted him about your crappy day at work, and how happy you were this week was finally, finally over, so he invited you t his house, and suggested you watch a movie. And well, you accepted. A movie night with a friend was just what you needed to put this shitty week behind you.

"Hi," you greeted him once he opened the door.

"Hi!" he took the takeout bags from your hands and gestured for you to follow him inside, and into the kitchen. "So," he started, while taking out the food, "I realized forgot to tell you; I have a dog," he smiled apologetically, "I don't know if that's a problem, he's in my room upstairs, I won't-"

"Are you kidding?" you nearly squealed, "of course that's not a problem! I told you if I could I'd be a crazy dog lady," you giggled. "Can I meet him?"

"Great!" he chuckled at your enthusiasm, "sure, I'll go get him."

As he went upstairs, you stood there, looking around his kitchen. You weren't sure what to do, it seemed like he got all the food, and it wasn't your house, so… you just stood there.

Fortunately, you soon heard the patter of footsteps, and just as you were about to call out to Chris to ask him if there was anything you could do to help, you heard him yell out.

"Dodger!"

And just then, a big whirl of movement came towards you, and before you knew it a large dog was resting his paws on you, nearly knocking you back. You regained your footing before you crouched down to your knees with a beam.

"Hey," you cooed at the excited dog, who was wagging his tail and still trying to climb onto you, apparently. "Hey," you repeated yourself, rubbing behind his ears affectionately. "It's so nice to meet you," you kept cooing and stroking his fur. He propped himself up and licked your cheek, making you giggle. "Thank you, you're so cute," you scratched his neck affectionately.

"Sorry about him, he gets excited around new people," Chris came into the kitchen apologizing.

"No worries," you grinned as the large dog laid down on his back, exposing his stomach to you in a silent request for belly rubs which you willingly provided. "He's adorable," you looked up at Chris, who was grinning back at you.

"He really is," he agreed, going to finish putting the food in plates before lifting them.

"Can I help with anything?" you asked, still crouched down and petting Dodger.

"Nope, all set," he smiled, "let's go."

He led the way to his living room, where he set the plates down on the coffee table and picked up the remote. "So, what do you wanna watch?"

"Oh, I don't know," you shrugged as you sat down on the couch, "you can pick."

"Well, I would, but we're here because you've had a shitty week, so you should pick whatever you want."

"Ugh, don't remind me. See, Dodger would never do this to me," you turned your gaze to the dog, who has settled at your feet, and started petting him again. "Right? Of course you won't, you're the cutest dog," you cooed.

Chris burst out into a short laugh. "Are you going to steal my dog?"

"It's a very real possibility," you said dryly, shrugging. You turned your gaze to him, your hand still petting Dodger, and smirked.

"Okay, so are you gonna pick a movie now that we've settled that?" he asked, smiling.

"I don't know what to pick," you admitted, "I don't wanna put on anything you don't like, I guess," you mumbled.

"Awwwww, it's fine," he assured with an easy smile, "pick whatever."

You caved and put on a movie you really liked – The Princess Bride. As he realized what movie you were putting on, Chris chuckled.

"Really? That's what you're going with?"

"See? I told you I'd put on something you wouldn't like. Forget it, we can just-"

"No, no!" he cut you off, "I really like this movie," he grinned, "I just wouldn't expect that from someone who claims romance is dead, that's all," he chuckled.

"Well, movies have… dragons in them. Do you think dragons are real just cause they're in movies?" you reasoned.

"Okay, I see your point," he raised his hands in mock surrender.

A comfortable silence stretched over the both of you from that point, the only thing filling it was the sound of the movie playing and the occasional shuffling sound when either of you, or Dodger, shifted on the couch.

A bit later, Chris spoke up. "Hey, want a beer?"

"Uh, I probably shouldn't have any. Driving myself home and all," you shrugged.

"Yeah, that's smart," he chuckled. You were both lowering your voices, as if not to disrupt the movie which was still playing. "Mind if I have one?"

"Not at all," you answered truthfully, "It's your house."

He let out another short chuckle, nodding before getting up. When he heard Chris getting up, Dodger lifted his head from where he was laying, and swiftly followed him into the kitchen.

When they returned, Chris brought you a glass of water, and gave it to you before sitting down. Dodger jumped back up onto the sofa, curling up beside Chris, laying his head on his stretched-out legs.

"Awwww," you softly smiled, "that's adorable. He really loves you."

"Not nearly as much as I love him," Chris replied, smiling and fondly rubbing Dodger's head.

"See, that's good love. Love that lasts," you remarked. Thinking that was the end of it, you turned your head back to the movie.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Huh?" you turned your head back to Chris.

"What did you mean by that?" he repeated.

"Oh, nothing," you shook your head. "Just, you know. I know I seem very opposed to romance, but I'm not against love. I love my family," you shrugged, "because they made me the person I am today. They're a part of me. I just don't think that a love between two people who aren't family can last in the same way."

"Yeah. You're probably right. What about dogs though? They're certainly not blood related to us," he joked.

"Certainly," you laughed, "But dogs aren’t as fucked up as humans, so it's not really comparable. Dogs don’t stay up thinking about something embarrassing they did five years ago. Dogs probably don't even get embarrassed, really. They don't have as many doubts and… restrictions. Barriers. They don't have to make everything complicated."

"But humans do."

"Bingo," you chuckled dryly.

"We really do, don't we?" he sighed. "No one really knows what they're doing or who they are. How can you know someone else enough to truly love them when you don't even know yourself?"

"Exactly. You get it," you toasted your glass of water against his beer bottle. "it's too much effort for something that lasts so little."

"Not necessarily little," he suggested, "but never enough. You know, in movies, love is this big force of nature that draws two people towards each other so strongly… it's undeniable, unavoidable. Meant to be," he chuckled. "That feels so far away from anything I've ever experienced."

"Me too, if that's any comfort," you grimaced sympathetically. "Maybe we're just meant to be alone."

"Maybe. Anyway, that's grim," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," you smiled. "Every time I talk about it with my friends, I get told I just haven't found the right person yet, and to keep on hoping and everything will magically be sunshine and rainbows," you fluttered your eyelashes cynically. "It's fun to know there's at least one more realistic person out there," you sent him a small smile, which he returned.

You both turned back to watch the movie, which was heading towards the end at this point. The handsome prince saves the brave princess. He's not really a prince, but, you know. Same difference; it's a fairytale, a legend.

Something no one can ever truly have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Chris and you had developed a habit of calling each other on Mondays, since they were the worst, and you both needed to vent. You were in the middle of one of those calls when something he said made you abruptly stop making your dinner.

"How come I didn't know it was your birthday?" you asked, surprised, at his admission that his birthday was yesterday.  

"It never came up," he said. "Besides, it doesn't matter. The party's on Friday anyways, if you wanna come. You can bring some friends too, if you want. There's plenty of space."

"Yeah, okay," you smiled to yourself, "sure. Happy belated birthday, Chris."

"Thank you," he chuckled. "So you'll come?"

"Yeah, I'll be there, I guess," you sighed dramatically, prompting him to laugh.

"Great! See ya Friday," he said.

"See you."

After you hung up the call, you returned to your dinner, but not before texting your friends to invite them along. If you were getting on so nicely with Chris, you assumed the rest of his friends were nice people, so would in turn get along with your friends. Who were also nice people, obviously.

Or maybe, not so obviously.

There was an immediate flood of messages asking about who Chris is and how you met and if he's cute.

You ignored them in favor of finishing making your dinner, and only then sat down with your food and answered their questions, except for that last one.

