#anyways fingers crossed tomorrows rehearsal goes better than. that. not that it should be hard but yiiikes

[lexalovesbooks]

Tomorrow/Friday is the anniversary of one of the weirdest days of my life, yippee!

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

10. Is something wrong?" And 11. “Is there anything I can do to help?” For boggie or rebuke

hey you know how i just sent you the mystery rebuke fic? yeah it turns out it was your ask that prompted it. anyway here you go apparently all i can write is rebuke cuddles on the studio couch.

you're the swimmer with pockets of stones | rebuke | G | 2.3k

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Bobby doesn't mean to let it show during practice. Usually, he's pretty good at keeping all this stuff under the surface, smoothed and hidden, layered over with a mixture of standoffishness and charm that tends to turn people in the other direction than whatever's going on for him internally.

Concerningly, he might be getting close enough to the boys that they can start to tell. This wasn't his intention, initially — the music thing has always been about gaining a reputation, some sort of following, maybe getting famous one day, and he really does believe in the music Luke Patterson writes, thinks it could really get them somewhere. But he didn't necessarily intend to get to know the members of the band like he has. Didn't expect for one of them to move into his studio, for sure,

It's not like he wasn't intending on getting to know them at all . It's just that he didn't anticipate how quickly Reggie would tilt his head, narrow his eyes, and ask, "Is something wrong?" when Bobby misses his entry spot for the fourth time in a row.

"No," Bobby barks, and it's a little sharp. Alex and Luke both give him equally sharp glares back. They all know they don't talk to Reggie like that. Immediately, Bobby amends, "Sorry, Reg. Just scattered today. Not your fault."

Not your fault . The mantra of apologising to Reggie. Swallowing and trying to take it on board (Bobby can see it, can see Reggie telling himself that it's okay, that Bobby didn't mean it, that not everything is his fault, that's why they always remind him, that everything's okay, over and over, because all these things show very easily on Reggie's face when you know where to look for them and how to read them) Reggie says lightly, "Yeah, no worries."

"We can try something else?" Alex suggests carefully, tone still crystal in a way that lets Bobby know he’s fucked up but Alex is choosing to let it slide. "Luke said he wanted to go over Long Weekend again before the gig on Friday."

"That's a good idea," Luke agrees. "We're more familiar with that one and besides, I just sorta wanted to see how this new song sounds out loud. We won't have it ready for Friday."

They totally could have it ready for Friday. Bobby knows he's being the weak link here.

So he tries extra hard for Long Weekend . Really does his best to nail all the timing, all the pitch, throws in a few improvisational notes just to make Luke grin over at him, delighted and surprised, because Luke might seem like a control freak but he actually loves to collaborate more than anything else in the world.

It just sucks that the rest of the rehearsal can't go as well as that does. Bobby fades in and out, his eyes scramble the music on the page, and before he knows it, Luke is calling things off, saying they can catch up tomorrow, that this isn't going to work itself out tonight, clearly .

It stings a little, but Luke's not wrong. Bobby, master of keeping his face neutral, can barely keep his eyes open even though he knows they're lying to him, even though he knows that he's going to be stuck wide awake the moment he lays his head back against anything and tries to sleep, because that's how it's been for weeks now.

The Mercers never let Alex stay over any more, not since he came out (and it sucks, and Bobby kinda hates them even though he and Alex aren’t all that close), so he packs up his sticks and the homework books he'd left scattered in the corner ready to head home. Alex says his goodbyes mostly like normal, though his eyes linger on Bobby, narrow and a little too insightful for Bobby’s liking.

Bobby replies, and to his own ears he sounds pretty normal, which is why he doesn't understand when Reggie and Luke exchange glances over the top of Bobby's head as soon as Alex is gone.

“What’s gotten into you, man?” Luke asks, ditching his guitar in favour of sitting cross-legged on top of the table in the centre of the room, across from where Bobby sits on the couch. “You’ve been acting kinda weird for a while, but this is a new level of weird.”

“I’m fine,” Bobby grits out. He feels cornered, the way that Luke is sitting there, and Reggie’s hovering awkwardly between Bobby and the door, hands behind his head, probably stretching out his fingers if Bobby knows him well enough, which he does.

How did he end up knowing them so well? And why are they pushing so hard to find out what’s going on with him? He hates this conversation. He wants it to be over.

He wants to sleep.

“Dude,” says Reggie quietly, “you weren’t acting like yourself at all today. Like, yourself is always a little weird,” he says, like a joke, but he looks a little scared, like he might be stepping over the line. But it’s Reggie, so Bobby allows it.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to us about it,” adds Luke hopefully. “We’re your friends.”

“Right,” Bobby says, rubbing his eyes, “because you’re so honest with us about everything, is that it?”

“Well – hey, that doesn’t seem fair,” Reggie interrupts, tone a little protective. “We’re not talking about Luke right now. If we want to stage a Luke-tervention later, we can, but—”

“A what?” Luke says, baffled.

“Like an intervention,” Reggie explains, in an exasperated tone, like this really should be obvious, “but for you.”

“Oh,” says Luke, nodding like that actually did clear it up.

They’re idiots. Bobby wishes they weren’t making him smile. Maybe he’s just delirious. He listens to them banter for a few more minutes and feels himself slipping, feels the way the room is spinning a bit around him. Knows he won’t be able to sleep, feels it in the ache in his body, but it hurts anyway, how bad he wants it. How much he wants to be able to reach behind the veil and pull the sleep to him, pull it over him like a blanket.

His bandmates are suddenly on either side of him, like they’re ready to catch him if he falls, Reggie’s voice cautious as he says, “Bobby? You good, man? You looked woozy for a sec.”

"Tired," is all Bobby manages. His voice comes out a little strangled.

"Yeah," says Luke, in a sort of punched-out voice that makes Bobby think Luke understood more than Bobby meant him to. “We know.”

How do they know? Bobby hasn’t told them. He hasn’t told anyone. It’s just been him and his empty room and the ceiling staring back down at him for hours, until he gives up, gets up and switches the lights on and tries to read, tries to write music, tries to do anything. Though honestly, lately he’s been too tired even for that. Too exhausted and frantic to do anything but stare at the roof and wish it would fall on him and knock him out, send him down into the black lake of sleep where he so desperately wants to drown. But he hasn’t told Luke or Reggie about any of that.

"We want to help, man," Reggie continues, almost painfully earnest and sweet, "Is there anything we can do?"

Bobby shakes his head no before he's even let himself process Reggie's words, because help and Bobby are only things that go together when Bobby's doing the helping, not the other way around.

Without even opening his eyes, Bobby feels Luke push Bobby's arm up so Luke can snuggle up against his side, resting his cheek on Bobby's shoulder, stubborn and warm and soft. Seemingly following his initiative, Reggie loops himself around Bobby's other side, a little gangly but just as safe, tucking Bobby's head under his chin instead.

"Does this make it better?" Luke asks, in a small voice. Bobby feels his throat move, the vibrations of his voice. "Or, uh, or worse?"

Bobby goes to say neither, to say, it doesn't matter, to say, you guys will sleep better without me here taking up all this space . To say, I should go to my own room . But he doesn't say any of those things, because having them so close and warm around him is sorta making him want to cry, in a really weird, horrible, overflowing way, like he's a bathtub filling up with tears and they're reaching his throat, not too far from reaching his eyes.

"Better," Reggie decides for him. Takes the weight off his shoulders. "C'mon, Luke, let's go to bed. Bobby can just lie here until he feels better."

Luke makes an affirmative sound, pulls the blanket back up over the three of them, and Bobby feels like he's sinking deep in his own achy, exhausted body, like he's finally letting it overcome him, like suddenly instead of being the bathtub, he's just in one, and he's letting his head slip under the water, letting it engulf him. Reggie runs a hand through Bobby's hair, light and gentle, and Bobby sinks deeper. Luke wraps an arm around Bobby's stomach, fingers squeezing at Bobby's waist, and Bobby sinks deeper.