He's a friend of mine I met not long ago, nice guy, you replied to the group chat.

And?? one of your friends texted.

And he invited me to this party he's throwing for his birthday, and told me I could bring friends, so now I'm inviting you guys. Hopefully, I won't regret that.

But is he cute???

I don't know, and I don't care. You know I'm not looking for anything right now!!

You're no fun. Fine, we'll come and see for ourselves ;P

You scoffed to yourself and continued to eat your dinner, unbothered. Maybe they should come, you mused, just to see that it's possible to make friends without dating them, like a sane adult.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Happy birthday!" you exclaimed as Chris ushered you and your friends into his house. "I brought you a wine," you extended the bottle and he took it.

"Thank you!" he said loudly, to overpower the music that was playing. "Is it good?"

"How should I know? I didn't drink from it, it's your gift!" you joked. He laughed before giving you a one-armed hug and waving at your friends. "I'm gonna put this away," he pointed towards the kitchen, "But you should go to the living room, everyone's there."

You gave him a thumbs up and led your friends towards the living room.

"He even laughs at your bad jokes," your friend cooed in your ear, and you sighed and rolled your eyes.

"We're not a couple!" you reminded her.

"Maybe not yet, but I'm just saying you'd make a good one," she shrugged, a twinkle in her eye.

You ignored her, and continued walking. On your way to the living room, you did see a whole bunch of other people, but still, the party wasn't huge, especially compared to Chris' large house. There were no more than probably about 80 people there, not including yourself and your friends.

Pouring yourself a drink, you sat down next to your friends, who were already making small talk with another group, and joined the conversation.

Some time went by before the conversation turned to romance, and everyone started sharing funny stories about their significant others.

"What about you?" asked a woman from the other group. She seemed friendly, an easygoing smile on her face. "Everyone has a story to tell."

Before you could answer, one of your friends chimed in. "Oh, she doesn't do romance," she teased.

"Sounds mysterious," the woman laughed.

"Yep," you smiled, amused, "that's me. Dark, brooding, and mysterious."

As you were all laughing, Chris came down to sit next to you. "Having a good time?" he asked the group with a smile, a model host.

"Yeah," one of your friends answered, "we were just talking about how this one never dates anymore," she pointed at you, and you caught Chris' look, amused. "What do you think about that?" your friends asked, oblivious to the silent exchange.

"I think she should do whatever she wants to," he answered with a smile.

"Oh, don’t be diplomatic," she said, "don't you think she should find someone?" she pressed.

"I think she should do whatever she feels like," he persisted.

"Whatever," your friend rolled her eyes with a smile. "Every pot has a lid. Sooner or later, you'll find yours," she said, your words pointed at you now.

You were quiet for a brief moment before speaking up. "Oh, you're done talking about me like I'm not here. Sorry, you were saying?"

The entire group burst into laughter, and you caught Chris' gaze again.

Sorry, you mouthed, shrugging.

It's fine, he mouthed back with a small smile.

The urge to kill your friend subsided when you saw Chris didn't take her pestering too seriously.

For the rest of the night, you proceeded to have a good time, making conversation with a few other people and only running into Chris one more time.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, toasting his cup to yours.

"Yeah. You throw a great party," you smiled.

"I'm glad you think that," he returned your smile.

After that you returned to your friends, and a little while later you all decided to head home. You searched for Chris, thanked him for hosting the party and wished him a happy birthday, and went home.

"You're telling me there's nothing there?" your friend asked you on the ride home.

"There's nothing there," you sighed. "I don't know why you all want there to be."

"We just know what it's like being in love. And we want that for you. It's fun," she smiled.

"Parkour also sounds fun, that doesn't mean I can or am going to do it," you retorted. "You know what I think about being in love. Different people have different paths and abilities. I can be happy without a sweeping romance."

"I know, you're a strong independent woman and you don’t need no man," she rolled her eyes. "Just… don't close yourself off to the opportunity. That's all I'm saying."

"Okay," you shrugged.

Shortly after, she dropped you off, and you went to sleep, thinking nothing of the whole ordeal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She came by today.

When you got the text from Chris on Wednesday, you were puzzled for a few moments before you realized. His former fiancée. I mean, almost fiancée.

Shit

Is everything okay?

It only took him a couple of seconds to reply.

Yeah, I guess.

On an obviously unrelated note, wanna come drink?

You chuckled before texting him your ETA, quickly changing from the already rumpled clothes you had worn all day, and driving to his place.

You texted him when you were outside, and when you walked up to his door it was already opened, and he was waiting for you, a bottle of beer in hand.

"Aw, you drove yourself here?" he asked, before ushering you in, "I told you we should drink."

"Yeah," you chuckled, "but it's not like there's anyone I can ask to drive me on a random Wednesday. It's fine, you drink."

"But I don't wanna drink alone," he whined. "Can't you just spend the night then? I have a guest bedroom."

You opened your mouth to refuse, but then assessed it again. You were in pretty comfortable clothes, you were starting work a little later than usual tomorrow, and well… he needed a friend, and he asked you.

"Okay, fine," you chuckled, "gimmie one of those," you gestured at his beer.

He made a little celebratory motion with his hand before going and getting you another beer.

"So," you started as you took a swig of your beer, "how was your day?"

He let out a short, bitter laugh. "Great. Yeah, just… just great," he took a large gulp of his beer. You waited, giving him the space he needed to speak again. "She wanted to get back together, actually," he scoffed. You frowned, but still refrained from speaking.

"You know, I… I still have the ring," his voice broke and he cleared his throat. "I still have the ring because I wanted her to come back. But when she finally did I… I couldn't say yes to her. Because it's forever or nothing. And I don't think I'm meant to have a forever. Certainly not with someone who broke up with me anyways," he took another sip of his beer.

"If it's any comfort, I don't think there's such a thing as forever," you shrugged, and he looked at you quizzically. "I told you," you said, "all romance is momentary."

"Maybe that's true," he sighed again. "At any rate, I am now stuck with this ring, which is just… fantastic. Really awesome."

"Can't you bring it back to the shop?"

"Tried to. They won't take it back, say it's been too long for their return policy. That money's lost," he took another sip of beer.

"Well, you know, if it's lost anyways…" you smiled, "I think I have an idea of what to do with it. but first," you raised your beer in a toast, "we do need to be a little drunker for this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few too many drinks later, you and Chris were stumbling in a park near his home.

"How do you know where we are?" he asked, before nearly tripping on his face, making you giggle as he managed to catch himself on a nearby tree.

"I've been here before," you explained, a little less drunk than he was but still positively buzzed. "It's really pretty."

"It is," he agreed, taking in the trees around you as you kept going. "It's also very isolated. Are you going to kill me?" he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"No," your loud laugh rang through the park, breaking the silence of the night. "I'm not gonna kill you. Promise. Now c'mon, we're nearly there!" you beckoned him to follow you as you ran forward.

The rest of the way went by quickly, the both of you striding hurriedly, or as hurriedly as your inebriated minds would allow, engulfed in the comforting silence of the night. Finally, you got to a clearing with a large lake.

The crescent moon reflected in the water, and the lake was shimmering slightly as the wind disturbed it. The only sounds were those of your slightly labored breath, the soft trickling of the water, and the occasional flap of a bird's wings. The silence surrounded you, but it wasn't suffocating, it was as clear as the water in front of you.

It was finally broken when Chris spoke up again.

"You got me drunk so you could drown me in a lake?"