Instead of lying awake for hours until his eyes burn and his teeth ache, he's asleep without being sure when it happens.

—

When he wakes, Reggie and Luke pushed in on either side of him still, wrapped even more tightly than he remembers them being the night before, he feels unbelievably light, even with their weight pressing in all over him. He feels like his eyelids weigh ten pounds less than they did the day before, even as his body succumbs to being part of the couch cushions, even as a yawn pulls at the edge of his mouth and suggests to him that maybe, they try to sleep for just a few more minutes.

—

Bobby wakes again when the sun starts to spill in properly through the garage window at the back, illuminating the studio and casting their instruments into bright colours and dark shadowy relief across the floor. This time, he's only being restrained by all four of Luke's limbs, somehow, like their genius songwriter has decided to abandon his pursuit of music for the better pursuit of fully transforming into a koala bear. For a few moments, blinking and looking around, Bobby can't see Reggie anywhere.

It doesn't really alarm him, though. It's not like there's anyone else around, and Reggie's always been an earlier riser than him or Luke, more spritely than the rest of them. Luke’s still snoring, has drooled a tiny bit on Bobby’s t-shirt. Bobby should probably be more grossed-out by it than he is.

Before he can start to theorise about where, exactly, Reggie might have gone, he’s already returning, nudging the door open with his hip because his arms are full. He gives Bobby a big grin, as usual far too awake for the hour (Bobby doesn’t think he’s been that awake at any hour, recently).

“Aw, man. I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer, but… I brought us breakfast?”

Reggie must have gone up to the house, which means he probably would have had to talk to Bobby’s parents, at least his mom. Bobby’s stomach twists in embarrassment at the thought, not of Reggie, but of his mom, her scattered workaholic brain probably so far from being able to handle a conversation with a sweet kid like Reggie first thing in the morning. But still, Reggie’s carrying plates that have toast and jam, and he’s got a big bottle of orange juice, and he looks so proud of himself, like a little kid with a picture they want you to put on the fridge.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bobby says, his voice still hoarse from sleep, but sounding better than it did at any point yesterday. He must have gotten more sleep just last night than he did in the five nights beforehand.

“I know,” says Reggie brightly, setting the plates and bottle down on the table across from the pullout, “but that’s what friends are for, right?”

Huh. Friends. That’s one way to put it, Bobby guesses. In his head they’ve just been – bandmates, always, but – he guesses if Luke and Reggie are snuggling up to him overnight, hanging out at his place on days when they’re not doing music, if Reggie’s casually chatting to his mom –

Maybe they are friends.

He looks down at the toast. Reggie’s spread the jam almost neurotically evenly, but on one piece he’s drawn a wonky smiley face, with two circle eyes and a big stripe of jam in a curve that mirrors their band logo for the smile. It looks vaguely demented, but Reggie grins and points and says, “That one’s for you. So you’ll be in a better mood today.”

Luke yawns, stretches and wriggles, squishing Bobby a little bit in the process with his warm limbs. Bobby looks from one to the other, from Reggie’s face to Luke’s body curled up against him, and suddenly his stomach is full of something that’s a little more concerning than just the sense of being friends unexpectedly. Something different.

Bobby sighs a breath out quietly to try and shake off the feeling, and Reggie grins, like he gets something, which is nerve wracking until he says, “You don’t wanna move, right? I can feed you so you don’t have to get up!”

Honestly, Bobby would really rather Reggie didn’t, after the possibly concerning revelation he had moments ago, so he shoves Luke maybe a little harder than he needed to, ignores Luke’s startled yelp, even though it makes him want to laugh and the want to laugh makes the fluttery feeling come back to his stomach. Rather than laughing, or showing any of his feelings, Bobby just mutters, getoffme , and sits up to grab a piece of toast. He'll deal with everything else after breakfast.

(He takes the smiley face piece. He’s not a monster).

[justasparkwritings]

Perpetual Bliss

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Little Angst, Bashful & Timid KSJ

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: Light Swearing 

Summary: Seokjin and you have been seeing each other for a few weeks, but neither have you have crossed the line from casually dating to lust and desire... will tonight finally be that night?

Listening: This Kiss by Faith Hill

Notes: This is for @ksmutclub​‘s Summer of Kiss event! 

Tag: @jinpanman

Beta: @sugasbabiie​ of course

           Lightning streaking across the sky.  

           The bubbles in fresh champagne.

           A perfect scoop of ice cream.

           Tingles down your spine.

           Subliminal.

          Driving on a summer day, music blasting, hair moving in the wind.

           Butterflies over a first love.

           A stolen glance.

           Blush creeping over cheeks and ears, burning down your neck.

           Plush pout, gentle lick of a bottom lip, nerves shaking as hands reach and hold.

          A pivotal moment.

          Ahhh.

          Bliss.

          The first kiss.

          Seokjin isn’t one to lean in on the first date, to invade the space of his companions, asking to cross the line between friendly interactions and lust—which is why he didn’t kiss you on your first date. Or second. Or, third.

          In fact, Seokjin has worked himself up in such a tizzy that he isn’t quite sure he remembers how to kiss anyone, let alone how to make the first move.

          “Jin?” You call, staring up into his clouded eyes.

          “Yes?” He answers, eyes coming back into focus, glancing past his lashes to stare at you. You’re beautiful, he thinks, sexy and charming, and so funny.

          Do you know you are hilarious? That when he goes home after every date to relay the jokes you told, he can’t ever get them out because he’s laughing too hard? Which inevitably leaves Yoongi annoyed that he ever decided to ask, “hey, how was the date?” Do you know that he’s crazy about you, that in between rehearsals and practices, he’s counting down the minutes until he sees you again? That when he falls asleep, he’s wondering when he can ask you to spend the night, or stay at yours, so he can hold you, wake up to you, maybe even love you?

          “I was just saying that I don’t really want you to go,” You repeat.

          You’ve propped yourself up on his chest, chin resting against your hand, moving ever so slightly with each intake of Jin’s breath. Somewhere between the third act resolution and the credits, you’d started speaking to him, only to glance up at him and realize he wasn’t paying any attention to you at all. You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, not at all calm and steady as it was a few minutes ago. It is cute, really cute, watching his eyes go out of focus, his thoughts so deep he hadn’t heard the call of his name, not once or twice. But finally, eyes focusing, blinking quickly, lips pouting again, he’s returned to you.

          “I don’t want to go either,” He smiles, “I have to, though.”

          You sigh, fighting the urge to trace his cherry pout with your index finger.

          “I guess, work or something,” You roll your eyes. “Not like you need to pay bills or anything,”

          “I suppose I don’t, but I can’t miss practice,”

          “I mean, you could,”

          Seokjin scoffs, “Ya - you want me to call in sick?”

          “Would it really be that noticeable?”

          “I’m one of seven, of course they’d notice, and I need all the practice I can get,” Jin uses his index finger to bop your nose, the immediate scrunch eliciting a giggle from him. “You’re so cute.”

          You glare, the finger you’d so desperately wanted to use to trace his lips, repeating his actions on his nose. “Anyway, you’re a great dancer.”

          “I work really hard to be okay at it,”

          “You’re great, better than okay,”

          His heartbeat, which has evened itself out, picks up at your praise, and the wiggle of your hips repositioning yourself against him.

          “If you say so,” Jin’s ears are burning, hot to the touch, and he can’t stop himself from glancing from your eyes, kind and soulful, to your lips. He notices the subtle poke of your tongue, wetting your bottom lip before your teeth rake over it. He’s watched you do this before, often taking your bottom lip between your teeth to gnaw at the flaking flesh, but never this close, never when his lust for you has reached monumental heights.  

          “When will I see you again?” You whisper.

          Again, your voice pulls his focus back to your eyes, staring again, expectantly, hoping he’ll say soon, bracing for the potential that he’ll have to disappear for work for a week or two.  

          “Day after tomorrow?”

          “Yes,” You nod.