You burst into another fit of laughter. "First of all," you said in between giggles, "if anyone got anyone drunk it's you convincing me to drun- drink."

It was his turn to laugh at your mix-up. "Shut up," you said, slapping his arm lightly. "Now c'mon. You have the ring, right?"

"Yep," he said, fishing it out of his pocket. "But why did you want me to bring it?"

"Well, the fact I'm not gonna drown you in the lake doesn't mean we're not drowning anything."

"My ex-fiancée?" his mouth dropped open into an o shape.

"No!" you facepalmed. "The ring. You're gonna throw the ring in the river!"

"I am?"

"God, I'm starting to think I got you too drunk," you rolled your eyes. "Okay. Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna think about your relationship. You're gonna reminisce about everything, good and bad, and you're gonna put it in this ring. In your head, of course," you added before he could chime in.

"So I can let go," he nodded in understanding.

"Exactly," you smiled. "We don't need romance. Fuck romance. Fuck forever. You're better than that!"

"Amen!" he said, toasting an invisible glass in the air, making you laugh once more. It was probably the alcohol, but you hadn't laughed like this in a while. It was fun to laugh loudly, freeing. You wondered why you didn't do it more often.

"Alright!" you clapped your hands once, shaking from your thoughts. "Let's get this show on the road!"

You both stepped closer to the lake, and then Chris held out his hand in front of him, his palm open with the ring on it. He stared at it intently for a few moments, then his gaze snapped up to meet yours and he nodded shortly. You didn't speak, you just reached out and closed his fingers around the ring, before stepping aside and gesturing for him to go ahead. He stared at his fist for another moment before taking a swing and throwing the ring as far as he could. You held your breath until you heard the sound of the ring hitting the water, which made you release a breath full of awe.

"You did it," you said softly.

"I did it," he slowly repeated. "I did it!" he yelled out and you laughed in surprise. "I did it!" he yelled again, and in a few short strides he was next to you, picking you up and spinning you around in celebration.

"Put me down!" you shouted at him between fits of laughter, "Lunatic!"

He put you down, grinning widely. "I can't believe I just threw that ring into the lake. That was so stupid."

"It kinda was," you laughed, breathless.

"It was your idea!"

"I know! It's still stupid," you kept laughing, nearly doubling over. "Felt good though, didn’t it?"

"It really did," he let out a bewildered laugh. "Fuck. It really did," he said, and started laughing, which made you start laughing again, and before you knew it you were both laying on the grass, laughing until your cheeks hurt.

"My cheeks hurt," you pouted.

"Awww, I'm sorry," he drawled, reaching out to pinch your cheek, making you swat his hand away, glaring at him. He just giggled again, laying on his back and looking up to the sky.

You laid back as well, staring up.

"I wish I knew something about the stars," he said out of the blue.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Oh, just anything. I don't know jack shit about 'em."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's Orion's Belt," you said, pointing up to a group of three stars. "So now you know that about the stars."

He said your name, making you turn your head to look at him. "You're a good friend," he smiled.

"You're a good friend too," you smiled back at him.

"No, I'm not. All I ever do is moan about my stupid ex."

"I'm sure she wasn't stupid," you reasoned.

"She was! She was stupid with two o's," he mumbled in disdain. You giggled at his words. "I'm not hung up on her," he continued. "I'm just… disillusioned. I thought she was the one. And now that she's gone… I don't know if there's gonna be a one. Which is sad. So I've been sad," he said matter-of-factly.

"I was sad too when I started thinking that," you whispered, sobering up a little. "But we don’t need 'a one', Chris. Romance is dead, but life goes on. We're on our own, but that doesn't mean we can't make the best of it."

"I spent so much of my life looking forward to spending the rest of my life with someone. And now that I realize that might not be the case… I guess I just realized that this is it. The rest of my life. I needed to throw that ring to make peace with that."

"Glad I could help," you gave him a half-smile, taking his hand in yours and giving it a small squeeze.

"Yeah," he returned a squeeze of his own, "me too."

"C'mon," you said, leaving his hand and getting up, before helping him to his feet as well. "We should get going."

You stumbled your way home, leaning on each other for some parts of the way. Sleepy and still a little buzzed, you finally got to his house, and he led you to the guest bedroom.

"Goodnight," he said, smiling.

"Goodnight," you whispered back, before he turned and walked up the stairs. You listened to him climb, and heard the sound of another set of footsteps, soft cooing coming from upstairs, and then heard the sound of a door closing.

Dodger, you thought with a smile, before closing your own door and plopping down on the bed.

In the last minutes of your wakefulness, you thought about how lucky dogs were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, are you dating him?"

"No!" you said indignantly, "have you listened to a single word I said?"

"Oh, so you're just not putting a label on it? you're a little too old for those games if you ask me, but suit yourself," your friend shrugged.

"Come on! He's just a friend," you huffed.

"If that's what you wanna tell yourself," she smirked, but then her look became more sincere. "Look, I know you. I know that every time we talk about him, you're happy. Why can't you admit that you like him?"

"I do like him, as a person! I like all of my friends!"

"You're impossible," she rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile.

"You're impossible," you retorted weakly before smiling at her.

"You know we all just want you to be happy, right? That's all we want."

"I know," you said softly, "and I appreciate it. I really do. But I am happy, on my own."

"If that's the case, then I'm happy for you," she sighed. "I don't want you to feel like a third wheel, especially with Sarah's wedding coming up. You're the last of us who hasn't tied the knot yet."

"I'll be fine at Sarah's wedding," you rolled your eyes.

"I know, I know," she raised her hands in surrender, "But I'm just saying, I know you're anti-romance, but I also know you're not anti-company. Maybe you should bring Chris. As your friend, if you insist" she added when she saw you open your mouth to object. "Just, you know, everyone's coming with someone, and I don't want you to sit alone."

"I appreciate you looking out for me, I do, but seriously, I think you're underestimating my social skills. You do realize I can talk to people I don't know, right?"

"I know," she huffed. "Just… consider it, okay? For me?"

"I'll think about it, I guess," you shrugged.

You had no intention of following through on that. Except, well, it did come up when you were talking to Chris.

"What are you doing Friday?" he asked, his voice mechanical through the phone. "I thought we could finally see that movie you're always talking about."

"Nope, can't do Friday," you said, the phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear as you were folding your laundry.

"Aw, that's a shame. I was really looking forward to you finally shutting up about it," he teased, making you chuckle. "What're you doing Friday then?"

"First of all, if you'd listen to me and see it, you wouldn't wanna shut up about it either, because it's awesome. Second, I'm going to a friend's wedding. I'm gonna sit aside, drink some wine, and make fun of all the drunk couples."

"Sounds like a real fun night," he teased.

"Yeah," you said sarcastically. "I am really happy for her though. I know she wanted it for a long time," you said, sincere now.

"Hey, um, if you want, maybe I could come laugh at drunk couples with you? So you'll have some company," he offered.

"Oh, you don't have to," you dismissed it, "I know it sounds like a bummer, but really, I'll be fine."

"No, really. No one should have to sit alone at weddings," he said.

"Another friend of mine told me that as well."

"Well then, this friend of yours is smart. Believe me, as a veteran of many sit-alone weddings myself, I can confirm it's indeed a huge bummer."

"Fine," you chuckled, "I guess if you want to come so badly you may," you said, making him laugh.

"Great, text me the details?"

"Yep," you smiled. "Talk to you later?"

"Sure, bye!"

You hung up the phone to get up and start putting all your clothes into the closet. After you were done with that, you sent Sarah a text to let her know you will be bringing a plus one at the end, asking her if that'd be okay.