          “It’s a date,” Jin pulls you closer to him, holding onto you, a gentle kiss on your head. You exhale, breath fanning his neck, nose nudging the column of his throat. It’s safe here, cozy and welcoming, the giddiness in your heart echoing in the beating of butterfly wings in your abdomen. Seokjin’s hands, resting on your lower back, dangerously close to tickling you, are steady and calm.

          “Your heart’s beating so fast,” You comment, lips coming in contact with the skin of his neck.

          “Ya, of course it is; it always is when I’m with you. You’re acting like I’m so cool and collected all the time, I’m a mess,”

          “You’re not a mess!”

          “Ayesh, my ears are going to burn off my head. You’re cool and collected! So unphased. I can barely get a sentence out without stammering. You make me so nervous all the time. And then you just laugh at me!” Seokjin argues. You love when he gets worked up, his words hurdling past his angered pucker, not stumbling but gracefully gaining speed, one after the other until he’s not only red from embarrassment but red from fury.

          You sit up, laughing while he tsk-tsk-tsks.

          “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I keep laughing. What you’re saying is valid; it’s how you’re saying it that has me laughing,” You explain, laughter diminishing as his embarrassment ceases.  

          “Seokjin’s pain is just so funny,” He mocks, “trying to be cute and vulnerable, and this is what I get!”

          “Here,” You take his hand, placing it gently above your heart. “Can you feel mine?” Your body stills, heart racing matching the pace of his, too quick, too unsteady, the warmth of his hand making the rhythm pick up speed.

          “Hm,” He answers.

          “Not just you, but my heart too.”

          For what he can estimate is the hundredth time, his eyes linger on your lips, lowering to the placement of his hand before he takes it away.

          “You should probably go; it’s getting late.”

          He follows your lead, standing too. “Yeah, yeah I should.”

          “Text me when you get home?” You ask.

          “Yes,”

          Seokjin hugs you, once again placing you in a position to listen to his heartbeat. The longer he holds you, the faster it beats. A kiss to your hair, and he’s gone—no traditional kiss goodnight, no lingering desire in his eyes. But if he isn’t mistaken, he saw yours: the slight disappointment, the gentle frown, the way you tucked your cheek between your incisors, gnawing as he walked away.

          Had he missed his opportunity?

          It isn’t until he gets home, tossing himself on his bed, shoes neatly tucked away, that he texts you. You respond immediately, and it’s your response that swells the lump in his throat.  

          Seokjin: Home sweet home

          You: Great! Also, I kind of thought you were going to kiss me…  

          Seokjin: I should’ve, I wanted to

          You: Why didn’t you?

          Seokjin: I was scared – what if I’m bad at it?

          You: Haha – I can’t imagine you are

          Seokjin: But… I could be

          You: I could be too

          Seokjin: I’ve wanted to, before tonight, I’ve just been so nervous

          You: I’ve wanted to, too… I think about it a lot

          Seokjin: Really?

          You: Yeah, I do

          Seokjin: Me too

          You: Well, then we better make it happen next time

          Seokjin: It’s a date

           Kissing you is all Seokjin can think about. Not just what it’ll mean for your relationship, but you.

          Kissing.

          You.

          How will your lips feel - will they be supple and soft? Chapped and rough? What sounds will you make? Will you hold his waist or tuck your hands into his shaggy hair? Will you be greedy or giving? Will your tongue move past his lips, drawing his out?

          But the one he cannot shake, cannot begin to comprehend: what will you taste like?  

           He’s tried not to venture down that path, the path of temptation, the path that moves from a kiss to kissing, to making out and hands slipping under clothes… clothes flying, sinful sounds… Seokjin has had to stop himself on more than one occasion. The temptation… the desire… it’s all too much when he hasn’t even kissed you once.

           As he tries to focus in rehearsals, brushing his teeth, playing games with Jungkook, all he can do is wonder: have you thought the same things, wondered what he’ll feel like, what he’ll taste like?

           “Hey,” You greet, stepping into the car. You’re glimmering, Seokjin observes, glancing at your bright smile.

           “Hey,” Seokjin offers you a nervous smile in exchange, ears already a bright red.

           “Jin, are you nervous already?”

           He chuckles, “Aren’t you?”

           You set your hand on the center console, palm up, waiting, expecting him to place his in yours. He complies, letting your thumb caress the skin as you speak. “I mean, yeah, but we’re still, us right?”

           “Yes,” He hums.

           “So, let’s go see the movie, and get pizza when it’s over,”

           “What, and make out on your couch?” His nervous giggles betray his hidden desires. He really would like to make out with you on your couch.

           “Do you want to skip the movie and do that instead?” You question. He turns his key in the ignition, shutting off the motor, and sighs.

           “We’re good, you and me, right?” He asks.

           “Yes, I think so,”

           Seokjin takes your hand again. “Good, good, me too,”

           “You’re asking because?”

           “Because, at some point in the very near future, I’m going to kiss you for the first time, and I need to know that if it’s a terrible kiss, if I’ve forgotten how or my teeth hit yours or our foreheads bump, that we’ll still stand a chance,”

           “You want a guarantee that if our first kiss is trash, I’m not going to ghost you?” You clarify.

           “Yes,” He’s staring ahead at the empty street, wondering if being this vulnerable will result in you no longer finding him attractive or interesting. Though nothing could be more embarrassing than his outburst the other night. He’d been kicking himself over it; how was it possible that he could both embarrass himself fully and so openly share how quickly he is falling for you.

           You squeeze his hand, still in yours. “Jinnie,”

           “That’s a new nickname,”

           “Oppa,”

           “No, please, no,”  

           “Jinnie, how about this,” You tuck your leg underneath you, turning your entire body to face him. “Kiss me,”

           “What?” He yells, head whipping around to you.

           “Just a peck, nothing more,” You instruct.

           “Okay,” His eyes are still wide, caught off guard by your sudden directions. He takes in your posture, the nervous habits he’s picked up on the last month or two, how endearing when caused by him.

           “Meet me halfway,” You whisper, squeezing his hand once more.

           Seokjin unbuckles his seatbelt, turning to mimic your posture. He inhales, steadying himself before leaning in.

           “Wait,” You request.

           “Oh god,” He groans.

           “Shut up,” You laugh, your free hand pushing his hair behind his ear, slowly coming to rest on his cheek. Your thumb draws languid circles on the apple of his cheek, blush seeping into his honeyed flesh. His eyes, already a little blown, gazing longingly into yours. “I really like you.”

           His eyes soften more, head leaning into the palm of your hand. The butterflies blossoming in his abdomen, he’s so relieved you can’t feel his heartbeat. “I really like you, too.”

           It’s the confidence he needs, the security and safety of being in his car, with you, so close together, and admission of mutual affection, that inspires him. It pushes him over the edge, leaning in slowly, brushing his nose against yours in an Eskimo kiss, eyes drifting closed, lips finally, ceremoniously, meeting yours.

           Unsinkable.

           The bubbles in fresh champagne.

           Centrifugal motion.

           Tingles down your spine.

           Toes curling.

           Shooting star.

           Everything is in slow motion.

           Soft touch.

Heartbeat in your ears.

           Sweet and gentle.

           A pivotal moment.

          Ahhh.

          Perpetual Bliss.

           Seokjin pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. His breath fans your face—it’s gentle, calming, not so nervous or shaking as it was before.

           “Wow,” You whisper.

           “That was criminal,” Seokjin says.

           “Do you want to go to the movie?”

           “I don’t know if I’ll be able to focus, now that I know,” He answers.

           “Now that you know what?”

           “Now that I’ve had a taste, a feel, I don’t know if I can focus on anything but you,”

           You groan, loudly, before opening your car door and stepping out. Seokjin follows, moving quickly to slip his hand back into yours. He’s following closely, excitement bubbling in his chest. Because now, now, that he’s experienced just a taste of kissing you, going a minute more without your lips on his, is completely unthinkable.  