Is it Chris????

Yeah

Then it's fine!! :)))

You chuckled to yourself and kept putting away your clothes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~      

The night of the wedding, as a close friend of the bride's, you arrived at the venue a couple of hours beforehand, along with all of your friends. Chris came some time after guests started to arrive, and it didn't take you long to spot him in the crowds, looking a bit lost. You excused yourself quickly from the conversation you were in with some of the groom's friends and went to greet him.

"Hey!" you waved as you walked towards him, "Chris!"

Grinning when he saw you, he also began moving towards you, until you finally met in the middle.

"I'm glad you could make it," you smiled.

"I am too," he said, "seems like a nice wedding."

"Yeah. C'mon, you're just in time. They're gonna start the ceremony soon," you explained as you grabbed his arm and started leading him towards your seats.

"Oh-kay," he chuckled as you dragged him forward with surprising determination.

As you took your seats, you waved at your friends, and they freaked out over Chris being there, but you paid no mind to them, as Chris was leaning towards you, whispering, "You know, for someone who doesn't seem to enjoy romance, you sure do seem excited about this wedding."

"Well, I'm happy for Sarah. I've learned that me and my friends have a different outlook on that, and that's fine, it's useless to argue about it or whatever. I'm just happy she's gonna have what she wanted, even if I don't really believe in it."

"So how does that work? If you don't think romance is real and bring joy then how come you're happy your friend has it?"

"Chris, if one of my friends told me they found a way to adopt a unicorn, I'd be happy for them, no questions asked. Everyone should do what they feel like," you shrugged. "Now shhhh, they should be starting every minute now."

The ceremony was a beautiful one, and Sarah looked gorgeous in her white dress. As she walked down the aisle with a beaming smile, Chris' words echoed in your mind.

If you don't think romance is real and bring joy then how come you're happy your friend has it?

Despite your quick answer, you didn’t really know. The short answer was the one you told Chris, but the long one…

For the longest time, you believed romance just wasn't durable. Wasn't real. But maybe you just didn't believe that you can have that kind of romance? You just never really had someone to challenge your perception like that, because no one ever took it seriously, they just told you you'd find your person.

But that wasn't something you wanted to think about now, so you filled it away for later.

"It was a beautiful ceremony."

You and Chris were a little far out from the dancing crowd, somewhere a little quieter, but you could still see the dance floor from the bench you had found.

"Yeah, it was," you agreed with him.

"Not beautiful enough to make you cry, I guess?" he teased.

"Ha ha. I don't cry at weddings."

"I could've guessed that," he chuckled. "So what do you usually do at weddings? I mean, all your friends are married, so I'm assuming you've been to quite a few."

"What I'm doing right now. Sitting aside and drinking," you raised your glass in mock salute before taking a generous sip.

"Solid plan," he nodded slightly. "So you've never like, danced at weddings or anything?"

"No," you frowned, shaking your head slightly, "Why would I? I'm not a dancer, really.

"Well, how 'bout we go and change that?"

"Excuse me now?"

"I'm just saying, if you're really happy for your friend, maybe you should show her that. Enjoy yourself."

"I am enjoying myself," you deadpanned.

"Do what people are meant to do at weddings," he rolled his eyes.

"I thought you were here to silently judge everyone with me. Don't make me regret inviting you," you jokingly waved your finger at him as if you were telling him off.

"That's still the plan. We could just probably still do that on the dance floor," he shrugged. "Your call."

There was a short-lived silence before you sighed. "Fine. One dance," you warned.

Getting up, he offered his arm to you, which you took, and you made your way o the dance floor. You started dancing to the end of the upbeat song that was playing, but just then it changed into something a little slower, and people were pairing up.

"This is the money time," Chris winked, and offered you his hand. You took it, almost instinctively, and you started dancing to the song, his other hand on your waist while yours was on his shoulder.

"What do you mean money time?" you whispered.

"Okay. We're gonna turn around, and you're gonna look at the couple that's gonna be behind me," he said, turning the both of you around casually as you danced.

"Oh my god," you suppressed your laughter. "That's… I don't even know what to say. Are they even a couple or is he her da- oh nope, he just kissed her on the lips. God," you grimaced as Chris laughed at your expression. "I at least hope he's rich for her sake."

You both chuckled, and it was only a couple of moments later that you gasped with a smile. "Don't be obvious cause they're pretty close, but look at the couple to my right."

"Oh shit," he chuckled. "Remind me not to go to any secluded corner of this wedding. These two are probably this close to running off to do things I definitely wouldn't wanna see."

"Right?" you said, amused, "They're practically eye fucking. Have some decency!"

You both laughed again, and then Chris nodded his head subtly in another direction. "Look at those two."

They were a couple that wasn't dancing, they were sitting at a table close to the dancefloor, their foreheads touching, seemingly murmuring to each other.

"Betcha they're the kind of couple who does the whole 'no you hang up!' thing," Chris continued with an amused grin.

"Oh they so are!" you burst into laughter. "They probably share a single spaghetti from both ends."

"Lady and the Tramp style," you both said at the same time, prompting you to tear your eyes from the couple and look at each other, giggling.

You continued dancing through the next song, and the next one, and the one after that. For pretty much the rest of the night, you two danced together, continuing to invent silly stories about the people you saw, laughing at each other's cheesy anecdotes.

When it was getting late and the party was winding down, Chris offered you a ride home, since he hasn't drunk, and you gratefully accepted. You came here with your friends, and they were all probably staying longer, but you were getting a little sleepy, so you decided to call it a night.

"Let's just go say goodbye to Sarah," you said and he nodded, letting you lead the way.

"Hey, I'm getting pretty tired, so we're gonna leave. Congratulations," you smiled once you had gotten to the table the happy couple was sitting at. As Chris was shaking the husband's hand, you had bent down to wrap your arms around Sarah in a tight hug.

"So you admit you're a 'we' now? You and Chris?" she teased, whispering in your ear.

"We're not," you rolled your eyes.

"Whatever you say," she smiled knowingly. "Thank you for coming," she said louder once you let go of her.

"It was a pleasure, congratulations," Chris smiled at the both of them, and you all gave your goodbyes.

On the way back, you were already lulling into sleep in the passenger's seat, and Chris smiled to himself.

"Chris," you mumbled from your half-asleep state.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For coming with me today. You're right. Dancing with you is better than sitting alone."

"Wow, what a compliment," he drawled sarcastically.

"Yeah, don't let it get to your head buddy," you chuckled, before shifting around in your seat so your head was leaning on the window. "Can you wake me up when we get there?"

"Sure," he smiled, "Sweet dreams."

"Thanks," you yawned.

When you got to your house, Chris gently nudged your shoulder a few times to wake you up. You woke up, confused for a second, but quickly regained your composure and thanked him for the ride.

You went into the house, barely changing out of your dress before plopping down on the bed.

It was kind of weird, honestly. Usually, no matter how tired you were, you wouldn't manage to fall asleep in a car, or a plane. Even a bed that wasn't yours was sometimes harder to sleep in.

But you were in your own bed now, so you didn't have a lot of time to mull that over before you sunk into a deep sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

"Hey," Chris greeted over the phone one Monday.

"Hi! How's it going?" you smiled.

"Fine. I mean, actually, do you wanna come over?"

"Right now?" you frowned.

"I mean, why not? Have the Monday chat in person."

"Um, sure. Yeah, I'll be over in a bit," you said. Hanging up, you didn't think too much of his invitation. He sounded fine, and he said he was. He was probably just being nice.

Soon enough you were knocking at his front door. It opened to reveal a very excited Dodger pouncing on you, and you giggled as you crouched down to pet him. "Yeah, hi Dodger! How's the cutest boy doing?"

"Ouch," Chris joked from the doorstep.

"Hello to you too, I guess," you said dryly, but with a grin on your face.

You all went inside, and Dodger went straight to his bed, curling up. "Your knock woke him up," Chris explained, smiling at the sight.

"Oh, sorry," you gave him a small smile.

"It's fine. As you can see, he has no problem going right back to sleep," he chuckled.

"Yeah," you giggled. "Is everything okay? I mean, is there a reason you wanted me to come except to enjoy my magnificent presence?" you teased.

"Well, that was mostly it," he laughed, "but actually, I did want to talk to you about something. Wanna go outside?"

"Um, sure," you said, frowning slightly before forcing yourself to smile again.

You stepped outside into his garden, sitting in the big lawn chairs.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" you asked, turning your head to look at him.

"That's Orion's Belt, right?" he evaded, pointing at a group of stars in the night sky.

"I'm pretty sure it is," you shrugged.

For a moment, you were both quiet.

"I've changed my mind," Chris started. "This isn't the rest of my life. It's just my life."

"Okay," you said, not getting where he was going with this.

"You know, all these cheesy couples we made fun of at Sarah's wedding? I think they have it right."

"How come?"

"They realized that romance isn't about forever. It's about right here, right now. It’s in the little things. I've been so opposed to romance lately, and I was constantly thinking about how I wouldn't have a forever, so much so that I forgot what's going on now."

"And what's that?" you asked softly.

"Something much simpler than that. Happiness."

You stared at each other in silence, a slight frown still on your face.

"You make me happy," Chris admitted in a soft voice. "You make me really happy. And I don't want to lose your friendship, but I have to ask you this, because otherwise I don't think I'd forgive myself. Do you really not believe in romance? At all?"

"I don't know," you whispered. Clearing your throat, you continued a bit louder. "I don't believe in everyone's version of it. The happily ever after, forever. I don't need anyone to complete me either."

"There's always a middle road. Maybe not everyone has someone, and we don’t need romance, but that doesn't mean we're not allowed to want it. We shouldn't have to sit alone at weddings," he said sincerely. After a breath, he continued. "I'm not asking you for forever. I don't want to. But I want to ask you for now. And I don't think I'd complete you, just like you don't complete me. But you do make my life a whole lot better."

"Chris, you know I'm not looking for anything, I told you that when we met," you said weakly.

"I know. I also wasn't looking for anything. And yet I found… something. And I'd be a coward not to pursue it. We can make our own kind of romance; not a happily ever after, but a happy here and now. No big cheesy gestures, or unreasonable promises, just… being together. And that means I can't promise you it'll work, that it'll be perfect. Hell, it'll probably be messy, and hard, and mundane, at times, but that's how life is. But I can promise I'll try. And even if it doesn't work out, I'm willing to regret you for the rest of my life."

You thought back to every romantic relationship you've had. Every date you've been on. A lot of them were disappointing, but some of them were good.

None of them made you as happy as being with Chris did. Not one of your actual dates managed to top just hanging out with Chris. You didn't know why, but you felt safe with him, like you can be entirely yourself. You felt happy.

You didn't want to risk that. You didn't want to lose that. But what if taking this one risk would make it all that much better? You thought back to all of your friends, how happy they were with their significant other, how in love. What if putting your heart out on the line, for the first time in a long while, would make you happier than you had ever imagined?

Of course, it could also make you devastated. It could crush you. But that's the risk, isn't it?

There isn't any other person you'd rather take that leap with, you realized. In the few months you knew Chris, he already managed to become one of your favorite people in the entire world. You trusted him, cared about him, more than you'd let yourself realize up until now. And like he said, not exploring that would make you a coward. And you're not.

You took a deep breath. Chris gave you the time you needed, simply looking at you softly.

"I haven't dated anyone in a while. I might be rusty," you chuckled finally.

"I'm willing to take those odds," he smiled. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes," you nodded, a grin slowly making its way onto your face. "If there's anyone I would do this with, it's you," you admitted softly.

He grinned, getting up from his chair and extending his hand out to you, and you accepted. Gently, he pulled you up on your feet, using his momentum to bring you to stand closer to him and wrapping his other arm around your waist. Slowly, you two inched closer, until, finally, his lips were on yours.

There weren't fireworks, or butterflies. There was just this moment, right here, right now. No doubts, or hesitations, it was peaceful. It felt right.

This moment was all you could ever ask for. All you'd ever need.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You look so beautiful in the mornings," Chris murmured, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck.

"You too. Happy birthday," You whispered back, weaving your fingers into the hairs on the nape of his neck. He hummed in response, and you giggled, feeling it tickling your neck.

You laid there for a while more, just basking in each other's company. But when you looked at the clock, you started nudging Chris away from you. "We should get up," you said softly, "We have a party to prepare for."

"The party's not until the evening," he whined, "Stay in bed," he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him.

You ended up leaving the bed at noon, eating a big lunch before tidying up for the party. A few minutes later, you slipped away, to set up your surprise.

"Hey Chris?" you called from the other room, "Can you just come over here for a second?"

"Coming!"

He entered to find you and Dodger in matching little party hats, and you were holding one out for him too.

"Wow!" he burst into laughter, putting the party hat on his head. "What's all this for?"

"I thought we should celebrate a little before the guests arrive," you shrugged. "And, you know, Dodger looks so cute in that little hat."

"He does," Chris cooed. "How did you manage to put it on him? He would never let me put anything."

"Well, he just likes me more," you smirked. Chris scoffed amusedly. "Okay fine," you rolled your eyes, "I may have bribed him with a treat."

Dodger's ears perked up at the word and you both laughed at the suddenly interested dog.

"I shouldn't have said that," you giggled.

"Probably," he agreed. "Thank you," you put his arm on the small of your back, nudging you closer to his side.

"You're welcome. Happy birthday," you smiled, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his lips. He cupped your cheek in his hand, deepening the kiss, but before it could get any further Dodger was barking and putting his front paws on the both of you.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get jealous. We love you too," you and Chris laughed, petting his head affectionately.

Honestly that day was a perfectly normal day for you and Chris. Being in love for the two of you didn't mean big highs and lows. You had your moments, but most of the time, it was just this peaceful bliss.

Later that night, the party was already in full swing. You and Chris separated from each other at some point, but you were making the rounds, so you knew sooner or later you'd meet up again.

In the small crowd, it was easy to spot your friends, sitting with the same group they did last year. You smiled to yourself, going up and greeting everyone warmly.

"How's everyone doing?" you asked, sitting down for a moment.

There was a chorus of "fine"s and "good"s before the conversation continued. You joined in, talking to your friends and catching up with the other group.

"Hey," Chris' voice was suddenly next to you. He came up and wrapped his arms around you from behind, talking softly next to your ear. "I'm gonna get myself another beer. You want anything as well?"

"Um, yeah. Can you bring me one too?"

"Sure," he smiled.

You tilted your head so you could reach and kiss his cheek, "Thanks."

As he walked away, you turned your attention back to the rest of the group, only to find them all looking at you with knowing grins.

"I thought you didn't do romance," said the woman you had spoken to last year, a teasing smile on her face.

"I didn't. I guess I changed my mind," you smiled softly, watching Chris’ back as he dissappeared into the kitchen.