[cycat4077]

Sheltering An Outcast

Summary: Sonny goes undercover during “Sheltered Outcasts” 17x19 Pairing: Sonny x Reader  Warnings: fluff and smoochies with a sprinkle of angst...and maybe a bit of Sonny in only a towel ;) Words: 2848 (sorry it’s a bit long...)  AO3 here

Part 6 of the Changes verse (but it can be stand-alone too). (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5)

It’s evening and you're flaked out on your couch, an empty ice cream container sitting by the wayside, when your phone rings. "Hey Sonny, what's up?" you answer, spirits brightened by the sound of his voice. "Finally finished that difficult case you were working on?"

As you were discovering, some cases posed ridiculous hours, keeping the two of you apart with only the occasional evening together amidst the chaos. Text, calls and Skype eased the separation, but there was nothing better than physically being by his side.

"Yeah, it’s done," replies Sonny. "Thank goodness too. It was a tough one, doll." You hear a heavy sigh on his end and your heart goes out to him. "You busy?" he then asks hopefully, and when you answer in the negative, he adds, "Wanna spend the night?"

A rush of excitement spreads through you. Of course, you want to spend the night! Running around, you stuff a change of clothes into a bag and hop awkwardly, struggling to slip on your pants.

The commute over leaves time to reminisce about the nights you and Sonny actually do get to share at each other's apartments. They're sweet and intimate times. Nothing sexual, just precious moments together without any rush to go home.

Those times bring out the domestic side of Sonny too, being that he always makes sure you feel welcome. For instance, even though he blatantly detests peanut butter, you opened his cupboard one day to find a jar simply because he knows you like to eat it for breakfast.

You also love being privy to his little habits. After practically every shower, Sonny darts between the bathroom and bedroom having forgotten his clean clothes in the latter. With only a towel around his waist, he’ll tell you jokingly not to look, though you can't help sneak a peek at his bare torso still coated in a sheen of water as he runs by.

It’s all these little things that make you fall even more in love with him and excite you for a future with your Italian detective.

-x-

Arriving at Sonny’s apartment, he opens the door and you throw your arms around his neck. Enthusiastically, you pepper kisses across his nose and cheeks, purposefully leaving his lips for last.

Sonny’s smile stretches from ear to ear. Clearly, the affection you shower him with washes away any remaining stress from his latest case. "What'd I do to deserve all that lovin'?" he teases, taking your coat and closing the door.

"Hmmm…" you pretend to think on it. "Gotta be that Italian charm." Winking, you begin shimmying out of your pants, revealing pajama shorts underneath. You then glance over your shoulder and notice Sonny still standing by the door with mouth slightly agape. His baby blues are quite obviously glued to your behind. "Hey, detective!” you call out, batting your lashes and smirking. “My eyes are up here!" It’s hard not to take at least a little pleasure in flirty bouts like these since they never fail to flush Sonny’s cheeks or jumble his words.

"Y-yeah, I-I know, doll. It's just," he closes the distance towards you. "You're so beautiful." Sonny's voice seems to catch in his throat causing your heart to do the same in your chest. He reaches out to cup your face, a thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek. "I'm gonna miss this..."

Your eyebrows knit together. "What?"

Sonny shuts his eyes firmly as if he's guarding a confession and releases a breath through his nose. "I have ta go undercover for a while."

Your eyes widen. "When?!"

Your boyfriend rests his hands on your shoulders, bracing you. "Tomorrow." You pull yourself out of his grasp. "Doll, please!” he begs. “I just found out myself! There's been a few assaults around this shelter for convicted sex offenders and we need a guy on the inside."

How could he just spring this on you? A cramped space packed with ex-cons struggling to get their lives together hardly seems like the safest assignment. What if they don't believe his cover? What if they find out the truth? He could be bashed over the head and no one would give a damn! How could Sonny, a man without an ounce of evil in his body, ever pass for one of them? Sure, he could come off as a little brash sometimes, but not sex offender-levels of it! And how the hell long would he need to be there for, anyway?!

You don't realize that you asked that last part aloud until Sonny responds. "I'm not sure. It all depends on what we can find out and how fast. I hope not too long but who knows..." To say his demeanor is apologetic is an understatement. He isn't any more enthusiastic about this whole thing than you are.

"Why you?!" you protest, half frustrated, half terrified. "Because...because I need you to be careful, Sonny!" The way you say his name is more a desperate plea than an outburst of anger.

"I will! I promise! But I'm still technically the new guy, so it’s kinda on me to take the U.C. assignments no one else wants." And he's right. There's nothing he can do about it. You just have to cherish falling asleep in his arms tonight and pray he stays safe.

-x-

“What about this?” you ask poking your head out of the closet to hold up a tan and green plaid shirt. It’s definitely seen better days.

Sonny turns around from where he’s packing a duffle bag on the bed. “Yeah, that could work,” he agrees. “But where’d ya find it?”

“It was in this box back here labelled ‘Dom’,” you state, parting the dress shirts and suits hanging above your head for a second look.

“That’s dad’s stuff.” Sonny crosses the room and helps you tug the box free from the back corner. “Ma insisted I bring them along when I moved ‘because ya neva know when ya might need ‘em’,” he mocks, attempting his best impersonation of his mother. “I guess she was right.”

“Mothers usually are,” you quip before pulling out a faded pair of thick, denim jeans. “Will these fit?”

Sonny takes the pants to examine their size. “’Should,” he confirms. “They’re from the eighties or somethin’. Dad’s appetite for Ma’s cookin’ sure has made him pack on the pounds over the years…” he chuckles, stretching the waistline back and forth.

“Hey, now! Since I started eating your cooking my jeans fit tighter too!” you say jokingly as you pat your tummy in defence of the Carisi patriarch.

“Jean size doesn’t matter, doll, as long as the heart’s happy ‘n the stomach’s full.” Sonny’s blue eyes lock onto yours, delivering a sincere smile. “And my heart is the happiest it’s ever been.”

Your cheeks flush and you avert your gaze like a bashful teenager. You may not have supermodel proportions, but your heart flutters knowing that Sonny loves you all the same.

The old clothes are the perfect match for Sonny’s alias. Later, as the morning sun trickles through the New York City streets, ‘Dominick Smith’ joins you in the living room clad in an old grey hoodie and his father’s faded jeans. Things are a bit baggy but they’ll do. The two of you spend the next little while rehearsing ‘Smitty’s’ backstory, unnerved that Sonny has to be convincing as someone with such a disgusting past.

“Oh, I almost forgot the ring,” Sonny declares as he jogs to the case-info envelope on the table.

“Huh?” you question as your line of sight follows his movements.

He shakes out a gold wedding band and rejoins you. “Dominick Smith has a missus, rememba? And apparently he wants to better himself so he can go back home to her.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say foolishly, eyes glued to his finger while he delicately slips on the ring. You know it’s stupid, but for a moment your hopes were high and your heart pounded at the inside of your chest. You can’t help but wish the ring was real; that it would symbolize that he is yours forever.

Sonny’s eyes dart between yours and where they’re fixated on his hand. “You okay?” he asks quietly which brings you back to reality.

“Y-yeah,” you manage, forcing a smile.

He then reaches into his pocket and produces a key. “I hope you don’t mind me askin’, but since I dunno how long I’ll be gone for, would ya mind checkin’ in on my place every now and again? Y’know, just ta make sure that no one’s broken in or whateva.”

“Of course, babe,” you reply, accepting the key. But your clouded mind gets the better of you and your eyes widen when you realize your words.

“Babe?” he questions, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I-uh…” You’ve never called him anything other than ‘Sonny’ since the two of you started dating and you’re just not sure if he’s comfortable with anything different.

However, before you have a chance to articulate an excuse, your Italian detective leans his forehead against yours and sneaks in a swift kiss. “I could get used ta you callin’ me that,” he grins. And you can’t help but giggle. This sweet man keeps giving you more reasons to love him.

With spirits lifted, you stand back and place a hand on your hip before drawing a finger up to your lips to study his appearance.

“What?” Sonny questions, scanning himself over self-consciously.