Maybe romance wasn’t so bad after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

did you catch the three references? tell me:)) i hope you like it, and if you stuck through this entire story, thank you so so much for reading!! as always, i’d love to hear your thoughts, and remember to stay hydrated and take care of yourself<3 happy chris day!!

special shoutout for @animnerd who gave me some motivation when i needed it<3 

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash @imvivian

Chris & co. taglist: @patzammit

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[darling-i-read-it]

Jealousy

Will Graham x reader, slight Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 2.2k 

Warnings: talks of murder, corpses, crime scenes 

Author’s Note: besties you need to stop giving me freedom to chose the endings because i am SO biased. I hope you all enjoy regardless and didn’t mind that I bunched these two requests together because they’re so similar! 

Requested: by anon, Hey i don’t know if you’re still taking Hannibal requests but if you are can you do something where both Will and Hannibal have a crush on the reader? The reader would be the only one who doesn’t know about the two men having a crush on her and one day the reader hangs out alone with one of them (could be Will or Hannibal) and the other gets jealous? It could end in the reader choosing one of them. (your choice)

Requested: by anon, AHHH i’m so nervous to write a request even tho this a anon😅 I never done a request but if you could do something where both Hannibal and Will take an interest in the reader? It could just be a thing where both of them try to impress the reader who remains oblivious to their affections. And during the entire thing they get jealous of each other and try to one up each other in gifts. If you want you could end it with them being polyamorous or the reader choosing one of them, i don’t really care my main focus id just the jealousy lol😅

Summary: the requests! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You nodded gently, putting your fingernail between your teeth. You circled the corpse, giving it a careful eye as Beverly spoke over your thoughts. 

“We believe it was murder, obviously,” she said. 

“It’s just been a bitch trying to figure out how she was murdered,” Zeller commented. He was sitting on one of the stools, his hands resting on his thighs. 

“Keep working on it,” Jack said, hand resting on the cold metal table. 

“I think we should try and talk to the mom again. I feel like she knows more than she’s letting on,” you muttered. Will and Hannibal watched you as you moved to the head of the body, looking directly down at it. 

“I want to go to the crime scene again,” Will said. You looked up and met his eyes, nodding a bit. You knew the toll that it took on him so you preferred him to offer up his abilities, rather than ask him. 

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Hannibal asked. Yours and Will’s eyes floated to Hannibal who was standing at the corner of the room. This wasn’t his crime, he wasn’t sure what Will would find. 

“I’m sure,” Will said sturtly and then turned around, walking out of the room. Hannibal watched as your gaze followed Will until he was out of sight and then you turned back to the corpse. 

“I’ll drive you to the mothers house,” Hannibal suggested. You nodded and took your hands off the metal, walking over to him.

“Thank you.” 

The two of you left quickly after that, leaving Bev, Zeller, Price and Jack in the room alone. Beverly pretended to check something on her clipboard before looking up at everyone.

“You all felt that tension too, right?” Overlapped responses came.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.” 

“When did that happen?” 

Beverly shrugged and learned against the wall. She tried to follow you and Hannibal as you left the morgue but you were already long gone.

“Who do you think she’s gonna pick?” Bev asked. 

“I say let the best man win!” Price commented. 

“We have a case here lady and gentlemen,” Jack said, pretending he too wasn’t invested. Everyone else shared one more look and then turned around, getting back to their duties. 

=====

Hannibal sat promptly in his chair, legs crossed and looking at Will who sat across from him. Will had an open stance as he looked around the room he had been in a couple of times before. 

“How was your week? Let’s start there,” Hannibal said gently, prompting Will to start talking. Will was usually filled to the brim with sarcastic comments but he never wanted to delve any deeper than that. Unless he was talking about other people's murders. 

“Um, it was fine,” he said, trying to figure out what to say. “Y/N came over last night and made dinner. It was nice to have someone over.” Hannibal was able to mask his feelings very well but Will caught a little bit of disdain. 

“That’s nice. Do you see her often?” 

“Sometimes. She’s nice and likes to see the dogs.” Hannibal saw you yesterday as well, when the two of you went to interview the mother again. Hannibal offered a nice face to the woman and it ended up getting you somewhere with her. 

“She is very kind,” Hannibal commented. 

“Do you see her often Dr. Lecter?” Will asked. 

“On occasion. She comes over for dinner. She used to be a patient but she’s been doing well.”

“Glad to hear you have some success stories.” 

That was the day that Will and Hannibal realized they were competing and they hadn’t known it. They weren’t even sure that you knew it but they understood that the other had feelings for you. 

Sure, ultimately it was up to you in the end but it was then they decided they would have to get to you first. Will was a little unhinged and confused. Hannibal was a little insane and unsettling. 

Just depended on who was going to be able to play the right cards. 

=====

You sat beside Hanniabl at his dinner table. You had a few of the case papers out in front of you, next to your plate of food. Hannibal was flipping through them as well. He was trying to help you out while also getting you to enjoy a nice meal. 

You ate the last bite of the food and showed Hannibal one of the pictures. 

“Do you think this looks like she’s been dead for a couple of months? I know water can wash away evidence and stuff but it definitely doesn’t look like she’s been dead for months,” you said. Hannibal took the picture from you and looked it over. 

“I can’t say I disagree with you.” You took the picture back.

“This is really good by the way. Thank you for letting me intrude on your dinner,” you said laughing a bit. He shook his head. 

“Of course. I’m glad you enjoy it, I know it can be an acquired taste.” 

“I really enjoy everything you make. How do you say it? It’s growing my pallet,” you said smiling. He nodded pleasantly. It was always nice to make sure people were listening. You looked like you were about to say something else when your phone dinged. At first you ignored it but then it dinged again. “I’m sorry,” you muttered and then picked up the phone. You read a couple of messages and laughter bubbled from your mouth. Hannibal immediately felt a stab of jealousy but it didn’t show on his face. “Sorry, Will just sent me something about the case. I actually have to go see him later tonight, I should probably get out of your hair.” 

Hannibal shook his head. 

“You’re always welcome here, I hope you know that.” You smiled and nodded but still put the papers together in a neat stack.

“Don’t say that, I’ll abuse my privileges.” You stood up and put the stack of papers in your arms. “Thank you again Hannibal. I’ll call you?” He nodded, standing up as well and taking your plate. 

“Of course. Have a nice night and say hello to Will for me.” You nodded and waved as you turned to leave. 

Hannibal turned to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. He started to wash them and after a moment he found he had been washing his hands dry. 

====

“You really didn’t have to drive me. I can drive myself,” Will said from the passenger seat of your car. You waved him off, shaking your head. 

“Please Will, I can drive you around all I want. Plus, I wanted to see Hannibal anyway. Don’t worry I won’t intrude on your session. I brought a book.” You held your book up in front of him and he nodded slightly. 

Why did you wanna see Hannibal? He decided not to ask. 

You got out of the car and followed Will inside to Hannibal’s office. Hannibal opened the door, as though he had been listening and waiting for your arrival. His smile grew at the sight of you. 

“I was hoping to run into you. I boxed some leftovers from last night because you enjoyed them so much,” Hannibal explained. 

“You went over to Hannibals’ last night?” Will asked. He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so accusatory but it did. You shrugged.

“I went for dinner and he helped me with some case notes.” You remained completely oblivious to the tension in the room. He handed you a box that he grabbed from his desk and you nodded happily. “Thank you so much! I will cherish this,” you joked. You turned to Will. “Have a nice session boys, I’ll be in the car.” 

  They both nodded and waved goodbye to you as you left the room. The tension did not leave with you. 

====

The morgue did not smell any better the next time you were in it. You were alone with just Bev this time as you compared notes on the cause of death. She and the guys were still in the process of figuring it out but it had been a busy couple of days.

“Yeah that’s kind of what Price was saying. I don’t know, I’ll look into it more and get back to you,” she said as you showed her some notes. You nodded and put your notepad back in your bag. 

“Alright, keep me posted.” You stood up from your chair and stretched a bit. You and Beverly were pretty good friends outside of work as well so she had been dying to ask you about Hannibal and Will.

“So...how’s it going with Hannibal and Will?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. You gave her a confused look.

“Huh?” She scoffed.

“You’re kidding right?” You gave her a look and she laughed dryly. “You seriously don’t know? Those guys are head over heels for you. Come on, you had to have noticed how jealous they get when you talk to them. It literally fills the room with tension,” she explained. You shook your head slowly. It took you a moment but the realization hit you. You had to sit back down. 

“Oh my God, I’ve been so head first in this case I didn’t even notice,” you said, laughing a bit.

“Well! Who’s gonna take the cake? Come on, we’re running bets here in the morgue.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you bet on?” She gave you a look. “Come on!” 

“Will,” she fessed up. You stood up. 

“Go get your money Katz.” A prideful look went over her face and she nodded. 

“Alright then. You better go get your man.” 

======

You knocked on Will’s door that night. You teetered back and forth on the porch, wondering if Beverly had been wrong. She could have read the signs wrong. Heck, you read the signs wrong at first. You were about to walk off the porch when Will opened the door, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hi,” he said, blinking quickly.

“Oh my gosh did I wake you? I’m sorry, I am running on case time,” you said, suddenly feeling very apologetic. He shook his head. 

“No, don’t worry about it. Do you need something?” You doubted yourself again but figured that if you were going to do it you had to do it now. 

“I just...Beverly said something and I...do you wanna go to dinner? Like together? Like as a couple?” You were trying to get the words out so they didn’t sound awkward. Will rubbed his eyes some more and then his hand dropped. He smirked a bit. 

“Yeah. I would really like that.” 

“Okay! Okay. Good, good. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow once you get some rest,” you said. He nodded happily. 

“I look forward to it.” 

“Me too.” 

You turned around and he shut the door and a wall away from each other. You were both smiling wildly. Will almost called Hannibal and bragged but he went to sleep. He would find out eventually. 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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

rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

a luminous love || tom holland x reader

a/n: I feel like I should apologise for the length of this. I was not intending for it to be as long as it’s ended up, but I hope that doesn't put anyone off! there is also a follow up of this planned: the subsequent road-trip. both are definitely stand alone’s but there will be a few casual nods to this fic throughout. i’m thinking of doing a couple shorter blurb style fics as these longer ones take up a bit more time to plan and write. also looking to delve into my angsty side after doing so many slice of life, fluff pieces. let me know what you think, thank you all for reading and being amazing as always! come chat! x  

word count: 2556 warnings: alcohol use summary: its the annual summer BBQ extravaganza at the holland household

The patio doors were wide open, folded in on themselves as shimmering golden sunlight enveloped the kitchen. Sunbeams glinted off the mirrors and glass surfaces, rainbows dancing around the open space. Light music was playing from a portable speaker, the birds chirping along to the soothing tones. You could hear voices all talking over one another, loud laughter and a dog barking. From your position in the hallway you could see people sheltering in the shaded kitchen from the sweltering heat that was London on a glorious summer day. Bodies filtered in and out through the large open space, congregating both inside and out. You felt a gentle squeeze of your hand. Taking your eyes off the crowded room and glancing up, you saw tom had rested his bag in the hallway, and was waiting for you to do the same. “You okay?” he asked, as you stepped out of your trance and copied Tom’s actions, “It’s only the family, you’ve met them before - and a couple family friends...” he trailed off. “Oh.No, I’m excited I promise!” you reassured him. Tom grasped your shoulders, spinning you round slightly so you were standing directly in front of him, your bodies touching. His smile widened, pressing a feather light kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.” You leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes quickly as you soaked up the closeness. You picked up the discarded gift bag, lost in amongst the jumble of things you and Tom had brought in for your quick stay at the Holland household. He entwined your fingers together, rubbing the back of your hand slightly with his thumb before jerking his head questioningly, ready to face the onslaught? you nodded, grinning. Pulling him in close beside you, he stretched his entwined hand across the back of your neck and up over your shoulder casually. “You weren’t having a summer Holland BBQ without your favourite, right?!” he bellows, as you both appear in the kitchen entry way. A myriad of eyes darted over to the pair of you, everything stilling for a millisecond. Even Tessa dropped her ball. Then the place erupted. “Oh honey!” “Ayy, about time guys.” “Favourite? yeah right!” “Only in your dreams you div.” “Oh look who he brought!! Thank god, I needed someone to talk about...” “My favourite non-Holland!” The cacophony of voices echoed around the room, people whooping and hollering before finishing their previous conversations. With another light squeeze, you feel the weight of Tom’s arm disappear from around you. His fingers ghosted across your back before he was hugging his brothers, pulling out high fives and fist bumps. You found yourself immediately enveloped into a perfume filled, soft hug, Nikki running a hand through your hair complimenting the slightly lighter colouring, “- I’m so glad you could both make it! I was worried you’d miss out what with your trip but it looks like we were just in time.” You were heading on a road-trip up to Scotland to visit your family since Tom had some proper free time off work, him wanting to drive and explore some pretty hidden routes with you. You’d decided to stop off for a night at his family’s house before heading off the next again morning. “We wouldn’t miss it! Yearly tradition and all, also it’s just a wee thing but please just accept it no questions.” Nikki pulls a face at the gift bag, “You don’t have to do that, you’re family - no need for gifts!” You can feel yourself falling into a grin at the comment before thanking her for letting you stay the night and for the amazing spread. You hear the pitter patter of tiny feet on the tiled floor, before your four-legged friend jumped up on her hind legs, tail thumping the ground and front legs pawing at yours. “Oh hi baby, hi Tess!” you coo softly, kneeling on one knee to stretch behind her ear and rub her belly as she continued to hop on her back legs, her tongue sticking out to lick your face.   Her ears suddenly pricked at a whistle, and both your heads turned as she noticed Tom - immediately forgetting about you and bounding over to him. He sticks his tongue out at you menacingly. You rolled your eyes, grinning as you stand back up again. Nikki leading you to a group of people gathered around the island, “Anyway! Let’s get you a drink and introduce you to some friends! Tell us how you’ve been, it’s been so long.” //// You were laughing with the twins, watching Paddy show some of his new football tricks. Tessa was trying to get in on the action, pink tongue hanging out as she ran around you all. You’d already been handed plenty of drink, a table set up in the corner of the kitchen with every kind of spirit laid out for guests to help themselves to. Massive beer crates were stacked next to the fridge, clearly on a rotation. You had met and talked with so many family friends already, before the groups dispersed and you were waved over by some familiar faces. The boys were taking up a whole section of the garden with their games. Far away from the BBQ and food, as directed by Dom. “What do you say to a game of beer pong?” Harry asked you, shaking out some of the curls that were beginning to stick to his forehead in the sweltering sunshine, “Bet a tenner I’ll sink you.” You laugh, smirking, “Alright kids, you’re on!” He groaned, “I hate that nickname, you’re older than us by literally two months!” Paddy acts as referee as you and Sam pair up against Harry and Harrison who were already squabbling about each other’s techniques. As you watched your last shot dive into the cup, bopping about slightly, you cheer loudly. The competition, beer drinking and sun already heating up your cheeks, staining them pink. You hug Sam in celebration and made a beeline to Harrison for a commiseration’s handshake-turned-hug, hearing Harry to have it out with his twin next to you.   “Cough up, bro.” You held out your hand upright as Harry begrudgingly slapped the ten pounds into your hand. You all start laughing as Harry downs the last cup, not before sloshing it all down himself. //// You’re lounging in a deckchair, listening to some childhood stories of the boys until you feel a shadow block your sun. “Hey darling, you alright?” He hands you two platefuls of food before pulling up an empty deckchair beside you. “Hey! So good. Warning I’ve definitely had more than my fair share of your gross beer.” You thank him for the food, pressing a soft and quick kiss to his cheek as he chuckled at you. He had already taken to the sun, his face now painted with a sun kissed glow. You take a minute, swallowing slightly as you take him in. The food plates resting on your lap, he lounges back slightly, a bottle of beer in one hand. Tess immediately jumps into his shorts clad lap, his striped linen shirt was unbuttoned and his dog tags shifted as she lay down, panting and eyes softly blinking in the sun, mouth upturned as if she was smiling. “You look good.” You whisper as you pass across his food, trying to avoid Tess’s eager snout as you did so. He quirks an eyebrow, “Oh really?” he laughs, “How many beers have you had exactly?” “Well, I played beer pong with your brothers...” He nods his head in understanding, smirking at the slight wobble in your voice. “Did you win?” “You bet I did!” The hand that was resting on Tess’s back he instead used to high-five you, laughing as he turned his head in search of his brothers. That same hand now resting on your bare thigh comfortably as his leg leant against yours. “Well, if you’ve got another round in you later...we can beat them again?” You agree enthusiastically, knowing that you’d be at a slight disadvantage seeing as the sun and alcohol was already going to your head, but that Tom would carry your team easily. More people gather round the two of you with their plates of food, engaging in conversation about golf, work, filming etc kindly including you in their conversations as you munched on your food, hoping it would soak up a little bit of the alcohol. You soon found yourselves back indoors, stomachs nice and full, as you took a break from the sun. Tom was leaning back into the arm of the sofa, wrapping his arm around your back and resting it on the opposite side of you, pulling you super close. He was talking animatedly to the man on his left, one of Dominic’s friends that you’d been introduced to earlier. You were fiddling with Toms tags, lightly dragging them back and forth on their chain as he conversed about his latest job. “I found it!” Nikki announced as she made her way over to the sofa, everyone shifting up as she squeezed in-between you and Harrison’s girlfriend, who you’d been chatting with on the opposite side of the couch. Tom groaned. “Not another one mum! I’m surprised you still have any left to show at this point.” Nikki ignored his objections before pulling open the photo album, and immediately you were taken in by the cute small toddler in a variety of places around the house; in the bath, under the christmas tree, in his high chair with chocolate birthday cake all round his face, outside in the grass on a blanket - giant smile plastered across his little face. Tom had rested his chin on your head, peeking over you. His cold tags making your back flinch slightly at the change in temperature. you cooed and laughed along with her as she took you through the book, telling you stories about her eldest, mischievous son. You could feel the vibrations against you as he laughed at different pictures, his mum leaning across to ruffle his hair. “You two would have the cutest kids, I’m just saying-“ Nikki blurted out. Tom groaned and immediately pulls himself and you up off the couch, “-I’m just saying! Tom!” “Oh, here we go! Mum you’re cut off,” he says laughing, guiding you back out into the sunshine, and past the BBQ, “Dad, mums at it again.” Dom sighs, then laughs before heading inside, “What has got into her!”   You stifle a giggle, Tom with a hand on either shoulder his body pressed flush against you as he propelled you through the throng of people gathered round a fire pit, and led you back to the beer pong table. “Please ignore everything my mother just said.” You spin around quickly so you’re chest to chest. Bringing a hand up to cup the back of his neck as you pull him down just slightly, whispering in his ear, “Whilst we’re definitely not ready for kids yet, I’m definitely not against some practice in techniques...are you?” He pulls his head back sharply, golden eyes coming to life in the glittering sun. His entire face breaks out into a smile, “You’re such a tease, move it!” 