“Something’s not quite right…” You take a couple steps forward and tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s soft and uncharacteristically floppy without any gel. You continue to muss it up, carding through it and enjoying the texture.

“You done?” he asks, pursing his lips, unamused.

“Almost,” you utter as you poke your tongue out of the corner of your mouth. “There!” You step back to admire your handiwork.

Sonny leans over to glance in the wall mirror. A horrified expression overtakes his features. “What did ya do?!” he exclaims.

You throw your head back and laugh. “I made you look the part a little more, silly!” His dark locks now stick up in multiple directions.

Sonny narrows his eyes and gives you a hard look. However, the slightest of smiles plays at the corner of his mouth and you know he secretly enjoyed it.

Then Sonny’s watch lights up, giving off a beep which catches both your attentions. You know what it means and so does he. It’s time.

Tears begin to rim your eyes. “Please be careful,” you speak in a shaky voice. You wish you could protect him and keep him safe throughout this whole ordeal.

“I will be,” he reassures. “This will all be over soon.” Sonny steps towards you and gathers you in his arms. The two of you lock into an embrace and you feel a squeeze that’s filled with desperation. It’s then that you understand just how nervous Sonny actually is about all this. You hug him a little tighter, both clinging to one another like a life source.

“I love you,” he says lingering his touch along your arms.

“I love you, too.” You lean up and kiss him before burying your face in his chest for one last embrace.

-x-

“On my way home now to shower and change before I have to head back. So, I have a few minutes if you're free." Is what his text reads.

You don't think you've ever made it to Sonny's apartment in such record time. After five days of no contact and being consumed by a worry that made you feel like throw up 24/7, his return lifts a giant weight off your shoulders.

You eagerly knock on the door and a disheveled looking man in the same old grey hoodie and faded blue jeans opens it. His hair is greasy and he looks a little pale, though you suppose nearly a week of cruddy food and shoddy sleep will do that to a person. None of that matters, however, because a large smile of relief spreads across your face from knowing he’s safe and naturally, your first instinct is to jump into his arms.

But this time Sonny stops you. "Don't, doll. I stink,” he scrunches his nose in disgust.

A laugh bubbles free from your chest. "Okay, babe!"

"Lemme go shower 'n brush my teeth, then ya can kiss me," winks Sonny as he welcomes you into his apartment. It seems this undercover gig hasn't completely broken his spirit.

"Hurry up then, stinky!" you chide, hopping onto his couch impatiently.

Sonny runs off in the direction of the bathroom and in no time, you hear the whoosh from the faucet and spray of the shower.

A few minutes later, the water shuts off and a familiar darn it! resonates from within. You smile to yourself knowing exactly the cause and perch over the sofa arm to watch the show.

As predicted, the door opens and a billow of steam releases into the hall. The patter of wet feet follow as Sonny comes scurrying out, darting into the bedroom for clothes. You're about to unleash a cheeky catcall when you notice a large purplish splotch resting above the white towel tied around Sonny's waist. You immediately jump up to intercept him before he can duck back into the bathroom. "What the hell is that?" you demand, tone no longer light and flirty.

"What?" he questions, perplexed.

"That!" you point to his discoloured side.

He contorts to glance in the direction of your finger. "Oh."

You continue to stare him down when he fails to provide an explanation.

"It's nothing, doll," he lies, clutching his clothes to his chest. But your disapproving eyes forces him to confess. "Okay...I got jumped. It wasn't by the guys in the shelter though! It was outside 'n they were targetin' everyone they thought could be a suspect in the most recent assault."

They?! You're suddenly overwhelmed by his close encounter. "Oh my God, Sonny! Are you all right?!" He could have come out of this a whole lot worse.

"Yeah, I'm okay. It'll heal. Actually, it was one of the guys from the shelter who came to my rescue. Who knew..." Sonny's voice trails off as his mind drifts.

But all you care about is Sonny. Focusing on the bruise, you hesitantly reach out and give it a light touch. His skin is warm and damp, yet turns to goosebumps under your fingertips.

Sonny gazes down at you silently and you shift your eyes to meet his. It's only been five days but it feels like a lifetime since you've seen his handsome face. The gentle curve of his lips. The blueness of his eyes. Suddenly he feels so close. Nothing but a towel separates you. Your heart rate picks up as every inch of you aches for the man you love.

"I gotta go get ready.” The tension snaps with Sonny’s soft grin and breathy voice.

"I know," you say reluctantly. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, doll." His left hand finds the back of your neck, cradling your head as he leans down with closed eyes to place a kiss to your lips. Maybe it's the steam from the shower, but it's the type of kiss that makes your insides melt. Then Sonny parts and slips back into the bathroom.

Lightheaded, you make your way back to the couch and sit down. Twenty minutes later the door opens again and the Sonny Carisi you're most familiar with steps out. A three-piece suit and crisp tie. Slicked back hair and smooth cheeks. Though he looks perfect to you, Sonny is still fretting over his hair, combing it back at the temples to work in the last of the gel.

"How do I look?" he inquires, holding his arms out to the sides.

"Handsome as ever!" you give a cheerful smile.

Sonny grins. "Sorry I have ta run, but I need ta get back to the precinct. We've got a major lead in the case."

"All good," you wave dismissively. "I'm just glad you're all right and that I got a chance to see you."

Sonny echoes your sentiments while scurrying around to gather his things. You get up once he starts heading for the door. "I dunno when I'm gonna be back t’night," he frowns. "I'd love ya to stick around but don't wanna keep ya waitin'."

"No worries. Besides, you're gonna need a good night's sleep after almost a week in that place." You smile up at Sonny lovingly and take the apartment key out of your pocket. "Here."

"Nuh-no! That's your copy now, doll." He folds your fingers towards your palm, enclosing the key within.

"Really?" You're ready to burst with joy.

"Really," he confirms with a kiss.

"Well in that case," you smile against his lips, "maybe I'll sneak back in here tonight and we can indulge in some mediocre takeout and bad tv."

"Ya read my mind, doll,” he beams. “Ya read my mind."

Notes: Hope you enjoyed this one! It was originally just going to be angsty but I tried to liven it up a bit with some flirty stuff.

Also, here’s a bit of a preview of what’s next. Let’s just say that there’s trouble in paradise... (Full version up now!)

"Doesn't matter. I want to be with you -" "No." Sonny cuts you off firmly. It's the first time he's raised his voice to you in any way. It shakes you to your core, leaving a horribly sour feeling in the pit of your stomach. You try to dismiss it because you know he's tired and scared but the tears still fall when Sonny hangs up the phone.

[jj-ktae]

Regret

Title : Regret Pairing : Taeyong x you Genre : Angst, Fluff Words : 3686 Summary : Taeyong regrets everything.

It’s insane. Well, no one is sane at five in the morning. Not when the sun is down and the sky is twinkling. There are so many stars, so beautiful in the middle of the fading shadows, mixing with shades of deep blue, pink, orange. It’s like a hidden painting. A piece of art above everyone, yet only a lucky number notices it.

He understands why you love looking up to the sky whenever you feel down. He is doing the same every time he can, because it reminds him of how dreamy you can be.

But Taeyong doesn’t do it out of pure will. He can’t sleep. No matter how much his body screams for rest, his brain keeps every cell alive, connecting with a sparkling pain and going all over his body, reaching his heart and clenching it, twisting his inside.

It’s still funny though, because he is the one responsible for that. He thought it would be better with time, he always got better with time. Like an endless practice, and practice makes perfect. So if he tried hard enough, he could forget about you.

If only he knew.

It’s been a year. A whole year of persuading himself that he could make it without you. He went on with his life, from early mornings to late nights. Every day is similar to the previous one. A succession of moments when he couldn’t do anything but think about you at totally random times.

It doesn’t annoy him. It’s pretty much even normal, considering the amount of love he still has for you. It has nothing to do with hard feelings, this breakup. It’s out of brain choices and not impulsions. It’s a well thought project, with valid arguments and meticulousness.