Spinning you back around, he presses you forward brushing your hair behind your shoulder as he sinks some light kisses into the side of your neck, as you both continue towards the beer pong. You pretend to shove him off, his breath tickling your cheek. 

“PDA! PDA! Ew, get a room guys!” Paddy jokes, cupping his hand around his mouth and announcing to the garden. “What are you, twelve?! That’s it Pads!” Tom suddenly bounds away from you, leading to a chase as Paddy runs nimbly around the garden; dodging people, chairs, cups and plates - Tom hot on his heels. You burst out laughing, shaking your head as Tom lifted Paddy, chucking him over his shoulder. You sat yourself down on the dry grass, waiting for the boys to finish their play fighting. As you do, you feel a soft body lean itself against you, tail hitting off your legs. “Hey baby,” you murmur, clapping and stoking Tess as she lay belly up in the sun, “Whose a clever girl?” //// “Here.” You sit up, having been lying on the grass since the latest beer pong match which led to copious amounts of drinking games. You’d questioned if the world would stop spinning if you lay down, a chorus of laughter coming from the boys and their friends.  Tom passes you a glass of ice-cold water which you gratefully take, before hunkering down next to you himself, sitting with his knees up and his arms clasped around them. You take a couple sips before balancing your cup in the tufts of grass, he opens up one of his arms and you cuddle into him. “Your brothers suck,” you joke, the water chasing away your light headache. He laughs. “Thank you for pushing our trip back to fit this in,” You rest your head on his shoulder and look out at all the people, still having a great time despite the fact the sun was slowly disappearing below the trees. “Tom. Of course, my folks completely understand. I love your family and you don’t always get the time off to see them. What’s one extra day, hm?” He turns his face to look at you and you lift your head off his shoulder. You had a spattering of pink across your cheekbones and nose, your freckles peeking out. Your hair was falling out of its messy half up-do. yes twinkling as you looked up at him through your lashes. His hand brushed against your hair and the side of your face before he tilted your chin upwards and took your mouth in his, brushing his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss, letting him press soft clusters of kisses on your nose and cheekbones. You laugh and bring him back to the centre. “I love you,” he announced, taking a breath before kissing you again - you unconsciously reached for the back of his neck to pull yourself in closer. “I love you too.” you sigh, shifting yourself to now lie between Toms’ legs. letting him whisper soothing words into your ears, of all the places you were going to visit on your trip.

“Oi lovebirds,” Harry comes bouncing over to the two of you. Tom leaning back on his elbows as you sit comfortably between his legs, him tightening them around you.

“I took these. Thought you might like them. Who’d of thought? You guys actually look really cute.” You hit his arm, as he dramatically yelps and rubs at the attacked area.

He held out the polaroid’s as Tom balanced on one elbow, shifting his weight to the left as he reached out and took the pictures.

“These are actually sick Haz, thanks bro!” He shifts back, sitting up with your back pressed flush to his stomach as he brought his arms round for you both to look at the small collection of photographs Harry had taken throughout the day.

You smile wide at the joy and love plastered on your faces, a tiny miniature you beaming up at your goofy boyfriend squinting in the sunlight. You feel Tom’s arms wrap around you tighter. breathing each other in, you feel him relax behind you, you trace patterns along his sun kissed skin with your fingers as the sun begins to paint the sky in gorgeous oranges and pinks.