It was a perfect plan.

Until he found himself crying in the middle of the day because of a song that reminded him of you.

It started to get ridiculous when no matter the number of rebound girls, he would never forget the softness of your skin and the tenderness of your whispers against his neck on a rainy night. It started to be almost funny when he said your name in the middle of a heated love-making session with a model he wanted to take care of with all he had.

But he had nothing left. He had given everything to you and you didn’t give it back to him when you left. You took everything and left him with nothing but void.

It’s another early morning before schedules and rehearsals. It’s a perfect morning for black coffee in front of the window. It’s a great morning to be a melancholic guy with a lost expression and sad eyes.

He laughs to himself when Taeyong thinks about how much of a drama queen he became. It’s natural. He didn’t break up with you because he is heartless. It has nothing to do with a lack of love or him trying to hurt you.

Maybe he is to stereotypical, but he did it for you.

He can still hear the huge snort you gave him when he told you this. It’s true though. He defends himself daily, there was a valid reason.

It’s hard to like him. He has such a low self-esteem he cannot understand how someone can love him like you did. You would wait for hours at home, or wherever you were supposed to meet.

Taeyong was always late. He would always find a way to make you wait, no matter the importance of the meeting, the occasion, the moment.

He hated himself more than you ever did for that.

He is complicated, he knows this. If you don’t mind that sort of lifestyle, why would he? It’s your problem after all. If you love him enough to bear with this, why stop?

Because he knows. No one can love him.

He puts his cup on the living-room’s table and aims for a much-needed shower. He has too little time for too many thoughts and it’s a whirlpool in his head.

Today is another busy day with the promise of less regrets, which he knows won’t be the case.

---

“Hansel and Gretel couldn’t resist the huge amount of candies and cakes. They followed the lady into the delicious looking house.”

The gasps of shock you hear from the mini-humans in front of you is enough to make you giggle a little. “What’s wrong?” you ask, leaning down to their level.

“Why would they follow a stranger into their house?” A fist lifts into the air and the rest agree, tiny heads nodding into your direction.

You hum and get up, agreeing. “Hansel and Gretel were abandoned by their parents. They were starving. You should never follow a stranger, but at least they got to eat.” You try to explain the best you can, regretting your choice to read this book.

“It’s such a sad story, teacher.” A little girl grabs her plushie and hugs it tight to her tiny chest, face hidden into the bright pink fur.

“I know. I promise you’ll feel better once I’m done reading. Shall I continue?” You try, the book wriggling in front of unconvinced children.

It was the best option. You were not in the mood for painting, just like you didn’t want to make salt dough. Reading is good, reading is learning.

But the kids look away and you make a face, deciding not to let them win this time. Reading it is, reading it will be.

This is how you ended coaxing three kids during naptime.

What a crappy day. Being a teacher is great, but a substitute one is a little less rewarding. You get to replace teachers in elementary schools, which means you don’t even have your own class. You don’t know when you’ll see these kids again once their teacher will be back.

It’s the only option you found when you quit your job. There wasn’t any vacant position near your location and you needed the job.

You needed it because you had to move to another district. One that is far from the frenzy you rubbed shoulders with.

It belongs to a past you want to forget. It’s not what you want in your life right now. Maybe you had enough of hiding, maybe it’s about peacefulness, you don’t know.

All you want is for your life to be what it used to be before you met him.

You take your purse and greet the other teachers, ready for another long ride home.

Tomorrow will worry you when it comes, for now you should focus on the moment.

---

“Far be it from me to act like a smartass, but shouldn’t you eat?” Taeyong looks up from his phone when Johnny’s head appears, cheeks full and breath smelling like raw fish.

“Not hungry.” He sits and grabs his box before handing it to his bandmate, “You can have it.” His smile is genuine when he leans against the sofa again, yawning.

“You already have such a tiny body, can’t you force the food down your throat or something?” Johnny insists but grabs the box anyways, aware it would be useless to leave it.

“I can’t, thank you for your concern.” Taeyong laughs because he finds it funny.

They always had a weird way to deal with worry.

He doesn’t find if annoying that his bandmates nag him all the time because he knows it’s true. He should eat, sleep more, drink less coffee, practice less, relax more, stop being so hard on himself.

He knows this already but he can’t do anything about it. This is who he is.

Johnny rolls his eyes and goes back to his spot on the table, mumbling about careless kids and delicious food.

Taeyong stares at your picture for another good ten minutes and smiles.

He is full already.

---

It’s been so long since you came here. This elementary school looks new, like it opened recently because you don’t remember it being here when you were living in the area.

It was a long day, filled with laughs, cries, games, colours, music. In short, a very exhausting day which you have to finish with a special treat to the nearest convenience store. Noodle is your comfort food, more heartwarming than any other luxurious dish.

It’s too cold to care about anything else as you head for the shop, empty and waiting for you to make it a little livelier.

It’s one of these exact same nights Taeyong picks to have a walk around the city. He ends up where his feet always take him. It’s not far from his own place, he knows every street and every place you used to go to. He walks around like you’ll meet him soon and hug him after a long time apart.

He lives with the fantasy of you popping right in front of him at any moment, and it’s enough to keep him happy, no matter the amount of regrets he has.

So naturally, he is everything but prepared to find you, walking away from a convenience store. You’re blowing on your fingers to warm them and it reminds him how you always forgot about your gloves.

You look the same. You didn’t change, and he is thankful for that. It means you live well. You look healthy, even with the huge long coat covering your body. He doesn’t see your face as you walk away, eager to grab a taxi and go home.

It’s right at this moment that the cells he thought were now useless get back to life and make him walk behind you. He adjusts his cap and mask, not fond of the probability to be recognized.

You walk rapidly, like you want to escape. He doesn’t know if it’s about the cold or something else.

You just don’t want to stay here for longer. It’s making you feel too many things. These paths are familiar, just like the building two streets away. It holds so many memories you want to live away from.

If it wasn’t for your job, you wouldn’t have set a foot here.

But here you are, right by the road and waiting for the cars to stop. You don’t look up, the freezing air too vicious for you to trust it won’t sneak into every crook left by your woollen scarf. You sigh and it goes out in a long string of steam, disappearing into the air.

There’s someone waiting to cross the street, too. You feel the presence and the sound of someone breathing. You wonder how long you’ll wait here, there aren’t that much cars anyways.

Yet, something’s off. The person doesn’t move and you feel like someone is staring at you. It’s uncomfortable and making you feel grossed. Like you need some pervert barging into your life right now.

You sigh and turn your head, ready to face whoever is thinking they can mess with you.

But you stop. It’s surprisingly not shocking to see him here. You don’t technically see him, his cap and mask making things difficult to perceive yet you feel it.

You never needed to see him to know it was him.

“Hi.” He says and you tilt your head when you recognize the voice, killing the last tiny bit of hope left in you.

Well, talk about unexpected.

“Hi.” You say back but don’t move, even when it’s finally your turn to cross the street.

It’s like time has stopped. You don’t hear the cars anymore; you don’t feel the cold. You hate yourself for being so receptive but at the same time, you can’t do anything about it.

Taeyong points at the red light and it makes you turn your head to follow his finger. “You’re not...?” He adds, feeling lame and stupid and many other unflattering adjectives.

“Oh,” You start and understand what is happening. “Yes.” You take a few step and he follows, head into his bomber jacket.

It’s only when you’re done crossing that you start looking for a taxi. You live way too far from here to go back home by walk.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Taeyong doesn’t understand what is going through him. It’s like everything he built crumbled. Now that you are here, he can’t walk away. And it doesn’t matter that his mind screams at him to run. His feet are on the ground, stuck by the idea of you leaving him and never coming back.

It’s too much of a good opportunity to be ignored.

“I’m going to get a taxi...” You trail off, forgetting about the said taxi and looking at the shadow created by his cap. It must be hell for him to walk around like this, hidden, suffocated into layers of clothing just so he can be in peace.

“Oh..” Taeyong doesn’t know what his next move should be. You don’t need him to get a taxi. Well, you don’t need him at all.

“Want to accompany me?” You must be out of your mind. Why in the world would he come with you when he was the one who broke up? It’s just that there is something in his body language, in his voice, something that seem off and mysterious and you can’t ignore it.

“Yes. Yes.” He says before you can give up and it makes you stare back at him in shock. It’s funny how little you need to communicate.

It’s not like there is much left to say.

He lifts a hand while you’re locked on your spot, frozen. You blame the weather.

A taxi stops and he opens the door for you, his moves slow but precise, filled with confidence and something you want to identify as care.

You give your address to the driver and the car takes off as soon as Taeyong closes the door, focusing on keeping a safe distance so you both won’t feel uneasy.

You live quite far and it’s a long ride. It’s not uncomfortable, but rather quiet. You try not to notice the way his body sends waves of warmth into your direction, mixed with a scent you know too much. You can’t let it get to you but at the same time, you’re the one who asked him to tag along.

And he is the one who agreed, willingly.

Taeyong stares at the window, the scenery way more calming than the situation he is in. It’s a mixture of fear and excitement. He likes it.

He has to be up at five tomorrow again, but what is sleep when he can absorb your presence as much as he wants? He feels 9 years younger already.

You get closer to your apartment as you rub your hands together in an attempt to find some type of warmth. It’s like your blood left your body because you feel numb, bones frozen and insides icy.

It’s just then that your movements are stopped by his own hands, burning. He shifts closer and envelops them into hands you thought you didn’t missed until now.

They are soft and thin just like they used too, and even his rings feel warm against you. You look at your joint hands and discover you’re not courageous enough to look at him.

You don’t see he is in the exact same state, frightened by the proximity.

He rubs it and shifts even closer, his face still hidden because the driver is pretty much right in front of you and he can’t risk anything now. His body irradiates everything you need right now, from warmth to comfort, with a bit of softness in between.

“Better...?” He whispers and you can only nod in response, right before the taxi stops. You’re finally there and have to part and it’s another whole breakup for you.

You tear your body off and almost jump out of the car before you do things you might regret.

Taeyong didn’t lose his soft side and it’s making your mind go hazy with unwanted feelings.

You turn around to look at him as he peaks around the street, eager to know more about where you live, where you spend your time away from everything he could give you but refuse to.

“I live here.” You state, neutral. You want to enter the building and lock yourself inside but Taeyong doesn’t budge, waiting for you to say more because he can’t do it himself.

“It’s a nice neighbourhood.” It’s pep-talk, useless and uninteresting but he can’t say more. Shall he say more? Does he have to confirm his choices and accept his fate without you?

He can’t and he knows it. As much as he hates himself for what he is, he needs to be selfish and he knows he won’t live with the possibility of you drifting away for good. So far you’re still here and you don’t seem to hate him, which is good.

“Yes.” You agree and grab your keys, playing with the keychain in an attempt to get that stress away from your body. He seems like he is about to talk but you speak first, heart hammering into your chest, “Maybe, maybe you want something warm to drink before going back?”

Taeyong makes a face, glad he has a mask to hide himself into. “Sure.” He agrees.

You take a moment to nod and snap out of your trans to open the building’s door, followed by an hesitant boy who can finally takes his attire off to breath the same air you breath.

You decide not to look at him. You walk to your apartment door swiftly, flying over the deep green carpeting and open a second door, safe and large.

It’s a good thing you cleaned this morning, and you suddenly become cautious of your surroundings when Taeyong takes his shoes off.

The rest is blurry. You barely remember going to the kitchen to prepare some hot chocolate, you don’t notice the milk burning on the stove, you don’t even talk to Taeyong because he is right next to you, right on the kitchen table chair, silent and looking around the place.

It’s funny, how you suddenly want to cry. You thought you had this, you thought everything was under control because you were over him. You had no choice but to be when he broke up for obscure reasons, claiming it was better for you two even though he had confessed his undying love a week earlier. Why would he do this now, why would he appear like nothing happened and play shy?

It makes no sense, and it makes you turn around, forgetting about the milk and hot chocolate and whatever he wants to drink.

“I don’t understand,” You start. Taeyong only stares back, his handsome face glowing in spite of the apparent surprise on his features. “Why? I’m just making hot chocolate for you in the middle of the night after a year without any message from you. Why am I doing this? Why are you here?”

“You invited me.” He would laugh in any other circumstance, because it’s such an arrogant reply.

Taeyong isn’t arrogant.

You snort. “You could have refused, but you are here, in my kitchen, like you didn’t break up with me. Of course I would invite you. Did you even think for one second that I would walk away from you?”

It sounds like a confession and Taeyong feels himself get up. “You’d have every right to.”

“You’re not helping. Stop with the guilty behaviour. Be responsible for what you wanted. I respect that but I just don’t get this.” You move your hands in the air. “What we’re doing now.”

“I still love you.” At some point it’s useless to act like he doesn’t care, not when he is here.

The milk boils a bit too hard and you turn when it spills over the stove, burning you because your brain is still processing the part where Taeyong says he still loves you.

“Damn it.” You mutter and grab your burnt finger to put it under cold water. “See what you make me do.” It comes out as a complaint but there is no anger. You’re enjoying the situation and it’s making you turn into a weak puppy.

Taeyong sighs and grabs the forgotten milk. You look at him as he rolls his sleeves up, revealing veiny arms. “I don’t get why you keep on using a kitchen when you can’t cook.” You laugh bitterly, forgetting about the pain. “Excuse me?”

Taeyong turns to face you when he is done, “Nevermind. I was saying that I still love you. Yes, I broke up, I am the one who wanted this but I regret everything. I thought I’d be better alone because I thought I didn’t deserve all of this,” He stops and continues “all the love you were giving me. But It’s worse now that I’m all alone to deal with myself. You can laugh at me and insult me but maybe you still love me too so let’s not act like we don’t care about each other.” He speaks way too fast, eyes avoiding you even though he is being pretty much insolent.

But he gets no answer, only a hand gripping his sweater and lips over his and it’s a sweet release when you start kissing him.

He gladly welcomes your body and kisses you back, his long arms circling all of you to have it only for him to absorb.

You still feel amazing, like a bowl of air after being underwater for too long.

It’s stays like this for so long he loses track of time. He can’t think straight and has no will to think, only strength to push you against him, more and more. You sigh and breathe against his mouth and it makes him smile in happiness.

When you part, his face is a whole shade of pink, and his lips are red, attacked.

He looks at you and when you smile sweetly, he smiles back.

It was insane, indeed.

[everyonesastar]

Okay, here goes. Could you do a protective Buster? Like Ash and the gang are getting threatened by some tough guy and Buster come to the rescue and the two get into a brutal fight? Like the guy stabs Buster which ales Buster go berserk with protection

Sure, but I had to change up some things, anyways…hope you like it!

—

After their big performances, they’re had been people following them for autographs or trying to get pictures with them, which almost none of them had a problem about.

But it had gotten to the point where on social media, people would overflow them with messages or posts, so sometimes the gang didn’t bother to bring their phones when going to rehearsals. 

But Ash had been getting these awful calls from a strange man or possibly a woman. Usually stupid calls or voice mails wouldn’t frighten her but they kept getting worse, and there was things showing up at her house, notes in particular.

One this morning had shown up in her own home, saying how they loved how she looked when she was sleeping, now who wouldn’t be frightened by that? She noticed her window had been broken, “This is getting ridiculous…” She mumbled.

Still, this didn’t stop her from showing up at rehearsals. “Alright Ash, show me what you’ve been working on for our new show!” Buster said, sitting in the second row with Mrs. Crawley and Eddie.

She grinned, plugging in a cord in the input jack. She began to play loud and clear.

“Lately, I’ve been, I’ve been losing sleep”

She strummed her guitar softly

 “Dreaming about the things that we could be”

She continued to play her guitar softly, until she had reached a part of the song.

“I couldn’t lie, couldn’t lie, couldn’t lie”

“Everything that kills me makes me feel alive”

She had paused for a moment, before playing her guitar loudly.

“Lately, I’ve been, I’ve been losing sleepDreaming about the things that we could be”

She felt herself grinning as she closed her eyes, she felt truly happy.

“But baby, I’ve been, I’ve been praying hardSaid no more counting dollars”

She opened her eyes, only to stop singing for a moment. There was a dark figure sitting in one of the seats, the person who had broke into her own home had been following her, hadn’t they?

“We’ll be….” She stopped playing her guitar, she just stood there, afraid. She just stared at the figure in fear, and watched them slowly leave.

“Ash?” Buster asked, trying to see what was up. “Ash? You ok?” He continued to ask. She snapped back into reality after a few minutes of trying to calm down, she hadn’t realized the whole gang was around her.

“Ash, whats wrong?” Rosita asked while rubbing her back, Ash had been shaking for awhile. “There was….something there….someone was watching me…” “What do you mean? It was only me, Eddie, and Mrs. Crawley watching you…” Buster said clearly as confused as the others.

“I think the porcupine has lost so many quills that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about!” Mike said snickering a little, he then stopped once he had noticed Johnny was giving him a look. It wasn’t a very pleasant one…

“T-They…were sitting near the back, and they left not too long ago…” Ash mumbled. “What did they look like?” Meena asked “I-I dont know…but that isn’t the first thing that’s happened today….” Ash whispered while rubbing her head, this was all too much.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Rosita asked “Someone..broke into my house, they left a note…” “Well, what did the note say?” Mike asked, while crossing his arms.

“I don’t think it’d be appropriate saying it but…it was about me sleeping, and how they um…loved watching me sleep…it had more on it…but i don’t really feel like vomiting at this second” Ash said while sighing.

“That creep….who’d do sucha’ thing?!” Johnny said, balling his hands into angry fists. “Guys…just dont worry about it too much alright? I’ll tell you guys if that person is-” “Don’t worry? Sweetie, how can we not worry at this point? Something broke into your home and watched you sleep! Now they’re following you everywhere! We’ve got to do something!” Rosita said, she looked frustrated now.

“I agree with you Rosita, but you should all go head home and call me if anything strange happens ok? You should be with your family and secured in some place better than this. Ash, you’ll be hiding in Eddie’s apartment, the person probably won’t find you there and might be waiting for you at your own house…” Buster said. 

“Wait what?” Ash and Eddie said, bewildered by his decision. “Yep, now everyone go home and lock your doors ok? We’ll meet up tomorrow to practice and talk about this subject later.” Buster said while walking towards his office, leaving the gang alone.

They all hid in their homes, although, each one of them got a special surprise. There were items shattered or ripped, windows broken, and a small note. 

“Sometimes, the things you see in the shadows are more than just shadows.”

“ My fantasies are much darker than you think, my dear.”

Neighbors were concerned for what was going in Rosita’s house after hearing her scream. It was the same for all of them actually, the were all in a panic. They all immediately called Buster.

“W-What?! Stay at home? But Buster, this is where I might die if I don’t escape sometime soon! This horrible person is after all of us all!” Meena said frantically in the phone, you could hear the phone shake from her grip on it.

“Just stay there ok? I’ll figure out something….” Buster had said this to each and every one of them, he was walking around, trying to figure out whom is could be.

Ash had lended Buster the note she had found in her house, she didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to have it there any longer. He kept examining the hand writing, it looked oddly familiar to one of the sign up sheets he had gotten when he had opened up his signing competition. He couldn’t place his finger on who. so he went back to his office and looked through every single file he had.

Their name wasn’t listed,but there was a picture.

Lance.

Of course it had to be him… Buster sighed, aggravated. He did know what he was going to do once he had seen him or found him. He walked along the streets, seeing if he’d spot him anywhere, and luckily enough he saw him. He was waiting for a subway train to approach, this was a good time to confront him.

Buster sneaked through the crowds of animals and stood next to him, making absolutely no eye contact. 

“I know what you did Lance…” Lance jumped a bit at the statement, “Oh really? If you do then go ahead, tell me” Lance said facing the koala now. “You’re tracking down my friends, you’re ruining their homes and live’s! You’re even stalking Ash, you ex if I am correct…” Buster whispered with a grim tone.

“Must’ve tooken you awhile to find out, but now, im afraid you know a little bit too much for me..” Lance said, there was a small clicking sound heard. Buster was confused, what was going to happe-

a mark from a small pocket knife was right across his stomach, he held his stomach  and began to bleed everywhere. There were screams heard from those who had seen it, and as the subway train had reached its stop, Lance walked in calmly, smiling even.

Leaving Buster laying on his side.

“Oh my god! B-Buster!” Ash screamed while pointing towards the TV in Eddie’s home, it was everywhere on the news. “What? Are you ok Ash-” Eddie paused while looking at the video clip that was playing on screen and screamed as well.

Everything was beginning to fall apart, Eddie was trying to calm down outside while Ash called everyone and told them the news, while doing so, they all agreed to met up at the hospital immediately.

“Eddie you’re going to have to take some deep breaths and calm down! We need to go to the hospital right now!” Ash said practically dragging him on the sidewalk while trying to get a taxi.

“M-My friend! He’s, he may be dead!” He said between deep breaths. “Well we don’t know that for sure until we get there Eddie now come on!” Ash said trying to shake him out of the state his mind was in.

Johnny was driving as fast as he could through the traffic, he even ran a few red lights. He spotted Ash and Eddie on the sidewalk. “Jump in! We can’t waste anymore time!” Johnny said pulling up by them.

They both hopped in quickly, and finally got out of the squished car and into the hospital. The rest of the gang was already in the waiting room, “Finally you both arrived! It’s been thirty minutes!” Mike yelled. “Thirty minutes since what?” Johnny asked “Since they got Buster into the emergency room!” Gunter said interrupting the two.

“H-How was he when he arrived?” Eddie asked, the room was silent “I’m going to be honest Eddie…he didn’t look as enthused as he usually is…but im sure he’s going to be alright!” Rosita said reassuringly.

After waiting an hour, sure enough Rosita was right, she always was. They all jumped at the words “Alright, you can all go and visit for a few minutes..” 

They ran into Buster’s room practically sliding! “Buster! You’re ok!” Eddie yelled. “W-Well, of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Buster said while pressing a button that helped his bed adjust. He sat up to face them, “Well I dunno, maybe from the fact the whole world just saw you get stabbed” Mike said while hopping onto the foot of the hospital bed.

“That really went on the news? I thought no one would’ve noticed…” Buster mumbled. “Well, its kind of hard to not notice blood everywhere…A-Anyway….we’re just so happy you’re ok!” Meena mumbled with tears in her eyes. “Aww…thanks Meena…thank you guys for listening to me…I just couldn’t risk you all getting hurt…” Buster mumbled with a faint smile.

There was a few minutes where they hadn’t talked, they just looked at one another, happy to know it was all ok. “Alright, visiting hours are over with, you must all leave now.” A llama said in a nurse’s uniform. 

“Alright, we’ll be out in a second” Johnny said while grinning.

They all gave Buster light hugs and sweet farewells, Eddie left Buster with only a quick kiss while he could.

And as weeks passed, flowers, balloons, even cards had shown up. A nurse was bringing in another bouquet of white lilly’s. “Well Mr. Moon, I hope you have a plan on where you’re going to put these once you leave.”

He sighed for a moment and smiled “No, that’s alright mam’ I don’t need flowers or balloons or even cards to know how much my friends love me, just plant those here. This place could really use something pretty” Buster said. The nurse smiled “Alright Mr Moon, I will for your sake. Tomorrow’s a big day for you….get some sleep. Goodnight” She said while turning off his light.

“Goodnight” Buster whispered, smiling faintly while drifting off to a deep sleep.

—

End!

I’m very sorry if this isn’t as great as my last but, still, I hope you enjoy it!